Eldar Prophecy

by C. S. Goto

  С. S. Goto « Eldar Prophecy»

  CHAPTER FOUR: BEDWYR

  'WHY SHOULD WE believe this traitor?' asked Khukulyn as he rose to his feet, giving voice to the misgivings of them all. 'He's just trying to save his own waystone.'

  Khukulyn kept his fierce, level gaze focused on Lhir, as though challenging the newcomer to reveal something hidden. Little Ela sat quietly to one side of the circle of eldar, watching the events unfold. There was open hostility and scepticism amongst the ring of eldar who sat in the wide, blue-black metallic basin - the Sapphire Dell - that had been the seat of office in the domains of Ansgar for many eons. It was hidden in the depths of the Ansgar forest zones, surrounded by a dense tree line that arched over it to form a closed, organic canopy overhead. It was set about an arm's length down into the ground to reflect the patriarch's founding belief that no eldar was above any other and, indeed, that rulers should place themselves below the ruled, since rulers were effectively servants of the masses. Hence, every eldar that won the right to sit in that circle would find his face level with the feet of those he helped to govern. The contrast with the aspiring towers of the Farseer's Palace in the ostentatious Sentrium was obvious and deliberate.

  During the course of this down-phase, Ela had watched the Sapphire Dell gradually fill with a seething distrust and revulsion. It was one of the side effects of the design. The artisans had sculpted the basin in such a way as to ensure that the emotions of the councillors could not be hidden from the other members of the council. Instead, they poured out into the middle of the basin and accumulated there until the dell was like a goblet filled with a cocktail of emotion. The purpose had been to ensure truth-telling and to prevent secrecy, and also to promote moderation. A divided council would rarely find any of its members overrun by hysteria, since the conflicting emotions would gradually balance each other out, producing an atmosphere of calm and rationality. One unforeseen problem, however, was that a unified council could be pushed beyond rationality towards extreme conclusions, since complementary emotions would pool together and reinforce each other, becoming amplified and exponentially more potent. The result could be an atmosphere of hysteria in the Sapphire Dell, particularly in times of obvious and dire need, such as during the House Wars. The Council of Ansgar often found itself as the most literal expression of the emotional nature of the children of Isha. Even amongst the mix of hostile emotions, Ela could see the particular intensity of Khukulyn's feelings. She could see the suspicion and the deep-seated hatred shimmering out of Khukulyn like an energetic mountain stream. There was something different about his emotions. They were not the generic feelings of mistrust and revulsion that all sons of Ansgar had been trained to hold about the Teirtu; they were sharp and personal. His mind was full of flashbacks. Even as he had climbed to his feet to speak, Ela had seen him replaying battles and slaughter through his mind, as though he was subconsciously fuelling his detestation of the Teirtu Guardian that stood before them. He had fought many battles during the House Wars, and had borne witness to many terrible things. He had done many terrible things too, but there was something else. Finally, little Ela saw something that surprised her. She saw his recollections of Bedwyr's execution. He had been there in the Plaza of Vaul. He had hidden himself amongst the eldar of the Sentrium, cloaked and anonymous in the crowd. He had seen Lady Ione drop to her knees on the palace balcony. He had seen Kerwyn Rivalin escorted from the plaza, and then Ela and Naois dragged off by their hair. Finally he had watched helplessly as the white-clad warlock had climbed the podium to where Bedwyr stood and placed his fiery hands on either side of the patriarch's head. He had felt the panic-stricken hatred of helpless rage as the warlock's black eyes had erupted into white flames and crackling auras of energy had coruscated down his arms and into his hands. Then, at the last, he had seen the defiant Bedwyr twist his face towards him - isolating his hooded features in the crowd - and bear witness to his cowardly self-preservation. Just as the patriarch's dhamashir was being incinerated in the warlock's psychic inferno, he seemed to accuse Khukulyn of deserting him. Khukulyn was channeling his own self-reproach into his hatred for this Teirtu Guardian, building him into the representation of his detestation of the Teirtu and his own self-loathing all at once. In that instant, Ela realised that she was seeing a raw death wish for the first time. If he'd had the power, Khukulyn would have killed Lhir and himself at that very instant, thus eradicating their stain from the domain.

  'You will do with me as you please, lords of Ansgar,' said Lhir, feeling the aggression whirling around him and realising that he had to speak in order to dissipate the rising emotions. 'I am not concerned with your treatment of me. I have seen the way that you dealt with my unwelcome brethren in your forest, and you would do me no dishonour if you were to deal the same fate to me.' Is he asking for death, wondered Ela from her vantage point outside the dell? Or does he think that by calling for it, he will escape it? She studied the Teirtu's upright posture, and found nothing in his manner to suggest that he was affecting a deceit or a plan. He stood ready to die, fully aware of the roiling hatred that the councillors directed at him, fully aware that declaring his willingness to die would not in itself be enough to convince these warriors to let him live. These were all eldar who knew death; they had all seen it before. Some of them had passed through the Rites of Ra during cycles in the Aspect Shrine of the Dark Reapers. Appeals to death meant little here. Lhir seemed to know that, and thus he stood ready to die. 'We will suffer no duplicity here, Teirtu-ann,' spat Khukulyn before any of the others had a chance to respond. 'If this is a ruse to save your soul, you will lose it.'

  'It is no ruse, lords of Ansgar.' His manner was immaculate and honourable, worthy of the Knavir themselves. It's true, realised Ela. She saw that Scilti had also seen the truth of it. His manner was unexpectedly calm, as though his sight were clear of the emotions around him.

  'We are not the lords of Ansgar, Lhir of the Teirtu,' said Scilti, rising to his feet. He addressed the Guardian but turned his eyes on Khukulyn, making the older warrior retreat back down to his cushion with unspent fury in his eyes. 'We are their servants.'

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  Lhir turned to face Scilti, with a look of incomprehension creasing his features. He could feel a shift in the mood of the council, but he didn't understand it. The Warp Spider's words had changed things in ways he couldn't grasp. Trickles of guilt and humility curdled into the emulsion of emotions in the dell. 'You can understand our scepticism, I am sure,' continued Scilti, gesturing around the ring inclusively. 'It has been a long time since a Teirtu has wished us anything but harm, and we have long learnt to be cautious of the vagaries of the Rivalin.' 'You will not speak ill of the radiant farseer in front of me,' retorted Lhir swiftly, taking a step towards Scilti and making the other councillors flinch towards their weapons. Ela watched with interest. She could see the genuine affront felt by Lhir. He was sincere in his defence of the Rivalin Farseer, although he had made no reaction to the slight against his own house. He stamped his defiance regardless of the jeopardy in which it placed him. Despite herself, Ela realised that she liked this Teirtu Guardian; he was transparently and crisply dutiful. Standing his ground, Scilti neither flinched nor moved. He too could see the earnestness of this Teirtu. 'As you wish,' he said, letting his calmness placate the situation. 'You should believe me when I tell you that I do not bear this message with a tranquil soul. It has been a long time since I have wished anything but ill on the House of Ansgar.' He smiled weakly, wondering whether the Warp Spider was immune to his charm, 'But none on Kaelor can refuse the call of the farseer, and thus I stand before you, unafraid for my soul,' he continued. He's telling the truth. Ela's thoughts eased unobtrusively but unequivocally into Scilti's mind.

  Scilti nodded slowly, as though thoughtful. 'Tell us again why the farseer expects this of us,' he said, sitting back into his cushion and leaving Lhir with the singular honour of being the only eldar on his feet in the Sapphire De
ll. 'We will hear you.' 'Farseer Ahearn Rivalin is a virtual prisoner in his palace. Although he is permitted many of the privileges of his position, the Zhogahn will not permit him to leave the Ohlipsean. He was barred even from attending the Ceremony of Passing for Lady Ione. His radiance has suffered this partly because he believed it to be for the good of Kaelor, and partly because he entertained the hope that one day Iden would allow the return of his son - the one-time ally of House Ansgar - Kerwyn Rivalin. You will be aware that he was banished from the Sentrium following the House Wars, of course. A number of recent events have provoked his radi- ance into reconsidering his view of Iden and the position of House Teirtu. He asked me to relate to you the disturbing and wholly abhorrent fate of the Glimmering Kerwyn, and to remind you of the allegiance you once swore to him. It is for this higher cause - not for your hatred of the Teirtu - that the radiant farseer beseeches you to march against the Teirtu once again.' There was silence as Lhir's message was gradually absorbed by the councillors of Ansgar. Ela could see that they were touched by his words. Even those that found his story incredible wanted to believe him. What else could make their painful years of disgrace and suffering worthwhile? The faith of the farseer was a potent force, even amongst the Ansgar: especially for the Ansgar. 'If old Ahearn thinks that we are strong enough to march against Iden, he is as foolish as he is shortsighted,' scoffed Khukulyn without rising. 'From where does he think that we can draw our strength after his pet Teirtu has strangled our domain and slaughtered our children? Why could he not have seen this before the House Wars? That would have saved Kaelor many of its finest souls. I think that your farseer is blind and bumbling like a mon'keigh.' Lhir's movement was lightning. He spun on his heel and lurched forwards instantly, hurling himself at the veteran warrior. Khukulyn lay pinned under the weight of the Teirtu Guardian with one of his own witchblades pressed to his throat. Meanwhile, the other Ansgar councillors were on their feet with their weapons drawn and trained on the assailant. 'You will not speak ill of the radiant farseer in front of me,' hissed Lhir, applying enough weight to the blade to draw a trickle of blood from Khukulyn's neck.

  'He means merely that he doubts our readiness,' explained Scilti, unmoved from his cushion. 'You must forgive our manners, Lhir of Teirtu. We are merely Styhx-tann eldar, and not the cultivated Knavir to whom you have become accustomed.' The mockery teetered between offensiveness and placation. 'We have not shared the good fortune of life in the palace.' Khukulyn said nothing, but his mouth twisted into a snarl and his eyes narrowed, as though he were daring Lhir to slit his throat. Watching from the sidelines, Ela thought once again that the warrior wanted to die. 'But we are ready, honourable Teirtu. I am a hereditary heir of Ansgar, nephew to Bedwyr, and I will lead us back to the destiny that once was denied to him. The forces of Ansgar and the might of the Warp Spiders have not been so primed for action since Bedwyr's death. If you will stand with us, Lhir of the Golden Serpent, then we will fight beneath the Rivalin banner once again.' THE JETBIKE SPED between the lines of Guardians that filled the Plaza of Vaul, flashing under the canopy of banners that boasted both the green and gold of House Teirtu and the claret and gold of the farseer's dynasty. Bringing the jetbike to a halt at the rear of the lines, outside the Rivalin Palace, the messenger sprang out of the saddle and strode through the open gates into the grand reception hall at the front of the palace. The chamber was a frenzy of motion and colour. Iden had ordered the conversion of the once luxurious hall into his campaign headquarters and maps and charts hung over the ancient frescoes, and masterpieces of sculpture and artistry had been cleared away in order to make space for strategic models and real-time holographic images. 'Zhogahn. Marshal Yseult,' nodded the messenger, walking directly up to them as they peered over one of the tactical layouts. Morfran sat to one side of the table, lounging casually in a deeply padded chair, apparently bored by the whole furore around him. The messenger simply ignored him and addressed the others. There was nothing ostentatious or stylish in the messenger's manner; it was full of military efficiency. 'The rebels have taken another domain in the styhx-tann sectors. Their progress is swifter than we anticipated.'

  'Then our anticipations were not good enough,' snapped Iden in an instant and dismissive response. He was already fuming about the refusal of the Ohlipsean seers to offer counsel in this battle. Even Cinnia of Yuthran had declined to help. 'Where are they now, Nawrad?' asked Yseult. Her tone was gentler but no less serious.

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  'They have just passed through the domains of Eaochayn on the Innis Straight, marshal,' replied the messenger, swiftly turning his attention from the simmering fury of Iden to Yseult's calmly professional visage. 'They will reach the Styhxlin Perimeter before the commencement of the next down-phase.' Yseult nodded thoughtfully. She was not unaware of the symbolic significance of the route that the rebels had chosen. 'Numbers?' 'They are few: perhaps twenty old Ansgar Guardians, a single detachment of Warp Spiders and a rag-tag ensemble of other eldar that have rallied to their banners during their march from Ansgar, no more than fifty in all.' 'Banners?' queried Iden, noticing the plural. 'Yes, Zhogahn. They fly the colours of Rivalin alongside the flags of Ansgar.' There was a long, shocked silence as the significance of this revelation sank in. 'That will be all,' said Yseult, conscious of the rage building in Iden's mind and disinclined to permit the messenger to see the explosion of anger that would undoubtedly follow. Thus dismissed, the messenger turned and strode back out into the plaza. That cursed old fool! fumed Iden, glowering into Yseult's face in impassioned silence. I should have executed him along with his

  son, and done away with the troublesome, decadent and effete Rivalin line altogether.

  Yseult studied him. You didn't execute Kerwyn, lord? It was a question. He was banished. Her naivete was suddenly obvious even to her. Wasn't he?

  Iden remained silent for along moment. His green eyes shifted away from Yseult's face, gazing out of the open gates into the plaza beyond. Yseult could see him controlling his anger and bringing his thoughts under control. It was not the first time that his fury had caused him to step beyond the bounds of propriety. Kerwyn was banished, Yseult Teirtu-ann, but he died in exile. His death is not on my hands, but I cannot say that I mourn his

  passing. He was an enemy of Teirtu and a traitor to the Rivalin line. Had he been anyone else, I would have executed him

  alongside his pet tureir-iug, Bedwyr. Iden's tone seemed honest and open, like a confession.

  For how long have you been aware of his death, lord? asked Yseult. She was reluctant to jump to the conclusion that would

  dishonour her own deeds.

  The heir was dead to me from the moment that he turned against Ahearn, replied Iden ambiguously. I have not thought of him as

  being amongst the living since the start of the House Wars.

  Yet I fought against him at the Battle of Gelban's Deep. He seemed very much alive at that time, furious with life, recollected

  Yseult, her thoughts edged with accusation even as her memories were tinged with admiration for Kerwyn's courage. Well, you need not fight him again, marshal, replied Iden, deliberately misunderstanding Yseult's tone. For he is now as dead in

  body as he was once in his soul.

  Yseult was not reassured. And the farseer himself? Does he know of his son's fate? Recent events would suggest that he has learnt of Kerwyn's fate, don't you think? First the attack of the Warp Spiders at the

  Rivalin Gates, and now the march of the Ansgar bearing the farseer's colours. It seems to me that the sentimental old caradoch is

  trying to awaken the dead and revive the old alliances. We must crush this uprising before the sons of Ansgar can rally any of the

  other great houses against us. There are many jealous eyes gazing on our position in the Sentrium, Yseult. Many of the warrior

  houses of the styhx-tann would crave these luxuries for themselves.

  Yseult flinched inwardly, finding Iden's appr
opriation of the courtier's derogatory term ''styhx-tann'' offensive and cheap. Had he so readily forgotten his own origins? There had been a time when he would have used that label as a badge of pride -claiming Kaelor for the styhx-tann - freeing it from the decadence of the corrupt Knavir. She looked at him with altered eyes for a moment, and in her mind's eye she flashed back to the memory of the honourable Warp Spider Arachnir Fiannah, with blood pouring out of her slit throat in front of the Rivalin Gates. Do we fight in the name of the farseer? asked Yseult, finally putting words to the core of the issue. She turned and looked out into

  the Plaza of Vaul, where she had assembled two hundred and fifty Guardians under the dual banners of House Teirtu and the Rivalin Court. She knew that a number of the Knavir courtiers were watching the preparations from one of the higher balconies of the palace.

  I am the Zhogahn, young Yseult! I was appointed by the Radiant Aheam Rivalin himself to defend Kaelor against threats to its