“Perhaps it is time to relinquish control to Cero. He seem suited to it.”
“He is young and weak. I was since the blood forging. Cero happened after the time for hatching came. He even desires to be human.” There was a hint of loathing in Skeln’s voice.
“Have caution. I fear that you may overreach our purpose.”
“Now is not the time to discuss semantics. Now is the time to fight.”
“Entack kea sagno masil.”
“Yarin. Truth. I also see no other choice available to us.” A low rumbling could be heard growing in the distance. Soon the band of horsemen appeared to rise out the fields of golden grain. They pulled up a hundred paces away and a handful of longbow archers dismounted and took up their positions.
“Igsarin eriache noverum thiansar.” Sarina warned Skeln calmly.
“I will. We once suffered an arrow while seering. Noverum.”
“Surrender yourselves and you won’t be harmed!” The commanding officer shouted out the demand from the safety provided by the front line of archers.
“He lies… but if we don’t manifest Gifts, he will have no purpose for retaining our lives. We must fight if we are to live.” Sarina stooped down and picked up a couple handfuls of the loose dirt that surrounded them. In her hands, it hardened and formed into stone blades. Skeln responded by growing crystal blades of his own.
“We are Dragon Lords. Bow before us or suffer.” Skeln’s eyes glowed bright enough to be seen at the distance that separated them.
“All the Dragon Lords are dead. If you resist, I will order my archers to kill you. There will not be another warning.”
“You remind me of commander Verkal. I destroyed him.” Sarina threatened back.
“How do you know of Verkal’s folly?!”
“I called the dragons down on him. Now fool, you will suffer the same fate!” Skeln and Sarina acted in unison. The first of the archers was encased in vine like stone growths before anyone could respond. The next few were tossed back into the faces of terrified horses by a powerful gust of wind before they could release their deadly projectiles. The remaining archers fired their arrows wildly in the general direction of their attackers. With none of the arrows striking near them, Sarina and Skeln broke into a charge. Each step was marked by a sizable chunk of earth being torn from the ground and hurled at the soldiers. Chaos reigned for a moment, but that was all it took for the two Dragon Lords to engage their adversaries in fierce hand to hand combat. Stone and crystal was little match for steel. The makeshift weapons crumbled and reformed with each strike. There was blood streaming from a dozen light wounds within moments, but none of the beleaguered soldiers had yet to land a blow on the rapidly moving assailants.
Skeln had given up on his crystal knives and had taken to throwing the soldiers about as if they weighed no more than kittens. Soon the soldiers were scattered around attempting to recover their wits. Skeln’s brutal attacks had torn the armor off of a couple of the men. He was about to advance on these to render them harmless when his head felt like it would explode. He saw an image of group of men wearing black robes and only managed to locate them before the pain overcame him. The last image he saw was of the men hiding a few hundred paces away in a dry irrigation ditch. The one looked up as if he was seeing Skeln hovering above them just before Cero came to his senses. A moment after that, all went dark with the ringing blow of a mace to the side of his head. A blow that somehow seemed distant as he struggled to wrest control from Skeln. Then there was nothing except for a sense of formlessness.
***
When Urake was finally allowed control of his body again, it was too late to change what had happened. His control came with distance from Cero. He could tell when the influence that allowed Eld’or to take control faded. At that point, it was like wrestling the fingers of an infant loose from whatever it was grasping. Tamara, Aleest, and Emeck were safe with him along with the drugged lordling. They were on enough of a rise that they could look back over the fields and see the soldiers. There had been a pitched battle and now the soldiers were leaving in a slow procession towards the northwest. There was nothing that could be done, even if he knew if Cero and Inadar had survived. With a heavy heart, he turned his back on the soldiers and stepped over the crest of the rise. The choice had been made and there was no undoing it now.
The only option left was to find a safe place for Tamara and to figure out what to do with Oscarion. Urake spent a few minutes thinking before wordlessly picking up his pace and marching in an eastern direction. No one asked any questions as they followed close behind. Oscarion’s mount was under Aleest’s control and didn’t even need a lead to direct him. A few hours later they cut across a road that signage indicated led towards Warton. After achieving a safe distance from the road, they began to parallel it. There was no use encountering travelers that might start asking questions about the soundly sleeping young man clothed in the rich garments or the young woman with snow white hair. Traveling in this fashion took the rest of the day and most of the night to reach their destination.
***
Fenar roused herself at the ringing of a small bell that hung on the wall beside her bed. Lighting a candle from the shuttered lamp that was the source of fire for the house, she was a little surprised to note that it was the bell attached to the cord that hung on the outside of the inner tunnel entrance. Someone had felt the necessity of using the secret tunnel that opened several streets over under an old storage facility. Brounn had purchased it because of its relatively easy access to the outside of Warton. Only a couple people knew of the tunnel which meant that it was probably Urake waiting at the door. The outer door was unlockable from the outside, but the door that led into the cellar required someone from the cellar side to open it. The intent was to verify the identity of any person at the door preventing any unwanted entities from gaining access to the cellar. If such a person were to be found, Tusul had a mechanism that would collapse the tunnel on the unfortunate souls and preventing any further encroachment. The location of the Golden Thistle would have remained a secret, even if word got out that there was a door at the end of the tunnel. The twists and turns prevented any idea of distance or direction.
As Fenar expected, she recognized Urake waiting beyond the door. Upon opening it, Urake stepped through looking as haggard as she had ever seen him. Behind him was Emeck followed by Aleest. Fenar gasped in surprise when she saw the next individual in the tunnel. Trying to hide her surprise she looked into the gloom, but she didn’t see anyone else. Her question concerning where the others were was irrelevant in the face of the white haired girl’s appearance. Closing the door, she turned on Urake.
“Tell me you didn’t bring her here looking like that! If anyone had seen her hair…”
“Explain yourself.”
“She is a dark elf.” Urake paused when he realized there wasn’t any animosity in Fenar’s voice. It was simply a statement of fact.
“That is why I was hoping that you could find a place for her among your staff.” Urake brushed some dust off his pants and wearily sat down on a nearby wine keg.
“You want me to… Why did you decide to bring her here?”
“Of all the places that I could take her, you are the most qualified. You both have things in common.” Urake was a little surprised to see how his comment shocked Fenar. It took her a moment to summon words in response.
“I should never have disillusioned myself. Of course you would find out. If I might ask, how long have you known?” Urake tried to keep his expression neutral as he realized that he and Fenar were talking about two separate things.
“I make it my business to know everything about the people that work for me, but I would like to hear it from you.”
“I see, a test of loyalty.” Fenar held the candle to the side of her face and pulled back the hair that was carefully plaited over her ears. It was then Urake’s turn to be shocked. Barely managing to remain on his barrel after the reeling news he sna
pped his mouth shut in an attempt at regaining his composure.
“An elf? Dark elf I take it… Why…?”
“You didn’t know…” It was Fenar’s turn to be mortified. She had just volunteered her greatest secret to the man who of all men had the greatest reason to hate her kind.
“No I didn’t. I never even suspected. Why didn’t you ever tell me about this?”
“Because our father was the one that had your family murdered. I feared you would not be able to see me as different then the dark elf that sired this girl and myself.”
“I have no quarrel with you or any other that has pledged me loyalty.”
“Our father… You mean that you are…” Tamara had been listening silently to the exchange up until now.
“Yer’entho Dark Spire was the last dark elf to walk Den’dra that I know of and of all the dark elves, he was the only one that mated with humans. Yes, you are my half-sister. I am somewhat surprised that the Shadow Order hasn’t explained that much to you.”
“The Shadow Order didn’t have her. They lost her when she was a child.”
“I was purchased by house Loneka and grew up there before becoming the head housekeeper.”
“Poor thing. You must not know anything of our kind.” Fenar’s sympathetic comment was met with a grim frown and an annoyed sigh from Tamara.
“I may have been a servant, but I was not uneducated. I learned to read and have read nearly the entire Loneka library. I can write and my arithmetic skills are more advanced than the tutor that was hired to instruct Oscarion.”
“My mistake. Speaking of mistakes, you all look like you are ready to fall off your feet. Come with me.” Fenar led the party out of the cellar and assigned them rooms. She turned a blind eye when she saw Aleest’s companion. Before turning in for the night, Urake informed Fenar that they would only be staying a day or so at the most. He also explained that Oscarion was drugged and hidden outside Warton. He had never woken up completely since he fell under Tamara’s influence so when he did recover, he would have no idea what happened to her. Fenar made sure that Tamara was the last to be assigned a room so they could have a chance to speak with each other.
“How are you a dark elf without the white hair?” Tamara inquired when they were alone in the hallway.
“I dye it. You will have to do the same thing. How old are you?”
“I think that I am about twenty-two.”
“Interesting. I was nearly one hundred and twenty before the full transformation finished.”
“How do you mean transformation? You are a hundred and twenty?!” Tamara looked Fenar over with wide eyes.
“Be quiet child, I am nearly two hundred years old. The transformation is when an elf halfling becomes either fully human or fully elven. The two sides of us can’t exist indefinitely without one weakening and dying. Usually the elven side is the side that is overcome, but in our cases, the human side was the side that died. If the human side is the stronger side, then we would look like any other human except for living a longer than normal life. If the elven side is stronger, then sometime before our hundred and fiftieth year, the human side entirely dies leaving us fully elven. For you, this happened far earlier than usual.”
“You don’t look two hundred. Will I live to be as old as you?” Tamara recalled having read of the long life of elves but hadn’t given it much thought. It was also possible that the writers took offence to being referred to as short of years. They may have neglected to expound on that aspect of elvanism.
“You will look much as you do now when you are twice my age. Elves regenerate much faster than humans so we recover from injuries rapidly and don’t age.”
“I had never imagined that I wasn’t the only one or that I might have a sister.”
“You have a half-brother. Reigns is a halfling also. However, the last time I saw him, he had black curly hair. I doubt that he is going to become a full elf. Our kind never has curly hair unless he has found a way to both dye and curl it. Don’t ever tell anyone that you are related to him. He wouldn’t hesitate to have you killed.”
“I have hid my identity for years. You have been hiding yours for longer than I have been alive. I hope to learn much from you.”
“You were a housekeeper?”
“Yes, I was in charge of the Loneka estate.”
“Few housekeepers are trusted with so many responsibilities. I have a lot to deal with so your help will be appreciated.” Fenar left Tamara at a room next to her own. Continuing on, she entered her room and went to the cabinet where she stored her cosmetic supplies. She spread them out and thought for a few minutes. If she added a little less of the dye to the mixture, she could make the hair turn out to a lighter shade of brown. They shared enough racial features to convince anyone that they were related. The transformation had frozen Fenar’s face at an age that could allow her to claim Tamara as a daughter. It would take some explaining to make the story stick. There was a lengthy period of time that such a story would necessitate explaining. The small matter of a grown daughter appearing out of nowhere. Those closest to her that knew enough to ask would also know enough to turn a blind eye. The people of Warton would not be able to inquire too deeply into the matter, seeing as Fenar herself was a new mysterious face as it was. It would not be hard to pass Tamara off as the daughter that had remained in her old town until now. It was also good that, despite her circumstances, she had acquired an education. It would never do to spin such a tale if the girl didn’t even know her letters. If she was as educated as she claimed, Fenar could use the extra hand in running her own intelligence network. If she hadn’t been educated, she would have had to find an obscure place in the countryside to hide her in. There was no telling what could have happened. With the matter settled, Fenar blew out the candle and went to bed.
Chapter Fifteen: Authority
Reigns sat behind his desk with his chin resting on his fingertips. The guard at the door might have thought him the image of a man in deep contemplation if he hadn’t mutely witnessed the man at the desk throwing books and papers on the floor only a minute earlier. His sudden calm was as unnerving as the eye of a storm off the Silent Sea. Reigns was frustrated by a myriad of things. The fact, in and of itself, that the assault on the rebels was going so slowly was frustrating. The reports of plaguing illness were coming from every source he had in the assault. His false princess was gone along with any chance of controlling the people through her resemblance to the real Princess. That vile assassin that had in one night burnt his fleet and stolen the fake princess was still out there somewhere gloating over his victories. That was possibly the most irking thought of all the misfortunes that crowded Reigns’ mind.
On the other hand, he had not received any communications from the Shadow Order since Crein’s untimely death. It had come as a shock when Reigns had received the message while inspecting the rubble at the port that the old man, who virtually worshiped the ground that Reigns trod on, had suddenly collapsed and had died a few hours later of unknown causes. Reigns had an idea what had happened and cursed the fact that Crein hadn’t been more forthcoming. Reign was aware of how dangerous it was to use a scanner in finding the Asgare. A perfect waste of a sorely needed tracker. It did however explain how Crein had been able to receive messages from the farthest corners of the Braebach in miraculously short periods of time. Now that Crein was dead, he began to realize how useful the Shadow Order had become. His spy network was a massive organization that would always deliver the information, but at nowhere near the efficiency of the Order. Reigns now wished that he hadn’t made himself such an enemy to the Gifted community. They had obviously been thriving even under his most ruthless efforts at ridding the land of any free Gifted individuals.
If the Order wanted to restore their working relationship, then they would have to make the first move. Reigns had no idea how they might be contacted. The idea that Crein had professed so much loyalty, but had manipulated Reigns to the point he had little knowled
ge of his father’s organization galled him to no end.
“My lord, there is a man here to see you. He said that he wants to offer his condolences concerning Crein’s death.” Reigns caught the cryptic message. It wasn’t hidden well and it was most certainly the contact that Reigns had been waiting for. After giving the order to admit the man to his study, Reign stationed the guard at the doors that led into the hallway that let into his room. There were already guards posted at these two doors, but they were out of earshot yet still within calling distance. The tall man that was admitted a moment later was as expected arrayed in the black robes that seemed to mark the Shadow Order when they cared to reveal themselves.
“You…” Reigns’ keen memory allowed him to recognize the round face and short cropped brown hair of a gardener that had been seen tending the flowers around the castle years in the past.
“Do you know who I am?” The gardener swept some letters out of the chair opposite Reigns and sat down.
“You are a gardener.”
“Ah yes, I was a gardener, but you are going to promote me to something that involves less manual labor.”
“I am the one that gives orders. You would do well to remember that.” Reigns glared at the gardener who didn’t even blink.
“I think we both know that you need us as much as we need you. There is no need for pretenses.”
“Alban is what you were called once within my hearing.”
“Good. That is one of my names and it will work well for this arrangement.”
“I am a dark elf. You will give me the respect that my name deserves.” Reigns spoke icily. Alban smirked before responding.
“Or what? You are going to have my head removed from my shoulders? I don’t need to remind you that doing so would make you an enemy of the Shadow Order. I don’t care if you are a dark elf or not. I don’t care if you are son of Yer’entho Dark Spire or of Hebram the Unknown. Until you take the initiation rituals, you are little more that the High Chancellor, usurper of thrones.” Reigns raised his eyebrows at Alban’s brash statement. He would normally have had any person that spoke to him with such language killed instantly, but Alban had a point. Reigns needed him alive and on good terms.
Chronicles of Den'dra: A land on Fire Page 27