by Sam Ferguson
“We could position our navy in Blundfish,” Tehrigg said.
Karmt shook his head. “No, Blundfish does not have the capacity to harbor our navy. It can accommodate trading vessels in its port, but it is not equipped to moor our larger naval vessels. Besides, Sarito would send his navy around the north shores through Khatthun first before sailing here.”
“How can you be sure?” Tehrigg asked.
“Because,” Queen Dalynn started, “Sarito’s navy is based in Valiv, which is on the north side of his kingdom. It would be faster for them to navigate the northern seas, sacking Khatthun en route.”
Karmt nodded. “Additionally, the southern seas are rougher, and prone to storms. Sarito’s navy would risk losing a good portion of their ships if they encountered a single storm.”
Tehrigg nodded. “I’m no admiral, but it seems to me a chance on a storm would be smarter than purposefully going through our naval stronghold in Khatthun.”
“No admiral would risk his men in a storm that could be avoided,” Karmt said. “Storms could sink all of the ships involved much faster than a battle ever could, and there is nothing to fight back against. It is an extremely one-sided battle to foolishly tempt the goddess of the seas.”
“Also, King Sarito has enough men in the south that he could send an army overland through the south to engage Blundfish if he wanted,” Queen Dalynn stated dryly. “We have better weapons and armor, but they have more men. If we were left with only twenty percent of our regulars, it would be a hard fight.”
“Not an impossible one though,” Tehrigg pointed out. “Our officers would have the men prepare the fields with pits and traps. Plus, the enemy would have to lay siege to each of our cities. I am confident we could get to Valiv before any army could overtake Blundfish.”
Queen Dalynn nodded. “That may be true, but that is a very large gamble.”
“And it is one we don’t have to take,” Karmt reminded her.
“What does that mean?” General Tehrigg asked.
Queen Dalynn tapped her finger on the map and called their attention to where she was pointing. “General, I have decided how we shall handle this matter.” The two men closed their mouths for the first time in hours and stepped up to the table. “I will send three thousand men with you to Rasselin. Your orders are to secure the city and to make sure that no Shausmatian force crosses Hart’s Bridge into Zinferth territory. You are not to attack the bridge, is that clear?”
Tehrigg nodded slowly. “Yes, milady, it is clear.”
“This will present the necessary show of force while still allowing for an alternative solution,” she said.
“May I ask what this ‘alternative solution’ is, milady?”
Queen Dalynn shot a glance to Karmt before saying, “No, you may not. I will inform you when the time is right, but that time has not yet come.”
Tehrigg bristled, but said nothing.
“One more thing general,” Dalynn said. “Be sure to give the acting governor any support he requires, but do not overtake his authority. The people will need to see a stable, capable leader at this time after my cousin’s murder. If you were to dismiss him and institute martial law it would only create panic, and I will not allow that.”
“I would not think of it, milady,” Tehrigg said with a deep bow. “Besides, he has the Rangers to assist him with internal city matters. I am sure he can manage with the resources at hand, but we will of course be at his disposal should he need anything from us.”
Queen Dalynn nodded. “That will be all for now. Go and see to it that you and your chosen three thousand men are on your way as soon as possible.”
“We shall depart before the sunset,” Tehrigg promised.
“Thank you, General Tehrigg,” Queen Dalynn offered.
Tehrigg saluted her, bowed, and then exited the throne room. His heavy steps echoed through the chamber as his steel-plated boots clanked atop the marble floor.
“I believe you have made the right decision,” Karmt commented. “Hopefully this will buy us the time we need to open the cube and claim the reunification of the empire.”
Queen Dalynn sighed and moved toward one of the great, arched windows. “I worry that it is already too late for that.”
“Even if it is, which I don’t think is the case, you have still made the wiser choice.” Karmt moved up to stand alongside her. “If we allow the enemy to come to us, then we will conserve our strength and provide better protection for your citizens. The desert will create hardship for the enemy as they march toward us, and our superior weapons and armor will enable our armies to defeat them.”
Queen Dalynn looked out over the grand city of Kobhir. She lowered her head as the reality of war sank in. “I want you to send for Sir Alexander,” she said after a moment. Karmt didn’t respond. She turned to regard her advisor. “Did you hear me?”
“I heard you, milady,” Karmt said. His tone let her know that he disapproved.
“He knows the land better than General Tehrigg,” Queen Dalynn stated. “And, his knights are the best we have ever produced. If we are to fight a war, then I want him to lead the rest of the army.”
“What of General Tehrigg?” Karmt asked.
Queen Dalynn sighed and shook her head. Her long, graying hair waved gently across her back. “I don’t know,” she said. “But there is just something about him the last few weeks that bothers me. I can’t put my finger on it, but I can’t help but feel that something is amiss.”
Karmt stroked his chin and shrugged. “I will do as you ask, you know that,” he said. “But, the others will not approve. Now may not be the best time to invite him back into your court.”
“We’ll deal with the others when that time comes,” Queen Dalynn said. “For now, I need my most capable officers, and my most trusted allies, to help me guide my kingdom through this time of conflict. I want you to send for Sir Alexander.”
Karmt bowed low. “As you command, milady.”
*****
Talon straightened the red tunic around the pillow he had stuffed under it and checked that the scimitar was free enough in its scabbard to be drawn quickly. Then he stepped toward the great building in front of him. The large, jaggedly sharp spires pointed to the heavens with gold tipped points over the pinkish hew of the tufa stone from which the building was erected. The great, green granite cupola, ribbed with golden cross beams sat perfectly nestled among the spires, five floors above the street. The large building before him bore the engraven image of an oak tree flanked by two blue roses, the seal of the Svetli’Tai council of Svatal Island, above its doorway. The famed council hall was rumored to be nearly impregnable, with only one route in and out. The walls were said to be three feet thick to protect from bombardment from either catapult or battering rams.
But none of that mattered to Talon.
He straightened the wig of golden hair he had made and let a bit of it fall over his face. The lone Svetli’Tai Kruk saw him approaching from a long way off and made sure to take several steps away from the door as Talon entered the building.
Once inside the building, another elf guard stood from a stool and requested Talon’s sword. Talon said nothing as he removed his scimitar and gave it to the elf.
The elf took the proffered weapon and then stopped and looked at Talon closely. “Wait, you’re not L’gorech,” he said. Talon sent a knife-hand strike to the elf’s windpipe and then shoved him up against the wall, using the scimitar as a bar to hold him until he strangled to death. Talon slid the elf back down the wall until his body was sitting on the stool again, propped against the wall. Talon drew the hood up and over the elf’s head and then put the scimitar in a rack that was hanging from the wall. He knew he would have to move quickly, but he trusted that his plan would work.
Talon dashed up the closest set of stairs and didn’t stop until he reached the top. Red, velvet carpets covered the pink stone stairs, held down with golden rods neatly bolted in place against the base of each step. Th
ick, dark wooden bannisters ascended up with the stairs, terminating at each floor with a large, carved egg with inlaid gold and silver crisscrossing it. Stained glass windows altered the sunlight that poured in from outside. The whole building smelled of cinnamon and vanilla, though he saw no sign of incense or candles as he flew up the stairs.
Finally Talon reached the top floor and walked through a pair of massive, oval shaped doors to find himself inside the large council hall where the Vishi’Tai elders meet for their council meetings. The room was a large, circle shaped hall with a long rectangular table situated in the middle. He looked up and realized that the chamber was capped with the cupola he had seen from outside. The underside of the cupola was held up with great brass ribs and covered in mosaics that depicted the genesis stories of Terramyr. Talon glanced briefly at a couple of the scenes of the Old Gods, and then he brought his gaze down to inspect the rest of the chamber. Ornate scimitars hung above the entrance and the walls were painted with scenes of forests and magical beasts. Talon saw that there were a couple of elders seated at the table. They were discussing fishing and the conditions of the sea over the past few days.
When they caught sight of him Talon heard one of them mumble something about how nepotism disgusted him. The other elder was quick to quiet the first down and they exited the chamber through a side door without so much as a single word to him. Talon sneered and reveled at how well his disguise was working.
Talon quickly crossed the chamber and opened a small, rectangular door at the opposite end. He walked inside and saw two elves in the room. This room was much smaller, with an old, hunch-backed elf seated at a round table, and another setting a tray of food down in front. A large, pillow-filled bed sat in the back of the room and a great fireplace was built into the other wall. A couple of dressers filled the rest of the space.
The old, wrinkled elf sat in a straight-backed, uncomfortably hard looking wooden chair and looked up expectantly at the other elf. Neither had noticed Talon enter the room yet. The old elf kept his eyes on the other as the younger, albeit gray haired elf tested the wine in the golden, gem-encrusted goblet before setting it down on the table.
“Thank you Uloren,” the old elf said to the other. “It is always a relief to have you around. The servant nodded and took a step back to remain behind the seated elf. The old elf took the goblet in his right hand and held it up to the seal above the fireplace on the opposite side of the room from him. “To the Council,” he cackled sarcastically. Then he put the goblet to his mouth and drained its contents entirely before setting it down.
Talon smiled wickedly and then entered the room and shut the door behind him.
The old elf startled and turned to regard Talon curiously. “L’gorech, what are you doing here?”
Talon said nothing as he slid the bolt into the lock.
“If you are looking for your uncle, he isn’t here. I prefer not to have my lunch with half-wits.” He dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin and then offered, “Though I do thank him for sending this bottle of wine. It is exquisitely delicious.”
“I am looking for you, Jahre,” Talon replied sourly. He walked to the old elf and delighted as he watched Jahre’s confused face. The elf’s golden eyes darted up and down, trying to discern who Talon was. Then, as it dawned on him, Jahre’s mouth fell open and he sucked in a breath.
“So, you have finally come,” Jahre said. Jahre started to move his left hand, and then stopped. He knitted his brow and looked down to his hand.
“What’s wrong?” Talon asked. “Can’t move your hand?”
“So,” Jahre said, his voice softer and weaker now. “You have become faster, stronger, and smarter.”
Talon nodded and stopped directly in front of Jahre. He reached up and pulled his wig off and set it on the table next to Jahre’s plate of venison and potatoes. “You are paralyzed from the neck down.”
“How?” Jahre asked.
“Forgive me,” Uloren pleaded from behind. “I had no choice.”
Jahre sucked in his quivering lower lip before daring to ask. “How did he coerce you?”
“He has my son,” the servant said. “He told me he would kill him unless I helped put the potion into your drink. He told me to say that it was from L’gorech and his uncle.”
“It’s a special brew,” Talon said proudly. “It comes from a wickedly wild flower that grows near my home village.”
“The hist rose,” Jahre said.
Talon nodded. “It’s a wondrous plant. It looks like a blue rose. However, if you go to pick it, the thorns contain a toxin that paralyzes most anything smaller than a bear. Then, the flower reveals its true form and the buds open and latch onto the paralyzed victim’s body, sucking his blood like a spider.”
“But you gave Uloren the antidote before so he could test it without becoming paralyzed,” Jahre said. “Clever.”
“No,” Talon replied. “That is why your servant stands very still next to you. He is just as paralyzed as you are.”
“You said if I helped you, you would release my son,” Uloren said. “I put the serum in the wine like you said.”
Talon nodded. “He is safe. You will find him in L’gorech’s basement. He is bound to a pole, but otherwise unharmed.” Talon sneered. “You ought to have taught him to pick better friends than a lazy, arrogant do-nothing like L’gorech,” Talon chided.
“You killed L’gorech?” Jahre asked.
“The city will be better off without him. Consider it a favor,” Talon replied.
“Let me go,” the servant begged.
Talon shook his head and pulled out a small vial of clear fluid. “The hist rose toxin will not release its hold on your muscles for several days, but here is the antidote. I am sure you will be found sometime later today, at which point whoever finds you can administer the antidote. However, I will be long gone by then.”
Uloren opened his mouth and tried to scream for help, but only a hoarse whisper emerged from his throat.
“Oh, the toxin restrains all of your muscles, so while you can speak in hushed tones you won’t be able to yell for help. Since you drank the toxin you will just have to wait until your rescue comes, but that is the risk you take as a wine-tester right?” Talon smirked.
“You were not supposed to see what happened that day,” Jahre said.
Talon’s face grew tight and flushed. “Is that supposed to make it better?” he hissed. “You killed my father, over nothing!”
“You don’t understand. I had to do it.”
“I watched you summon Khefir and feed him my father’s soul. You did more than murder, you condemned his soul to Hammenfein.”
“It was the price Khefir demanded,” Jahre countered.
“For what?” Talon growled. He grabbed Jahre’s fork and reached across the table to yank the old, wrinkled elf out from his chair and pressed the sliver-plated tines into Jahre’s cheek. “It was his price for what?”
“I had to give Khefir a life, in order to protect a life,” Jahre said.
“Your own, I presume?” Talon growled.
Jahre’s eyes filled with tears. “No,” he said. “I killed your father and gave him to Khefir in order to purchase redemption for your soul,” he said defiantly. “I know you will kill me, but you must listen to me first.”
Talon shoved him back into his chair and fumed at him. “What are you talking about? Saving my soul? I wasn’t in any danger, until you came along!”
“Let me explain,” Jahre said.
Talon shook his head. “No, I have had enough. You will spin any lie if you think it will save your skin. You deal with demons, and devils, there is no way for me to trust you. Tell me where the scroll is.”
“The scroll?” Jahre repeated.
“The Tomni’Tai Scroll, where is it?”
A tear slid down Jahre’s cheek. “You were not supposed to see it,” he repeated. “You were not supposed to become so spiteful and full of hate.”
Talon came i
n hard and fast again and grabbed Jahre by the shoulders. “Tell me where it is, or I will kill your servant right now.”
“Just, tell me what you intend to do with the scroll,” Jahre begged.
“I intend to kill Basei,” Talon replied coldly.
“You think you can slay a demigod?” Uloren asked incredulously.
“Then,” Jahre began, “there may still be a chance for all of us, and for you.”
Talon reached over and grabbed the meat knife from the table. “Tell me now or I will kill your servant.”
“The scroll is not the only relic you will need to open the Netherworld Gate,” Jahre said.
“I know that already. Let me worry about the other items. All I need from you is the scroll.”
“No, don’t help him,” the servant said with a sudden burst of courage. “He will kill us all if he opens the gate.”
“We are dead anyway if he doesn’t,” Jahre countered.
Talon paused and eased Jahre back into the chair a bit. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“As a sage, I have the ability to see the future, in a limited fashion. Centuries ago I foresaw that Lemork, the ancient king of the dark elves, would unite his clans to slay Basei and take his power. That is why we waged war against the dark elves, to stop this from happening. I had seen that if Lemork succeeded in killing Basei, our world would end. I had many visions of something I call the End War, a great battle in which the entire world is threatened by a battle between gods. In order for us to survive this war, we would need the balance of power to be in our favor. I saw that if Lemork killed Basei, and himself became a demigod, he would align himself with the gods that sought to destroy Terramyr, and we would lose the End War. The entire world would be destroyed, and the souls in both heaven and hell would be torn asunder and turned into ash. There would be only death everlasting.”