Fourth of Nirakos
Year 1182 of Emancipation
There were few moments of true, pure pleasure given to Farhad in his royal duties, particularly in wartime. The previous night had been one of those. Princess Alanna had proven to be skilled beyond her years, and the relationship between Svaleta and Wexburg had been further cemented in their bliss. She had slipped out of his chambers early in the morning after a lingering moment of companionship, leaving the king to stare out the window at the slowly rising sun. The past weeks had weighed heavily on his mind. It hadn’t been too long ago that his greatest concerns had been bandit raids and a report about a member of the Silent Order crossing his border. It felt like it had only taken a matter of hours for that sense of security to be shattered. He finally understood the truth, that he had not been ready to take up the kingship. He’d been thrust into the position when his father had stepped down after suffering debilitating injuries in an assassination attempt, and Farhad had thought that he’d been leading his kingdom well. A season of relative peace had lulled him into a false sense of security. The twin crises of the Aliri and Narandir had obliterated that impression. They now had an alliance with Narandir, at least, for what that was worth. He didn’t trust this Belkai woman, but the Prophetess of the Sun did, and that was good guidance for him despite his suspicions.
The sun was almost fully risen when there was a gentle rap at the wooden door. Farhad rose with a quiet groan and pulled on a robe before allowing his servant to enter.
“My lord,” the man said after bowing, “The Prophetess has requested an audience this morning. She is arriving within the hour.”
The news was troubling to the king. Such a request was a strange occurrence. She rarely sought his presence, and she certainly did not usually give him warning. Something was on her mind, and if it bothered the wisest woman in the kingdom, then Farhad knew to be concerned. Not that there was much that he could do about it.
He was still lost in thought an hour later when his steward approached the throne and quietly informed him that the Prophetess had arrived. Farhad waved him away and straightened in his seat, putting a calm expression on his face. Let’s see what you have to say. She was as elegant as ever as she stepped into the empty hall, her white dress hanging down to just above the ground. She slowly came before him and bowed. She had no companions, no handmaidens to line the walls as was the usual practice. Siara was never alone, and Farhad wondered if she’d commanded her servants to wait in the antechamber. Usually everything that Siara did was an attempt to demonstrate her authority to him, even going so far as to refuse him a private audience. This was getting ever stranger.
“Milady,” Farhad said, and she straightened, folding her hands behind her back. “I am honoured by your presence.”
“Thank you, my King.” He could see the concern in her eyes as she spoke. “I appreciate your accommodating my request.”
“The king does not deny the Temple. You seem to be concerned about something.”
Siara nodded. “I had a vision last night that I wanted to share with you.”
“What does it concern?”
“Everything.” He was used to her cryptic answers, and waved for her to speak. She gathered her thoughts before doing so. “I saw an elf and a man stand upon a mountaintop. There was hate in their eyes as they fought with swords. The sky grew dark, blacker than the darkest night. Somewhere in the distance I could hear laughing, mocking, as the two continued to fight. The mountain transformed, became a pile of bones. Human, elf, orc, it was impossible to tell them apart. They fell and died together. Slowly the elf and man sunk into the bones, fighting all the way, until they were swallowed by the mountain. The mocking continued as it was all consumed by flames.”
Siara paused and swallowed nervously, her mind clearly racing. She waited in silence for Farhad’s response. After taking a moment to consider her words, he frowned and asked,
“That is it?”
Siara hid her anger at his arrogance. Will you ever learn? “That is what was revealed to me.”
“What does it mean?” He was genuinely confused, she realised. Despite his reliance on her, he had never learned how to interpret the Arcane’s visions. She forced herself to be patient as she answered him.
“It speaks of our war, King Farhad. You and King Silari fight but are getting nowhere. For centuries our two nations have fought, and after all this time there is no victor, only more hatred on both sides. Now you are joining the countless who have fought and died over the millennia, soon to be forgotten in the graveyard of history. This war brings no progress, only perpetual sorrow.”
Farhad’s eyes narrowed. Were it anyone else speaking these words, he would have had them arrested for sedition. “What are you saying, Prophetess?”
“There is something else coming. I don’t know what it is, but there is a growing darkness spreading over us. This war is serving another’s purpose. I don’t know who this is or what their purpose may be, but when they intervene it will mean the destruction of everything that we hold dear.”
Understanding dawned on Farhad even as anger flashed in his eyes. “You want me to sue for peace.”
Siara nodded, knowing the danger in her words. “The cost of our victory over the Aliri may be too high for us to pay. There is something happening that we don’t know about. Belkai delivered Larton, but there is a second front that is poised to strike at our city.”
“If it passes Arborshire. General Alihad is confident that the defences will hold.”
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“You still act as if elves are our greatest threat,” Siara noted. “We already saw Ashelath’s hand in this. Narandir has awoken and intervened. We are scrutinised by forces beyond our comprehension.”
“The Arcane.”
Siara nodded. “This war seems minor in light of history, but the divine planes are watching with great interest. Who says that they will not intervene again? This vision was a warning, my Lord. One of the Arcane is mocking this struggle, and will use it for his own purposes. Unless we make it stop before it goes too far.”
“If we stop the Aliri at Arborshire, the war is over for all intents and purposes,” Farhad told her. “Then anything else is irrelevant.”
“It won’t be that simple,” Siara warned. “You won’t be allowed a simple victory. Nor will the Aliri. Someone seeks the total destruction of us both.”
“Why would they?” Farhad frowned. “What do we have that they would be seeking?”
“This war has already claimed the life of one Arcane.” Siara cocked her head to one side. “Who says that it will stop there? I have sensed things in the past days. Things that I can’t understand. Something is happening amongst the Arcane. This war has shifted the balance of power, and not everyone is pleased.”
This was beyond what a mere king could comprehend, let alone respond to, Siara realised as she spoke. Only someone who had looked the Arcane in the eye and spoken to them could possibly help her understand. Would Belkai have understood the consequences of her actions? For all her power, she was still a child in her understanding. In time, Belkai would come to her, if she was patient.
“I need you to trust me, my Lord,” Siara said softly. “This war will only end in utter destruction. It needs to end.”
“I will take your words under advisement,” Farhad told her. She didn’t need to be a Brilhardem to hear the lie.
“I hope you do,” Siara said, and bowed. “This vision was given for a reason. We cannot afford to ignore it.”
She left quietly, feeling Farhad’s eyes burn into the back of her head as she walked. He would understand given time, she thought. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too late.
After she had left, Farhad called his steward and ordered him to summon General Alihad. It took only a few minutes to summarise Siara’s message, at the end of which Alihad shook his head.
“I don’t know how to answer, my Lord,” he said honestly. “I have never trusted in magic. But that was before Larton was liberated by a mage and mythical monsters. If the reports of this Ertas and Rangir are correct, then certainly the Deceiver was killed in Narandir. But for the rest of her message? Arborshire is well defended, and we have another regiment on their way to reinforce it. We can defeat the Aliri militarily. This will not be a repeat of Larton.”
“What would happen if we sued for peace?”
Alihad smiled grimly. “The Aliri would likely rip up any accords and press the attack. Maybe they’d commit their southern armies for good measure. We cannot trust them to abide by any peace treaty. Even after Larton, they will still be confident in their capability. We never did find Echtalon’s body.”
“Would you have recognised it?”
Alihad shrugged. “Only by sketches. But certainly there was no general’s uniform among the dead.”
“So if we asked for peace, they would spit on our face?”
“Most certainly.”
Farhad nodded slowly, expecting such an answer. “The Prophetess believes that there is a greater threat lurking behind the scenes.”
“I thought that was Ashelath and Narandir,” Alihad pointed out. “Both are dealt with. Perhaps the Prophetess is wrong this time.”
“It has never happened before.”
“Not that we know of,” Alihad said. “From a military perspective, we can either sue for peace and be faced with further war, or we can fight this battle and shatter the Aliri army. I cannot base my strategy on visions, no matter who is having them.”
“So be it.” Farhad visibly relaxed. “Continue with your strategy. Break the back of these elves. Chase them back across the border and bring me Echtalon’s head on a platter.”
***
The real threat rode into Svaleta on a pair of young horses, ignored as a pair of attractive foreigners. Adrianna was not impressed with what she saw. She remembered the grandeur of the Palian Empire at its height. The capital Salamina had been constructed on a green island surrounded by crystal clear water. White towers had risen into the air with a majesty that would have shamed the Svaletan Temple’s spires. The streets bustled with life and colour as the citizens embraced a festiveness and culture far richer than any kingdom that had come since. And now it was gone, wiped away by the Arcane in their fury. Svaleta was a waste in Adrianna’s eyes. It was far too functional rather than beautiful. The kingdom had been born in the desert, and even after hundreds of years they still maintained a sense of aesthetic limitation. The richness of the Palians had been forgotten long ago. In a distant sense, she was almost offended by the new kingdom’s ignorance.
The twins sat on their horses and watched the Prophetess and her entourage leave the palace and make their way to the Temple. They moved slowly, giving the city a chance to see and admire the Prophetess in her regal splendour. The handmaidens surrounded their master in a vibrant display of colour, their eyes locked on the path ahead. The Prophetess herself seemed lost in thought, barely looking up at the world around her.
“She would be an easy target,” Adrianna murmured. She and Kane were away from the crowds, but she kept her voice low to avoid any undue attention. One hand stroked her horse’s neck, and it seemed to relax to her touch.
“Delorax wants to avoid such a confrontation with her lord,” Kane reminded her. “The risks are still too high.”
“I don’t question his reasoning,” Adrianna assured her brother. “I simply note the ease of the kill.”
Kane grunted. “Too easy. These people are soft.”
“They were strong once,” Adrianna said, remembering the tales of the wild raiders of the deserts. Of course, those were legends even when Palia had ruled this land. “They have forgotten their past. But that is their loss.”
Her eyes narrowed as she watched the Svaletans who stopped to watch their spiritual leader. “Delorax has a lot of restrictions this time.”
“Indeed.”
Falkar had never restricted his hunters. The twins were not the first Sons of Retribution, and they certainly would not be the last. When they were unleashed on the mortal world, blood flowed until the target was eradicated. Never before had they been told that certain individuals were off limits.
“This Belkai...Delorax is afraid of her.” Adrianna’s eyes widened slightly as she reached the surprising conclusion. A low chuckle told her that Kane had already realised that fact. His reply confirmed that suspicion.
“Ashelath was powerful, and had spent years corrupting her mind. To break that hold and then kill him...that sort of strength is rare.” He sighed and looked around the city, instinctively noting where the guards were. “And to face the witches of Angmir so callously, that is rare power indeed.”
That was why they were going to draw Belkai out, Adrianna knew. Manipulate her so that she made a mistake, made herself vulnerable. They would kill over and again until Belkai gave them an opening. They just had to give time between each attack for the news to reach Narandir. Like the lions that they used to hunt, they would find the right lure.
Solstia had only been the beginning. By the time Belkai fell, Svaleta would burn around her.