On the Shores of Irradan

by Ronald Long

  After climbing one particular flight of steps, the three turned left and began to walk down the road that would take them past houses of several Nobles as well as the new temple of the Comet.

  As they passed the black stone structure, Coriander sniffed and paused a moment to observe the building.

  Considering the longevity of elves (one was not considered old until he or she had passed their five-hundredth year), it had been constructed only recently.

  One hundred years ago, a new sect began to emerge within the city. In that short time, it spread to the rest of the empire. Though the emperor was regarded as the one most worthy of admiration and praise and was supposed to be the elves’ sole object of adoration, these priests of the Comet had begun to venerate the dark, billowing rock that hung in the sky.

  They claimed that the emperor had sent it and, therefore, it was worthy of worship.

  Yellow banners with an orange representation of the celestial being fluttered in the wind over Coriander's head. Wooden doors with iron workings, all painted black, were shut tight against the morning sun. From within, low chants of indistinguishable prayers wafted out of the high windows. Large stone plinths held purple fires that burned day and night and smelled of sweet incense: a sacrifice to the Comet.

  "Sir?" Finore asked as they lingered longer than Coriander meant to.

  He shook his head and returned his thoughts to the moment at hand and away from the black structure.

  "My apologies," he said and began to walk at a brisker pace up to the next flight of stairs that would take them to the entrance of the Imperial Palace.

  No finer structure could be found on the entire continent, Coriander thought with pride. He doubted that anywhere else in the world held in splendor such a seat for its ruler.

  Vast metal doors that shone in the sunlight bore the same images as his soldiers' breastplates. Sitting underneath the crown, however, was the graven image of their magnificent emperor: Rophilborn the Eternal.

  Coriander paused a moment to marvel at the beautiful door before bowing to the twelve palace guards and saluting. Each was clothed in the richest of ornate robes and their metal breastplates were golden intricate masterpieces of metalworking. Helmets that covered their faces were also made of gold and crafted to look like the faces of elven servants. Narrow slits for a guard's eyes and mouth were the only openings.

  "His Excellency, the Eternal Emperor Rophilborn, has requested my presence today. I beg my two most trusted commanders Evelyn and Finore accompany me to his royal throne," he said in his most distinguished voice.

  It wasn't often that Coriander came to visit the emperor. Messages to and from his throne were mostly delivered by royal palace guards on the finest of parchments. The last of these correspondences Coriander received had been a summons as well as instructions for the preparation of a grand expedition.

  That was almost a year ago. Coriander had begun planning and issuing commands immediately.

  Preparations were now complete and the expedition was ready to take place. All that needed doing now was to inform the emperor the final pieces had fallen into place and they were ready to leave at a moment's notice.

  The palace guard standing in the middle of the group nodded curtly and turned to open a much smaller door built into the larger portals.

  Coriander and his two commanders were admitted with silence. The last time Coriander had entered these hallowed halls had been nearly a decade before when Rophilborn had married his young bride.

  The entire empire had celebrated the wedding with feasts and festivals in honor of the union. On the day of the wedding, one hundred select and honored elves were invited to watch the ceremony. Coriander counted himself as one of those lucky few to watch his Lord take a new bride.

  He was also one of the few to remember the passing of the emperor's previous queen. There were no feasts or time of mourning to commemorate her death. Only orders on fine parchment paper to bury her alongside the other former queens of the empire.

  Though the palace was closed with giant doors, sunlight streamed inside the halls and bounced off of glittering golden walls and columns. Brightly colored tapestries hung from the walls, and purple banners lined the ceiling. The emperor's riches were in full display: highly adorned suits of armor, fine paintings from near and far, and urns and vessels made from rare stones.

  It was a beautiful sight to behold.

  Evelyn gasped audibly as she entered the door and took in the whole scene. To Coriander's knowledge, she had never once stepped inside the palace. This would be a day she would never forget and one he was glad he could grant her.

  Though his audiences with the emperor were few, Coriander considered himself to be one of the closest advisers the ruler of all the empire had. Every conversation he had shared with Emperor Rophilborn had been one of action. His suggestions had become realities within days of each of their discussions.

  He allowed them to pause a moment at the entrance, knowing more wonderful sights would await them.

  "This way," he said, looking back at his commanders, noting the look of wonder upon both their faces.

  He walked straight down the hall, slowing his pace slightly so his companions could enjoy the view.

  They walked through three different glittering archways allowing entrance into a different corridor. Each time, they passed a pair of royal guards. As they approached the fourth arch, they found their way barred by a dozen elves wielding halberds. They lined a set of stairs that Coriander knew they must climb to enter the last door before the throne room.

  He stopped his commanders with a hand and turned to speak to them.

  "If His Excellency addresses you, speak freely," Coriander instructed them. "I have never known him to resent the opinion of his people."

  Finore's eyes widened and Coriander knew what he must be feeling. To be addressed personally by the emperor himself would be the highest of honors. To speak to him openly was unheard of.

  He was the most admirable elf in the empire, after all.

  The three elves ascended the steps and came to the last door before the throne room. A tall and fierce looking guard extended his hand, motioning for them to stop.

  “What brings you to our empire's point of light? Why have you sought the council of His Most Excellency?” he said in a deep voice.

  Coriander was ready.

  “I was summoned by Rophilborn, the Eternal Emperor of Enoth, may he live forever!”

  With these words, he produced the parchment that was sent to him a year ago, requesting him to call on the emperor as soon as the voyage was ready to begin. The official seal of the emperor was stamped in fine gold upon the paper.

  Coriander had sent a personal message a week before, when the preparations were nearing completion. He knew he was expected. The palace guard took the paper and, without appearing to examine it, opened the door and allowed them entrance into the throne room.

  If the halls before these had been beautiful, this was paradise.

  A reflection pool ran the length of the chamber, beginning within steps of the entry door. On its surface reflected the detailed and beautiful mosaic that was crafted upon the chamber's ceiling. Underneath the water was a clear, sparkling metal that shimmered in the suns' light. Large glass windows allowed the light from the suns at all times of day to shine into the room and reflect off the pool. At night, the room shimmered with an unworldly glow.

  It was if the stars themselves were inside the room.

  The mosaic above was a depiction of the glory of the elves of Enoth. A male elf held a scepter in one hand and a halberd in the other. On his head was the noble red crown of Enoth. At his feet sat a queen, beautiful and perfect in stature and in grace. In her hand she held a bow, for even the females of Enoth were formidable warriors.

  Above them was the symbol of the empire: nine stars encircling a red crown. Except this mosaic, as Coriander had known and expected Evelyn and Finore to discover, depicted a brilliant red orb where
the crown normally sat. It glowed as if on fire. As if a magical energy emanated from it.

  Rimstone.

  The most precious of magical artifacts that the empire had ever found. This was the emperor's stone. His personal gift of magic. This was where the success and strength of the emperor and his empire flowed. Dripping from the orb was a constant stream of water that filled the pool.

  And sitting enthroned at the end of the pool, on his golden chair with nine balls of light suspended around him, was Emperor Rophilborn himself. Clothed in a purple robe with nine golden stars stitched on his breast, the emperor of Enoth sat casually on his throne, as if it were as common as those found in city.

  The trio approached the throne and bowed low. Coriander knew Evelyn's breathing would be audible to the ruler of their empire and wondered if she would be able to remain upright. On the other side of him, Finore did not seem to be breathing at all.

  “I am glad you have come, Coriander,” Rophilborn said, rising to his feet and walking down off of the plinth the throne rested on. “This voyage has been on my mind for a long time.”

  “My captains tell me all the preparations are ready, Your Excellency,” Coriander responded, returning to a standing position and finding himself face to face with the emperor.

  The ruler of all the elves was plain in appearance, not majestic and beautiful as stories might have said about him. His auburn hair was the length of two fingers and his green eyes shown with an inner wisdom. He was exactly Coriander's height, which was a little taller than average for an elf of the city.

  He smiled at his general.

  “These are your two commanders you speak so highly of, am I right?” he inquired as he looked from left to right. “Evelyn and Finore, yes?”

  “Indeed,” replied Coriander, knowing that both of them would be impressed to have their names remembered by their emperor.

  Rophilborn smiled at the three of them with genuine gladness.

  “Walk with me,” he said as he turned and began to lead them away from the throne and off into one of many side hallways. This corridor, too, was glittering with gold.

  “The empire has long thrived on its nine stars,” he said as they followed his path down a long hall, past several suits of elven armor in silver, bronze, and gold. Each was draped in purple cloth and wielded the weapon of the empire: the trusted halberd.

  “Our tower cities have been the crown jewels on the head of our race,” he said, stopping at a map of the empire woven into a tapestry.

  Coriander examined the work of art. It was a masterpiece of recent work. He knew this because only two hundred years ago was Ellosin and Azol added to the stars of the empire. They finished off the nine stars that had so long been sought by the kingdom.

  Memoor. Horritoft. Pahyrst. Eccot. Caleah. Ellosin. Azol. Tawic.

  All arrayed on the beautiful map of the empire. And then, to the north, was the rest of the continent of Irradan, untouched by the elves of the south.

  “We have long left those whom we share this land with unbothered,” Emperor Rophilborn said as he continued to study the map. “The barbarian elves above us. The young ones, who have built for themselves towns and castles of their own. The animals of the north who we drove out centuries ago. They still travel in packs and kill without mercy.”

  He spoke as he looked at the map, his eyes glowing with a light unfamiliar to Coriander. It was a look he could not immediately place on his emperor's face.

  “The elves of Enoth should be more involved in the livelihood of the other lands we are so close to,” Rophilborn said, nodding in thought and clasping his hands behind him. “There could be benefits to all of our nations.”

  “Benefits, Your Excellency?” Coriander asked, turning to face his great ruler.

  “We could share our wisdom. The knowledge we've learned from many years of study. Their lands are rich with resources that we are beginning to have need for. If we are too...”

  “Your Excellency?” came a voice from down the hallway and the party turned as one to see who it was.

  The Imperial Palace, though beautiful and elegant, was empty save for the royal guard, the family of the emperor and, today, an elf Coriander was most surprised to see.

  “Ah! Cedric!” Rophilborn exclaimed as he saw the elf in orange robes walking down the hall with another at his side. “Is my dear Celebrie finished with her lessons for the day?”

  A short, young female elf followed at Cedric's heels. The one whom Coriander had seen marry Rophilborn several years ago. The beautiful elf was the picture of grace. She walked with an air of royalty and carried herself with dignity. In all ways, she was the opposite of the one who walked in front of her.

  Cedric was tall and lanky. His face was sunken and his eyes were offset. He had little to no muscles that defined his features. It was as if twigs had put on robes. The orange garment with its blazing yellow comet in the middle of it looked as if it might fall off at any moment.

  Not only was Coriander displeased with the elf's appearance, he knew his character was less appealing than his hard-to-take exterior.

  “Coriander, leader of my armies and general of my grand troops,” Rophilborn said as he turned away from the map and to the two elves approaching. “This is Cedric Feinway, priest of the Order of the Comet.”

  The two exchanged glares. They had met once before and neither held any good feelings towards the other.

  They nodded politely.

  “And you must remember my bride? Celebrie, come here and introduce yourself.”

  The queen of Enoth stepped around Cedric and curtsied.

  “His Excellency speaks highly of you, Coriander,” she said in a small and delicate voice. “It is a pleasure to meet you, as well as any with whom you keep company.”

  Evelyn and Finore bowed deeply to the queen.

  “We were just discussing the voyage we are to take,” Rophilborn said to the company as a whole. “I assume all preparations have been made, Coriander?”

  He nodded to the emperor, removing his eyes from going back and forth from to Cedric and Celebrie.

  “Yes, my Lord,” he replied. “Finore has made all the ships you've requested ready to sail and Evelyn has ensured our finest troops are there to escort you.”

  Rophilborn smiled and bowed his head.

  “I am most grateful for your labors,” he said, acknowledging the two commanders. He looked back to Cedric, who inclined his head.

  “And, Your Excellency, the part we discussed earlier?” Cedric asked in his oddly deep voice for his lanky stature.

  “Of course,” Rophilborn said, turning back.

  “Would it be too much trouble to ensure that fifty priests of the Comet accompany us on our voyage? If necessary, we ought to arrange for another vessel to accompany us. Cedric assures me there are ample ships left to fulfill this need.”

  Coriander was at a loss. In all of his years in service to the empire, never once had His Excellency not made a request known far in advance. And never had he ever needed more than Coriander had supplied.

  “Yes, Your Excellency,” he began, trying to disguise the hesitancy he felt. “Though, there are more than enough of your own advisers traveling with us.”

  “I believe it prudent to bring some of my own order,” Cedric said, cutting off Coriander and folding his hands into his robes. “A few priests of the Comet to accommodate myself and his majesty should not be that large of a burden.”

  “Accommodate you?” Coriander replied, not trying to mask his dislike for the elf in the tone of his voice.

  Rophilborn spoke, gesturing towards the priest with his hand.

  “Cedric would like to accompany us on our expedition. He has many questions for our northern neighbors he seeks answers to.”

  The emperor spoke calmly, but with all the authority of his office.

  “I shall not deny an elf who desires to further his own wisdom,” he said, looking to those gathered around him. Then his eyes fell on his wife a
nd he smiled.

  “Or her,” he added.

  Celebrie extended her arm to her husband.

  “I will miss you,” she said warmly, a twinkle in her eye.

  “And I will dearly miss you,” he replied, squeezing her hand and giving it a kiss. “I know you will be well tended here.”

  Rophilborn dropped her hand and then looked at those gathered around him.

  “If all the preparations are made, let us be off before the high suns,” he said with a smile and the tone of adventure in his voice. “We must travel quickly if we are to meet so many of our neighbors. You are all free to attend to any business you may have left before we depart.”

  Coriander and his commanders bowed to both the emperor and the queen. They then turned to leave, retracing their steps back to the throne room and then the door beyond. Cedric followed them down the hall.

  After turning down a few hallways and finding themselves once again at the twelve guards of the stairs beyond the reflecting pool, Cedric cleared his throat and spoke in his deep voice.

  “You disagree with my coming, do you not, Coriander?” he asked slyly.

  He had expected something like this.

  “The emperor’s word is law,” he replied through gritted teeth. “If you are granted leave to come, then you will come.”

  Cedric let out a chuckle. It was a mirthless, dry laugh that made Coriander clench his fists. The priest stepped in-between Finore and Coriander and almost spoke directly into his ear.

  “But you wish it were different, do you not?”

  Coriander turned on the spot and put a finger into Cedric's chest. The priest backed up a pace, seeing the hard look he was receiving from the general.

  “I will not defy His Excellency nor be given over to anger on your behalf.”

  He dropped his finger and let out a snort of displeasure at having to be on the same voyage as one he detested so much.

  “Prepare your own boat, if you're so sure we have so many to spare.”

  Coriander beckoned to Evelyn and Finore and made his way down the stairs.

  Thirteen pairs of eyes followed him, including one that narrowed in mutual disgust.