Twentieth of Harbinger
The least that could be said of Silari and Faelin was that they had the wisdom to leave Svaleta under the cover of night. Rumours had already begun to spread that the king had met with the Aliri, seemingly confirmed by the dozen riders who left the city that afternoon making haste down the highways. By dawn the next day the roads to Svaleta were filled with noblemen and the heads of higher families responding to Farhad’s summons. The residents woke to find a platform constructed in the city square, with a wooden block and bucket in the middle. Berias’ militia were scattered across the square in unusually high numbers, and even before the official notice was declared throughout the streets there was already a gathering of witnesses.
It was midmorning when a series of trumpet blasts announced the coming of King Farhad. The procession was led by four of the King’s Guard in their crimson robes, with another four at the rear. Farhad was first in line with his wife Ismelda by his side. She looked elegant in a white dress, with soft eyes that looked with compassion on the gathered crowd, a complete contrast to Farhad’s stern demeanour. Alihad and Berias followed them both, along with a group of the highest noblemen, who had been graced with breakfast with the king. The Prophetess was nowhere to be seen, nor were her handmaidens, a fact that was not lost on anyone. Farhad had requested her presence, and her response had been unheard by anyone else, though her answer was evident. The King’s Guard took up their positions around the platform, while the royal entourage sat on a series of chairs around it. Only Alihad climbed the steps, standing two feet from the wooden block. The crowd went silent, then followed his gaze to see a hooded man being led down the street by two soldiers, one of whom carried a headsman’s axe. Farhad was silent until the prisoner was kneeling before the block. He gave a nod and the hood was torn away. There was a collective gasp at the elf kneeling before them, his eyes set on Alihad. The general waited until Farhad gave the signal, then began his proclamation.
“People of Svaleta, hear me. We have suffered much at the hands of the Aliri. For centuries we have lived in fear of their threat. No more! We have been given a pledge of peace from King Silari, and we have accepted. We face greater threats now than the elves could offer.
“But every war must end with sacrifice from the one who started it. Before you kneels General Echtalon, the planner and executor of Aliri aggression. The blood of our sons is on his hands. Today we proclaim peace. Today we claim his blood for theirs.”
Alihad stepped back before waving for the headsman to strike. There would be no last words for Echtalon, no opportunity for him to become a martyr. He had started a war against Svaleta and he would die as their enemy, not as a hero. Alihad didn’t agree with the king’s decision, but such was life.
The life of Echtalon, the pride of the Aliri Empire, ended with a blade through the neck. It took only a single blow to sever his head, though as it dropped it missed the bucket and hit the platform with a sickening thud before rolling to a stop. A spray of blood from the severed neck splashed across Farhad. As it should, Alihad thought. Echtalon had been an enemy, but he was a soldier first. Farhad deserved to feel the blood that he wouldn’t shed.
“With his blood, we end this war,” Alihad proclaimed. “And we look to a brighter future.”
He glanced up at the towering spires of the Temple. He saw nothing, but he knew that the Prophetess would be watching. As the crowd began to thin out, he made his way to Berias.
“We should talk,” Alihad said softly. He nodded towards the Temple. “With her.”
Berias’ eyes narrowed, his mind on the same level as the general’s. “Give me an hour.”
“So be it.”
It was strange how easily treason began.
***
Siara had indeed been watching the macabre spectacle from her tower. It was sickening, the game of kings played out for the bloodlust of the masses. Someone had to pay, and their collective rage had been placed on Echtalon. He had just been a tool, Siara knew, manipulated by Ashelath far more easily than Belkai. Was it not enough that the Arcane himself had been killed? Yet satisfaction had never been the endgame of vengeance.
She watched as Alihad spoke to Berias, and both men looked up at the Temple. She sighed. The general had been losing faith in Farhad for years, his misgivings only deepening after the Narandir crisis had begun. This wouldn’t have helped. Alihad was a soldier first and foremost. He would not take pleasure in executing another, even if he had been an elf. The hell we bring on ourselves, she thought angrily. Yet there would be no end, at least not that she could see.
She was not surprised when, an hour later, there was a knock at the door and a handmaiden guided Alihad and Berias inside. Siara waved them to the leather chairs beside the fireplace and waited until the handmaiden had served tea and withdrawn before she spoke.
“The execution of Echtalon was an unnecessary bloodshed,” she said softly as she stirred sugar into her tea. “I imagine the king demanded the sacrifice at your secret meeting yesterday.”
She smiled at the confusion on Alihad’s face. “The Marshal here saw fit to keep me informed.”
Alihad glanced at Berias, who shrugged. “It didn’t seem right to leave the Prophetess in the dark.”
“Then you would know that I did not approve of the action,” Alihad said, turning back to Siara. “Enough blood has been shed without us adding it to pageantry.”
“Kings believe that life is their plaything,” Siara said. “It is not easy to dissuade them of such.”
“The king has many playthings,” Berias pointed out. “Few, fortunately, involve blood. But he is distracted.”
“He always has been,” Siara noted. “Nothing has changed in the man, except perhaps the age of his chosen distractions.”
“The times have changed,” Alihad said, his voice grave. “The Aliri smashed our border defences because I was not permitted to fortify them. We did not listen to your plea for us to sue for peace – and I bear the responsibility for that, Milady, I admit that. But we face the prospect of a greater war incited by the Arcane. Farhad is not prepared for this.”
Berias shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “General, you acted on the best information that you had. That was before the Arborshire massacre, and no one predicted the Aliri’s peace offer. The truth is, we could have used Echtalon’s cunning in what is to come.”
“There is something on your mind, General,” Siara said, her voice barely above a whisper. “An action you wish to take.”
“The king lacks the strength for the war that Delorax will bring. If the Brilhardem have been attacked, then his final act is coming fast.” Alihad replied, his voice just as quiet. “While Svaleta burns, Farhad will be in his bed. And we will not be permitted to do what must be done.”
“Farhad must be removed.” Berias looked them both in the eye as he spoke. “We need new leadership. For the days ahead, I propose that General Alihad be installed as king.”
Alihad’s eyes were wide as saucers at Berias’ words. He hadn’t anticipated Berias’ support, let alone such a proposal. “That was not what I intended.”
“Nonetheless, it may be what is required,” Siara told him. “But the king must be deposed without bloodshed. An arrest, not an assassination.”
“That is much more difficult,” Alihad responded. “But I am in agreement.”
“There is no coming back from this.” Siara drained her tea and placed it on the table between them. “If you choose not to take this action, then I will consider this conversation to have never happened. So make your decision and your request, General.”
Alihad stared into his tea for several long seconds as he gathered the courage to speak. When he looked up, his eyes were filled with sorrow. “I propose that Farhad Orinor be arrested and that I take his place for the duration of the current crisis. Will the Temple and the militia endorse such a regime change?”
“Farhad’s proclivities threaten our security. There are too many spies trained in carnal pleasure,” Berias said. “I will support you.”
Siara nodded slowly. “The Temple acknowledges the need for drastic measures. I trust you to bring Svaleta through this.”
Alihad took an unsteady breath, and his hand shook as he returned his tea to the table. “Then we have endorsed treason. May the Arcane have mercy on our souls.”
***
Syndra had taken Belkai’s instructions quite literally. She had found an old well that had been stopped and covered up, torn away the wood, and dropped Greywall inside. There was no climbing out, especially not for one of his stature. With a Blackwing circling and two elves in view standing over the well, the dwarf had no incentive to escape. When Belkai and Davos came just after dawn, they found Syndra standing guard, along with an older elf named Grais. Belkai greeted them before asking,
“Has he made any trouble?”
Syndra shook her head. “As quiet as a mouse. He’s still there, still breathing, he just hasn’t made much of a commotion.”
Belkai nodded thoughtfully. “Bring him up. He won’t do any harm.”
“I’m sure he won’t,” Syndra said with a grin. She waved to Grais. “Come on, drop the rope and let’s get him up here.”
When Greywall emerged, he glared at Belkai with barely disguised contempt. He spat at her feet, ignoring the elves as they seethed with anger. Davos stood back with a neutral look, convinced that between the four of them they could take him down if need be. Belkai didn’t react at all as she stood with arms crossed looking down at him.
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“You are welcome in my Forest anytime, Greywall,” she said, and Davos smirked at her sarcasm. “There is no need for deception. What were you doing there?”
The dwarf looked up at her in defiance, but he refused to answer.
“Your shades abandoned you,” Belkai told him. “As soon as they had the offer of freedom, they took it. You hadn’t expected them to kill me, had you?”
He still didn’t answer, but she could feel his fury. He may not have expected it, but someone did. Who had made such a promise?
“Let’s start simple, then.” Belkai knelt so that they were at eye level. She knew the insult that she was giving, but the time for diplomatic niceties were over. Prince or not, he had violated her dominion. He had no rights now, not in Narandir. “Who sent you?”
“We have always, and always will, serve the Lord of Shadows,” Greywall growled, unable to contain his anger at her condescension.
“Falkar, you mean.” Belkai shook her head and hid her smile at his predictability. The proud were always easy to fool. “He may be Delorax’s ally, but he is a fool to trust him. As are you. Whatever he has promised, you will not receive it. Delorax does not share power, not with Falkar and certainly not with Nimura.”
“We serve the Lord of Shadows,” Greywall repeated. He glanced from Belkai to Davos. “We do not all betray our masters – nor do we abandon our country.”
“I abandoned nothing,” Davos replied, his voice level. He didn’t move a muscle. “I followed my destiny. I followed the path of peace.”
“Destiny and peace are not always compatible,” Greywall shot back, and looked to the elves. “Just look at your clans, born to be free but forever enslaved to Narandir. Is it worth it?”
“We serve our lord with love,” Syndra replied. “Falkar earns none and is owed none.”
“What was your plan?” Belkai asked again. “Did you expect that your shades would disguise you? That you could sneak into Narandir unnoticed? Perhaps I wouldn’t have sensed you – there are limits to the power of the Brilhardem. But this Forest is alive, Greywall. More alive than you could ever comprehend. You could never fool Narandir.”
He tried to hide it, but she could sense his uncertainty. He knew that something had gone wrong in his plan. Until now, he hadn’t been able to pinpoint it. Now he realised the magnitude of his error – they had spent so much time determining how to defeat her that they had forgotten that Narandir was its own danger. Such was the stubbornness of dwarves. Now it was time to destroy what was left of his confidence.
“We knew you were here from the moment you reached our border. Your armies, should they come, will face the same fate.” Belkai drew back and crossed her arms. “I see everything in this Forest, Greywall. I hear every creature, I hear every thought. Not one leaf moves without my knowledge and permission. This Forest is alive, and it is mine.”
He knew she had to be exaggerating, but he didn’t know how much. That doubt was key to his submission. Belkai slowly stood and looked to Syndra.
“Drop him back in. I have no use for him for now.”
She waited until he was in the well, then led Davos and Syndra away, leaving Grais alone for now.
“I don’t like this,” she said quietly. “They came for a reason, and he knows what it is.”
“You think it’s the door?” Davos asked. Belkai nodded.
“It is the only thing that makes sense,” she told him. “But they were just testing their access. It won’t end here.”
“So what do we do?” Davos glanced back at the well. “We cannot kill him, but he will not speak.”
“He didn’t need to speak.” Belkai shrugged. “His purpose was clear. We now know Delorax’s next move. Nimura will march on us. War is coming. Syndra, make sure he stays in that well. Davos, we need to speak to Lithmae. The kingdoms must be alerted. The Mirzali Compact has been violated. Nimura belongs to Delorax.”
***
One of the first things that the elves had constructed for Belkai was her Stalia. Located near the centre of the Forest, it was the elven equivalent of a palace. As with all their construction, they had used an unusual form of fungus that they had learned to manipulate and grow according to their desires. The result had been four structures suspended fifteen feet in the air by massive, man-sized vines. Each building was made of fungus that resembled marble in its blend of green, red, and brown textures merging together in intricate patterns. Connecting them was a central platform made of a weblike white membrane holding two thrones made of vines that sprouted vibrant red and yellow flowers. It was from this Stalia that Belkai ruled Narandir and carried out her official duties, such as they were. The elves were largely independent now, as she had promised that they would be. It seemed that she had become a sort of spiritual advisor to them as they each learned from the other about the Forest that they called home. The elves had the knowledge of the Forest and its history, but as its lord, Belkai had a connection that could not be replicated.
The afternoon of the twenty-first of Harbinger found Belkai on her throne having a conversation that had been unexpected only a few months ago, but was pleasing nonetheless. Standing before her – for they refused her offer to sit on the thrones – were two of her closest friends, Loranna and Lithmae. They were quite the pair. Loranna was Svaletan, a former member of their militia until she tired of the bureaucracy and became a sell sword. Muscles rippled beneath her dark skin, and she looked at Belkai through bright hazel eyes. They positively sparkled as she and Belkai spoke of the elf beside her. Lithmae was the chieftain of the Narandir elves. He was a head taller than Loranna, his fair skin quite a contrast to her own, and he had a slight frame that couldn’t quite hide his strength. He and Loranna had been enemies, of course, when they first met, as he led the elves in their submission to Mishtar. He had leapt at the opportunity to set his people free when Belkai had offered that freedom, and over time he and Loranna had begun to grow closer. She smiled now as she looked at the unlikely couple.
“It wasn’t exactly expected,” Loranna admitted, and smiled shyly at Lithmae.
Belkai laughed. “I’m sorry, did you think I planned to fall in love with the half-breed scout that wanted to lock me up? Gods, I wanted to kill Davos when we met.”
Her eyes twinkled as she added, “Some days I still do.”
“Plenty of places to hide the body,” Loranna pointed out, and Lithmae rolled his eyes. It was quite a human thing to do, Belkai thought, a sure sign that Loranna was rubbing off on him. “I was surprised, though, that you approved, Belkai.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Belkai frowned. “I’m a southerner raised by the Ikari. I am a mage, and I have blood on my hands. I married a Svaletan half-elf whose worst crime is getting drunk on duty.”
“When you put it like that, Davos was always boring,” Loranna laughed.
“Well, I never said that.” Belkai winked at her, then turned her head to Lithmae. “You look nervous, my friend. Is there too much womanly energy for you?”
“The two of you are impossible,” he agreed, but with a grin. “Where is your husband when I need him?”
“He said he had business up north.” Belkai shrugged. “So long as he isn’t causing trouble, I won’t argue with that.”
She straightened in her throne and broadened her smile. “Now, the two of you came to ask me something. So let it out.”
The couple glanced at each other, then Lithmae cleared his throat. “Belkai, this isn’t elven custom, but Loranna insisted. We would like to seek your blessing to get married.”
Belkai raised an eyebrow. “What do you need my blessing for?”
“It’s a sign of respect, in case you’ve forgotten,” Loranna laughed. “To our lord, and to our friend.”
“You’re making me feel old,” said the twenty-seven-year-old. She could feel their hope, and their love. How could she deny them that? Her smile seemed to stretch from ear to ear. “Of course you have my blessing. When will it be?”
“It’ll take a week or two to prepare,” Lithmae replied as Loranna seized his hand in her own. “Elven weddings are elaborate occasions.”
“I can imagine.” Belkai watched them kiss, then feigned impatience. “Okay, Lithmae, you have a clan to run. Get out of here.”
“Miladies.” He bowed to both of them – a second longer for Loranna – and beat a hasty retreat. Loranna have Belkai a knowing look.
“You were reading him.”
“And I approved,” Belkai pointed out. “I can’t not make sure he was being honest with you.”
Loranna rubbed her short hair and sighed. “I suppose not. Thank you.”
“You found a good one,” Belkai said. “We both did.”
“Who would have thought?” Loranna laughed. “These last few months have been beyond me.”
“We’ve done alright.” She didn’t mention the ones they’d lost. She didn’t have to. That burden rested on them both. “Three months. Three bloody months.”
Loranna nodded wordlessly. The whole world had changed in that time, and there was no going back for any of them. Too many were dead – human, orc, elf, Arcane, and everything in between. Once shed, blood couldn’t be taken back. Both women knew that it was only the beginning.
They both turned wearily as they heard someone coming up the stairs towards the Stalia. Lithmae looked at them sheepishly but didn’t say anything as three others joined him on the platform.
“Brimur!” Belkai leapt to her feet and rushed over to embrace the mentor that she hadn’t seen since she began her journey to Narandir. He held her tight, releasing her slowly, as if fearful that it would be their last embrace. She greeted Sashai warmly, then frowned when she looked to the blonde Lustrian.
“I recognise you,” she said hesitantly. It had been a long time, but she recognised her face. “Lasi?”
“Lasiri Ar’ola,” the Lustrian said, tension clear in her voice. “I was a much younger mage then. I am now head of my Order.”
Belkai closed her eyes as she made the connection. An image flashed through her mind. Six bodies sprawled around her, all but five dead by her hand. Good fighters – good people. Dead because they discovered the truth. When she opened her eyes, she didn’t stop the tear that ran down her cheek. “Lasiri, words cannot express my regret.”
“Brimur has explained everything,” Lasiri assured her, reaching out and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You have been through hell, Belkai. You are not the hopeful youth that I once met. You are more now. I have forgiven you, and the Watchers will fight by your side.”
Belkai turned to Brimur, and she didn’t need to frown for him to know the fulness of her confusion. He gave an awkward smile.
“The Council of Mages convened in northern Lustria ten days ago. I briefed them on what has happened and sought their allegiance and support against Delorax,” Brimur told her. His eyes were filled with grief. “We were betrayed. Harleigh was a servant of Delorax. He betrayed us, and we lost many good people.”
“I’m sorry.” Belkai had liked Harleigh, and remembered finding him cute. So much for her judgement of character. “Who gave their allegiance?”
“The Watchers, of course. The Spellcasters were noncommittal, but they paid dearly in the ambush. They may change their minds. The Correlate and Herders have both promised their support.”
“The Correlate will support the Exile?” Belkai raised an eyebrow. “You must have made quite the impression.”
“All that I did was present your case,” Brimur assured her. “They support their own. As for the Temple, well, Sashai can answer that.”
The Svaletan stepped forward and smiled. “The Temple has ended its neutrality, Belkai. We stand by your side, though we cannot provide armies.”
“Where the Temple leads, Svaleta follows,” Belkai acknowledged, and Sashai nodded. “Delorax will not accept this lightly.”
“It seems not,” Brimur said, his voice lowering. “The Ikari have been attacked. Some sort of raid in the east, but it was big enough for an alert to be sent out across the Dominion. Shalah was visiting Sargo’ran, so the local clan responded as well, just in case.”
“A distraction?” Loranna asked. Brimur studied her for a moment, but sensed her bond with Belkai and nodded.
“It may be. To what end, I don’t know.” He cocked his head, sensing that Belkai had something else to say. “Speak, child.”
Belkai grinned. “It’s good to have you back, Brimur. Speaking of distractions, we have a problem.”
She filled him in on the situation with the tunnel, and his face turned grave.
“Delorax was always guaranteed to make a move on Narandir,” he said. “I’m only surprised that he would use the dwarves.”
“That would be Falkar’s doing,” Lasiri noted. “He is lord of the dwarves.”
“The Lord of Shadows,” Belkai said. “I had suspected it, and our prisoner confirmed it.”
“So we have the mages attacked, the Ikari being distracted and Nimura mobilising,” Belkai summarised. “Delorax is making his move.”
Brimur nodded. “We need more men.”
“I already have messengers heading to the kingdoms to alert them that the Compact has been breached,” Belkai told him. “If the dwarves want war, then that’s what they’ll receive.”