She could even see it before her eyes. His head thrown down before her feet, his eyes glancing upwards, the sinister smile swept away from his face and she could do nothing, but stare at his bloodied head and smile with all the extent of her heart. She would have taken great pleasure in tormenting him, paying him with the same way he had done with her. She would have slit his throat open, cut his head. There was nothing that would appease her more. When Cassia wanted Death, Death complied with alacrity.
Her head rose as Ael walked in her tent. She took a moment to appreciate how he looked every bit the Lord he rightfully was. The armour was as silver as hers, though not as engraved; there were no lines, only runes, Adanei runes, not Nevdor runes, not the runes of their lineage, the runes of their blood, the hieroglyphics that ran hot and deep into them.
Ael had forsaken every Nevdor part of himself. She could barely see the words around his armour, barely understand the speech. He cleared his throat, her eyes rose to his face as he spoke. “Lord Argoth is inviting you to breakfast with him.”
She nodded. His words seemed harsh and cold as they reached her. Her throat felt dry, but she managed to answer, “As long as he doesn’t force me to breakfast in Feremony then we are fine.” She straightened her spine then secured the crown on her head. “Lead the way.”
He turned around, exited the tent and she followed him. He kept himself rigid, away from her. This Ael, the coldness and hostility in his glance and facade was nothing of the Ael that she knew. Maybe he had played games, with her and her heart, and she had lost.
I didn’t favour losing.
This was a war camp, and in a war camp; matters of the heart had no reason of existence. She cursed herself for allowing the warm, exhilarating feeling of affection to enter her thoughts and heart. She had been foolish on that matter. Ael was a warrior, shunned by his kind, thrown to the streets by his own flesh and blood. He had no reason to let her inside his heart.
Maybe that aspect of his life was what attracted her to him. They were one and the same. Sour, shunned and hated.
She had been beyond naive when she had allowed herself to lean on him and take comfort. He wasn’t her friend; he was someone who knew how to survive with the same fierce way she did.
After all, in this game of war and hatred only the most hardened could survive. They were both moulded from the same unscattering black silver as her sword. Her unyielding sword. They both prevailed where everyone cowered away.
Dawn had reached the camp too swiftly. As if the forces of Nature knew what went on the earth and underneath it. The cold breeze had turned slightly warmer from the rays of the mighty sun, but the smell of the flowers sprawled over the brown soil and the lichens grasping onto the rocks about the camp remained as prominent as hours ago.
The soldiers occupied their time by doing routine tasks about the camp. Guards were changing, patrols were scheduled, horses were readied and swords were sharpened.
It wasn’t the war that she missed; it was the camaraderie of the camps. The dull routine of the life of a soldier in the royal guard, the everyday training and the mental exhaustion, quick thinking required for battle.
Ael stopped outside of Argoth’s tent; he glanced at her as she stood before him, gazing inside. He motioned with his head for her to walk in and she obeyed. He remained behind, though.
Argoth stood from the long table that had been set inside his tent and bowed his head. She bowed hers. After all, her enemy’s enemy is her friend.
“Good morning, Lady Cassia.”
She nodded. “Good morning to you too, my Lord.”
Silence pulsed in small incandescent waves between them before he extended his hand and showed her to the chair across his at the other top of the table. She sat, keeping her spine as straightened as she could, the crown felt heavy on her head, but she ignored the urge to pull it off and run her hands through her hair to ease the tension.
Argoth took his seat and gestured her, to begin with her breakfast. She indulged herself with the fruits on her plate, throwing suspicious glances onto the tender flesh of the apples in her hands. She knew that Argoth wouldn’t have tried to poison her. He hadn’t even tried to kill her last time they faced each other on the battlefield. His military morality astounded her and she admired him for it.
She took a sip from her jasmine tea as he raised his head from his plate and looked at her, his eyes locked onto her crown. He mustn’t have seen it when she stepped in his tent, or maybe he hadn’t placed much attention on it.
“Is it wise to go into Feremony wearing the crown?” Argoth’s eyes pleaded her to pull it off her head.
She set the cup on the table and glanced at him, her head tilting to the side. “No.” She took off the crown and threw it at him across the table he caught it in his hands and looked at it. “If you were observant enough you would have understood by now that I am not wearing the emblem of the King.”
She was being truthful. She didn’t wear the emblem with the golden tree. She wore the silver dragon with the green eyes. Her emblem, the emblem the King despised because it reminded him she was part human, reminded him that her allegiance was split in two, between the Adanei and Him.
Argoth smiled. “I see. The Dragon with the silver talons and the green eyes.”
“I am trying,” she cleared her throat and swallowed. “Trying to erase the King from my lands and my blood. I am not like him, I don’t rule with an iron fist and I don’t torture my people for sport. If this war ends well I would request for the wall to be brought down, I want to unify our nations.” She shook her head. “We are the same, flesh and bones and spirit, our only difference is our religion and our ideas, but we shouldn’t let them spread discord between us.”
Argoth took a knowing glance at the crown and smiled before he tossed it to her and she caught it in the air and rested it over her head. She looked at him as a faint smile played over her own lips.
“Lord Beathan Eathon will agree with you.”
She snorted. “Feremony is the only place in this world that I hate with so much ferocity.”
Argoth shook his head as he spoke. “Feremony has changed since the last time you were there, their Lord is another elf, with other ideas that match your own. Feremony is known for its harsh grounds and harsh laws to the rest of Aethos, but not to us.”
“We shall see.”
“Ethan is a strong warlock and a strong elf. I think you will find him to your liking.”
The nickname Argoth used for the Lord of Feremony was the only indication of the casual, friendly relationship between the two elves.
Past belonged to history and future belonged to her. She vaguely remembered to have caught glimpse of Lord Beathan during her captivity. It wasn’t unusual for the offspring of Lords to be present on the prisoners torturing. It wasn’t unlikely Beathan had faced her once or twice during her time there, but still... Still, he had done nothing to stop it.
Apparently, he wasn’t that noble and aerial at mind and soul as Lord Argoth described him. It was her unceremonious hate that kept her alive during those days and nights. Hate was the only ally she had beneath those walls.
This time, she would be marching into Feremony prepared, this time she would take allies with her. She glanced about the room surveying whether she should speak her thoughts or not, but at last her unrelenting mind seemed to take the safest option. She cleared her throat.
“I want two of my own City to come with me.”
Argoth raised an eyebrow as a smile took place over his lips. “Of course, it was expected. Our bonds are not tight enough to trust each other to that extent.” He bowed his head in understanding and respect.
“I hope one day we will.”
“For the sake of our survival and our Aethos, I pray that you are correct.”
She nodded and pulled up from her chair. “I hope you will excuse me. Thank you for your hospitality.” She bowed her head. “I will retrieve to my City.” She moved towards the tent’s entrance.
; Argoth stood from his chair. “You can flash to the other side of the Wall? Isn’t it impossible, wards and ancient magic and all?”
She stopped and turned her head to the side throwing a smirk at Lord Argoth. “I told you, I am giving you an advantage in this war. The Wall is merely a flick of what I can do; it affects me only when I walk through it. Otherwise, it is but a caress to my magic.”
“I am thankful then,” he paused and raised his eyes to hers. “You are our ally and I will defend you with my blood, you are most vital to us and I will make sure the rest of the Lords understand. But,” he let his hand fall on the table before him, something dark covering his violet eyes. “If you as much as dare to betray me, I will hunt you down to the ends of the world.”
She nodded. “I will be back in an hour.”
Then, without looking back at him, she flashed away.
+ + +
She landed a few feet away from Ardan’s house. She knew that he was preparing his soldiers as well as his family and closest friends for the distracting assault in a few days. The house was the one closest to the castle. Ardan had never wanted to stay with his family between the heavy walls of Cassia’s castle.
She walked up to the door of the house and knocked thrice. It was a way to alert Ardan and his wife that she was waiting behind the door. Ardan appeared at the doorstep.
His smile fell from his lips; she knew that he wasn’t expecting to see her. Not in a long time. She knew that he fought the urge to wrap his arms around her and hug her closely. He stood his ground and pulled back to let her in the house.
He closed the door behind him and turned to her. “I didn’t wait for you.” He smiled.
“I wanted-”
A voice cut her speech, a voice she remembered his owner was in great debt to her. “Lady Cassia,”
She turned around to face Nadaon, his smile and respect made her smile internally with a way of her own. She moved forward and enveloped him in a hug, something she didn’t usually do, but she was about to seek him out after she had recruited Ardan.
Cassia grinned and turned to look at Ardan as she said, “I need you both to follow me, blindly.”
“Where exactly follow you?” Ardan asked as he pursed his lips and leant his back on the door.
She shook her head, look at the carpet. “You won’t like it.”
Nadaon bowed his head and took a step forward, closer to her. “I will follow you wherever you will lead me, Lady Cassia.”
Ardan sighed. “Hang on a second here. I have a family and my step-mother is going to kill me if I leave my wife a widow.” He shook his head. “Where are you going?”
Cassia shook her head; Ardan would follow her to the end of the world and back because he trusted her beyond anyone else. He placed his life in her hands and his soul upon hers, his burden was hers to carry and her burden his. They were something more than friends and their ties were tighter than family than siblings.
“Feremony,” she said at last and let a breath escape her. “I need you; I won’t go in there alone, not even with Lord Argoth. Please, I need your help, both of you.”
Ardan laughed. “Feremony,” he shook his head chuckling. “Why are you, of all people, going in there?”
A growl escaped her as she rolled her eyes. “I need the alliance, the council is being held there.”
Ardan shook his head again. “I am going to regret this, possibly too much.”
She nodded. “Right,” she breathed in and turned to Nadaon. “Do you have your armour with you?” He nodded. “Wear it, arm yourself up to the neck, Feremony is lethal.”
“If you are to forge an allegiance you won’t need that much weaponry,” Ardan said as he pushed a few locks of hair that had fallen over his eyes back.
“Between the three of us, Ardan I am the one who has been to Feremony and was lucky enough to escape back.”
“Whatever my Lady commands.”
He knew she was getting agitated every time he called her his Lady, but she chose to ignore the fact that he was being childish and in the mood for taunting.
Cassia turned around and asked, “Nadaon, have you ever fought in the battlefield?”
“No, but I know her way around with a sword, dagger and arrows.”
She nodded. “At least you are not completely useless.” She inhaled soundly. “Don’t make bargains with the Lords and offer them things I am not aware of. We must be careful and beyond observant.”
“What exactly are we supposed to do?” Ardan asked as he arched a stubborn eyebrow.
She turned to him. “You are to stand by me and consult me on a treaty that would ensure our entourage during the war.”
“Why did you give the Adanei such an advantage?” Nadaon asked, his head hung low, waiting for her to answer him. She knew that it would cost him much, but she trusted him more than the rest of the older and supposedly wiser Lords.
She pursed her lips. “Have you found your mate, Nadaon?”
“I haven’t, not yet.” He answered and raised his eyes to hers.
“Would you want your children to grow up in a place where death is the only thing that prevails? Would you want them to be at the King’s clutches, and take them from you whenever he sees fit? Would you want for your mate to warm his bed when you are powerless to do something to stop it?”
His eyes widening, his lips quivering and his throat bobbing. No one wanted those things for their mates. A mate was a blessing by Nature, but a curse and burden to bear for the rest of their lives. She was thankfully relieved of this burden, of this duty to nature, of this erumpent need.
The rest of her friends though were not. They still bore this burden, and she was ready to do anything to ease their pain and discomfort. She was about to sacrifice anything because frankly, she had little things to fight for and her decease wouldn’t hurt the world that much, no one would be hurt when she would be gone. One criminal less.
“I wouldn’t want that, no,” Nadaon replied and bowed his head.
“It is the truth. The King will not hesitate. I am not telling you to allure you into my cause, I am telling you because I consider you my friend, not my subject to command.”
Nadaon nodded his head, not in submission or fear, but in the genuine feel of respect and friendship.
+ + +
She flashed them back into the Adanei war camp. The place around them seemed to hollow up and become somehow too suffocating, but she commanded herself to breathe in.
In this place, they were a minority. A minority, but the elves around them wouldn’t dare to confront her. She had slaughtered too many of their own to even dare walk before her, and not run away from her the moment she’d lay her eyes on them.
Argoth approached them with a trailing Ael coming shortly behind him. The Lord took a glance at Ardan to her right, inclining his head slightly to pay his respects to another worthy opponent and then glanced at Nadaon at her left.
“We are ready to go,” Argoth said and raised his head to face her.
“I hope everything is as you described and nothing unexpected would surface from this meeting.”
“Lady Cassia, there is little that I can predict about Feremony. I made you a promise, I am willing to keep. I will keep you out of the Lords’ clutches for as long as I can.”
She nodded. “That is enough for me.” She took a glance at Ael and then glanced back at Argoth. “Can you flash us in?”
“I believe it would be fitting if I ushered us in Feremony.” She merely nodded again before Lord Argoth’s violet magic flashed them into the hard plains of Feremony.
23
The first time Cassia set foot on Feremony hundred years ago, it was the smell of coal and smoke that she faced first. The second thing was a barking, flame-breathing, Red Dragon with golden talons and blue menacing eyes, prepared to devour life as if it was meat. The last thing she noticed, was how infertile and dead the land was, how lifeless and hurt, scarred beyond measure. Just as scarred as her soul was.
Her forest paled in comparison to the death spread over Feremony, or the foul land and smell. The ardent need to leave from that place, the second she took in that smoky air, rose hot and renewed in her mouth. She could still feel those elegant curves of golden talons of the Dragon trailing over the dead, black coals of the ground.
The dawn had never come, not once during her stay there. She hadn’t seen light, save the light of dragon flame. She hadn’t seen the white starlight. She had seen nothing of pure and good nature flourishing in Feremony.
She had witnessed the pained, but triumphant growls of Dragons; she had heard their wings flapping against the air, their foul breathing covering her flesh in smoke. She had inhaled the breath of Dragons, smoky with the fire in their lungs, but not as unpleasant as she had thought.
She had touched the sharp, unyielding scales of the Dragons, but they hadn’t hurt her, not as much as Lord Conor had. Cassia had felt the goodness in these noble but fearful creatures.
One day, back in her cell, guards had shackled her wrists and ankles and slumped her up to a field. Conor had laughed and summoned a white dragon, a few grey scales adorning the long rocky flesh of the creature. Its proud neck, standing erect and domineering as it gazed down at her. At the pitiful creature, she had become. The beast had cowered away though; it had scented her, licked her wounds in a failing attempt to salvage her scars and let her there before it flew away.
She had been grateful, grateful for even feeling the warmth of its breath, grateful that it had given her a chance instead of roasting her alive.
It was different. One glance around Feremony and this time everything was different.
Feremony no longer emitted smoke and flames. Feremony was a cataclysm of green lands, rivers and flowers and so many trees, dense, beautiful trees, tall and magnanimous. Things she never knew could even exist in such a place. In such a fetid land.
The tall green mountains circled the valleys, so high above that, you couldn’t see beyond the skyline. It was a fortress of nature, made by soil and rock. It was a sanctuary, no longer a prison made of coal and ash.
A War of Silver and Gold Page 19