Taking a deep breath, Ethan slipped out of the alley and curled back onto the main street. Night had fallen several hours ago, but it was still early enough that the pedestrian traffic hadn’t completely thinned out. The new city watch had virtually no control over the docks or the slums, but they were obviously out in force here around the castle. The consulate was guarded by two men and several overlapping patrols, and he had no doubt that there would be at least a few more guards inside. With the aid of his minions, he could probably overpower all of them easily enough…but he wasn’t here to fight. He was here to talk with someone inside, and that meant he needed to be subtle.
Fortunately, subtlety had always been his strong point.
Grinning beneath his cowl, Ethan gradually made his way around to the eastern side of the consulate. Like many of the old structures in the main plaza, this one had been virtually annihilated during the Ash War. The Crell had done a fine job rebuilding it, however, and they had made sure to reinforce the walls and windows in an effort to protect their valuable diplomats. The consulate was surrounded by a twelve-foot-tall fence on all sides, and every ten feet or so there was a taller post crowned by an unassuming white crystal. They looked exactly like regular glow-stones, and they glimmered with the radiance of small torches.
But Ethan knew their true purpose. The crystals would intensify their glow if anyone made physical contact with the fence, and if someone actually reached the top, they were designed to unleash a small jolt of electricity through the metal. The discharge wouldn’t actually kill anyone—mere crystals couldn’t possibly hold that much energy—but it would likely cause them to cry out in pain or perhaps even fall off. It was a simple and effective enough defense mechanism to deter common thieves, especially in a building that was already garrisoned with soldiers.
Thankfully, Ethan had no intention of actually climbing anything. Once the closest guard patrol passed by, he closed his eyes and extended his palms towards the ground. The cold nighttime air began to swirl around his legs, and the pebbles and other bits of debris cluttering the street were quickly swept aside. A small, controlled vortex formed beneath him, and after a few more seconds it lifted him off the ground and over the fence. Selvhara had taught him this particular trick many years ago, and he had already used it a half dozen times since Krystia had restored his powers. Dimly, he wondered if he was the only human in Obsidian who knew any druid channeling techniques…
The vortex carried him well above the fence towards the only open window on the consulate’s fourth floor. The room beyond was empty, as far as he could tell, which wasn’t at all surprising given the late hour and the fact the consulate was probably understaffed. But he could sense the presence of several minds inside the building, and so before he floated through the window he made sure to conjure a sound-proof bubble around the wall. His technique was a bit rusty, but when no guards were waiting for him as he tumbled inside, he assumed his efforts had been sufficient. Dismissing the vortex and the bubble, he picked himself up, dusted off his cloak, and crept forward.
If the Solarians had assigned any other diplomat to their operations here in Lyebel, Ethan never would have attempted something like this. But ever since he’d learned that Lord Alistan had called Valestra Fallon out of retirement, he had known this was his chance to rally the Asgardians and drive the Crell out of Galvia for good. He just had to hope that she was still here in the consulate despite the late hour…
A few minutes later, he got his answer.
“I wondered when you’d finally show up,” Valestra said the instant he appeared in her doorway. She was sitting comfortably inside a large office, a glass of brandy in one hand and a piece of parchment in the other. Her aristocratic accent and husky voice uncorked a deluge of memories in Ethan’s mind. “The queen warned me that you’d be lurking about.”
“I would have come in through the front door,” Ethan said, “but I have the distinct feeling that your guards would have tried to kill me.”
“Probably. I imagine half the people in this city would be perfectly willing to slit your throat given the chance.” She took a long sip from her glass and crossed her legs—her long, shapely, and still mesmerizing legs. “The other half, of course, would rally behind you and insist you be placed in charge of the city’s defenses. You really should have done the world a favor and died all those years ago in Tibel.”
Ethan grunted. “It’s always good to feel welcome. Especially by old allies.”
Valestra scoffed. “You never considered me an ally before. You just complained that I wasn’t pushing King Areekan hard enough.”
“You weren’t,” he said, shrugging. “But it’s not your fault he didn’t listen. At least you understood what was really going on.”
“For all the good it did,” she murmured. “Still, I suppose it’s for the best that you’ve managed to survive this long. If I recall correctly, you still owe me two bottles of Izarian 1993. I’ll accept payment anytime.”
Ethan smiled and stepped into the room. Nearly twenty years ago, back when the Ash War had still been a twinkle in his eye, he had been a constant thorn in the side of the Solarian diplomats living in the Ashenfel consulate. Valestra had been Areekan’s official ambassador to Galvia back then, and Ethan had spent the better part of two years lobbying her to form a military alliance. He had wanted to pre-emptively invade the Imperium before the Sovereigns consolidated any more power, but the Lord’s Council had endlessly dragged its feet. The provincial lords had lost their taste for war over the years, especially after the Alliance’s disastrous attempts to annex Solipei, and they had no interest in antagonizing the Crell.
Eventually, Valestra had come around. She had been Galvia’s staunchest ally in Solaria, and she had begged Areekan to join with the Hands of Whitestone many times. But of course he hadn’t listened, and eventually Ethan had ordered the attack on Geriskhad without Alliance support. Two years later, King Whitestone was dead, Galvia was on fire, and the Solarians had no choice but to finally come to the aid of their old allies.
“I’m glad Lord Alistan had the good sense to recall you to the front lines,” Ethan said, pulling back his cloak and taking a seat in one of the empty chairs across from her. “Galvia needs your support and experience, now more than ever.”
“I requested the assignment, actually,” Valestra told him. “I retired to my family’s farm almost three years ago, if you didn’t know.”
“I didn’t,” Ethan lied. He’d long ago learned that keeping track of old allies was every bit as vital as keeping track of old enemies. “So you weren’t Bound to Areekan when he died, I assume.”
“Thankfully, no. Transitioning to a life without the Aether was difficult, as I’m sure you know, and I had only just started to get used to it when I heard about the king’s death. I got on my horse and rode straight to Celenest the next morning. I knew our new queen would need all the help she could get.”
“You always were the patriotic type.”
“One of very few things we ever had in common,” Valestra replied with a soft snort. “We never underestimated the Imperium, not even when everyone else was determined to look the other way.”
Ethan nodded gravely. Valestra was roughly his age, but the years had been much kinder to her than they had to him. Her blond hair had gone completely white, and the creases around her nose and cheeks had grown long and deep…but her grey eyes were as hard and fiery as ever.
“I said a prayer to the old gods on Elissa’s birthday last week,” Valestra whispered after a moment. “I hope that one of these years I’ll finally be able to visit her again. Assuming the Crell haven’t destroyed the graveyard…”
“They haven’t,” Ethan told her. “And they won’t. I will make sure of it.”
Valestra remained silent as her eyes slowly took him in. She and Elissa had been close friends for many years, and her children had grown up playing with Jason in Ashenfel. Then the war had come, and her family had all returned to Solaria.
�
�There are rumors about you, you know,” Valestra said. “I’m sure not all of them are salacious nonsense. Do I even want to know the truth?”
“Probably not,” Ethan admitted. “Suffice to say that I’m not proud of all my choices, but everything I’ve done has been for Galvia. And I’m hoping that you and I can finally finish the war we knew was coming even when everyone else was willing to bury their heads in the sand.”
She continued studying him for several long moments, and Ethan wondered if she might press the issue. He had planned for the occasion, of course, and he had a prepared list of responses to deflect any particularly dangerous inquiries. But one of Valestra’s best traits had always been her ability to focus on the task at hand. As a career ambassador, she knew when to ask questions and when to remain silent.
“I had a feeling you might attempt to ‘help’ in the negotiations,” Valestra said. “But frankly, I’m not sure there’s anything you can do. The Asgardians obviously don’t trust you. They think you’re dead, and I fear your presence would only drive us farther apart.”
“I never had any intention of sitting down at the negotiation table with you and the High King’s shamans,” Ethan told her. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t help. I’ve studied the Legion’s current troop deployments, and you’re stretched far too thin across the south to send any more troops this way. If we want to take back Galvia, we’re going to need help—and the Asgardians are the only real option.”
“Yes, I’m aware of the tactical considerations,” she replied tartly. “We barely have enough soldiers to keep order here. Some days it feels like half the folks in the city have joined a street gang or mercenary troupe.”
“The people of Lyebel have suffered more than most, both during and after the war. It will take time for the scars to heal.”
“The Crell walked out the back door because they believed this place was a waste of resources…and they were probably right. There are days I think we should have battened down at Garos and waited for reinforcements.”
Ethan sighed and gestured to the closed window behind her. “You should start recruiting the locals, especially the young men. Get them off the streets and give them a purpose.”
“That would be wonderful, assuming we had any coin to pay them with,” Valestra muttered. “What we really need is for the locals to rally around one of their own—a national hero who could convince them to help. If only I knew someone like that…”
“You know I can’t,” he whispered. “Like you said, half of them probably want to kill me. My name is polarizing at best, and Adar and all the others are dead. There’s nothing left of the Hands of Whitestone.”
“Then I honestly don’t see how we’re ever going to put this rubble back together. A lot of your people seem convinced that there’s no difference between us and the Imperium. There are growing rallies every night on the docks.”
“There’s a great deal of bitterness and resentment, but it will pass once we drive the Crell out of Ashenfel.” Ethan turned back to face her. “Right now our focus must remain on securing Asgardian support. What have they said to you so far? Are they still willing to talk?”
“They’ve been willing to listen, but they haven’t said much back,” Valestra grunted. “High King Zharrs wasn’t particularly fond of King Areekan, and you know how terrified the barbarians are of Unbound. They have no interest in helping Queen Krystia—some of them seem to believe she’s even worse than the Sovereigns.”
Ethan tapped his finger on the desk. His thoughts flicked to Jason and the barbarian girl he’d fallen in with years ago. Sarina was the High King’s cousin, if he remembered correctly, and while Ethan had never approved of their relationship—or many of his son’s other dubious life choices—right now he suddenly wished they had married. Jason might have eschewed his noble heritage, but the Moore name was known across Galvia. A marriage with an Asgardian noblewoman would have gone a long way towards forming an Alliance against the Crell…
But sadly, that was neither here nor there. Ethan had no idea where his son had run off to after Garos, but he wasn’t in Galvia. Still, there might have been another option buried deeper in that line of thought.
“We need to convince the Asgardians that they’re fighting for Galvia and not for the Alliance,” Ethan said. “King Whitestone always had a good relationship with the various shamans.”
“Not good enough to convince them to help in the last war,” Valestra pointed out. “They must be getting soft up there in the mountains—they haven’t fought a real war in decades.”
“No, and that might be where they’re vulnerable. King Zharrs is relatively new to the throne, and he’s probably searching for a way to prove himself. Stomping down chagari rebels in the Great Shelf won’t earn him enough respect to fend off competitors.”
Valestra flashed him a coy grin. “It’s good to see we still think alike even after all these years. Unfortunately, I’ve already tried that angle. Zharrs definitely feels vulnerable, but he’s convinced that supporting an ‘Unbound uprising’ on either side will backfire and unite the other clans against him. In his mind, the safest option is to wait and let his enemies destroy one another.”
“That logic only holds if both sides are weakened,” Ethan pointed out. “But if the Asgardians don’t commit, I wouldn’t be surprised if Solaria collapses by summer’s end. The Crell will kill Krystia, steal her Ascendant power, and then point their dragons straight at Valheim.”
“I’ve pressed them on that angle, too, but the king’s representatives weren’t buying it. They believe the Alliance is stronger than I’m letting on, and they anticipate the war lasting several years.”
“Perhaps you should tell them to look out a window,” Ethan muttered. “Lyebel is the second largest city in Galvia and you have what, a thousand soldiers garrisoned here?”
“Twice that, if you count our auxiliary units further up the coast,” Valestra said. “But yes, we’re severely undermanned. Of course the Asgardians believe it’s because we don’t see the Crell in Galvia as a threat…”
Ethan shook his head in disgust. If he were speaking with another Alliance diplomat, he would have assumed they were incompetent and failing to sell their message properly. But Valestra knew what she was doing; he wasn’t sure he’d ever met a more competent and persuasive ambassador.
“Zharrs has obviously already made up his mind,” she said into the silence. “I’m a little surprised he bothered to send an envoy at all.”
“Changing hearts is more difficult than changing minds,” Ethan quoted the old axiom. “Still, one man’s reticence is another man’s opportunity. Zharrs may not wish to help us, but one of the other clan lords might…especially if we promise them something they cannot get anywhere else.”
“Such as?”
Ethan stopped pacing and folded his hands behind his back. “Power, of course. What else?”
“Some of the clan lords may not care for their High King, but that doesn’t mean they’ll risk betraying him openly. Besides, we have no coin or resources to spare. The best we could realistically offer is some land once the war is over.”
“Land is good; power is better. And there’s no greater nexus of power than the heap of flesh sitting atop Galvia’s throne.”
She blinked. “You don’t mean…”
“For Galvia to be free, Sovereign Verrator must be destroyed. More importantly, King Whitestone’s Ascendant power must be reclaimed.”
“And you would seriously promise this power to an Asgardian clan lord?”
“I would promise it, yes,” Ethan said, turning and smiling. “Delivering it, naturally, is an entirely different matter.”
Valestra studied him for several long seconds, her expression unreadable. “Asgardians don’t respond well to betrayal. You could drive out the Crell only to find yourself besieged by barbarians…and the Alliance won’t have the strength to protect you.”
“You won’t need to. By working with us, our benefactors
will have already alienated themselves from their rival clans. They won’t be able to gather enough support to attack.”
“Still, you’ll have nothing to stop the High King from walking across the border.”
“No, but that would be true regardless,” Ethan said. “Look, all we need is a few thousand soldiers and we can march on Ashenfel right now, especially if we have Bound to support them. One Asgardian clan can provide everything we need.”
Valestra sighed and crossed her arms. “You play a dangerous game, Ethan. You always have—and look what it’s cost you. Look at what it has cost Galvia.”
“Galvia has nothing left to lose,” he whispered. “And neither do I.”
“What about your son?”
Ethan winced. “Jason renounced his homeland long ago.”
“He’s still your son.”
“I don’t even know where he is, and honestly I don’t care,” Ethan lied. “Galvia is what matters now, and unless you have a better option this may be the only way to save it.”
Valestra pursed her lips in thought. “I’m not sure Queen Krystia will approve of this.”
“Don’t bother asking her. I’ll speak with her myself shortly.”
“Planning a trip to Celenest?” Valestra asked, eyebrow cocked. She was still sharp as an Aether-infused blade; Ethan had to give her that. None of the other Solarian priests knew that he was alive, let alone that he was bonded to their queen. But Valestra had probably figured it out on her own.
“Thankfully, the young queen recognizes that she needs experienced individuals on the front lines,” Ethan replied. “She’s given me broad authority to wage this war as I see fit.”
“Again I’m sure I don’t want to know the details,” Valestra murmured.
“Definitely not,” Ethan agreed. “Do you have the names of all the current clan lords?”
“I may have been retired for a few years, but I didn’t forget how to do my job,” she replied matter-of-factly. She reached into her desk and retrieved a small, leather-bound journal. “The largest rival clan right now is probably the Sork’Morgai. They’re led by Garm Agridor and based out of the Crescent Mountains just across the lake from us. But I doubt you’d have any luck with them—Agridor is more of a manipulator than a conqueror.”
The Godswar Saga (Omnibus) Page 98