Prince of Bryanae (Bryanae Series)

by Jeffrey Getzin

  Ignis Fatuus invaded? How could that be? As far as she knew, Ignis Fatuus had never been invaded, not for as long as the elves had recorded history. Its magical defenses were so great, none could even see the island, let alone land upon it. Yet someone had. Surely it was only a matter of time before they were repelled, but at what cost? Would her father don his armor and weapons and take to the field of battle? They wouldn’t hurt him, would they?

  Waeh-Loh found herself confronting the possibility of his death, and the thought terrified her. He had always seemed immortal to her, though she knew that this was not so. Elves lived for many hundreds, sometimes thousands of years, but all things eventually died and became one with the soil. Yet to consider her father rotting away beneath a tree, the roots slowly spreading what was left of his remains …

  A wave of sadness swept over her, of such intensity that it literally took her breath away. No, he couldn’t die. Surely not. All elves might die someday, but her father had to be the exception.

  It felt strange fetching her mother. She and King Kral-Sus seemed to lead almost completely independent lives from each other. Waeh-Loh thought her father still loved Tee-Ri, though she wasn’t sure her mother reciprocated. It clearly saddened him that his wife spent most of her time in her garden, or at parties, or in meaningless lessons like these. As if her mother would ever sing for an audience. Why did she waste her time like this?

  Still, it was her prerogative to spend her time as she liked. If she enjoyed ancient dances and traditional ballads, then Waeh-Loh couldn’t blame her for doing as she pleased. She was the Queen, after all.

  Waeh-Loh’s breath gave out on her as she entered the eastern tower and she could run no longer. She leaned against the stone wall of the staircase, fighting for air and wiping the sweat from her brow and neck. Only when she had calmed herself completely, did she mount the stairs. Her mother hated when she ran.

  Waeh-Loh spiraled up and around the tower until she reached the second floor. As she approached the third doorway, her ears picked out the occasional snatches of Tee-Ri’s dreadful voice.

  Waeh-Loh rolled her eyes. It sounded more like her mother was in pain than like she was singing but Waeh-Loh was here on a mission, and not as a critic of the arts.

  Just as she reached the door, it opened, and from it emerged Par-Ri, the Queen’s maidservant.

  “Her Majesty is engaged in her vocal lessons,” she said without preliminaries, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “She is not to be disturbed.”

  For some reason, Par-Ri seemed to dislike Waeh-Loh more than most. Waeh-Loh was never entirely sure, but one paranoid part of her insisted that it was because Tee-Ri constantly poisoned Par-Ri against her. But surely, Tee-Ri didn’t actively dislike her daughter.

  In any case, Par-Ri’s disdain would have to be put aside for the moment.

  “I’m here to deliver a message from my father.”

  Par-Ri did not move from the doorway. “Give it to me, and I’ll be sure that she gets it.”

  “No, Par-Ri. My father told me to deliver it, not you.”

  “That may be, but she is not to be disturbed.”

  Waeh-Loh realized this discussion was pointless, so she tried to squeeze by, but the maidservant grabbed her by the shoulders and repelled her from the doorway.

  “How dare you touch me!” Waeh-Loh said, astonished. She was just now becoming aware at how much bigger and stronger Par-Ri was than she. Her anger and indignation were tainted by something even less dignified: fear.

  Par-Ri’s smile was insolent and fearsome. “As I said, your mother is not to be disturbed.”

  Waeh-Loh’s heart sank, and she began to turn away. But as she did, she recalled the look on her father’s face: trust and respect. Willow’s heart fluttered. Her father had trusted her with this mission.

  And now this brutish woman stood between her and her objective, would force Waeh-Loh to disappoint her father, to betray his trust in her. Anguish knotted her belly.

  “Go on, Waeh-Loh. What’s the delay? Go away, or do I need to help you?”

  It was as if someone else had taken control of Waeh-Loh’s body. She watched in amazement as her fingers curled into a fist, seemingly of their own accord. Then, she was equally amazed to see her fist cock back and swing in a wide roundhouse punch that caught Par-Ri square in the temple.

  Par-Ri smirked, and Waeh-Loh knew she was about to die.

  “Ha! That felt like an insect bite. Reminds me of the time I went swimming with friends.”

  Swimming with friends?

  Waeh-Loh watched in amazement as Par-Ri slid down the wall to sit upon the floor.

  “I’m just going to nap a little now, because you see, it’s been a long day and I need to catch up with my quilting …” Par-Ri’s voice trailed away, and then she was snoring.

  Waeh-Loh looked at her first, astonished. It seemed too puny. How had she managed to knock Par-Ri unconscious?

  Miracles happened every day in the land of the elves, she guessed, then pushed through the door. She heard her mother’s voice more clearly, and as she approached the doorway to the Music Room, Waeh-Loh became increasingly concerned. Her voice sounded less like it was singing, and more like she was ill.

  “Mother!” said Waeh-Loh and dashed across the room, and tossed open the door to the Music Room.

  In it, Queen Tee-Ri was sitting stark naked in the center of an enormous pile of quilts, her head tilted back and her teeth bared as though in anger.

  “Mother!” shouted Waeh-Loh. “What’s wrong?”

  Tee-Ri’s head whipped about to face Waeh-Loh, eyes wide in surprise. The look on her face caught Waeh-Loh completely off guard: guilt and hatred. What was—?

  Then the pile of quilts moved, and from under it emerged the head and shoulders of Jos-Us, the Queen’s vocal instructor. He too seemed to be naked.

  “What’s the matter, Your Majesty?” he said, his face flushed and his voice breathy. “You’ve stopped. Have I hurt you?”

  Queen Tee-Ri climbed off her lover, and though completely nude, seemed to draw dignity around her like a robe.

  “No,” she said. “You haven’t hurt me. But my daughter is about to hurt my husband very badly.” She fixed Waeh-Loh with an imperious gaze, as though she, Waeh-Loh, were the one who had betrayed her father and not Tee-Ri.

  “I’d keep your mouth shut about this, dear,” her mother said. “Unless you want to humiliate and hurt your poor, impotent father.”

  Tee-Ri walked over to Waeh-Loh, whose mouth was moving but no sound emitted. She placed her both hands on her daughter’s shoulders, her erect nipples pointing at her like arrow tips.

  “Leave the poor man his dignity, Waeh-Loh. It’s all he has left, you know, the poor, tired old man.”

  Waeh-Loh’s lips quivered as she fought the inferno of emotions that blazed just below her skin. Suddenly, she could contain herself no longer.

  “The King wants to see you in the Forest Room!” she shouted at her mother. Then she turned and fled the tower, sobbing.

  Chapter 68

  The Forest Room was a marvel of elven design. It was an optical illusion, but a convincing one. Whenever Waeh-Loh set foot in it, she felt transported to a spacious forest, populated by trees with girths like towers. Mixed in with the artistry were real trees and shrubs, so one was never sure what was real within the Forest Room.

  The panicked chaos of the main hall had been left behind there. Here, the meeting was ordered and well-run: topics were discussed with discipline and patience; as though the kingdom had centuries to prepare instead of however many days or weeks they actually had.

  A runner trotted in, his face flushed and his hair and clothes drenched with sweat. He approached Master Mal and whispered into his ear at length before departing. Master Mal moved to the table behind which Waeh-Loh’s father sat. His fingers counted out a number of red pebbles and placed them onto a map of the island. Waeh-Loh crept forward, squeezing between various side conversations and meetings
.

  The map showed the four compass point castles, and in the middle, her family’s castle. There were five blue stones on top of the square that represented her castle. The North Castle had five red stones and a single blue one; the South Castle had eight or nine red stones and no blue; and the West Castle had eight red stones and two blue; the East had four blue.

  “We’re going to lose,” Waeh-Loh said, almost refusing to believe her eyes.

  Her father glanced up, and she saw the lines of worry etched in his face. Yet he forced a smile.

  “You can read the map?” he said.

  She nodded, her eyes solemn.

  “That’s very good, Baera-Ni. What would you do were you in charge of the armies?”

  “What would I do?” Waeh-Loh raised a finger to her mouth and began to think, but Master Mal cut her short.

  “Your Majesty, really. It’s bad enough you let her in the room, but must you make a mockery of our crisis by pretending to be interested in what she has to say?”

  King Kral-Sus’s soft and kind eyes hardened into pointed diamonds. “When you are King, Master Mal,” he said, adding the emphasis as a warning and a reminder, “you can decide who may and may not speak in your presence. In the meantime, I will hear from whomever I choose, and I choose to hear from Waeh-Loh. You’ve all had your chance, for all the good it’s done.”

  Mal shrank from the unexpected vehemence. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  Waeh-Loh’s father put a hand on her shoulder. “What would you do, Waeh-Loh?”

  She considered the problem, but only briefly because of Mal’s eyes burning into her.

  “I’d abandon the North and West castles,” she said.

  “What?” Master Mal exclaimed, but her father silenced him with a wave of his hand.

  “Explain,” King Kral-Sus said.

  “Well, I assume that each stone represents a hundred soldiers?” She glanced up, and her father nodded. “So the North Castle’s defenders are outnumbered five to one, and the West Castle’s are outnumbered four to one. Individually, each castle is going to fall, and the soldiers at them will be slain. I suggest—”

  She stopped speaking as another runner approached Mal and whispered something to him. Mal’s shoulders drooped, and he removed a blue stone from the West Castle.

  Waeh-Loh cleared her throat. “We can’t save those castles, Father. But the North Castle has a hundred good elven soldiers, and the West Castle also has a hundred. Those two hundred soldiers could be used to join with our main force. Then, when they arrive, we abandon the East Castle as well, and have the army swing down towards the south side of this castle, here. The south is obviously the enemy’s main attack. What they’ll probably do is fortify their positions on the West and South Castles, and then combine their forces for an attack on our central one. What we do is wait until they leave the South Castle, and then we attack them from the north and flank them from the east.

  “That ought to break the spine of the main assault. We’d outnumber them four to three, plus we’ll have surprise and a flank attack as well. We then retreat back to this castle—which we hope to have held with only a token garrison—and wait for them to break themselves upon it trying to besiege us.

  “The only dangers are if they manage to take this castle or join with their western prong before our forces combine. Very serious risks, but I think that—”

  She stopped. Everybody was staring at her, eyes wide. Her father was quietly laughing.

  “What?” she said, and the room burst into laughter.

  Waeh-Loh’s face went bright red. She turned to flee the room, but her father’s hand clamped on her wrist. His eyes were alight with pleasure, and although he did not raise his voice, it sliced right through the noise in the room.

  “Bethus’s Gambit?” he asked with more than a little admiration in his voice.

  “What?” Master Mal said.

  “Not exactly, Father. I modified it slightly because we have fewer castles to defend.”

  “But still,” her father said, “that’s not a half bad plan. Not bad at all. It’s been used before, but so long ago, it’s likely been forgotten.”

  The other men in the room were looking at Waeh-Loh as though for the first time. Could this be the same slow, plain, and stubborn little girl who had been the punch line of their jokes for years?

  “Your Majesty,” Master Mal said, “you can’t be serious about this. It’s just a little girl’s fantasy.”

  “Have you a better idea, Master?” He gestured around the room. “Have any of you? It’s been so long since we’ve waged war, we’ve forgotten how to do it. I’m just thankful that my daughter here remembered her history.”

  “But Your Majesty, she’s a half-wit!”

  Master Mal clamped his hand to his mouth, but the damage had been done. King Kral-Sus stood and gently patted the fencing instructor on the back.

  “It’s all right, Master Mal,” the King said. “It’s all right. But you’re relieved of duty. Please see the Infantrymaster for your shield and spear.”

  “But … but …”

  “Goodbye, Mal,” he said. Mal slunk out of the room.

  “Now, does anybody else have any ideas?” The room was silent. “Anybody else find a flaw in Waeh-Loh’s Gambit?” The King winked at his daughter, a sly smile on his face. Again, not a sound.

  “Very well, it’s decided. We’ll use that as the basis of our strategy. Bar-Tal, organize the officers and inform them of our plan. Tan-Chak, you go and—ah, my wife! It’s about time.”

  Tee-Ri had entered the room, and the men bowed before her as she passed.

  “I’m sorry I kept you waiting, my husband,” she said, tossing her hair. “I was deeply immersed in my singing lesson”—she glanced once at Waeh-Loh, daring her to contradict her statement—“and Waeh-Loh failed to impress upon me the urgency of the situation. But anyway, how can I be of assistance?”

  “You can honor your daughter,” the King said. “For she just gave us the means to perhaps save our kingdom.”

  “Did she?” Tee-Ri said, arching a single eyebrow. “Did she indeed?”

  Chapter 69

  Tamlevar? Tamlevar? Are you still here?

  mmmmmwha?

  You need to fight harder, Tamlevar. You’re losing yourself.

  Wha? Losing?

  You’re losing yourself to Willow’s mind. Your identity. You must leave here. If you remain, you will die.

  mmm. I can’t.

  Yes, you can. She’s not in any pain, Tamlevar. In fact, she’s happier now than she’s ever been. Why can’t you just leave her?

  Because they’ll kill her.

  “They?”

  The Kards. She’s been unconscious for weeks. They say that if she doesn’t wake by the gladiatorial games tomorrow morning, they’re going to toss her onto the bonfire. They’ll burn her alive!

  And you?

  I’ll fight in the games alone.

  Hm. Very well, but you must be strong, Tamlevar. Don’t you realize that you’re losing? Instead of drawing Willow out, she’s drawing you in, and since you’re not part of her, that will kill you.

  Then why are you showing me all of this?

  I’m not: Willow is. I don’t exist. I’m dead.

  That’s right. The Kards killed you, didn’t they?

  Not exactly.

  What do you mean? Either they killed you or they didn’t.

  You will see what happened, Tamlevar. Keep watching, and Willow will show you everything. I must warn you: it’s extremely unpleasant.

  You know how sad that makes me, right?

  Yes, Tamlevar. You have no secrets in here. We can read you as easily as you can read us. You really do love her, don’t you?

  Yes. Yes, I do. I only wish I had done a better job showing her.

  Don’t worry. She knows. Deep down, she knows and also understands.

  I failed her.

  Yes, you did.

  Thanks. I feel much better now. />
  Are you here to make yourself feel better, or to save Willow?

  Both, I think.

  Ha! At least you’re honest! I like that. But don’t dwell upon your failings. It serves no useful purpose. Yes, you failed her. So did I. So did her mother. Everybody’s failed Willow at one time or another.

  I’m not going to fail her now.

  We’ll see. At any rate, I respect you for trying. Very well. Continue looking for Willow. But remember, hold onto yourself! Don’t lose yourself in her, for both your sakes.

  Chapter 70

  “How are they moving so quickly?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “The plan should have worked. It should have worked. How are they moving so quickly?”

  The wind in the Forest Room whispered through Waeh-Loh’s hair, caught it, and played with it. She blinked, fighting off the sleepiness. How could she be struggling to stay awake at such a critical time?

  Could it be because she’d been awake for two days?

  Waeh-Loh smiled. Yes, that could explain it.

  Her father sat besieged at his table, advisors, runners, and ministers all around him. His youthful face now looked old and careworn as he raked his fingers through his silver hair and listened, questioned, and then made decisions. Listened, questioned, made decisions. For days on end.

  Morale was plummeting. Increasing numbers of elves abandoned the castle for the safety of the woods and hills. As if that would save them should the kingdom fall.

  The castle was nearly empty. Almost everybody was involved in fighting for the kingdom or in supporting those who fought. Waeh-Loh felt singularly useless: she did neither.

  Waeh-Loh caught something unusual out of the corner of her eye. She turned, blinked, and there it was, something absolutely extraordinary: a naked black man, looking around the room, dazed.

  She sat bolt upright and gasped. A few elves, her father among them, heard her gasp and followed her gaze but seemed to see nothing unusual. They looked right through the black man!