Nineteenth of Harbinger
It had been a bad morning for King Farhad Orinor. He had spent the previous night with the wife of a nobleman who was visiting Rignar’s Hold in the north, and she had quite gladly graced his bed in her husband’s absence. The trouble had started when Farhad was awoken by his steward, who announced that Marshal Berias had a confidential message for him. Farhad gave a quiet curse, glanced at the naked woman sleeping in his bed, then allowed his servants to get him dressed before following the steward to his throne room. He had now been waiting ten minutes for Berias to show his face, and his anger was growing with each passing moment. Berias was the only man in the Kingdom who could make him wait and not feel his wrath. Such was the power of fear, even within the king himself.
It had been fifteen minutes when the steward entered again, only to announce that Berias had requested a guard attachment be present. That raised Farhad’s concern until the steward assured him that he had chosen the six guards himself. Farhad allowed it, growing even more puzzled. It was another few minutes before Berias finally entered with Alihad, and three robed figures following them. All five bowed, and Berias looked up at Farhad with a gleam in his eye. The robed figures stood straight, then threw back their hoods. Farhad stared in shock at the three elves standing before him. The one on the left looked young, built like a soldier, and with the confidence of one who had stared death in the face and walked away. The middle elf was older, wiser looking, with the air of royalty. The third was stunning in her beauty, and Farhad missed the look of disgust in her eyes as he studied her.
“My King,” Berias said, “I present to you King Silari and Generals Echtalon and Faelin of the Aliri Empire.”
“It is an honour, King Farhad,” Silari said, bowing again. His generals stayed ramrod straight.
“I wish I could say the same,” Farhad growled. “But the blood of my countrymen stains the hands of the elves before me.”
“And the blood of my kin stains your own,” Silari snapped, anger filling his eyes. “Such is the price of war, Farhad, and neither of us can tell the other who started this one. The fact of the matter is, we have both been deceived.”
“My lords, if I may,” Alihad said, stepping forward. “We have all spoken with Belkai Androva. The generals here were both involved in bringing her home from the desert – and General Echtalon has faced her in battle. We know the reality of the situation that we find ourselves in.”
“We are aware of the deception that began this war,” Silari said, shooting a glance at Echtalon, who stiffened. “The fact is, we were all manipulated and used for Ashelath’s gain. It ends now.
“I am prepared to offer an end to hostilities effective immediately. I believe that the danger we face is too great to waste our young on this rivalry. The orders have already been sent for our forces to take up a defensive posture.”
Shock was written over Alihad’s face, but he managed to ask, “With what conditions?”
Silari kept his eyes on the king as he answered. “We want free passage for our people to and from Narandir. We have been separated from our southern kin for over a millennium. We desire, if not reunification, then at least a new beginning.”
Farhad hesitated. He trusted Belkai; he didn’t trust Silari, nor even the Narandir elves. He was a Svaletan to the core. The conflict with the Aliri has gone on too long to forget overnight. A reunited elven kingdom to the north and south went against every instinct. But what choice did he have?
He waved a hand and said, “It shall be granted. We will have peace. But all conflicts end with sacrifice from the one who first shed blood.”
Silari’s eyes narrowed. “What is it you require of us?”
Farhad turned his eyes to Echtalon and sneered. “The life of the one who brought this hell upon us. We require the life of Echtalon.”
The general didn’t respond, staring at the wall behind the king as he fought to maintain his composure. Alihad could only imagine what was going through his mind. He glanced at Berias, whose expression gave away nothing as he studied Farhad’s face. Alihad fought to keep his own face straight. What madness was this? He understood Farhad’s desire for revenge, but enough blood had been spilt on both sides. The massacre at Arborshire, when the forces of the Arcane had shattered both armies, had changed everything in Alihad’s mind. This was no longer a war between elf and human. Delorax’s intervention had gone beyond Ashelath’s limited planning. This was a war on a whole new level, once which their separate kingdoms could not win on their own. They had to let go of the old rivalries, whatever their justification, if they wanted to survive. Farhad was spending too much time chasing women to truly comprehend the situation. We need new leadership, Alihad realised. He glanced at Berias again, who still didn’t move a muscle. He needed wisdom, and he needed it fast.
Silari took a deep breath and stood tall before he responded to Farhad’s demand. “Echtalon is one of the Empire’s honoured sons. He is one of our strongest and wisest generals. You ask for him as tribute as if he were a pile of gold to be haggled over.”
“This is the price of peace.” Farhad waved his hand dismissively. “This is the choice that you must make.”
“We stand at the precipice of war with the Arcane.” To everyone’s surprise, it was Faelin who spoke, her face flushed as her voice quaked with anger. “Regardless of the blame, this is the situation that we face. This is not the time for blood debts. We need to stand together or we will die apart.”
Alihad had no way of judging her age, but she had wisdom. It was unfortunate that Farhad would never see beyond her body to understand that.
“This is the situation that your dear general has placed us in,” the Svaletan king growled, looking deep into Faelin’s eyes. “He is the one who heeded Ashelath’s call.”
Silari looked to Echtalon, who still hadn’t moved. “General Echtalon, your voice must be heard on this matter.”
Echtalon looked to his king, then Farhad. He sighed, the weary sound of one resigned to his fate. “My lords, I was promised victory by the servants of Ashelath. I confess my sin. After Belkai destroyed our forces at Larton, I swore vengeance. I headed into the desert not to save her, but to kill her.”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
It was the first time that he’d admitted it, and he could feel Faelin’s steely gaze on him. He didn’t look at her as he continued. “What I found in those ruins was not the monster that I had expected, but a woman who had nearly died to save her beloved. Instead of killing her, I helped to save her.”
He looked to Silari. “I have only ever wished to serve the Empire. We face war on all sides, but Svaleta was never the greatest threat, only the most pressing. My King, I accept whatever price must be paid to end this war. I realise now that greater things are at stake.”
Silari studied him for a moment, recognising the great change that had come to pass within the general. He nodded and turned back to Farhad. “As General Faelin said, we stand together or die apart. General Echtalon will pass into your custody. I ask for mercy for him, but my desire is to end this war.”
Echtalon spread his arms as Farhad’s guards stepped forward and put their swords to his throat.
“Take him away,” Farhad ordered. He looked to Berias. “Tomorrow we will decide his fate. King Silari, you will have peace. Svaleta stands with Narandir. I hope we will do so with the Aliri Empire at our side.”
***
The river through Torleight was calm and peaceful. A low breeze rustled the bushes lining the shore as the boat slowly drifted by. In the rear, the river pilot stared out at the city as he held his push pole over his lap, trusting the breeze to guide them for a while. Seated further up in the boat, Shontelle took a deep breath of the river air and smiled as she listened to the sounds of the city with her eyes closed.
“I’ve never been on a boat,” she admitted. Beside her, Jacque laughed and dropped a hand into the water.
“You have a lot to learn about the way of things,” he chuckled. “There are few better ways to relax.”
“I can see why,” Shontelle replied with a satisfied smile. “I’m glad I let you talk me into this.”
“You didn’t take much convincing,” Jacque pointed out. He was right about that. The young lieutenant only needed to knock on her door for her to agree to whatever he asked. Shontelle knew she needed to start working soon, and she wanted to make the most of her freedom while she could. She hadn’t had time for herself for most of her life. She wasn’t going to waste this, not with a dashing young soldier by her side. She flashed him a smile and leaned her head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close.
“I’m afraid I have bad news,” he said quietly. He gently stroked her hair as she tensed. “We are being deployed in a few days, marching east. We may be gone a while.”
“Is something happening?” Shontelle felt a wave of fear. “Have there been more attacks?”
“No, nothing like that,” Jacque assured her. “This is merely routine. We’re replacing the regiment that is stationed there.”
“How long?”
He could hear the sadness in her voice, and forced himself to keep his own steady. “It could be a few months.”
“Can I write to you?”
“Of course,” he said, and couldn’t help the smile that lit his face. “Just tell the courier I’m in the Third Guard Corps. They’re kept informed about all our movements. No matter what, the army always keeps the mail moving.”
“The couriers must make a fortune off sad lovers,” Shontelle laughed. Jacque pulled her tight. He loved that laugh.
“And lonely soldiers,” he agreed. “They must all be rich by now.”
“Can you be honest with me?” As she asked, she pulled away and sat up straight to face him. Jacque frowned but nodded. Shontelle hesitated before she spoke again. “Tell me the truth, are you headed to war?”
“The only thing to the east is the Tios Principality. Even the Ikari are well to the north,” Jacque told her. “It’s mainly a formality. We’ll train with their soldiers, we’ll build networks amongst the officers. There’s no danger.”
He believed what he was saying, but a part of him wondered if things would be different this time. The attacks on the Aliri and Svaleta, even rumours of creatures in Nimura, had many of the officers on edge. Things seemed to be getting more dangerous, not less, even though they maintained the illusion that things were perfectly normal for Lustria. Rumours had spread of a meeting of mages in the north. Such things didn’t bode well for future peace. Still, he took her hand in his and smiled as he looked into her eyes.
“It’ll be a boring few months,” he said with mostly real conviction. “Then I’ll be back. I hope I’ll still find you here.”
Shontelle’s heart leapt, and she moved closer to him. “I’ll be here.”
***
Located two days east of Narandir, the town of Solstia was considered cursed. Only a matter of months ago, the entire population had disappeared seemingly overnight. Rumours abounded, but only a relative handful of Svaletans knew the truth about the vampires that had been sent by Delorax to decimate the town as a message to Belkai. What was once a popular trading town was now a collection of abandoned buildings home only to wolves. Perhaps in a few years people would return, but fear of the unknown would always persist. For the travellers now occupying the town, it was a welcome shelter from the elements. They would have been a strange sight to anyone who saw them. The leaders of the group were an elf, a blonde Lustrian, and, strangely enough, a teenaged Svaletan. The twenty others, a mix of Lustrians and Svaletans, followed their commands without hesitation or question. It was a surprise to Brimur most of all. While he had believed Lasiri when she promised the Watchers’ support, he hadn’t expected them to so easily submit to his guidance. Their faith in Lasiri as their master was steadfast despite Belkai’s actions against their comrades. It shouldn’t have surprised him; few others understood the subtleties of the Arcane like those appointed to seek them out.
As night began to fall, Brimur and Lasiri sat alone in a nearby field. There was no sign of the town militia who had been massacred on that very spot during the attack on the town. The night was still, the sky clear, and Brimur found himself staring up at the stars as if expecting one to move.
“What is your plan, Brimur?” Lasiri asked quietly. When he looked to her she continued, “There are only twenty Watchers here. That is hardly enough to stop Delorax. We have no guarantee that the other Orders will come. There were too few survivors from the Council.”
“Every mage that goes to war against Delorax counts,” Brimur answered. “Every friend Belkai has limits Delorax’s ability to isolate her. And that gives us the advantage. He is arrogant, obsessed with his own power. Belkai reminded him of mortal power. We will confirm that lesson.”
“The Watchers stand by Narandir – and Belkai,” Lasiri promised. “But we may not survive such a commitment.”
“We will lose much,” Brimur agreed sadly. “But we will lose everything if we do not fight. His wrath has been kindled too much for him to stand down. This can only end in war, whatever form it may take.”
Lasiri didn’t respond as she looked out at the hills surrounding the town. “They sent vampires here?”
Brimur nodded. “So Belkai reported. They killed everyone, except for one woman whom they sent to Narandir to deliver a message. She will never recover, not truly. That is a terrible burden to carry.”
“And the Sons of Retribution led them.” Lasiri sighed. “This should never have happened. Belkai should have told you about Ashelath.”
“What would you have done in my place?” Brimur asked. “No one knows the depths of Ashelath’s cunning. Once he grasps a mind, there is no releasing it. She would be his slave regardless of what we did. Killing him was her only recourse.”
“And what about us?” Lasiri closed her eyes and thought of home. She pictured her husband toiling in a mine, her children being raised by their grandmother. There was no sense of homesickness. She had chosen this path decades ago, there was no changing it now. “We cannot kill Delorax and Falkar.”
“We can’t.” Brimur smiled grimly. “But she can.”
Lasiri’s eyes went wide as she turned back to him. “That is insanity, Brimur. She killed Ashelath because of his own avarice. She cannot kill two of the most powerful Arcane when they are prepared for battle.”
“There is no telling what power she has found within that Forest,” Brimur said. “I would say that few things are truly impossible now.”