Alpere had first offered her husband the position, but he’d insisted on his wife as the true force behind his success. A wise man, one who trusted his wife. In many ways Trieme was Alpere’s closest ally, but in others she opposed him entirely. She hated the thought of a king or queen and wanted the Council to rule.
In theory that sounded reasonable, but in practice it bogged things down in times of crisis. In their ancient homeland, the Council had tied the king’s hands when he’d needed their help most. Not for the first time, Alpere asked himself what they could have done differently to stop the Skree. Were they simply a natural disaster? A signal that the rule of the Golden was at an end? Kingdoms and countries, like all aspects of the natural world, had life cycles. They were conceived in the minds of men, often born in pain and violence, grew to power and maturity, and then withered and died.
“Order! We are called to order,” Nomax called, shaking Alpere from his thoughts. Not a true member of the Council, the Master of Arms had served longer than anyone. He was ancient even by the Council’s standards, and one of Alpere’s closest friends. Nomax’s father had been a fine general. Alpere had served under him. A fighter to the end, in the war’s last battle the general had gone down grappling with a pack of Skree.
Terveen stood behind him. In the coming years, the chief magistrate was likely to take Nomax’s place.
“Councilor Alpere has called this meeting. He will address us now.” Nomax nodded to him. “Councilor, you have the floor.”
Alpere drew in a long, slow breath.
“Esteemed colleagues, before us we have a matter of great importance,” Alpere began. “One that affects us all, one that affects our children, affects their children. We have to decide how we are to live our lives in the days to come. We have to decide between two clear options.”
Alpere paused. His gaze shifted from one side of the room to the other, Caryle to Trieme, then back again. His fingers reached up and found the clasp of his cloak, and then he abandoned it, letting it fall to the ground around him.
The councilors gasped. Layer upon layer of thin silver steel covered his body head to boot. The hilt of a sword hung at his waist and a long dagger beside it. He hadn’t worn the armor in years; it was likely that less than a dozen suits like his remained. Like so many other things, the crafting of such fine armor had been lost beneath the desert. The armor the elves fashioned and wore now was but a shade of what it had once been, shabby and crude in comparison.
“I wear this armor today to honor our past, and as a reminder of the greatness we once had. We can choose to try to return to the past, to return to the way things once were, to try and revive those ancient times. That would be a noble goal.”
Alpere moved across the room to stand near Caryle. The man smiled broadly and Alpere squeezed his shoulder. His eyes were damp and proud. Wearing the armor had been a ploy. One meant to capture everyone’s attention and rouse their hearts.
“I applaud that goal. However, just because a goal is noble does not mean that it is right. I say too much has been lost, and trying to go back in time is folly. At best, we might achieve only a pale reflection of what once was. A reflection that would dishonor our memories and cloud our future. Should we give up, then? For the sake of our children, should we not strive for a better tomorrow?”
Alpere walked toward Trieme’s side of the group, then paused in the center.
“Many would choose instead to live purely in the present. To recognize, as I do, that the old ways are over. My heart breaks for our people’s loss. I weep for our forgone glory in the knowledge that so many of our people will never know its like again, or indeed at all. But I believe the past should live on in song and memory and nothing more. We must remember our past, but move toward our future.”
It was Trieme’s turn to smile now.
“In doing so, I would urge caution.” Alpere fought the impulse to wag his finger like the tutor he’d once been. “We must not forget the lessons of history. We must not rush headlong into too much change at once. Trying to bury our past in relentless transformation would surely doom us. And buried evils have a way of returning.
“Friends, I say we have another choice, a third path before us, open and inviting. We can choose to build a new future, to forge out a new destiny. To walk a path that honors and reveres the past and also acknowledges that the times we live in now are different. They require different methods, different goals, and different leadership. These too can be noble, glorious, and just.”
“What would you have us do? Follow through with your plan?” Trieme interrupted. “We tried that—we all agreed on it—but the situation is now more complicated.”
Strictly speaking, she was out of order. Interruptions were not permitted until the end of opening remarks, but Alpere welcomed the question. Nomax frowned at Trieme, and Alpere held his hands flat to cut his friend off from admonishing her.
“I would,” he said. “Now more than ever, it is the only way. The only safe path forward.”
“I disagree,” Caryle joined in. “We already have a queen. All should go on as before.”
“A demon queen,” one of Trieme’s party said.
“Better than a half-breed,” someone shot back.
“We settled on the question of the mixed years ago. They have full rights,” Alpere called out. That argument had been every bit as contentious as the one he expected today. He did not want to reopen it.
“Well we should reconsider!” a voice called out.
“Should we consider if a demon has rights, then?” another joined in.
The forum erupted into chaos.
“ORDER,” Nomax shouted. “We will have order!”
Alpere sighed.
Koren couldn‘t have been more pleased. Everything had gone according to plan; as Baelzeron had predicted, all but a scant few of the wood elves were bottled up in their castle, and their eyes were focused solely on the army outside. Blind to all else, they wouldn’t realize the Master’s true aim until it was far too late.
She and a group of demons rode south, searching for the Master’s Well, a direct tap into the valley’s limitless power. With the Well under her control, the results of the siege would matter little. Even if the unexpected happened and the wood elves won, the Well was the real prize. Armies and battles meant less than nothing compared to the power it offered.
After Koren had guided the army to the castle, she’d left Slerian in charge of the Risen. She would have preferred to have the undead mage command the siege, but General Brisson led the Golden elves and the army as a whole. The proud fool never would have followed one of the undead. His instructions were to hold the siege at all costs and bring the wall down. Koren smiled, remembering the look on the pompous idiot’s face. She’d made it clear what the penalty for failure would be.
In truth, she had the easier task in finding the Well; Baelzeron had described it in detail. But there were still obstacles to overcome, the forest itself the foremost of them. Thorns and brambles and dead ends all wrapped together in an endless living maze.
They’d wasted three days slogging through a slime-filled swamp. Her boots and cloak were caked with a dried layer of its dull brown mud, and she carried the rotten stink of the place on her still.
Koren thought that she would have been able to sense the Well by now. Baelzeron had said that once she got close she would feel it like a lodestone. She could sense the power of the valley’s deep magics, but since coming down from the mountains and entering the valley it had clung all around her, diffuse and ethereal like an invisible fog.
Baelzeron had warned her of the Well’s defenses; enchantments the wood elves had placed there to prevent a demon from breaching it. But his knowledge was not complete. He did not know every detail about their traps and could only prepare her for those he did. There w
ere spells and wardings woven tightly around it. Some Koren could break or slip around, but others could only be passed through by setting them off and dealing with the consequences.
She closed her eyes and stretched her senses, hoping for a sign.
An owl called in the distance. Odd that one should be out this time of day. Twilight is still hours off. A second owl answered.
She heard a high-pitched buzzing and a sharp pain bit into her thigh. She looked down and saw a handspan of white-fletched arrow sticking out from it. She tried to dismount, but the arrow had driven through her thigh and into the leather of her saddle, pinning her in place. A second shot of pain lanced between her ribs. The pain would have been debilitating were her senses still what they had been before her transformation, but instead the arrows were merely a minor inconvenience.
Koren snarled and spurred her horse. She galloped ahead while her demons fanned out into the trees, searching for the archers. She scanned the thicket, but wood elves were ever good at hiding. The arrow wounds themselves were hardly mortal to her. It took a great deal to cause her true harm anymore; another of the Master’s many gifts, and the reason she’d beaten her niece during their duel.
Despite her victory, the memory of their fight wasn’t pleasant. The little beast had actually harmed her. Indeed, had the Master not made her body stronger, Jin might have won. The thought angered her. There was a time no one could have beaten her. That had been before the human and his damned axe.
Koren grabbed the shaft in her side and ripped it free.
She heard the demons all around her, rustling through the bushes, communicating in screeches and howls as they searched.
With her knife she cut the fletching off the arrow stuck in her thigh. After throwing it aside, she slid her leg free from the broken shaft. Thick, dark blood spurted from the wound, and she plugged both sides of it with a torn rag. She didn’t fear infection; any risk of that was beyond her now. In a day or two the wound would be closed with hardly a scar remaining.
One of the demons returned, screeching up at her.
Koren couldn’t mimic their language—no being that wasn’t of their kind could—but she’d learned to understand it. Two or more attackers, it said. Both gone now.
They will be back. Koren was sure. And now that they’ve found us we’ll never lose them.
“Keep a pair on their tail,” Koren instructed. She’d once thought the demons had only a low intelligence, and indeed at first they had, but as they fed on the valley’s raw magic their thoughts grew. These had fed for years and were far smarter than most. Even without speaking their language in return, Koren knew that they’d grasped her intent; the words were more for herself than them.
She felt a trickle of blood down her horse’s side. She dismounted and inspected the beast. Two more arrows were lodged in the taut muscles of its chest. Koren would recover easily enough from her wounds, but the horse would not. Not for the first time, she wished she’d brought her own beast.
The demon beside her inhaled sharply. It smelled the blood as she did. She’d pushed her escort hard getting here, day and night, and they were hungry. She drew her dagger across the horse’s throat, opening it.
“Gather your brothers and feast,” Koren said. Then she cursed. If progress had been slow before, without a horse it would be a crawl.
CHAPTER TWENTY
From above the castle gate, Dain looked out over the invading army once more.
The siege had gone on a week now and he still didn’t understand what Koren’s goals were. Twice the invaders had rushed the walls and been soundly repelled. Casualties had been low for defender and attacker alike, though the wood elves had fared better. Dain and his forces had lost a few dozen soldiers, while Koren’s army of mostly Risen had suffered over a hundred. Still, something didn’t feel right. The attempts at the castle seemed insincere, almost lazy.
What is she trying to accomplish?
Morning and evening, the white-blonde elf marched to the front of her lines and stared at the walls as if she could will them to shatter. Dain leaned on a stone crenellation, watching her complete the evening ritual. He’d thought her more skilled in battlecraft than this.
There had to be a way to take advantage of her predictability. Too far for a bowshot…unless we could smuggle an archer closer. Maybe sneak one out and into a covered pit during the night?
He remembered a trick he’d once pulled with a pair of shapeshifter eagles. It wouldn’t work here, though. The demons and golden elf archers were too alert for all their disorganization and lackluster attacks.
In the day’s dying light he saw a pigeon winging its way toward the castle.
A message from Jin.
Dain found Sera by the coop, a tiny scroll in her hand and Rhone slung across her hip. Dain waggled his fingers in greeting to his son and Rhone babbled a happy response.
“Jin’s sent another pigeon?”
“Yes.” Sera used her thumbnail to unroll the tiny message. Her eyes widened as she read.
“What is it?”
“A small group of demons is traveling south of the swamp. Rangers intercepted them and attacked what they said was Koren. The rangers were not successful, and only one escaped.” Sera offered the scroll to Dain. “How could she be there when we see her here morning and evening?”
“And why would she be in the forest? There’s nothing of strategic…” Dain’s voice trailed off. It can’t be. How can she possibly…?
“What? What is it?” Sera’s face had drawn into a tight frown.
“Lorthol. It’s Lorthol. The Well is the only thing of value that far south, and if Koren is guided by demonic forces now…”
“But it can’t be Koren. She’s here.”
“Doesn’t matter. Someone is heading for the Well, demons in tow,” Dain said. He’d made a mistake—possibly a fatal one. They’d been outmaneuvered. The siege’s true purpose was to keep them bottled up and allow Koren to search for Lorthol. How could he have missed it? They’d suspected the demons would want the Well, but guessed that Koren would first need to win the siege and have time then to search for it. But what if she wasn’t searching? What if she had some method of finding it? “And if they find it, the battle here becomes meaningless. They’ll sweep us away like the tide.”
“You think they know where it is?”
“No. If they knew for sure we would be fighting a very different sort of battle,” Dain said. “But regardless, we have to do something.”
“Jin must focus on protecting Lorthol at all costs.” Sera paused and stared out toward the east and Jin’s encampment. Rhone twirled his fingers into her long raven hair. “What if the worst happens? If they gain control of the Well, break through the wards. What can we expect?”
“Anything and everything.” Dain said. “A single demon shredded that tower guard. Kray killed several armored guards singlehandedly, and it took Jin and Hexen both to bring him down. He could also cast, and that’s rare among all but the strongest of demons.”
He paused, considering, then went on.
“Once, I cleaned out a nest of demons. They were holding a hot springs in a narrow ravine—feeding as they do on the energies between the planes that slip through at such places—and a local lord wanted access to the mineral water. He hired fifty of us. Fifty seasoned men. We spent three days fighting the nest. After clearing out a few of the weaklings, we found a great demon who’d fed and grown strong. Like Kray, he too could cast. He had a flock of lesser demons serving him. Maybe a dozen altogether. Only nine of us collected our wages.”
Dain shuddered, remembering how bloody those days had been. He’d seen strong men wailing like newborns in the demon’s ragged claws. It still haunted him. More fodder for his nightmares. That couldn’t be allowed to happen here.
“That spring w
as small, just a narrow crevasse in the rock. Nothing like the Well.” Dain thought of all the demons milling among the army outside. There are thousands of them, surely. All hungry. All waiting to feed and grow strong.
Sera started to tremble, but her voice stayed steady. “We’ll have to run. We won’t stand a chance.”
Dain drew closer to his wife. He wrapped his arm around her and clutched his son’s soft hand.
“It won’t happen here. We won’t allow it.”
“You didn’t believe my father’s warnings about the temple before, that the demons would return.”
“Demons are rare. In all my years of wandering I’ve only encountered a few—once at that little spring and one other time besides. A few weeks ago there hadn’t been a demon seen in this valley for thousands of years. But that changed when I saw what happened in that tower and later what Kray did.”
Dain pulled Sera and Rhone closer.
“But Sera, my love, I’m trained for this. So are the other Light-wielders. Palatine gave us the Light and founded the Order specifically to fight demons, even though the threat has—up until now—become so rare that most don’t believe in demons as real things anymore. They believe that demons are symbolic of the evil that plagues men’s minds, little whisperers that convince us to sin. Perhaps they’re both.”
“Before this I had never seen a demon,” Sera said. “Father claimed he saw one once. A large, red beast. He never told me where.” She pressed a cheek to his shoulder. “Dain, what are we going to do? My father trusted me with this. Defending the Well is my people’s responsibility. We can send a message to Jin through one of the shapeshifters, but she can’t stop them on her own.”
Paladin's Fall: Kingdom's Forge Book 2 Page 28