“It is true,” the wizard said, restoring silence to the chamber. “Soldiers from the Northern Isles are in league with King Drogin of Maranac. That is what you are all wondering. But there is more to the relationship. Our belligerent Island neighbors are assisting Drogin in his war, but they are doing so through the manipulative hand of Vellan himself. The resources of Kargoth are supporting the war in the south and have helped to instigate it. King Drogin is Vellan’s willing puppet, seeing a chance to expand his power as Vellan pursues his own selfish ends.”
A voice in the back piped up. “How do you know this?”
“I will let our friend from Surna speak on that matter,” Tolapari replied, indicating a tall, fair-haired man seated across the table from King Justin’s aide.
“In private meetings earlier, I had consulted with King Justin and Tolapari about Kargoth’s pact with the Northern Isles,” the man said. “Situated on the eastern edge of the Northern Mountains, my nation is not far from the Lorren River and its tributaries. As early as last year, our scouts have reported seeing large rafts laden with supplies and soldiers sailing up the Lorren River from time to time, and then going farther up along the Gray River, one of its smaller tributaries. When they disembark, it is a short journey through one of the mountain passes to the Drusala River which flows down into the dominion of Kargoth. On the Drusala, the Islanders don’t have to fight the current which take them to the doorstep of Vellan’s stronghold in Del Norác.”
“So not only does Vellan have the Enâri, which he created over thirty years ago and continues to expand,” Tolapari said, “but his forces are also being bolstered by recruits from the Northern Isles. The ambassador from Surna also told us that a group of scouts from his nation had made a secret expedition along the banks of the Lorren River all the way down to where it empties into the Trillium Sea. They reported back that a ship from the Isles was anchored off the shoreline to deposit troops and supplies into the mouth of the Lorren, sailing unchallenged up the river all the way to Kargoth.”
“The few communities thriving along the narrow shores of that area are no match for any arrivals from the Islands,” King Justin said. “People living around the perimeter of the Dunn Hills are pioneers, accepting the fate of the wilderness. They are good, robust souls but without a single government encompassing the many villages scattered up and down the coast. They have neither army nor king and prefer it that way. If men from the Isles face any resistance, I’m sure it is minimal. They are staunch allies of Vellan.”
“And they are not Vellan’s only allies,” the envoy from Surna continued. “As my associates from Linden and Harlow can attest to–for we all live under the troubling shadow of Kargoth–many of the original inhabitants and their descendants living in the Drusala River valley are also loyal subjects to Vellan. But it is not by choice, as legend has it.” The gentleman lowered his voice, wondering if he should utter one of the popular superstitions in the Northern Mountains. “After Vellan claimed the region of Kargoth as his own, rumors flourished about how the powerful wizard had cast a spell upon the waters of the Drusala. Those who drank from it were instantly enslaved to Vellan, having an unnatural devotion to do his will. Many claim to have fled the valley to one of our nearby nations upon seeing the spell take hold of others. But whether these stories are true or not, I cannot absolutely say.”
“True or not, one thing is obvious–Vellan’s followers are legion,” King Justin said. “He will be a formidable enemy to face. Already he has a stranglehold upon the mountain nations around him. Surna, Linden and Harlow years ago essentially surrendered their sovereignty to him by conducting trade deals, taking bribes and accepting many of his advisors into their governments. Vellan’s subtle threats and occasional violent displays had much to do with the ease in which he wielded his power over the years.”
“No one agrees more, King Justin, than I,” said an emissary from Harlow. “However, we are at peace with Vellan, mostly. Our three nations exist on the map as independent entities. And yes, it is but a fiction, but remember, our populations have been subject to Vellan’s whims before I could first speak as a child. Our leaders have tolerated his presence, accommodating his economic overtures until his influence was tightly woven into our lands. Still, I’ll say it again–at least we are at peace, which is a good thing.”
“At peace? That is a fiction!” said another man of about thirty seated on one of the benches against the wall between the main doorways. His tired, leaf green eyes and unshaven face belied a fiery spirit within. “Vellan’s troops have made incursions into our trio of nations over the years, terrorizing villages, burning farms and butchering families in order to get local populations to submit to his will. And it has worked because the governments of Linden, Surna and Harlow have allowed his representatives a say in our affairs under threats of more killing. So to prevent war, our leaders have simply submitted like cowards to his demands and declared it peace.”
“We have bought time, Eucádus!” the emissary insisted.
“You have given us a slow death. Over the years, many people, me included, have fled Harlow, not willing to live in a society stripped of freedom and littered with politicians who have willingly allowed that freedom to decay. The same can be said of Linden and Surna, too. Their populations have diminished as well because those people are seeking a better life elsewhere.”
“Well, Eucádus, perhaps if you and the others had stayed, we might have taken the fight to Vellan!” the emissary snapped back. “Abandoning their homelands only made matters worse.”
“Abandoning our homelands was a last resort!” Eucádus stood and took a deep breath, trying to keep his anger from blunting his message. “When the governments of all three mountain nations claim to fight for their people, yet follow the will of Vellan out of fear or to keep his tainted money flowing into their coffers, then there is no hope that a fight will be undertaken. That is why the people must take matters into their own hands or perish.”
The emissary from Harlow waved a dismissive hand Eucádus’ way. “We have had this discussion before in private. Let us not bore the others with our rancor. There are more important matters to discuss this afternoon.”
“What would those matters be, sir?” Eucádus shook his head, rubbing a hand over his whiskers. “Tell me, why are you even here? Do you offer a plan to fight back, or do you simply want to learn what other nations will do before returning home? This way you and other bureaucrats can position yourselves to survive whatever storm is unleashed against Vellan, whether it is successful or not.”
“That’s what you and your kind are after, Eucádus–a war!” The emissary stood up, pointing a finger at his fellow countryman. “You’d rush to war when other methods might save us. You’d rather plunge the mountain nations into conflict, destroying innocent lives and a sustained peace, all on a hopeless whim.”
Eucádus lowered his voice. “Innocent lives have already been ruined, sir, and the peace you live under is but an illusion. Citizens’ livelihoods and homes have been usurped or destroyed, food is rationed, men are rotting in Vellan’s prisons, and the only people that seem to thrive are those who walk among the halls of government–and that’s only because Vellan still allows it. He would obliterate you and your ilk in a heartbeat if it meant saving his own life or those of the Enâri. And one day soon when the borders of Kargoth are too confined to contain his precious creations, they will flood into our lands like Vellan’s advisors have already done, displacing or destroying any of our citizens who remain.” His words dripped with both sorrow and disdain. “Harlow, Linden and Surna are mere shells of their former selves, and those in charge have long ago abandoned any desire to break the chains that Kargoth has wrapped around us. Sadly, you’ve grown comfortable with the state of affairs as they are, abandoning generations to a slow, creeping tyranny.”
Eucádus sat down on the bench and folded his arms, his gaze still cast upon the ambassador who returned to his seat moments later, his face
red with rage. King Justin tiredly rubbed his brow after viewing the spectacle, throwing a glance at his son next to him. Prince Gregory understood and broke the silence.
“Thank you both for your spirited words. I’m sure everyone here will consider them carefully,” he said. “But now would be a good time to hear from the representative of Drumaya.” Prince Gregory indicated a well dressed man seated across the table from his father, his beard neatly trimmed and his shoulders squared. “Though good fortune planted the Ebrean Forest as a buffer between Drumaya and the Northern Mountains, your kingdom still engages in much trade with that region,” the prince pointed out. “Do you have any words to add to what you’ve just heard, Osial?”
“Several. And they echo the sentiments of King Cedric who instructed me to convey them here today.” The representative addressed King Justin directly. “King Cedric knows that your inclinations lean toward assisting Rhiál in ending their war, and that is admirable. But the kingdom of Drumaya would be loath to enter into such a fray with you if that is your objective. We have long suspected Vellan’s involvement in the affairs of the east. Our scouts have monitored his soldiers’ movements across the Kincarin Plains for months now. We are not naïve. Yet it would be naïve to think that we’d risk Vellan’s wrath by protesting his dabbling in foreign affairs.”
Tolapari tilted his head, eyeing Osial. “A murdered King and his wife are a few steps above dabbling, don’t you think?”
“In Drumaya’s defense, I didn’t know of Vellan’s involvement in the assassination until after I arrived here,” he replied. “It is tragic, and upon hearing my report, King Cedric may have a change of heart. But I can only relate to you his last instructions.” Osial nervously fingered his shirt collar, momentarily avoiding eye contact.
“We understand,” Tolapari said.
“Yes, and you must also understand that Drumaya buys coal and iron from the mines of Kargoth, among other items. Our farmlands sell and trade substantial food and fruit supplies throughout the Northern Mountains where the growing season is not as long or productive as in Drumaya.” Osial folded his hands and rested them on the table. “Vellan could easily interrupt or destroy those trade routes, deeply harming our economy. And what he could do to us militarily were we to infuriate him, well, I dare not utter.” The ambassador shook his head. He was used to luxuriating in more delicate verbiage, but King Justin’s gathering was of a less formal style than what he preferred. “I know my words may sound insensitive and are probably not what you wanted to hear, but they reflect our reality in Drumaya. Vellan has much influence over us, like it or not.”
“And he always will,” Eucádus said, “as long as people like you never stand up to him.”
Osial sighed, not wanting to engage Eucádus in an argument similar to the last one. He posed a question to King Justin to change the direction of the discussion. “Tell us, what would you do to alter the current state of Laparia? Given the freedom to work your will, enlighten us with your plans.”
The King accepted Osial’s challenge with good humor. With much talk but few specifics, restlessness was settling over the room. Maybe now was as good a time as any to reveal his intentions.
“We all know that Vellan has designs on Arrondale,” he said, leaning back in his chair with an easy confidence. “He has for many years. But I see his involvement in the conflict between Rhiál and Maranac as a precursor to some action against this kingdom. Also, recent word from Len Harold, my fellow countryman from the village of Kanesbury, has strengthened my suspicions.” The King indicated Len who sat across the table, urging him to tell of the recent Enâri activity in his village. Len promptly did so, narrating the details of their reawakening in the Spirit Caves, the mysterious visit between Mayor Otto Nibbs and one of the Enâri creatures, and of Otto’s subsequent visit to meet with all of the Enâri at Barringer’s Landing.
“But our mayor never returned, and a search for him proved fruitless,” Len explained. “And though King Justin has asked me not to publicly reveal the purpose of the Enâr’s visit, the visit itself is nonetheless proof that Vellan, or his apprentice, Caldurian, is up to no good within the borders of Arrondale.”
“What did that creature want from your mayor?” someone asked. “Why won’t King Justin allow you to speak?”
“I am not forbidding Len to speak,” King Justin stated, not thinking it wise to reveal that the Spirit Box was currently located inside the Blue Citadel. Since Vellan had reawakened the Enâri, it seemed probable that he might also be searching for the one source created by the wizard Frist capable of their destruction. “I merely asked Len to keep secret a nugget of sensitive information which he has agreed to do so. Regardless, it is irrelevant to my point–namely, that Vellan is again stretching his tentacles across Laparia and that Arrondale is the prize he desires most.” The King leaned forward, his ice blue eyes alive and determined. “But I will not let it happen, I can promise you that.”
“And despite any doubts raised in this chamber, I think most would support you in the end,” Tolapari assured him. “If Arrondale ever fell, the fate of Laparia would be dark and grim indeed. If anything, Vellan is focused. He will labor tirelessly to achieve his cruel and gluttonous aims. As some of you know, he once trained me for a short while after settling down in the region he dubbed Kargoth. But after a few months, I sized up his devious nature and fled, knowing I couldn’t be part of it. Vellan was banished from his native soil fifty years ago because of ambition. Now he infects our homeland, gaining power, biding his time. I received the bulk of my training from others of the race of true wizards who occasionally traveled in our region. I learned much of Vellan’s past and surmised why he acts as he does. One day, I believe, he will want revenge upon his race, using our conquered populations to advance his evil deed.” Tolapari recalled his years of training, having been both honored and delighted to hone the trace of wizard-like power somehow coursing through his veins. How it disturbed him that the likes of Vellan and Caldurian could misuse such a gift, yet sadly, it didn’t surprise him, knowing that corrupt people would always flourish from time to time, whether among the race of common men or wizards.
The ambassador from Drumaya sighed, gazing at King Justin. “Still, you have not answered my question,” he said. “Despite elegant words from you, Tolapari and Len Herald, you have not clearly stated your intentions. What do you wish to do, sir?”
“I’ll tell you precisely my plan,” King Justin said as everyone breathlessly awaited his answer. “We must send an army into Rhiál and assist King Basil in his precarious fight. We must prevent that kingdom from falling into the hands of King Drogin, a false king propped up by Vellan. If Maranac retakes Rhiál by sword, then a true peace between those two nations won’t be achieved for generations, if ever.”
Tolapari agreed. “And once Drogin cements his power across the lake, I can only imagine that troops of Enâri creatures and men from the Northern Isles will flood into that region, giving Vellan a second foothold in Laparia.”
“But we are nearly ready to attack Vellan himself,” Eucádus said, standing up again. “And you should join us. My people, who have fled Harlow over the years along with others from Linden and Surna, have raised a small army to launch an assault. We will try to convince King Cedric of Drumaya to join us, but with or without his support, we will march to Del Norác and look Vellan in the eyes, taking the fight to him. Win or lose, we can’t allow our last remembrances of freedom to wither away without taking a stand. What is the point of walking and breathing each day if enslavement is our only fate?”
King Justin looked kindly upon Eucádus as a few people in the chamber quietly applauded the young man’s words. The King agreed with his sentiments, yet having seen quite a few more years than Eucádus, he had learned to temper his passion for victory with patience. Vellan’s defeat, should it ever be realized, would be a careful and arduous process. He could not lend his support to the rash gesture Eucádus was proposing, however grand or sincer
e. There had to be a better way. He hoped his words would sway Eucádus and the others to his side for the sake of Laparia.
“You are right, Eucádus. We cannot let our freedom wither away,” the King said, standing up to address the crowd. “And Vellan must be confronted soon. For too long we have allowed him to flourish unchecked, turning a blind eye to his ambition and iron rule while supporting him with our trade, fooling ourselves that all would be well in the end. But if you attack him alone now, clearly outnumbered even with help from King Cedric, you will be fighting for a glorious defeat. For thirty-five years Vellan has been breeding the Enâri race, growing them to be stronger and live longer as previous generations die off. I can’t imagine what their numbers are now. A concentrated force on our part will be the only realistic way to achieve victory.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I think our wisest recourse would be to overwhelm King Drogin and free Rhiál from his grip,” the King explained. “The forces from Arrondale and Montavia–for many of their troops have been training with us–will ride to the aid of Rhiál. And Eucádus, if your troops from the three mountain nations join us, our chances for a swift victory over a lesser foe will increase. A victory there will do much for the morale of Laparia and better prepare us for a later strike against Vellan. And if we can convince Drumaya to join us, so much the better. By restoring legitimate rule to Maranac, we are foiling Vellan’s plans to expand his base.”
“Not to mention severely wounding his pride,” Tolapari said with a smirk, eliciting a round of light laughter from the chamber.
“That can only help our cause,” the King replied. “Afterward, having time to regroup to full strength over the winter, we can launch a final attack on Kargoth, this time with Rhiál and Maranac at our side. Only then will we have a fighting chance, Eucádus–a realistic chance for a lasting victory.”
Nicholas Raven and the Wizards' Web - Volume 1 Page 42