Kings or Pawns (Steps of Power 1)

by Sherwood, J. J.

  “I don’t know,” Mirwen replied, pausing the transfer of her garment as she pondered this for a moment. She finally spat the curl back out. “Perhaps it has to do with the council meeting? You know how those seem to go sometimes. I wonder what they discussed today…”

  Alvena smiled slightly to herself as she pulled the garment out and switched it to the last basin.

  Mirwen leaned forward eagerly once more. “Do you know? You always know!”

  Alvena looked up, watching the female balancing over the edge of the water. A little tap and she’d fall right in. Her smile broadened at the thought.

  “You do?!” Mirwen inquired, her voice rising. “Try to tell me!”

  Alvena waved a hand and shook her head.

  “Oh come now, Alvena. I will make a deal with you. If you tell me what is going on, I will do the clothes. All of them.”

  Alvena tossed her head thoughtfully from side to side. She gnawed slightly on her bottom lip.

  “For a week!”

  Alvena grinned, holding up a finger and pointing up.

  The female stared back blankly.

  Alvena gestured to her head impatiently and then pointed up.

  “Oh. Hairem upstairs. You need to go talk to him?” Mirwen questioned.

  Alvena nodded.

  Mirwen shoved the garment in her hand into the water excitedly. “Say no more! Leave the rest of these to me!”

  Triumphantly, Alvena stood and swept her an exaggerated bow. Her relationship with the king was paying with benefits now! With a hop to her step, she left the room and hurried to the kitchen, quite focused on the wine she would bring to the king to loosen his lips for secrets.

  At this hour the kitchen was empty, but she could see a bottle of wine sitting on the counter, no doubt waiting for Hairem should he call for it that evening. She snatched it up and dumped it into the empty pot above the fire. As it began to warm, she gathered his favorite spices and dashed them into the pot, stirring it once with the spoon and waiting impatiently.

  After another minute, she dipped her finger into it and nodded to herself. That would have to do! Heaving the pot up, she poured the contents into a golden pitcher and set it on a tray beside a tall, ornate glass.

  Now, to answer those questions!

  She climbed the stairs to Hairem’s room excitedly. What was Nilanis in a fuss about? She paused, but halfway up the stairs she realized she could hear nothing below her. Had the El’adorium left? Still, at least she was out of cleaning dirty laundry. She’d make something up.

  Outside of Hairem’s room, Erallus stepped to the side. “Good evening, Alvena. My shift is almost over—is that a gift for me?” he joked with a broad, suggestive grin.

  Alvena gave a little snort and giggled.

  “Well, alright then. I’m sure Hairem will be thankful. Smells delicious. Spiced wine, I presume? You certainly give him enough of that. Are you trying to get the king drunk?”

  Alvena’s eyes widened in offense. ‘Why of course not! I-I’m just… He really enjoys—!’

  “That was a joke…” Erallus scratched his temple and opened the door. “In with you.”

  The door closed silently behind her.

  Inside, Hairem was seated beside a table near the opened doors of the balcony, watching the night sky as though deep in thought. He did not seem to notice Alvena approach and only moved when she set the tray on the empty table beside him. She raised the pitcher and poured the wine into his glass.

  “Good evening, Alvena,” he greeted, taking the glass and raising it slightly in thanks. He held it for a moment, still looking out into the night with solemn consideration. “I was just thinking…” he began. He put the glass to his lips and took a long drink. “About what a difference I made today.”

  Alvena rubbed her arms and looked at him curiously. ‘Go on…’

  Hairem’s brow knit. “I recalled the general today,” he informed her after a moment. “I think I saved a lot of males. But you know, to be honest… I’m terrified of sending plague-ridden elves across the country.”

  Alvena followed his gaze out into the southwest, imagining what it must be like in the swamps so many leagues away from home. To be sick with your eyeballs melting out of your head. She grimaced. Why, she was uncomfortable enough in the cold summer night air without adding illness to the lot!

  Hairem looked toward her as she absentmindedly rubbed her arms again. He smiled faintly and turned away from the outside.

  “Alvena, will you close the balcony?”

  ‘Certainly,’ she thought in relief.

  But as she padded toward the balcony, the bedroom door behind her fiercely swung open. She gave an internal shriek of surprise as she whirled to see the intruder.

  “Your Majesty,” the El’adorium breathed as he burst into the room to Erallus’ apologetic wave.

  Hairem turned in blank surprise. “Nilanis? I thought I told my guards that I wished to be left alone tonight… It is nothing personal, but I have private matters that—”

  Nilanis let the doors fall closed and walked forward briskly.

  Alvena stopped beside the balcony doors, her brows knit slightly. She could see the speaker’s gaze nervously sweep their surroundings. What was he looking for?

  His eyes widened suddenly in alarm. “Where did you get that wine, Your Majesty?!”

  Hairem leaned back slightly, clearly perplexed by the male’s tone. “Why, from Alvena who probably retrieved it from the kitchen where it came from the cellar where one of my servants acquired it from the market where prior it had been picked and concocted from some fields…” he trailed off, brow knitting. “You look like you need some. Sit. Alvena, could you pour Nilanis a glass?”

  Alvena started. ‘Of course—’

  Nilanis shook his head firmly, eyes flitting away from the wine to survey the room once more. “Your Majesty, the wedding preys on my mind. I was wondering if we could discuss the matter?”

  Hairem’s obvious displeasure at Nilanis’ presence seemed somewhat alleviated as his imminent marriage was mentioned. “Well, no doubt Ilsevel is the one to talk to about such matters. I have given her full permission to—”

  Nilanis cut him off once again. “It’s just that I’ve been thinking about the guest list. Perhaps you and I could discuss this matter?”

  Hairem’s smile faded. “Now? Lord Nilanis, I would really like some time alone this evening.”

  Nilanis moved toward the balcony, stepping past Alvena and causing her to quickly jump aside. He pushed the doors closed firmly, glancing out once before he drew the bolt. “Your Majesty, I also have a concern about security for the wedding. Perhaps we can discuss this as well?”

  Alvena saw the king groan inwardly, his face falling in exhaustion. “Lord Nilanis…”

  “Your Majesty,” the speaker only continued.

  Hairem raised a hand, standing and setting the wine glass aside. He took a step toward the door. “If we must. I would like to make this—”

  Alvena’s glare toward Nilanis’ rudeness was quickly cut off with a start as the balcony doors swung open, pushed as though by a strong breeze.

  She twisted around, hearing the two males behind her turn as well.

  ‘I thought he bolted the doors…’ she wondered as she took hold of the frame, pushing them back toward one another.

  There was a sudden shadow to her left, like a blanket sliding across the night sky. ‘What—?’ But her thoughts were cut off sharply as her body was thrown back by the force of the balcony doors bursting open. She tumbled across the floor with a grunt, sprawling onto the tile with her elbows stinging.

  Nilanis gasped and Hairem gave a shout of surprise.

  ‘What is happening…?!’ Her eyes rose blankly to the new shape that stood before them.

  A slick, scarred human stood where it had once been empty, lean of frame and black of hair. Alvena pushed herself up on her elbow, staring fearfully at the human, confusion written plainly across her face. What…? How�
��? But these questions seemed to drown beneath her fear.

  He was shorter than most elves, and yet he was still far taller than she. His body was lean and powerful, his hair black as a raven’s wing. Thin brows raised in surprise and delight as the man realized how vulnerable the stunned target before him lay. He raised the jagged blade in his hand and darted forward.

  In sudden realization, Alvena opened her mouth in a silent scream. ‘Hairem!!’

  Her head jerked around to see Nilanis’ face twist in horror, the king beside him reeling back in shock and fear.

  “Help!” Nilanis shouted in panic.

  Hairem had drawn his sword in time to swing out at the assassin, but the human was remarkably fast, dodging below the blade and driving his hand forward.

  Hairem barely dodged in time, the blade slicing through the air where his abdomen had been, snagging just the hem of his silk shirt and tearing it.

  ‘Sel’ari save him!’ Alvena gasped in terror.

  The door to the bedroom flew open sharply and Erallus stood in the opening, his blade drawn at the ready, eyes wide in alarm. “Your Majesty!” he shouted as he quickly grasped the situation. There was hardly time for him to react, but in a swift, fluent motion he had lifted the dagger from his belt and flung it at the assassin.

  As though the entry of the king’s guard had been nothing to note, the assassin had darted toward Hairem again, swinging his blade once more at the king, slicing eagerly for a fatal opening. He barely noticed the dagger in time; it sailed past his throat, forcing him to cut his strike short. He leapt away from his target as Hairem pressed against the wall, a furious scowl crossing the man’s cracked lips.

  Erallus’ dagger clattered against the stone, bouncing in a solid echo through the vastly vaulted ceiling.

  “One of your pathetic soldiers again?” she heard the human breathe in the common tongue, scoffing below his breath.

  Erallus had taken the opportunity to position himself between the assassin and the king. “Surrender yourself!” the elf guard shouted in Common. Alvena could see his eyes harden as he once again readied his blade. “If you do, you may well be spared from a slow death.”

  The human laughed, the sound sending Nilanis cowering against the wall. There was a flicker of acknowledgement and surprise as his eyes landed upon the speaker. He sheathed his small dagger and drew a long sword, twirling it easily once as though demonstrating his prowess with the weapon.

  He lunged suddenly for Erallus. “I will make your death swift!” he snarled.

  Alvena watched in horrified apprehension as the guard raised his blade defensively, parrying with matched skill against the assassin. Their swords clashed in a series of rapid strokes and their feet danced across the smooth marble floor. Erallus kept his feet ever carefully placed, constantly vying for superior balance.

  The assassin threw his weight into his blade yet again and Alvena realized suddenly he was as aware of Erallus’ focus as she was. The human swiftly hooked a leg around the soldier’s and knocked him straight to his back, a sound like thunder ringing out as the guard’s armor slammed into the tiled floor.

  Erallus kicked out in swift response, slamming his heel into the kneecap of the assassin, breaking the human’s fluent attempt to dart forward.

  “Your Majesty!” Nilanis gasped as Hairem was left exposed. The king still held his blade and Alvena saw him advance as Erallus lay vulnerable.

  ‘Don’t just lie there!’ Alvena screamed at herself. Desperately, mind blank with fear, she grabbed for the heavy, golden candelabra on the table beside her, heaving it with all her fury at the lean frame of the human.

  It collided with a solid thud against his back and he cried out in surprise.

  “Why you little cunt,” he growled in elven as his head snapped toward her. “When I’m done with these two I’ll fuck you until you beg for death.”

  Alvena cowered away, hands trembling. What was she thinking?!

  But the assassin had lost his opportunity to finish Erallus and the soldier was nearly back on his feet. The human seemed to refocus then, grabbing the table where the wine sat and swinging it fast and hard at the elf. It collided solidly with Erallus’ body, slamming him into the tile just as he had been regaining his footing. The glass and jug flew to the side, shattering across the floor and spraying it with blood red wine.

  Hairem suddenly stepped forward, blade raised slightly. His voice emerged stern and commanding, even as fear flickered beneath his gaze, “Nilanis! Go get my guard!”

  The speaker seemed to come to then, eyes widening and head nodding forward. “Y-yes!” he stammered, reaching desperately for the door.

  A quick dagger collided with his hand, pinning it to the frame with a swift and securing thud. Nilanis screamed in pain, grasping at the hilt in panic even as he made no attempt to pull it free.

  “That could have been your throat,” the assassin warned with a hiss. “Move again and I’ll finish you.” He leapt suddenly at Hairem, swinging around in a rapid motion, blade slicing through the air.

  There was a flash of metal as the blades clanged thrice, and then the man reached out to grab Hairem by the hair. In that one fluid motion, he yanked the king’s head backward and shoved the blade into Hairem’s chest.

  Alvena screamed silently in horror, getting to her feet, grabbing for the nearest object in desperation.

  But Hairem gave a sudden jerk, catching the hand of the assassin and bending it inward. She could see the assassin’s grip loosen, his eyes widen in surprise. Hairem slammed his knee upward, causing the man to reel back.

  “I trained with the True Blood princes,” Hairem breathed heavily, sword still embedded in his torso. He pointed his blade at the man, forcing him toward the center of the room with every ounce of his fading strength.

  The human’s eyes hardened as he quickly redrew his jagged dagger, but Erallus was swiftly before him. Alvena had become so focused on the king she had not noticed the soldier move. The assassin seemed just as surprised, as though in his determination to impale the king he too had forgotten about the guard. His lips twisted into a scowl of frustration and the bloodlust Alvena had seen before seemed to boil over in a mix of rage and hatred.

  He pivoted, barely dodging another furious and swift blow. Again Erallus swung at him, driving his blade toward the human’s legs. It was a mere flicker of hesitation—a slight miscalculation that cost him the dodge. Alvena could see it in the man’s eyes as the weapon ripped through his thigh, spraying a mist of blood across the tile around him. He returned a furious thrust, half in desperation, but Erallus locked his blade with his adversary’s in an instant parry, throwing his weight into the hilt, and, when the human stumbled back, sliced for his throat.

  “Fucking cunt,” the assassin growled. He dropped to the ground and rolled, scrambled to his feet, and darted suddenly toward the balcony.

  Alvena gasped as she realized he was coming her way. She let out a terrified internal shriek and dove away from his path. He rushed through the opened doors, knocking one aside as he stumbled in pain. It smashed against the stone behind it and, with the sound of showering glass in his wake, the human threw himself over the side.

  Erallus ran after him, leaning over the railing as though desperate to ensure he had fallen to his death. After several seconds he straightened slowly, turning back in confusion. “He’s gone?”

  Hairem put a hand against the wall and Alvena could see his knees buckling. Adrenaline was leaving him now and with it, the last of his strength.

  “Sel’ari,” Erallus gasped as his mind seemed to snap back to the scene around him. He rushed to the king’s side, catching him under the arm. “We need to get you to a healer!”

  Alvena saw the king’s eyes close, but he waved a hand toward her dismissively, even through his pain. “I will be fine, Alvena. Don’t look so worried. Help Lord Nilanis, will you?”

  She stood, trying to look as strong as he did as the pair quickly left the room.

  Th
e El’adorium’s eyes fell to her with a scowl. “I don’t need your help,” Nilanis muttered, gritting his teeth. He yanked the dagger from his hand, gasping in pain, and quickly tucked his bleeding appendage into his silk shirt.

  She watched him stumble into the hall. With a nervous glance toward the balcony, she hurried from the room after them.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The sky was cloudless, spotted with stars peering down on the still lake like a thousand curious eyes. And Emal’drathar was ripe with curious gods that night—the crescent moon of Noctem was most prominent, shining brightly despite just beginning the cycle of its waxing. Ralaris scowled up at it briefly, imagination turning his mood sour as he pictured the vile god Noctem spying on his actions. Or worse, Malranus.

  “Good work,” the cloaked elf spoke softly, breaking Ralaris from his reverie as he had just begun to imagine mighty Sel’ari smiting down Malranus, one foot atop his corpse with a glowing lance in her hands.

  Gods was this mission truly so dull that his mind was wandering to senseless apparitions? He glanced to his hand at the latest “evidence” he had managed to gather. Yes, it was.

  His messenger paused as he reached into his inner breast pocket, shifting his weight with a frown. “Ah, there it is. Thought I lost it but it was just behind our swatch of fabric here…” He produced a tightly folded piece of parchment. “And a letter from the Realm.”

  Ralaris reached for the letter and halted, glancing up at the rooftops. He could have sworn that he had heard a noise, but the world above seemed still and silent. He took the parchment and pushed it deep into his shirt. “Thank you. That is all for now. May Sel’ari bless you and keep you safe.” He placed a hand on the elf’s shoulder and squeezed gently, but his gaze steeled a warning with his words.

  “The same to you,” the elf replied with a short and solemn nod, eyes flicking upward with the same caution.

  Business concluded, Ralaris stole into the alleyway, glancing once more at the rooftops. He had been on edge since the dealings with the illegal merchant: since that night that he had combed the district for his follower, but had found nothing.