Minister Richar of Foreign Affairs came next, overburdened with the representatives of hundreds of hamlets, villages, towns, and cities across the vast Westlands. Currently, he had no Northmen with him, which surprised Tae. Prior to the war, he had juggled delegates and generals from each of the nine tribes. That did not bode well for keeping them ready and waiting for the next wave of attack. Now, Richar brought sixteen Westland representatives to join General Sutton. Tae knew only one by name, the general of the West’s largest city, Pudar, a massive soldier named Markanyin.
Minister Zaysharn, the overseer of Béarn’s livestock came in alone, then Valr Magnus, the Northern champion, soon followed by a larger group that contained Béarn’s King Griff, Queen Matrinka, the captain of Béarn’s guardsmen, Seiryn, Griff’s primary bodyguard, Bard Darris, and, most surprisingly, Tem’aree’ay, Griff’s second wife, who apparently accompanied him to represent the elves.
As the Westlands high king entered, everyone rose, except for Tae himself. Knight-Captain Kedrin made the most gracious and stately bow before Griff, then everyone else reclaimed their seats. King Humfreet of Erythane had apparently gone home, leaving the knight to represent his city as he did in peaceful times. That, too, bothered Tae.
King Griff accepted the burden of opening the meeting. Though massive, with coarse black hair and a full beard, he still projected a childlike naïveté at thirty-five years old. Nearly all of Béarn’s ruling kings and queens through the centuries had displayed this odd balance of wisdom and simplicity. The ruler of Béarn was always the focal point of the world’s equilibrium without which it would crumble into ruin. Currently, a magical gem determined the next successor through a grueling test that, more often than not, drove those who failed to madness. Because of that, the test was rarely invoked until the death of the current ruler, beginning with the royal most likely to succeed.
“Once again,” Griff said in his slow-cadenced, deep voice, “I would like to thank all of you for your quickness, courage, and consideration at this most difficult time in our history.”
As he had now thanked them each at least a dozen times, in groups and individually, no one bothered to reply.
“Without each and every one of you, the tide of this war could easily have changed. We know the enemy’s intention: to overtake our lands and to murder each and every one of us. They took no prisoners and refused themselves to us through suicide. What little we do know of their strategies and plans comes from the efforts and sacrifices of King Tae Kahn of the Eastlands. It is to him I would like to turn over the floor.”
Though staggeringly uncomfortable under scrutiny, Tae did appreciate the introduction. Everyone trusted King Griff, and the reminder of Tae’s unique ability with languages could only help his cause.
As every eye turned to Tae, he steeled himself against inevitable discomfort. He had spent the first half of his life sneaking and hiding, doing whatever it took to remain unnoticed. Back then, catching any eye might mean a protracted and agonizing death. “I apologize for calling you here before the celebrations have finished, but I wanted to catch as many of you as possible before you leave Béarn.”
The responses rumbled into one another, but Tae got a general impression of tolerance. He had managed the only successful spying mission of the entire war and had returned, nearly dead, with valuable information. His status as king also accorded him respect.
Tae cleared his throat. He had prepared for this moment, trying to find the right words to convince without alarming. In the end, he chose the direct route. It would likely work best with men of action. “My concern is that the war is not finished, and the second wave will be much more deadly and dangerous.”
Tae expected anything but the deep silence that followed. He tended to forget that men of action were also, mostly, men of patience who understood and valued procedure. They graced Tae’s proclamation with an appropriate amount of deliberation. Then, suddenly, motions to take the floor appeared from every direction.
Griff first acknowledged General Sutton, to Tae’s chagrin. A first-rate strategist, the Santagithian would also likely raise the most difficult arguments to counter. “I was led to believe our enemies chose to attack because they needed more land for a burdensome population.”
Tae nodded once, noting the cautious phrasing of the question. As the only person currently capable of speaking the alsona’s language, Tae had personally relayed that message.
The Westland general continued, “They lost thousands to the war. It will take them decades to regroup and repopulate.”
*He has a good point.* Imorelda walked a full circle in Tae’s lap, then flopped down in the exact same spot.
Tae knew that and had anticipated it. “I agree that that would normally be true, General Sutton. But not in this case.”
The silence recurred, with not even a whisper or chair movement to disrupt it. It seemed more fragile this time, so Tae continued carefully, “Aside from one notable example, we fought only the alsona, the little servants of the enemy. Apparently, they did not expect anything like the resistance we gave them, having made both intelligence-gathering and tactical mistakes.” Tae tried to use phrases that made it clear he was neither ignorant nor foolish when it came to military matters. “They assumed our Northlands were uninhabitable from cold, thus overlooking the Northmen. They believed we had access to no magic whatsoever, so the little bit we did have surprised them. And I’m not sure even we believed we could bring together so many diverse countries in one cause so quickly and competently.”
Tae threw in the last words to flatter the generals. It was a testament to the popularity of Griff, and previous rulers of Béarn, that everyone had rallied so spectacularly to his cause. But the generals, kings, and commanders of dozens of countries deserved the credit for moving so quickly and strongly against this common enemy.
“Magical giants, like the one who commanded those alsona, are in charge; and they care little for the comfort of their servants. They lost only one of their own, so their numbers have not appreciably changed, still too high for their land to sustain them.” Tae had no idea how many Kjempemagiska might exist; but, judging only by what he had learned from the alsona he had mind-read with Imorelda’s help, there could be several thousand. “That single giant nearly destroyed our massed armies. If a hundred of them came at us, we would stand little chance against them.” Tae gave his words a few moments to sink in, concerned about the effect they might have. From the corner of his eye, he saw Griff wince. Matrinka’s hand flew to her mouth in horror. Tae had already presented his case to them, but they still shuddered at the very thought of such a war.
The only Northman in the room, Valr Magnus took the floor. “Forgive my asking, Your Majesty, but how do you know this? Did you overhear this plan while spying on the enemy?”
It occurred to Tae to answer in the affirmative and obviate the need for more argument, but the lie refused to form on his tongue. I’m too old to keep track of truths and mistruths. He wondered if traveling too long with a Knight of Erythane had affected him as well. Ra-khir had often said, “One lie can undo a man forever,” and he had a strong argument. The great men and women gathered in this room not only had skill in reading others’ intentions, they also knew better than to believe things that made no sense. Once given reason to doubt Tae’s honesty, they would believe nothing he said in the future.
Tae admitted, “I overheard no such plan.” He smiled crookedly. “It’s not the way of fighting men to discuss strategies for . . . losing.”
Apparently accepting that explanation, Magnus sat, only to be replaced by the captain of the Knights of Erythane. Age had only further distinguished Ra-khir’s father, and he clearly saw authority as an honor rather than a burden. If anything, he had grown more handsome, more powerful-appearing, as he aged. “Won’t it take time for the results of the war to even reach these giants? We know their servants came from across the sea,
and none of their boats escaped us; as far as we know, they deliberately left no survivors of their own.”
The knight spoke a truth Tae had considered; and, so, he had a ready answer. “I confess I know little about magic. I had hoped our elfin representative might help us.” The moment the words left his lips, Tae suffered a pang of regret for putting Tem’aree’ay into the limelight without warning. He could not remember the elf ever deliberately drawing attention to herself.
All eyes fell instantly on the king of Béarn’s second wife of three.
Tem’aree’ay seemed nonplussed by the sudden attention. Despite living with humans for nearly two decades, she still reacted in ways that seemed out-of-place and inconsistent, chaos incarnate. Her dainty face always bore a smile, surrounded by a swirl of golden curls with just a hint of elfin red. Unlike the humans who had grayed and wrinkled around her, she shed the years like water. Her sapphirine eyes still sparkled with youth and vigor, and she pressed her long-fingered, slender hands to the table. “Magic differs among those creatures who wield it.” As she spoke, she revealed the small triangular tongue that reminded everyone of her alienness.
Humans collectively referred to the users of magic as Outworlders because they originated on other worlds. When the gods had fashioned mankind, they had meant for humans to have no contact with magical beings; and, for most of their history, it had remained so. To this day, many men still did not believe in the existence of magic nor creatures who wielded it. Some did not even acknowledge the gods.
“The elves have a silent form of communication called khohlar.” Tem’aree’ay pronounced the foreign term with an accent Tae envied. Because of their self-imposed seclusion, he knew little of the elves’ language, and that bothered him. He made a mental note to learn as much as he could from Tem’aree’ay before leaving Béarn. “It’s a direct mind-to-mind touch or a shout that radiates to any mind within reasonable distance. But our range is finite. We could never hurl khohlar across oceans.”
Tae had experienced khohlar. It reminded him of the contact between himself and Imorelda except any elf could use khohlar to speak mentally to any single living being or to everyone within a circumscribed area. Elves could not modulate khohlar to include some and not others. Tae’s telepathic ability was limited to Imorelda, although he had recently discovered he could participate in the alsona’s and Kjempemagiska’s mental communication by using the cat as an intermediary. Like every other human, Tae could hear khohlar but could not send it.
Nods swept the room. Tem’aree’ay seemed to be making Kedrin’s point.
“The Cardinal Wizards, when they existed, lived great distances from one another. As I understand it, they used an aristiri hawk to carry messages to one another. They were considered some of the strongest users of magic to ever exist, and they could not communicate without this go-between.”
Tae frowned. Tem’aree’ay’s words seemed to clinch it, yet Tae could not believe the Kjempemagiska had no means to know how the battle had gone. He could understand that they had expected to easily conquer the peoples of the continent, that they never doubted General Firuz would return to them with news of the outcome. Yet, surely they had not waged a battle in total ignorance.
Tem’aree’ay looked at Tae as she added, “However, if an elf died, we would all know it at once.” She did not elaborate; but Tae, and many others, knew their secret. The gods had given the elves no afterlife; instead, they had a specific and countable number of recyclable elfin souls. Elves conceived only after the death of an elder due to age, whose soul then entered the newly born elf. Since they never suffered illnesses or infections, the system had worked well for thousands of years. Their creator, Frey, had granted them an isolated world called Alfheim, without weather or need for work, where they could live in absolute peace.
Then, the Ragnarok had come, destroying Alfheim in a ball of fire. Only two hundred and forty elves escaped to Midgard, man’s world, all others consumed, body and soul. The elves had lost forty more who had been so filled with hatred that the gods had named them svartalf, dark elves, and taken them to another world.
“It’s possible,” Tem’aree’ay elaborated, “that the death of the Kjempemagiska in battle was instantly known to his fellows.”
Possible, Tae realized, but not for the same reason. Tae did not voice this thought aloud. He did not know how many people knew of the elves’ plight. Every elf killed unnaturally meant the permanent loss of a soul, one less elf for all eternity. The Kjempemagiska, on the other hand, had come to conquer land because of a burgeoning population. Clearly, they did not suffer from the shared-soul issues that bound the elves together.
“The gods,” Griff said.
All attention now went to the king of Béarn, who had probably not intended to speak the words aloud. For an instant, he seemed startled by the sudden attention, then covered awkwardly. “They can see and hear on all the worlds. Right?”
Gradually, all parts of the continent had come to accept the Northern gods as the real ones, but the detailed knowledge of the nature of the gods and their history was not as widespread. In large pockets, many in the East still worshiped their single deity. In the West, small groups still followed their own ancient pantheon. Even the Northmen, who had worshiped the proper gods and goddesses for as long as anyone could remember, still suffered significant lapses. A leader of the elves claimed he personally knew some existing Outworld sea gods. The Renshai had insisted for years that the Ragnarok had occurred, the worst of it diverted by Colbey Calistinsson; while Northmen still dreaded the coming of that world-ending destruction.
Though not a Northman, Minister of Foreign Affairs Richar had thoroughly studied the religious texts so as to know his visiting charges better. “The gods do not see us most times. That’s why so many sins go unpunished. Only when they sit on Odin’s high seat, Hlidskjalf, can they view the goings on from Asgard. Otherwise, they have to walk among us.” Apparently more accustomed to discussing such matters with men prone to sin, he added, “Which they can take other forms to do, so one never knows when they’re watching.”
That last sent a shiver down Tae’s spine, not so much because he worried for gods watching but for whether Kjempemagiska might also manage disguises and shape-changes.
“So,” General Sutton said, and that one syllable gave him the floor. “I think we can agree it will take time for word of their defeat to get back to these giants. And, even when it does, they will need to create new strategies and update their knowledge about us. As magical beings, they probably have far longer lifespans, too. Like elves and gods. So, we probably have a few decades, at least.”
“No!” Tae did not like the turn of the discussion. “They still have the same overcrowding problem they had yesterday. If they come at us quickly, they catch us weak from the war while they’re at their strongest.”
The intensity of Tae’s tone stopped everyone cold. Though swift and decisive on the battlefield, most strategists tended to act with unhurried consideration in the Strategy Room.
King Griff finally broke the silence. “Both arguments seem . . . compelling.”
Though utterly opposite, Tae realized. He glanced at Queen Matrinka who rubbed her hands repeatedly, a nervous gesture, and looked distraught. Usually, she shunned strategy sessions as frightening, preferring to leave such affairs to generals and kings. She had come only to support Tae. In all matters, she trusted his judgment, far more than he or Imorelda thought she probably should.
Valr Magnus reclaimed the floor. “Speaking only for the North, many of our people have already headed home. Our ground needs preparation for our short growing season. Much of our ore has gone to crafting weapons, and the world needs more. We can’t all stay in Béarn indefinitely waiting for giants who might come tomorrow or in decades.”
The ruler of a small Western conglomerate spoke next, one Tae did not know by name. Blocky and relatively short, he sporte
d spiky, ash-blond hair and had a voice that seemed too deep for his figure. “And what if they choose another site of attack? They may come at us from a different angle, perhaps targeting the North or your own Eastlands. They could own the rest of the continent before they found our fighting men waiting in Béarn.”
*Who wants them here, anyway?* Imorelda looked up at Tae, comfortably wedged into his lap and purring lightly. *They take up all the space, eat up all the food, and smell like toilets.*
Tae ignored the cat. “I’m not saying everyone should remain here. That’s not practical or possible. I just pray you all keep your men prepared, don’t allow them to slack off or become complacent in their victory. Be ready to assemble even more quickly as the Kjempemagiska will not harry our coasts and gather information before attacking as their alsona did. They may even have a magical means of faster travel. And one thing more.” Tae’s gaze strayed toward Tem’aree’ay before he could stop it. “If you know of any magical beings, you must use every means at your disposal to convince them to join us as well.”
Tem’aree’ay’s expression never changed; her smile persisted. But, beside her, King Griff frowned. They had tried to convince the elves to come, without success. “I’m afraid,” the king started softly, “that without new words, without some proof of these giants’ intentions, we have nothing new to motivate the elves.”
“What about the girl?” someone called out.
Though bedridden through most of the war, Tae had heard tales of a young woman who had assisted in the defeat of the single Kjempemagiska. Details remained sketchy; but, from what Tae had gathered, Firuz had sent his surviving minions after her while he battled the Western armies on his own.
Knight-Captain Kedrin claimed the floor using an archaic gesture that few remembered and Tae never knew. “Several Knights are preparing to escort her safely home as we speak. We don’t know who or what she is, but she clearly had some means of negating the giant’s magic. Hopefully, my men will glean some information from her that we can use in any subsequent battle. They have been instructed to remain in her best graces and to enlist the support of her family and anyone else she might know with similar abilities.”
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