The Shadowdance Trilogy

by David Dalglish

  “Greetings, Lady Laryssa Sinistel,” she called out as the light of the fire reached her skin. “I heard you’d returned to Quellassar. Consider me both surprised and pleased to be a guest in your presence, as you were once a guest in mine.”

  By the way Laryssa’s face twitched, she could tell the comment stung. Alyssa knew much of mankind’s traditions in court and nobility were based on the elves’ own culture, and to appear inferior in any way insulted their sensibilities.

  “Remove her bonds,” Laryssa ordered. “She poses no threat, and must still give her testimony before I pass judgment.”

  Alyssa stared at her as the elves cut her free. Absently she rubbed her throat, which felt raw from contact with the rope. Glancing at herself, she saw her dirty, torn dress, the same she’d worn since being taken from the temple days ago. No doubt she looked the pauper amid the finely dressed elves. Even those that had captured her, in their leather armor, appeared more prepared for a pleasant evening than she did.

  Laryssa asked one of elves something in her native tongue, and when given the answer, she frowned. Alyssa could only guess the reason.

  “Do you know of a woman with dark skin?” Laryssa asked. “Her hair is black, cut short, her body wrapped in strange clothing. One of your servants, perhaps?”

  Alyssa wondered why they’d ask, but knew she couldn’t risk lying. The elvenkind were known for their excellent skill at detecting lies, and beyond that, she had no idea what magic might be cast about the camp. Every lie she spoke might let out a great plume of smoke for all she knew.

  “The woman you describe sounds like a companion of mine named Zusa,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

  Again Laryssa spoke with the three who had brought her. Her frown deepened.

  “Because she appears to have killed four of my warriors. Your crimes against me only grow, Alyssa.”

  “No doubt she thought she was protecting me,” Alyssa said. “Indeed, what else might she have thought when elves come at night, break into a human prison, and drag me across the land for a secret trial? I have sworn no allegiance to you, Laryssa. Only to the king’s justice do I bow, and only he may administer it. You have no authority here, not in our lands, and not with one of the king’s citizens.”

  This caused a stir among the elves, and more puzzling, she saw that it was not just anger at her words. A spark of hope burned in her chest. Could it be there were elves, even in this dark court, that actually agreed? Rarely were humans unified in thought when it came to anything. Surely it made sense elves were the same, even if to a lesser extent. More than anything, she wished she had learned their language. Her old advisor had suggested it many times, but she’d shrugged him off, not seeing the point. Listening to the fluid words all about her, she now saw otherwise. Too late, of course. That tended to be how those things went.

  “We have tried finding justice in your courts,” Laryssa said, ending the argument. “Just as we have tried for peace. Ingram hanged men he claims killed Sildur, but I know he only guesses, only hopes we accept such a petty token. Angelport is sick with betrayal, rife with anger, and ruled by cowards and greedy men. No, out here, in the wild, we will pass our judgment, and have our justice. You may not accept any court other than your king’s, but your crimes have gone beyond the human realm, and into ours. As for your war...”

  Laryssa stood, leaning heavily on her chair. Despite the shaking of her arm, she let it go, and stood to her full height without aid. Looking down at Alyssa, she shook her head.

  “We do not fear the blades and fires of man. We are Celestia’s children. My father walked the land when your gods first breathed life into the dust, creating such imperfect servants. We saw you come from dust, and will still be here when you return to it, having learned nothing, accomplished nothing. Only destruction. It is all you humans know.”

  All about her, the elves cheered, and whatever hope Alyssa had dwindled and died. She was not on trial, not anymore. There in the starlight, she stood representing the crimes of all her race. Her innocence didn’t matter. Her words of defense would not change anything. The elves wanted blood for Laryssa’s wounds, and for the others killed by the mobs. Random lowborn peasants hanging from ropes would not satisfy them. They wanted the highborn, the nobles. Someone whose death would matter. Someone like Alyssa.

  She prayed her execution would be swift, and painless.

  “Look at me,” Laryssa said, stirring Alyssa from her thoughts. “Tell me, why did you send your pet after me? Let me hear it with my own ears, the reason for your betrayal. Was your anger so great, all because we would not risk our lives for you? Is that it? I saw the eye drawn with my blood, and know it was left by the Watcher, who you brought with you from Veldaren.”

  Alyssa stood tall, refusing to be humbled, regardless of her attire or the filth of the dungeon caked to her skin.

  “When the mob attacked you, I was in hiding at a temple of Ashhur. I did not send the Watcher after you, nor my friend, Zusa. Even now, you are manipulated by the fools you so openly deride. Do you think you would have lived if I had sent the Watcher? Do you think he’d be so foolish as to leave his mark? You believe the lies you hear because you desire vengeance, and I fit every falsehood you put upon my kind. You want to believe us betrayers, murderers, a race without hope, without redemption. Even those who helped you might turn on you, that’s what you want to believe. You need it, all so you can justify the bloodshed you wish to create.”

  She turned and spat, knowing full well how great an insult it would be doing so in front of their princess.

  “I will have no part of it, and will accept no blame. I never betrayed you. It was you who betrayed me. I never struck against you. It was you who came after me, killing all in your way. I have tried to prevent warfare, yet you have courted it with every word you speak, and every arrow you fire. Execute me if you wish, but I die innocent, and the war you so desperately seek will destroy the last hope of peace between our kind. Go on, Laryssa. Kill me. Let me see the hatred, ignorance, and bloodlust in your eyes, so I may know elf and man are alike in every...single...way.”

  The camp went silent. She could sense the mood about her, and it had turned decisively cold. A sarcastic smile tugged at her lips, and she truly could not care. For so long she had helped the elves, trying to find a compromise that would benefit the Trifect while minimizing the loss of life. If they wanted to kill her for it, then so be it. Her heart ached for Nathanial, and she wished to hold him in her arms and say goodbye, but the world was a cruel place. She’d learned that long ago, sitting in her own father’s dungeon, shivering in the cold.

  “On your knees,” Laryssa said. When Alyssa refused, two elves approached, grabbed her shoulders and forced her to obey. One of them tugged her hair so she would lower her head respectfully.

  “Alyssa Gemcroft, I find you guilty of your accused crimes. By your word, you struck against my kind, inspired mobs to riot, and nearly took my own life. You deserve a lengthy execution, but because of your rank, and your past cooperation, I will give you a painless death.”

  The elf with the emerald eyes drew his sword, the blade sliding smoothly out of the oiled scabbard. Pulling back on her hair, he lifted her up, so she might face Laryssa. The keen edge of his sword pressed against her throat, and all around her, the elves held their collective breath.

  “Do you have any last words for me to pass on?” the elven princess asked. “A final goodbye to your son, perhaps?”

  Alyssa winced at the pain from her pulled hair, then gave Laryssa a smile.

  “No goodbyes,” she said. “Not yet.”

  Zusa leapt from behind one of the trees, and before the other elves could react, her dagger pressed against Laryssa’s throat. All around, elves drew weaponry and reached for bows, but Laryssa cried for them to halt.

  “That’s a smart girl,” Zusa whispered into the elf’s ear. “Now let Alyssa go before I start cutting.”

  “No,” Laryssa said. Alyssa felt the sword agai
nst her throat turn, angling sharper into her flesh. Blood trickled down the blade. “Once she is safely away, you will kill me.”

  “I will kill you if she stays. This is not a negotiation.”

  Alyssa could feel the tension, so thick it made breathing feel difficult. Zusa’s stealth had been perfect, her plan simple enough, but it seemed Laryssa had no intention of playing along.

  “I am not alone,” Zusa cried to the others. She pulled the princess closer, one arm holding her head, the other positioning the dagger. “One false move, Laryssa dies, and you will face the Watcher.”

  “You will suffer for this,” Laryssa said. “I am no hostage to be taken. Release me, or Alyssa dies.”

  Zusa looked to the elf that held Alyssa.

  “If Alyssa dies, I lose my employer. If Laryssa dies, you lose your princess. I wonder who will suffer more when we return to our homes?”

  “Do not listen to her,” Laryssa insisted. “We have given in to their fear for far too long!”

  Alyssa could sense the uncertainty of her captor. He pulled harder on her hair, but the sword no longer cut into her skin. Zusa’s eyes swept the camp. They were badly outnumbered, and while holding Laryssa kept them from attacking, so far it had not bought her and Alyssa an escape. The threat of fighting Haern seemed to have carried little weight as well.

  A far cry made her jump, and pain streaked across her throat, the blade giving her a shallow cut. She wished to turn and look, but could not. Instead, she heard a body drop, and then Haern speak.

  “He was to release an arrow,” said the Watcher. “A bad decision.”

  Haern on one side, Zusa on the other, with Alyssa caught in the center. Both sides were eager to fight, but neither was willing to risk the death of their hostage. She tried to think of a solution, but could not. Part of her just wanted them to flee, to live. She saw no way for them to escape alive. But she didn’t need to.

  “Laryssa!”

  She recognized that voice. Storming into the camp came the ambassador, his face livid. He shouted something in elvish, turning and berating many of them at once. Laryssa said something in argument, but Graeven didn’t even let her finish. He turned to Alyssa and bowed.

  “Forgive us this horrible travesty,” he said. “I can assure you, these elves do not represent Quellassar in any way.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” Zusa said.

  “If you wish to live, you must. They will not harm you, but first, you must let Laryssa go.”

  Alyssa looked to Zusa, who shrugged. The emerald-eyed elf started to object, but Graeven shouted him down in their language. Again he bowed low.

  “Please, Alyssa. You must trust me. There is no other way out of here alive.”

  Alyssa swallowed, and praying she made the right decision, she ordered Zusa to let the princess go. Laryssa hurried away, and collapsed in the arms of another elf. Blood seeped from the bandages in her side, the red staining her dress. Meanwhile, the elf holding Alyssa tensed, but Graeven lowered his voice, and spoke with undeniable authority. The blade left her throat, and she felt the pressure on her head end as he released her hair. She accepted Graeven’s offered hand.

  “Come with me, all of you,” he said, glancing at Zusa and Haern. “Don’t worry...we won’t be followed.”

  The last comment seemed more directed to Laryssa, who openly glared at the ambassador. Zusa slid in beside her, grabbing her hand.

  “I am glad to see you well,” she said.

  “Me too.”

  Haern moved to the other side of her, constantly turning his head so he might watch the elven camp.

  “Too easy,” he said, as if in doubt of their escape.

  “You’re right,” Graeven said, leading them on a path toward the main road running south into Angelport. “You are only safe in my presence. The rest will hunt you, rest assured on that.”

  “How is it you may overrule the demands of a princess?” asked Alyssa.

  “Because she herself was ordered to return to Quellassar, and leave all dealings with humans to my discretion. If Laryssa disobeyed, and caused a war, then she might face potential banishment if there were enough uproar about it.”

  “Would there be?”

  Graeven spun, fast enough all three tensed.

  “Make no mistake,” said the elf. “Doing this puts my reputation at great risk. I requested your release under great pressure, and my objections are well known to the rest of our nobility. There are many who believe your death will avert a war, and they question where my loyalties lie. You are safe in my presence, but the moment I am gone, they will take their justice knowing there is little I can do to punish them.”

  He turned and continued on.

  “Ingram has refused handing you over because he knows the recent riots will be nothing compared to the fury he would face should word reach the commoners. Many of my colleagues in Quellassar have taken a similar hard line, and will march upon Angelport if that’s what it takes to bring their desired justice. Whether you deserve it or not, you’ve become a focal point, a symbol of human aggression against elvenkind. More will die until Ingram regains control of his city, and my own people acknowledge the truth.”

  “And what truth is that?” asked Haern.

  The ambassador turned and gave him a look Alyssa could not decipher.

  “That we are fading,” he said. “Our rule over Dezrel has long ended. Our numbers dwindle, and every day the power of man tightens around our borders. Already one of your kings chased the Dezren elves across the nations, and burned their beloved city to the ground.”

  Graeven shook his head.

  “One day, those same torches will come for us. I must do all that I can to prevent that, or at the least delay. I will not see those I love perish in such a way. I will not let the tragedy at Dezerea happen again.”

  They reached the road, and Alyssa joined Haern in looking behind them.

  “You won’t see them,” Graeven said. “But they are following, I assure you. We have little time.”

  “There must be something I can do,” Alyssa said. “Some way to prevent all this.”

  “There is.” Graeven looked to Angelport. “You disappear. My people will look, of course, and they’ll believe Ingram has you in hiding. Still, that gives me more to work with than if my kind knew for certain you were in his custody. Ingram will do a fine job accusing us of lying in return, since we broke into his dungeon. That alone will be a fine mess to explain. But so long as you remain a mystery, I believe I can keep things from worsening.”

  “We need to return to Veldaren,” Haern said, his hands resting on the hilts of his sabers. “Only there will you be safe.”

  “No,” Graeven insisted. “You will never make it. They’ll watch the roads, and track you with ease. A dozen arrows would pierce your body long before reaching Veldaren. Come with me to Angelport. I know a place you may hide, and the city walls will delay them long enough for you to disappear. And, if we’re blessed, we might even discover whoever it was that did attack Laryssa.”

  Alyssa chewed her lip, and she looked at the other two. Haern shrugged, and Zusa put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Do what you think is right,” she said.

  Thinking of that tense moment in the camp, and how the ambassador had defused it, she nodded.

  “Lead on,” she told Graeven. “And let us pray to whatever gods might listen that we find a way to save us from war.”

  Graeven smiled, and he bowed low.

  “Of course, milady,” he said. “Follow me.”

  20

  At the Port and Loan, Warrick Sun met with the last surviving members of the Merchant Lords, taking count of casualties and loss. Their meeting table was overloaded with strong alcohol as they toasted and drank. None cared that it was hardly an hour past sunrise. It was not a time for sobriety.

  “I am fortunate enough to have most my wealth forever on the water,” said Warrick, leaning back and resting his hands in his lap. “Madelyn’
s mercenaries burned my home, but that is no sore loss. A shame about my paintings, though. Those commissions were not cheap.”

  “I’m sure Arren wished he had gotten away so lightly,” Stern said, downing another shot. “You see what they did to his body? Gave him a damn necklace made of his own guts. Fuckers. Glad I gave as good as I got when it comes to killing.”

  “That is because you have a demon’s luck,” said Durgo Flynn. “I lost five ships to their fire, and many good crewmen. But I did not have the Wraith fighting to protect my home.”

  A stir spread through them, merely at the mentioning of the Wraith’s name.

  “Demon’s luck?” asked Stern. “I stumbled upon my brother’s corpse in a bloody alley, and you’d accuse me of a demon’s luck?”

  Beside him, Flint Amour shifted uncomfortably.

  “We ran,” he said. “Not much we could do. They killed my brothers as well, all of them.”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” Stern said, rolling his eyes. “Mighty convenient, that.”

  Flint flushed and focused on drinking instead of responding.

  “There is that strange business, the Wraith’s aid,” Warrick said, scratching at his nose with his wrinkled hands. “He has struck at us before, yet now he helps protect us, despite our ineffective bounty on his head? What game does he play?”

  “Well, if it is a game, I’d like to join.” Stern hurled his cup against a wall, just above the head of a servant. “We lost hundreds of thousands of gold pieces’ worth of supplies, homes, plus two of our lords, yet Ingram does nothing. Madelyn’s sitting safe behind her walls, and our lord won’t do a damn thing to bring justice.”