by Lee Dunning
Never had K’hul believed Historian when the old scholar told him Uruviel Stormchaser chose Umbral over the First. He’d found it incomprehensible anyone could prefer the pitiful, weakling son over the powerful father. Gazing up at the resolute effigy, he now believed, and his heart went to ice.
Somewhere upstairs his Uruviel laughed in relief because the serpent who called himself W’rath had miraculously awoken from his induced coma—healed and ready to open his home to his rival. K’hul recognized it as an open challenge and found himself ill prepared to fight back. Face twisted with impotent rage, he started to turn, ready to escape the trap. But no, even though the smirking bastard held the high ground, K’hul would not flee the field.
“Ah, you’ve come to admire our new addition,” came a familiar, hated voice.
K’hul dragged his eyes from the family ring he’d started to toy with. W’rath leaned casually against the curved rail of the staircase, giving the impression he’d occupied the spot for ages. How long has he been lurking there?
The urge to rush the smaller elf and choke the life out of him nearly overwhelmed K’hul. Something of K’hul’s desires must have made it to his face as W’rath’s sharply angled eyebrows arched even higher up his forehead. “No, I suppose it’s not much to your liking. Perhaps you’re a gamboling nymphs sort of chap?”
K’hul refused to respond. W’rath shrugged and eased himself down a step, trying to appear nonchalant, but the First Born noticed how the Shadow Elf used the railing for support. So, maybe W’rath had come out of his coma but he hadn’t fully recovered. K’hul tried to take solace in that. For all his ability and oily charm, the creature wasn’t invincible.
“You and I have much to discuss,” W’rath said, taking another careful step.
K’hul meant to ask about the other council members, but instead he said, “Where is Lady Swiftbrook?”
“No doubt she and Lady Sera continue to debate the wisdom of allowing me to escape the confines of my room. As much as I enjoy the attention, this bit of nastiness between us cannot wait. So, here we are.”
K’hul saw past W’rath’s maddening smile to the wary gleam in his eyes. Good. At least the runt didn’t think of him as a joke. “You weren’t supposed to revive for at least another week.” It was K’hul’s turn to remember there was more to W’rath than parlor tricks and a glib tongue. I must stay focused on the real threat.
W’rath sauntered down another three steps, still attempting to give the impression of casual ease but K’hul caught the slight tremor that came with each step. He’s struggling.
“While Shadow Elves seldom have access to magic, we often resist it quite well. I expect once my mind finished healing, my body merely shrugged off Lady Sera’s spells as no longer necessary. But surely you have more pressing concerns, old boy?” W’rath paused in his slow descent and stared down his nose, a harsh taskmaster displeased with his student.
K’hul’s temper edged back up to the surface and he had to shove it down to simmer in his gut. “Mistakes were made, but if you expect me to beg in order to keep my seat on the council, you’re mistaken.”
W’rath burst out laughing and had to lean against the rail to support himself. “Mistakes were made? Truly, does anything more dangerous exist than an elf’s pride?” He waved a languid hand in the direction of the statue of Umbral. “And young elves are the worst.”
K’hul’s right eye pinched shut as if he’d bitten into a particularly sour fruit. “I’m not that young,” he snarled.
The humor evaporated from W’rath’s countenance and he glowered down at K’hul, radiating disgust. “You have a choice, lad. Either you were out of your depth, and your immaturity nearly killed three of your people and put into jeopardy the success of our mission, or you purposely schemed to murder me and didn’t care others would get swept up in your plan.”
Historian had said almost the exact thing but his teacher’s disappointment lay in the fact K’hul had failed to finish off the Exile. Coming from W’rath, the words struck K’hul like a physical attack and he responded in kind. He’d charged halfway up the stairs before he noted W’rath no longer leaned heavily against the handrail. Instead, the Exile bounced nimbly on the balls of his feet, shoulders loose—ready.
K’hul staggered to halt. It was an act! The little shit had feigned his weakness.
“Good,” W’rath said. “Maybe there is hope for you yet.” He spun and headed back up the stairs. “Come, lad, let us continue our discussion in my study.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you, Exile.”
W’rath regarded K’hul from over his shoulder. “Come now, dear boy, I thought you desired to stay on the High Council? I’m offering you the chance to retain your seat, and I assure you, no begging is involved.”
K’hul stared after the Shadow Elf as W’rath continued his ascent. Was nothing about this creature real? How could he trust a single thing the Exile said or did? It didn’t matter. The dishonor of being the first of his family forcibly removed from the High Council would ruin him. He had no choice but to hear W’rath out. His great shoulders sagged and K’hul forced one foot up and then other, following the loathsome Shadow Elf deeper into House of Memories.
Chapter 12
W’rath repressed a sigh of relief as he settled into the embrace his study’s oversized chair. He’d thought it a prudent idea to mislead K’hul concerning his physical condition. At the time, W'rath thought himself quite clever taunting the younger elf into a rash show of anger, only to bring the lad’s charge up short by pretending he’d done it lure K’hul into a fight. Now after the long trek up the stairs and down House of Memories’ twisted halls, he felt anything but clever. The entire trip, K’hul’s furious gaze caused a spot between his shoulder blades to itch. The Shadow Elf had to maintain the illusion of full recovery by bouncing along while his nephew followed, fuming.
W’rath would never admit it to Lady Sera but she was right. He shouldn’t have dashed off without taking some time to eat, stretch and meditate. Now he’d have to endure an unpleasant meeting with his brutish nephew, while his body punished him for his impulsive behavior. You just don’t learn, do you?
K’hul paused at the door, scrutinizing W’rath’s office. His eyes came to rest on something behind and above W’rath. The Shadow Elf couldn’t resist cocking his head up and to the side so he could glimpse what had so captured K’hul’s attention. The stained glass window with its capering reptile glowed all purple and greens. “It’s a hunting lizard,” W’rath said. “They gather in packs to take down larger prey.”
“I know what it is,” K’hul said. His lips grew thin as if the lizard’s image confirmed some grim truth for him.
How very peculiar. Items of greater import crowded W’rath’s mind though, so he’d have to puzzle over K’hul’s reaction some other day. He gestured for his nephew to take a seat across from him. “I have no desire to see you removed from office,” W’rath said.
K’hul’s eyes dropped from the window to study W’rath but the Shadow Elf presented the lad with a stoic front. He steepled his fingers, waiting patiently for the First Born to consider his words. After a long pause, K’hul finally sat. “Why not?”
The question, despite its inelegant bluntness, struck W’rath as better than what he’d expected from his nephew. He unsteepled his fingers and pushed himself further back into the deep comfort of his chair. “Just so you understand, lad, it has nothing to do with my personal feelings for you. I don’t harbor some hidden drop of respect for you. However, you are a K’hul, and with that name comes a great deal of history and veneration from many of First Home’s families. The last time a Shadow Elf attempted to remove a K’hul from power, it went badly for all. I will not start a civil war for the sake of trying to teach you a lesson you’re incapable of learning.”
K’hul’s countenance grew darker the longer W’rath spoke but he made no other move than to start twisting a heavy gold and sapphire ring he wore. “What do the
other council members have to say?”
While K’hul’s question encompassed the entire council, W’rath suspected only Lady Swiftbrook’s opinion mattered to him. “Lady Culna’mo and Lady Raven share my view of things. Lady Swiftbrook remains furious with you. However, she recognizes her sense of betrayal stems from the relationship you two shared, so she has abstained from voting. Lady Kela desires nothing more than your head on a pike but fortunately for you her wishes struck even me as a touch excessive. If you like, we can consult the other members but we feel confident at least three of the four would vote in your favor.”
W’rath fell silent. Despite the mention of heads on pikes, some of the clouds cleared from K’hul’s face and cautious hope smoothed away the crease between his eyes. “This doesn’t come without a cost,” K’hul said. “What must I agree to?”
“Less than you fear.” With a flourish, W’rath pulled Lady Sera’s scroll from his sleeve and made a show of spreading its length across his desk. Knowing it contained nothing meaningful to the discussion, he thought it prudent to do what he could to sell the lie. He reached out and snapped open the case where his glittering gift from Lady Stormchaser awaited him. He perched the spectacles on his nose. A delighted smile spread across his face as the healer’s scrawl grew sharp.
“Or perhaps not,” W’rath added just to make sure K’hul wasn’t feeling too much relief. He peered over the rims of his spectacles and found K’hul gawking at him. W’rath hadn’t realized the normally glowering First Born could widen his eyes to such an extent.
“What are those?” Despite the question, K’hul’s suddenly pale and sweat-tinged skin told W’rath the lad already knew the answer to his question.
Fascinating, even he respects age—or at least fears it. “Oh, these?” W’rath pulled the spectacles off and twirled them around his nimble fingers. The light from the stained glass refracted through the lenses and sent a crimson flicker across the desk, up the walls and along the ceiling. “Lady Stormchaser left these as a welcoming gift. They’re magic.”
K’hul’s initial shock retreated, replaced by leery curiosity. “What do they do?”
“Why they help me see, of course,” W’rath replied and flipped the optics back on his hawk’s nose. He grinned at K’hul who’d gone scarlet at the joke. “I think they give me a certain air of wisdom.”
“As if you need another bloody affectation,” K’hul said through teeth nearly fused together. “Do you actually need them to read?”
“Apparently so,” W’rath said, turning his attention back to the parchment before him. “This writing is wretchedly small.”
K’hul’s ire at W’rath’s jest couldn’t compete with the significance of the optics. He slumped into his chair, his nervous fascination with his ring forgotten for the moment. “How old are you?”
W’rath cocked his head. “What does that matter?”
K’hul responded with silence. Seemingly, without realizing it, his hands drew back together and he started to play with his ring once again.
W’rath’s eyes narrowed. It appeared he competed for K’hul’s attention with some additional worry. Despite the lad’s flashes of passion, something clearly distracted him to the point of overshadowing his fear of losing his council seat. What had changed in the past few weeks? A twinge of concern settled between his shoulder blades and added to his aches. Perhaps he’d erred in arranging this meeting so soon. His gaze drifted from K’hul’s sweating face to the ring.
Immediately, K’hul dropped his hands behind the edge of the desk. “Get on with it, Exile,” K’hul said. “No more games. Tell me what price I must pay to remain on the council.”
Flame eyes locked with blue ones. The challenge and fear W’rath sensed within K’hul’s gaze confirmed for him that the ring held more significance than as a plaything for the First Born to worry at. How to get at the truth without pillaging the boy’s mind though?
The psion tapped the scroll before him. “Let us get back to the reason for our visit then. Our first requirement is that any member wishing to vote must attend the meetings and learn about the issues before choosing their stance. We will no longer tolerate the Sea Elves handing their votes over to you. Either they participate fully or they don’t participate at all.”
“That’s an issue you need to take up with them, not me,” K’hul said.
“Now who plays games?” W’rath said. “They’ve relinquished their responsibility by handing it over to you because of what you represent. You will tell them they must take a true interest in the running of our nation. It’s either that or the council will no longer recognize their votes. Lad, surely you cannot deny the logic of such a request?”
“I won’t argue against such a ruling,” K’hul said but the way he choked out the words made plain how much he hated losing two assured votes.
Would every item meet with such resistance? Somehow, the afternoon had turned out a lot less entertaining than W’rath anticipated. “This next bit involves your general attitude toward the Wood Elves and their recent difficulties with King Oblund.”
“My father made the initial decision to remain neutral in that conflict,” K’hul said.
“True, but your father died and you had the chance to reconsider his short-sighted decision. Instead, you chose to stand by his judgment out of hand,” W’rath countered.
“I agreed to hear the Wood Elves out.” K’hul wasn’t going to make this easy.
W’rath resisted sending a mental slap K’hul’s way. “You agreed,” W’rath said, “to humor Lady Swiftbrook. You did not intend to reverse your father’s decision—that is until you learned of the use of demons by the king. That gave you the opening you needed to allow your family to save face.”
K’hul’s hands made a reappearance as they rose to grasp the arms of his chair. The wood protested as his grip tightened. “You presume a great deal.”
“Experience says otherwise,” W’rath replied. He kept his face hard. “Your refusal to acknowledge the injustice done to those youngsters rescued from the depths of First Home shows an unwillingness to make rulings which might question the policies of previous K’huls. Give up the pretense your family is infallible.”
What does he know? The rogue thought came out of nowhere, setting W’rath back further in his seat, stunned by the clarity of K’hul’s projected fear.
Something in W’rath’s expression alerted K’hul. He shot out of his seat, grasping air where a weapon normally hung at his hip. “Stay out of my head!” With no sword to wield, the First Born started to lunge over the desk, hands set to choke. Out of pure reflex, W’rath threw his nephew back with a mental shove. K’hul skidded backward and fell heavily into his chair, nearly toppling over.
“I’m not reading your mind,” W’rath said, voice icy, precise. “You’re such an undisciplined oaf, you hurled your thoughts at me. You might just as well write me a letter and toss it onto my desk.”
The moment of challenge hung in the air. No more psychic leaks presented themselves to W’rath. He dearly wanted to know what had his nephew so flustered but saw no way to pursue the mystery without resorting to the equivalent of mental rape. Perhaps K’hul realized this, for he chewed at his lower lip as if contemplating the wisdom of ceding defeat and fleeing the battle. However, even without anyone around to witness his shame, the boy held his ground. For that, W’rath had to give him credit.
W’rath didn’t soften his expression, but when next he spoke, his voice had lost some of its harshness. “We’re all of us fallible, lad. I understand you believe your surname makes you special, and you’re right, just not in the way you think. Your name carries a burden with it. The sooner you realize there’s no privilege tied to it, only responsibility, the sooner you’ll develop into a leader people will follow into the Nine Hells.”
W’rath intended his words to calm but when K’hul once again erupted from his chair, sending it clattering across the study, the psion finally understood what he’d uncovered.
Sometime since the battle with Oblund, someone had told K’hul about the curse and its origins.
“How long have you known?” K’hul said. Caught between outrage and horror, the First Born stood frozen but for the clenching and unclenching of his broad hands. “Who else knows?”
W’rath’s brows rose at the last question. Letting on Raven knew much of the story would put her in danger. K’hul had nearly killed her once already simply through carelessness. However, it would not do to give the impression K’hul could conceal the truth simply by killing a single meddlesome, much hated Shadow Elf. “This estate knows the truth,” W’rath said at last. “House of Memories spoke to me when I first laid hands upon her front doors. I’ve instructed her to tell everyone on First Home should something unsavory befall me.”
K’hul sucked in his breath. “If you had died on the battlefield?”
W’rath answered with a smirk. “Now sit down. Our secrets are laid bare so enough of this sparring match.” W’rath rapped his knuckles against the desk to drive home his point and let the useless scroll curl back in upon itself. While he didn’t mind improvising, he worried too much creativity on his part might draw others into his quagmire of deceit. Seems my family makes a hobby of such things.
K’hul retrieved his fallen chair and righted it with exaggerated care. He took his seat again but with the slow motions of an ancient human. Shock had some to do with it, W’rath knew, but he suspected K’hul played for time, hoping to find a way out of his troubles.
Despite himself, W’rath felt a twinge of sympathy for his nephew. Unlike the younger elf across from him, many years and thousands of life experiences provided the clarity to understand and accept the burden of duty. K’hul had spent most of his life with no understanding of true sacrifice. Now the boy faced a staggering choice—tell what he knew and perhaps destroy all or keep his ancestor’s secret and watch his people fade.