[Sundering 02] - Shadow King

by Gav Thorpe - (ebook by Undead)

  “You should have sent word, we would have arranged a more suitable welcome,” said Eothlir with a smile, extending his hand. Yeasir’s face showed no joy at the encounter and he shook Eothlir’s hand only briefly.

  “I am sorry,” the lieutenant said, his eyes alternating between Eothlir and Alith. “I do not bear good news.”

  “Come inside and we will hear you,” said Eothlir. “Your soldiers are welcome to make their camp in our grounds.”

  “I fear you will not be so hospitable when you hear what I have to say,” said Yeasir, clearly uneasy. “I am here to place you under house parole, on the order of Prince Malekith, ruler of Nagarythe.”

  “What?” snarled Alith, stepping forwards, stopped only by the outstretched arm of his father.

  “Explain yourself,” demanded Eothlir, forcing Alith back. “Malekith counts House Anar amongst his allies, even his friends. For what reason does he command this arrest?”

  Yeasir’s expression was pained, and he sent a longing glance back towards his knights.

  “I assure you that Malekith has no ill intent towards House Anar,” said the captain. “If your offer still stands, I would gratefully accept the welcome of your manse.”

  Alith was about to tell Yeasir that he had already overstayed such welcome as he deserved, but Eothlir caught his eye and shook his head.

  “Of course,” said Eothlir with a nod. “Your knights may stable their horses and take rooms in the servants’ wing. Gerithon!”

  The steward came trotting down the path, casting worried looks over his shoulder at the fearsome riders outside the gate.

  “Our visitors are to be extended every hospitality as guests,” said Eothlir. “Please inform the kitchens and make ready such spare bedding as we have available. Commander Yeasir will be accommodated in the main house.”

  “Of course, my lord,” said Gerithon, bowing. He hesitated before continuing. “And how long might your guests be staying?”

  Eothlir looked at Yeasir, who sighed.

  “Probably for the winter, I’m afraid,” he said, avoiding Eothlir’s stare.

  “Is it me, or has the weather turned chill quickly this year?” said Alith, wrapping his cloak tight around his body. “Or perhaps it is something else in the air that makes me shiver.”

  Alith stalked back towards the house but a shout from his father caused him to stop and turn.

  “Wait for us in my chambers,” Eothlir called out. “Once everything has been attended to, we will join you there.”

  Alith gave no nod or word of assent and merely strode away, his mind full of turbulent thoughts.

  While Alith was seething with anger, Eothlir was the picture of patience and understanding. The pair were on the balcony outside Eothlir’s chambers with Yeasir, looking at the mountains rising up wild and sharp beyond the ordered nature of the garden. Eothlir and Yeasir were sat on divans, a low table laden with decanter and goblets between them, though nobody had taken a drink. Alith stood staring at the Annulii, his hands fiercely gripping the balcony rail.

  “I understand that this must come as something of a shock,” Yeasir was saying. “No doubt it is some ploy to embarrass or discredit House Anar, and we will be able to put the matter aside in a short time.”

  “Who would accuse the Anars of being cultists?” said Eothlir. “What evidence did they present?”

  “I cannot say, for I do not know,” replied Yeasir. “Prince Malekith vowed before the Phoenix King himself to hunt down the cults, and even his own mother languishes in imprisonment because of that oath. Accusations have been made against the Anars and he is bound by his honour to treat them as equal with any other. You understand that to display any favour or prejudice in this matter would undermine the prince’s rule?”

  Eothlir acceded grudgingly to this logic with a shallow nod of the head.

  “This is a deliberate attack on the Anars,” growled Alith, gazing out towards the mountains. He turned and directed his glare towards Yeasir. “It is plain that this is some move by the cults to avert the prince’s gaze away from them. They seek to divide those that would see them destroyed. Whoever made these accusations is a traitor, performing the deeds of a master other than Malekith.”

  “Though I have no name to give you, Prince Malekith assured me that his source is being investigated no less than your family,” said Yeasir.

  “What can we do to make this pass away swiftly?” asked Eothlir as Alith turned away again.

  “I must conduct a thorough search of the manse and grounds,” said Yeasir. “As we all know, there is nothing of an incriminating nature to be found, but that must be proved to the prince and his court. Without further evidence, this baseless allegation can be disregarded just as many others have been since the cults scattered on Malekith’s return. Many have used such false accusations to settle old scores.”

  “I cannot give permission for this,” said Eothlir, and raised a hand to quell Yeasir’s argument. “My father is still lord of the Anars and you must await his return before any search is made.”

  “I understand,” said Yeasir. “Thank you for seeing the difficult position in which I find myself.”

  “Gerithon will convey you to your quarters shortly and you are welcome to join us for dinner,” said Eothlir, standing up.

  “I think I will go hunting,” muttered Alith, pushing past Yeasir and storming out of his father’s chambers.

  Eoloran was most unhappy by the turn of events he encountered when he returned to Elanardris, though he realised he had no option but to acquiesce to Yeasir’s search. The knights were exceptionally thorough, examining every room and corridor and alcove in the manse, searching for amulets and idols that would betray the Anars as worshippers of the cytharai. They scoured the wine cellar and the library, and pulled up the carpets from the halls to seek hidden trapdoors.

  Yeasir busied himself with measuring the dimensions of the manse and its rooms, to locate any dead spaces or voids that might conceal a shrine to the lower gods. Despite his personal dislike for events, Alith was impressed and intrigued by Yeasir’s diligence. Several days after the search had begun, as he was setting out through the gardens to go hunting, Alith saw the captain on the southern lawn, pacing up and down the rose beds that bordered it. He held parchment in one hand on which he scribbled measurements with a piece of charcoal.

  “What do you expect to find out here?” said Alith, crossing over the grass. Yeasir stopped suddenly, surprised.

  “I, well, I am looking for concealed entrances,” he said.

  “You think we have some grotto beneath the garden, festooned with the bones and entrails of our victims?”

  Yeasir shrugged.

  “If I cannot conclusively say that you do not, the doubt remains. I am convinced of the innocence of your family, but Malekith needs proof not assurances. The Anars are not the only noble family to have come under suspicion, and some of the things we have found I would spare you description. Complacency now, when so much has been achieved, would only strengthen those that would undermine the true authorities of Ulthuan.”

  “The prince has placed a great deal of trust in you,” said Alith, sitting cross-legged on the grass.

  “A trust that has been earned over hundreds of years,” said Yeasir, rolling up the parchment. “He named me commander of Nagarythe in return for the loyalty I have shown him. I was with the prince when he saved Athel Toralien from the orcs. I marched with him across Elthin Arvan and have commanded armies in his name, both in the colonies and here in Nagarythe.”

  “I hear that you went with Malekith into the north, as well,” said Alith lightly. Yeasir frowned and looked away.

  “That is true, but none of us that came back speak of what happened there,” said the captain. He looked northwards and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, Alith saw fear unlike any he had witnessed before in a Naggarothi. “There are things on the edge of the Realm of Chaos best left forgotten there.”

  Alith
considered this with pursed lips.

  “I have heard it said that the northlands changed Malekith,” he said after a while. “He is more serious now, less inclined for adventure and battle.”

  “Some adventures and some battles make us realise what it is we want from life,” said Yeasir, fiddling with the charcoal, staining his fingertips. “Prince Malekith came to the conclusion that his place was here, on Ulthuan, as ruler of Nagarythe. It seems he was right to return when he did.”

  “If only he had returned to us sooner,” Alith said with a sigh. “Perhaps we might have avoided much bloodshed and anguish.”

  “The prince was not ready to return earlier, and would not have been able to do what he needed to do,” said Yeasir. “I am thankful that I was not in Nagarythe to suffer under the rule of Morathi, but that darkness has passed.”

  “Has it? What of the cult leaders that escaped justice? What of those depraved worshippers who fled Anlec and Nagarythe?”

  “They will be hunted down and brought before Malekith. It is his decree, and I have never seen him fail in something he has set his mind to, even when others thought it impossible.”

  Yeasir was about to say something else but stopped.

  “What is it?”

  “Thank you for talking with me, Alith,” said the captain. “I know the business that brings me here is unpleasant, but I would have you bear me no ill will for following the orders of our prince.”

  Alith considered this for a moment and saw the earnest expression of Yeasir. He remembered the commander’s profuse gratitude on the walls of Anlec and realised that Yeasir believed he owed his life to the Anars. He was an elf of much honour, Alith decided, and if he trusted the judgement of Malekith then he would have to trust Yeasir as well.

  Alith stood and extended a hand to the captain, who took it gratefully.

  “We are both Naggarothi, and we are not enemies,” said Alith. He glanced towards the clouds gathering overhead. “I must go hunting before the weather turns against me. When you are done with our gardens, I will take you up to our hunting lodges so that you might see that we have nothing to hide there either.”

  “And perhaps catch myself one of the famed Elanardris deer?”

  “Perhaps, if your eye is as good for shooting as it is for prying!” laughed Alith.

  The last days of the short autumn were drawing to a close, and dark clouds settled around the peaks of the Anullii, pregnant with snow. Yeasir had concluded his exhaustive searches and had not found any evidence of cult activity by the family or their followers. The commander sent word to Anlec along with a complete list of his findings, or lack of them. As Yeasir apologetically explained to his hosts, until he received fresh orders from Malekith he was still bound by the command to keep the Anars under watch. Alith had become almost unaware of the silent knights stationed around the manse and grounds, and they interfered little in his daily life.

  The wind was veering to the north with each day, and soon the snow would come again. In the mid-morning just a few days before winter’s arrival, Alith was in the side room of his chambers reading Thalduir of Saphery’s account of birds in the Saraeluii, the huge mountain realm of the dwarfs that marked the eastern bounds of the colonies in Elthin Arvan. He studied the intricate watercolour paintings, marvelling at the diversity of birds of prey. He hoped that one day he would travel to Elthin Arvan and hunt beneath the wide woods and across the towering mountains of the colonies.

  The rattle of carriage wheels in the courtyard broke his thoughts and he placed the delicate silk-bound book upon the table beside him. He stood and went to the high window that overlooked the front gardens of the manse. Several carriages marked with the crest of House Moranin had drawn through the gateway. Excited that Ashniel might be among the passengers, Alith quickly changed from his hunting leathers, which he dressed in when at leisure to do so, and threw on a more formal robe of soft black wool and a wide belt of whitened leather. He tied back his long hair with a thong of woven silver thread and headed downstairs.

  On coming out of the main foyer, Alith saw Ashniel gazing from the window of one of the coaches, and he waved. She saw him but her look was blank and a grave doubt began to fill Alith’s heart. She drew the curtain closed.

  Alith made to walk over to her, but Caenthras stepped down from the lead coach and intercepted him.

  “Go fetch your father,” the elven lord said gruffly. “Bring him here.”

  “A lord of House Anar receives guests in the proper manner, he does not hold his councils on the porch,” Alith replied. “If you would wait a moment, I will have a servant inform my father of your arrival.”

  “Your petulance is unbecoming,” said Caenthras. “Take me to your father.”

  Alith still fumed inside at Ashniel’s indifference, but acquiesced to Caenthras’ demand and led the prince into the house. He knew his father was in the library.

  Caenthras followed Alith in silence as they mounted the winding stairs that led up to the second storey of the manse. Alith seethed, wanting to demand what was happening, but he held his tongue, fearing to anger Caenthras even further. Perhaps, a small part of him said, he had misread the situation. His head knew this to be foolish, that something grim was afoot, but Alith said nothing.

  Eothlir was sat at a broad desk of white-stained wood, which was littered with maps held down with goblets, plates and other assorted items. The library was not large, barely a dozen paces across, but every wall was lined floor to ceiling with shelves holding scrolls and bound tomes of varying age and subject.

  Alith had spent little time here as a youth, no more than required by his tutors, for his passion lay under the open skies and not with written lore. He had preferred his lessons to be practical not theoretical, and had constantly taxed the patience of his teachers with his disdain for poetry, politics and geography. These days he found a little more comfort indoors and the library had a great many maps and diaries from travellers to the colonies. He fondly imagined that at some time he would go to those strange lands with Ashniel by his side.

  Eothlir’s expression was welcoming as he looked up at the disturbance, but this changed to one of concern when he saw the stern look of Caenthras.

  “I fear I am not going to like what you are about to tell me,” said Eothlir, picking up a ewer of water and proffering it towards the lord of the Moranin family. Caenthras declined the drink with a shake of his hand.

  “You are not,” Caenthras said. “You know that I hold no house in higher regard than yours, save for that of Prince Malekith.”

  “That is nice to hear, but I think that you are about to demonstrate otherwise,” said Eothlir.

  “I am,” said Caenthras. “My loyalty lies with Nagarythe and my family above all others, and so when I am faced with a decision it is that loyalty which steers my thoughts.”

  “Enough, my friend,” said Eothlir. “Say what it is you have to say.”

  Caenthras still hesitated, his eyes fixed on Eothlir, giving not even the slightest glance to Alith who was stood beside his father.

  “Ashniel has been invited to attend at the court of Anlec, and I have accepted on her behalf,” said Caenthras.

  “What?” snapped Alith. Eothlir did not reply, but shook his head in confusion.

  “There have been many wounds between Anlec and the east of Nagarythe, and this is a great opportunity to heal those injuries,” continued Caenthras. “Think of what good can come to the eastern princes with our voice heard in Malekith’s court.”

  “And what of the wedding?” said Alith.

  Only now did Caenthras look at Alith. His expression was stern.

  “Ashniel travels to Anlec before the winter comes,” said the elven lord. “You are free to join her there in the spring if you wish. Not before then, for she has many duties that need attending to upon her arrival, and I fear she has much to learn about court life in the capital. She does not need the distraction of your presence for the moment.”

  “
That is unacceptable!” snapped Alith. “She is to be my wife and yet you have made this decision without consultation with me.”

  “She is my daughter,” replied Caenthras, his voice quiet and dangerous. “Even when you are wed she is my responsibility. I would not have Ashniel waste her life in the woods and mountains when she could achieve so much more in Anlec.”

  “One day I will be lord of those woods and mountains,” said Eothlir. “So will my son. Have you such disdain for us that you prefer the company of the fashionable elite of Anlec? Those who not twenty years ago were all too ready to bend their knee to Morathi and her cults?”

  “Times have changed, Eothlir,” said Caenthras, calming his voice. “Malekith is the new power in Nagarythe, and perhaps one day across Ulthuan.”

  “You would see him made Phoenix King also?” asked Eothlir.

  “It is the only natural conclusion to events that I can see,” continued Caenthras. “If you back his claim as heir of Aenarion, then you must feel, as do others, that it is his right not to rule just Nagarythe, but all of Ulthuan.”

  “I feel your logic is flawed, Caenthras,” said Eothlir. “I have no concern who wears the Phoenix Crown and the feather cloak. It is stability and prosperity in Nagarythe that I fought for, not some wider goal.”

  “Then it is you who has been deluded,” said Caenthras. “Or perhaps your father, from whom you have taken all your misguided counsel. Maybe there is more to the accusations of treachery than I first gave credit. What loyal son of Nagarythe would not see Malekith crowned as Phoenix King? Would the Anars see themselves as successors, perhaps?”

  “Be careful what you next say,” said Eothlir, standing. “It seems House Anar has few enough friends at the moment, but House Moranin would do well not to be added to the list of our enemies.”

  “And so the ploys of Morathi come full circle, and innuendo and threats have become your weapons, is that right?” spat Caenthras.

  “Morathi was correct in one thing,” said Eothlir with a sneer. “The time to fight was upon us, and those battles have not yet all been fought. There can be no bystanders. I tell you that House Anar has nothing to do with the cults and if you turn from us, you only fan the fires of falsehood that have smouldered in Nagarythe since Malekith’s return.”