"Sweet Lady Death, they're going to war, aren't they?" exclaimed Calleo.
Liandir held up a slender, beringed hand. A faint smile tugged at his weary face. "Patience, friend Calleo! It is a good thing indeed that we elves do not often have strong emotions. There would be none of us left if we all fretted as you do!" There was only affection in his voice; the rebuke was affectionate.
The prince walked slowly into the room. The highly formal robes he was required by etiquette to wear to the Council, heavy, fur-trimmed, and embroidered, threatened to overwhelm his slender frame. He shrugged off the cloak, laying it on the bed. His prince's coronet, encrusted with rubies and one great, winking sapphire, blatantly declared his nobility to those who could not see it, far more subtly stated, in his kind face. Sighing, he rubbed at his eyes, eyes that were gray as a morning mist and half again as large as a human's. Handsome in a race that was, to an individual, uncommonly beautiful, Liandir would have seemed the perfect Falaran prince of legend had it not been for the unnatural weariness and pain on his face. He suddenly looked old, Jencir thought; as old as King Cynor.
The bard and the wizard waited, the former with the patience of his race, the latter with the agitation of his. Liandir's voice was deep with regret when he at last spoke.
"The Sa carried the vote. Falarah was the only elvenland willing to actively protest King Kertu's desire. The Kir did not wish to become involved and yielded their vote. And the Ilsi!" Liandir's musical voice grew rough with displeasure. "The Ilsi are too afraid of the big, blundering mortals to—how was it phrased?—risk contact with them. They think Kertu's desire to show a hostile mien will discourage humans from traveling to our lands. They do not see that if this road does lead to war, then they may get far more human contact than they expected."
Calleo's bearded face flushed and he swore violently. Jencir shook his golden head sadly. He hadn't cared for humans when he was younger, but two centuries of contact had worn down his prejudices. Now, he found he enjoyed the company of the blunt-spoken, lively Calleo, and others of his race. The thought that Kertu would prefer to murder humans rather than try to understand them—
"How long do the humans have?" he asked.
"Long enough, perhaps," Liandir replied. His face was thoughtful, his gaze directed inward. Jencir recognized that look. It meant the prince was planning something. "Kertu first wants to assemble an army of elven troops along the border between Byrn and Falarah, where the Kyras used to be. „We no longer have a wall of stone,' said he, 'so we shall make a wall of steel.' Then ... I do not know. Perhaps he will openly attack the Byrnians."
"Elves will lose a war against humans," advised Calleo. "We've got the emotions, remember. We know how to hate, how to channel bloodlust properly. You elves don't have that. And Byrn has a standing army, well trained and used to killing. Those damned Ghil in the north provide mighty fine practice bodies."
Liandir turned his gray eyes to his friend. "Perhaps Kertu is not capable of true hatred. But he does believe in the purity of elven bloodlines, and in the wrongness of associating with humans. And the Sa have had as much practice in attacking the Ghil as have humans. It could be a closer battle than you think, and if the humans are not prepared, they might be the losers after all."
He glanced over at Jencir, hesitated, and then uttered the news that he knew would hit the performer the hardest. "Kertu and the Sa have officially stated that they do not believe The Lady partially destroyed the Kyras."
"No," breathed Jencir. "How can they?"
"Well, it's a big tale to swallow, if you didn't see it," commented Calleo. "And it was only the Falarans and the Byrnians who witnessed it."
Jencir turned to the wizard, his color high, filled with the closest approximation of fury he was capable of experiencing. "I saw it, Calleo! I was there, fighting against the dreadful things that the Nightlands King had sent against us. I was there, when the sun went out. I was there when She appeared to elf and human alike, promising a new chance at peace for all races of Aertha.
"I watched as the mountains crumbled before Her words. Crumbled to bring humans and elves together, to learn from each other. And if Kertu and the Sa deny this, then they deny the lesson She was trying to teach."
"I pray it will not come to war, but. . ." Liandir's voice trailed off.
"If it does, will the other elven nations fight with Sali?" asked Calleo.
"I do not believe so, but I could be wrong. Most likely, Sali will stand alone."
"Will it?" pressed the wizard. "What about the People of the Sea? They have little reason to love my race."
"But they will not fight you," countered Liandir. 'The conflicts of those on land do not much concern them."
"What about the Changers, or the Hidden Folk?"
"Changers? I have not heard of anyone encountering one in my lifetime," replied the prince. "They may not exist any more. Even if they do, they have never sided with elf or human in any struggle. There is no reason for them to do so now. And as for the Hidden Folk, they are as shy as the Ilsi. No, we have little fear that Kertu will find allies for actual warfare."
Jencir spoke up. "But the Sa alone, as Liandir said, will be formidable enough if they are allowed to surprise the humans."
Liandir took a deep breath, and shook his head. "This is wrong, terribly wrong. I know it. We must warn your people, Calleo. They must know what is going on before Kertu has a chance to gather an army. Could you perhaps send a message to Queen-mother Ariel?"
Calleo reluctantly shook his bald head. "My strengths lie in hand magic, not mind magic." Liandir sighed in exasperation. "I would go myself, but I would be recognized, and Kertu will be watching me."
They sat in distressed silence, their minds working furiously. Suddenly an idea occurred to Jencir.
"Highness . .. I could carry a message for you."
Both Liandir and Calleo stared at him.
"I am but one of many bards in the castle," Jencir pointed out, "and it is not uncommon for us to travel to other cities, even other lands. If you, or Calleo, or even a royal squire were to attempt to carry a message, he or she would be suspected at once. Music, however, knows no borders."
"It damn well knows the Byrnian border, as far as Kertu and his ruffians are concerned!" Calleo exploded. Gently, Liandir touched the human's sleeve, and Calleo composed himself.
Jencir was touched by the wizard's concern. "There are ways for one lone musician to slip past the Sa border guards," he insisted. Kertu's plan must not be allowed. All it could possibly lead to would be horrifically high casualties on both sides, casualties that called to the bard's mind song and tales of centuries before, in which both human and elves nearly slew one another down to the last child....
Jencir had been witness to the most recent war between the races. It could not be permitted to happen again.
"I could take some kind of message that might be passed along to the Queen-mother even if I am stopped," Jencir pressed. "Come, Highness, you know this is the only way to save all of us!" "Yes," said Liandir, his beautiful face lighting up with a new sense of hope. "And perhaps Calleo can help."
Two pairs of gray elven eyes fastened on Calleo. He was confused at First, but when Liandir began to explain, the wizard started to smile.
It just might work, after all.
AUTHOR BIO
Award-winning and six-time New York Times bestselling author Christie Golden has written over forty novels and several short stories in the fields of science fiction, fantasy and horror. Among her many projects are over a dozen Star Trek novels, nearly a dozen for gaming giant Blizzard's World of Warcraft and StarCraft novels, and three books in the nine-book Star Wars series, Fate of the Jedi, which she co-wrote with authors Aaron Allston and Troy Denning.
Golden launched the TSR Ravenloft line in 1991 with her first novel, the highly successful Vampire of the Mists, which introduced elven vampire Jander Sunstar. To the best of her knowledge, she is the creator of the elven vampire archetype in f
antasy fiction.
She is the author of several original fantasy novels, including On Fire’s Wings, In Stone’s Clasp and Under Sea’s Shadow (currently available only as an e-book) the first three in her multi-book fantasy series, The Final Dance. In Stone’s Clasp won the Colorado Author's League Award for Best Genre Novel of 2005, the second of Golden's novels to win that award.
She is delighted to see her first two original novels, Instrument of Fate and In Stone’s Clasp, available in an entirely new format nearly fifteen years after their original publication.
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