by Alex Sapegin
The rector knew just which worm to bait a hook with. A tasty fat one that tempted Andy famously. His palms began to sweat.
“I can’t stop my fencing lessons,” he managed.
“That won’t be necessary. There’ll be time for both. You’ll have a couple of colleagues to aid you.” To keep an eye on me, you mean. “I think organizing the work of a couple of helpers wouldn’t be difficult for you?” Andy nodded. “As I thought. I’d also like to add that you’ll have to take a solemn blood oath not to divulge state secrets you may find in the archive. And since only members of the Free Mages’ Guild may honor that oath and work in the archives, prepare to enter the guild. No one can challenge guild members to a duel, by the way. There’ll be terrible consequences.”
Andy stopped in his tracks. Wow, the rector really does her homework!
“I know about the Rauu,” she confirmed his suspicions. The punishing mages really started to panic, apparently. Guess there were a few “external employees” in our group! Now a note on inter-racial tensions was added to the comments in the margin.
“I’m used to solving my problems for myself!” Andy practically spat.
“And I applaud that quality, but refusing help when it’s offered to you is not wise,” Rector Etran retorted.
“Membership in the guild in only a temporary solution, a half measure. When the contract is up, I’ll have to take off my badge, and it’ll all start all over again!” Andy kept on toeing his line. “The Rauu aren’t going anywhere.”
“But you can stop having to watch your back for the time being, keep on developing your skills, and preparing for the challenge. You’re right, the Rauu aren’t going anywhere!” The rector really was offering an effective solution, albeit temporary. Andy gave in. He took the bait.
“Alright. What will my responsibilities entail?”
“Oh, that’s another conversation entirely!” Etran said excitedly. “You’ve more than proved your capabilities to us in your work in the third archive. I need catalogs and collections of materials on “The Siege” dating from four hundred years ago. No one can systematize this material while our legend, master Miduel, has gone into hibernation again. Your experience here could be a huge help to the School in this endeavor. We’ll hire you for two months. What do you say?”
“The Siege?” So the kingdom’s political higher-ups are planning on changing the course of the ship called Tantre 180 degrees? They’re planning on throwing dirt all over the elves/allies/enemies? So that’s what the subtle hints and semi-transparent newspaper articles mean. A turn-around of public opinion is in the works, to the direction helpful to those in power at the moment. Good materials on the “Siege” are more valuable than ever right now, given they’re of the right flavor and served with the right sauce. Should I give the Woodies a kick in the butt? Yes! You’ve come to the right man, Rector Etran!
“When do I start?” Andy couldn’t help a predatory grin. While he’s at it, he can go ahead and keep “sniffing out” answers to his personal question. Isn’t it amazing how things work out?
“I suggest you head back to the office to sign the contract. Tomorrow we’ll take care of the formalities of membership in the Guild. The day after tomorrow, Mr. Archivist, after your classes, you’ll be expected at the lowest basement level of the library. Your hours are until 11 p.m., with a break for your training sessions. Don’t judge too harshly, but I forbid you to lead master grall Migroi around by the nose.” The rector invited Andy to follow her. He closed his bag and followed.
So I’m the archivist? I’m definitely going to take advantage of that….
Part 4.
The old man. A peek into another’s past.
The Light Forest. The Honey Mellorny Grove…
The quiet rustle of the afternoon breeze brought a sense of peace and sweet bliss. The sound of the leaves and the quiet hum of the bees over the inflorescence of the mellory trees made his Lordship Ratel forget about matters of state. He sent his advisers away and closed his eyes letting his very being meld into the whisper of the woods. A rare moment of tranquility. His nostrils caught the subtle aroma of blooming lilies. The next light whiff brought the smell of the bark and leaves of mountain ash. The Lordship’s ears perked and he heard the practically imperceptible sound of golden carp splashing in the pond and the far-away song of Rainbow birds near the river. Solitude with the Forest….
Quiet steps, not breaking a single twig, heralded the end of the break. The needs of the Forest couldn’t wait. The Lordship’s personal needs were nothing to it.
“Iruel, you’re like a dark shadow falling on water. The shadow beacons the fish, but it might also be the shadow of the outspread wings of a falcon. The fish finds its own end in the beak of a black-winged hunter, although it sought only peace and shade…. There’s a shadow over your brow. What news have you for me today?” his Lordship opened his eyes and said to an elf standing at the edge of the clearing. The newcomer was wearing the gold kilt of the house of the Eastern Boarder. The clan tattoo on the frozen elf’s forehead was made more noticeable by an ugly scar, a memento of a troubled childhood. Four hundred years ago, a green orc’s scimitar almost cost him his life.
His Lordship got up and walked towards the interweave of ivy near the Honey Mellornys. The hanging plants moved, forming themselves into two comfortable hanging chairs.
“Don’t make me wait for it.” Iruel hurriedly sat down in the second seat. Lordship Ratel was already freely seated in the first. The news the messenger was bringing was not joyful. He could not brag of any victorious communique. His expression betrayed his underlying fear of the news he had to report. Iruel swallowed audibly. The Lordship spotted his veiled fear in an elvish heartbeat. “My friend, you’re making me think your message doesn’t sparkle with the green of a Mellorny? It’s bad news, but might we hope that it’s better than a yellow, dried up autumn leaf?”
Iruel shook his head:
“News is like a shadow, Lordship. It might bring comfort, it might bring death to the one who receives it: the falcon or the fish.”
“Fine. Very well. I’m glad you’re not afraid to say that to my face. That means the news is truly important and requires the Forest’s close attention.” His Lordship leaned in towards Iruel. “That’s why you’re a messenger, my friend. Because you don’t fear to bring me bad news. Bad or good, it’s all food for thought. We must think how to use it for the good of the Forest, whatever it may be. Speak.”
“The main news comes from Tantre, Lordship. The Forest is precipitously losing its station and its sway in the court of Gil II.” This was not news to his Lordship; he had been aware for some time already. “About a hundred drekkars of Norse vikings landed on the eastern shore of the Gulf of Terium.” Now that was news!
“An attack on the shores of Tantre?” his Lordship asked with interest. It would be excellent if the northerners would nibble at the coastal provinces of their neighbor. On the other hand, Duyal and Mikyet ports can’t take two hundred ships, and you can’t get a lot of loot from the fishing villages.
“Worse. The vikings have arrived out of a direct invitation from Gil.”
“Tell me about that in more detail.” The news shocked the Woody to the core.
“Under the rationale of defending the western sea borders and maritime patrol organizations, Gil II invited the Norsemen to settle there giving them autonomy for ten years, and signing a civil pact with the chiefs and Big Sea-kings: ‘swords for land.’ The Norsemen have pledged allegiance to Tantre! Hundreds of ships are only the first wave; next will come cargo caravans with the northerners’ families and belongings. Our agents in Kion have uncovered plans to settle the Norsemen on the islands and shores of the gulf. Dozens of burgs are being organized, and I think this is only the tip of the iceberg. Money in the form of interest-free loans is being set aside to buy building materials for the Norsemen. It’s been put together royally.”
“What counteractions are being devised?”
&
nbsp; This was bad, very bad. Their neighbor to the south-east had managed to pull off their endeavors in complete secrecy, apparently, since the Forest was now faced with a fait accompli. And Iruel was right: this was only the tip of the iceberg. They had to dig down and uncover the rest. Gil turned out to be much smarter than his Lordship had given him credit for. The vikings would block the seaways not only in the gulf. The entire oceanfront would be in reach of their nimble drekkars. The “Forest Wolves” program was on the brink of failure. Why invite these northerners? Was the king increasing his armored fist? Any viking could wield a sword. Their women wouldn’t hesitate to grab a weapon and stand on the city walls if it ever fell under attack. Or had the humans found something out regarding the Forest’s plans?
The Lordships’ grandiose plan to weaken the neighboring human and dwarf kingdoms had been in the works for twenty years. With the Rauu, it was more complicated. The Icicles were always on their guard. Intrigue, the “immortals’” most powerful weapon, was yielding the first, long-awaited fruits, and failure was not an option.
Civil war was smoldering in Meriya, quietly and under cover for the time being, but ready to flare into a full-blown fire over the cities and the countryside at any moment. The Forest’s agents were actively fueling the military mood in all camps. Duke Nag, through his dummies and agents, had received a nice round sum of gold and had begun to take the bull by the horns, hiring mercenaries in the Wave baronies and the Patskoi Empire. The empire was ambitiously supplying weapons to the north. The merchants could smell blood, which meant the potential for profit, from thousands of leagues away. The more they cut each other’s throats, the better it would be for the Forest. Less hassle later on.
Humans. So easily controlled by their passions and desires. Also highly susceptible to flattery and praise. The thirst for power and gain was another one of their weaknesses. Oh yes! One mule loaded with gold could sometimes do what a whole army couldn’t.
The duke of Taiir had made the Lordships’ wildest dreams come true when he agreed, after some careful bribes and promises, to look the other way when it came to the small border conflict with the dwarfs. The mules with saddlebags containing yellow filthy lucre turned out effective here too. The flattery, the praise, the empty promises and the gold had burned up the ruler’s ambitions. But the dwarfs had turned out to be so intractable! It was a downright shame how stubborn they were. They were quite possessive of their lands. The dwarfs took offense at the duke and their hirds rolled like a wave of steel over the dukedom. The fortresses standing in their way were wiped off the map, those taken prisoner with their weapons in hand were hung out to dry. When they had trampled over all of Taiir with fire and the sword, they returned to the mountains. The duke was left with nothing. The right people advised him the way out… others, who had found themselves a comfortable hiding place in the entourage of the Great Prince of Mesaniya, carefully planted the thought of resurrecting the ancient kingdom of Mestair in their ruler’s brain. It wouldn’t cost the prince anything to unite the lands, just marrying his eldest son off to the duke’s daughter. She was his natural heiress. His Lordship smirked. No, nothing at all, but then he would have to spend everything he had on restoring the lands destroyed by the dwarfs, which meant taking a small chunk out of the army, and the generals, oh how they despised facing a shortage….
The next stage of the plan was ready to be put into action.
The dwarfs had gotten a bad reputation as bloody killers who killed just for the heck of it. It didn’t matter that the duke had invaded their territory first and massacred a couple of cities. And it was just a small detail, really, that the dwarfs hadn’t burned the cities and villages that had surrendered. The main thing was to get the story straight (how they needed it) and start the rumors running. People would keep clear of dwarfs now, and the little folk wouldn’t forge any alliances with liars. Not a bad outcome.
Tantre, cursed Tantre. Four hundred years of a tense alliance had taught the kings of Tantre to be careful. How well it had all started then. Young Olli I had only just taken the throne and begun state reforms restricting the power of the high-born nobles. The coastal lords and the White Baronies, given incentives by the Forest’s agents, had revolted. They spared no expense. After all, it was an act of kindness. They enacted the financing through the Patskoi merchants, but they didn’t get a thing from them, and the Forest wasn’t able to do anything about it. A horde of “greenies” advanced from the northern plains. The Lordships then had to sacrifice a dozen of their tribesmen, crucified by the orcs, but their death was not in vain. The orcs found out about the war and started marching through the Dead Desert. The thirst for gain was a strong motivator. Horsemen on wargs covered the horde from the Forest side. No one stood in their way; they had cover. The horde besieged Orten. Bullseye. But Olli had turned out to be stronger than the Forest had thought. He refused to wage war on two fronts and concentrated on the revolt. When he had put down the revolt and quartered the lead conspirators, leveling the rebel forts in the process, the king moved his army towards Orten. The Forest could have stopped there. Their goals had been accomplished. The “greenies” of the plains no longer terrorized the Northern Light Forest, and the human kingdoms were weakened by war and could not set out any time soon. But the Head of the Council, Lordship Tomiel, sent a task force to the walls of the besieged city. Additional incentives tempted him too; it was stupid then to risk it. Good fortune turned her back on the Forest. The elves gave in to human passions. The Rauu’s sleazy spies, agents of the Snow Elves, informed king Olli of the activities of the Patskoi merchants, and where the gold had come from. He considered and thought it over, then finally decided to avoid any threats from the Forest and weaken his “frienemies.” He put all his forces together to attack in one place, the elves in the second line, and forced the orcs to throw caution to the wind. Busy destroying the hated elves, the “greenies” left their rear open and stopped paying attention to Orten. The attack from the city didn’t wait. The chiefs and commanding “greenies,” usually found behind the troops, commanding the army through messengers, were wiped out by the “Wall of Fire.” The orcs fled, but the elves, too, had few warriors left. Iruel got the adornment on his forehead under the walls of Orten and still remembers that day with fury. Without the firepower necessary to continue the war, Olli I went to make peace and made certain concessions to the Forest. The contract signed with the kingdom didn’t save Tomiel. The council of Lordships rendered their verdict unanimously. The piece of parchment Tomiel had presented to them was not worth fifteen thousand elvish lives. Tomiel was strangled by killer vines. Betel the Dark was chosen to occupy the position of head of the council. Ratel now occupied Betel’s post, Lordship of the eastern border. For four hundred years now he had been responsible for the security of the Forest’s borders. And as long as the vines weren’t tightening their thorny bodies around his throat, it wasn’t worth risking his neck any more. The council doesn’t forgive errors.
Something had to be done about Tantre, immediately. King Gil II the Soft Spoken was rapidly gathering momentum. The Secret Royal Chancellery’s agents were covering all sources of information. A total surveillance of the guests from the Forest didn’t allow them to deploy full-fledged intelligence and subversive activities. All contact had been reduced to communication only between diplomatic missions. They couldn’t put the “Forest Wolves” plan into action without weakening such a formidable foe.
“The galleons have left the Calm Waters and met the southern merchant caravans. The slaves will be delivered on time, Lordship. I fear that this is the last caravan. The vikings are blocking Gil’s sea trade route. Tantre’s merchants are rubbing their hands together and waiting impatiently. They have nothing to fear. We won’t see any more slaves,” Iruel answered the question.
His Lordship lowered his eyelids in resignation. They would have to manage with what they had. Thousands of human women were involved in the Forest’s plan, under cover of the shade of the Mellorny
s. The “wolves” were the Lordships’ hope. If humans found out about the “wolves,” they would immediately disregard any contracts and destroy the Forest. Lordship Ratel saw to it that as few people as possible were in the know, and that those who were never left the Forest’s central border. The slaves were taken to the central territory of the upper canopy, where women were turned into birthing machines. Human women get pregnant so easily. Dozens of specially developed elves did the dirty work, combining work with their personal satisfaction. The mixed-race children that were born were sent to the mages, who had discovered the secret of fast growth twenty years ago, and they performed the spell on them, making them grow up much sooner than natural. Ten years later the child was already fully mature. They taught them to love the Forest and love elves, and instilled in them a hatred for the other races. They were taught to wield weapons by the best instructors. The army of a hundred thousand “wolves” would be fully ready in a year. The threatening force already awaited its hour under the shade of the green leaves. The army felt no pity and was prepared to pulverize all enemies of the Light Forest. Only one thing was left to do—weaken their neighbors, and then the Forest would expand its borders. No, let the human wretches live, but let them know their place. A long-standing pain flared up in the Lordship’s heart. For over two thousand years now, the Mellornys hadn’t grown beyond the borders of the Forest….
Accursed Dragon’s magic! Accursed Dragons! It’s because of their curse the Mellornys no longer grow anywhere else! The Light Forest was limited to the natural habitat of the Strength-Giving Trees. The ancient war had left an unfading mark on the Forest. And although there were hardly any dragons left, a handful, and those were hiding in the mountains, their magic continued to poison the soul of the Light Tribe.
Dragons. It was a matter of days of old, but for the moment his Lordship had more pressing questions: