Empire of Dirt: (Echoes of Fate: Book 2)

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  “I fought him myself, in the Hall of Life...” Faylen continued to shock the king.

  “You have been to Elethiah?” He couldn’t help the anger creeping into his voice. “You were meant to stay in Velia and gather information, to assist Galanör in entering Korkanath. If the opportunity arose you were to travel between the human kingdoms and inform us of their strengths and weaknesses. You were not meant to take my daughter to that graveyard!”

  “There’s more, My Lord.” Faylen’s mannerisms were so akin to Adilandra’s that Elym couldn’t help but think of his wife and the concern she would have for Reyna.

  “You’re going to tell me everything, Faylen, from the beginning...”

  Later than he had intended, Elym attended the council meeting he had summoned. The heads of the seven highborn families were present, along with the four elders and High Guardian Varö. The luxurious chamber was filled with glowing orbs that floated around the room, though their light was barely needed with the midday sun flooding the room from the open balcony. Servants surrounded the circular table, each from one of the highborn families. They all stood from their high-backed chairs out of respect for the king.

  Elym walked up to his own place at the table; his announcement was simple. “Valanis has been freed.”

  Along with the faces of every elf present, the king dropped into his chair, all composure forgotten.

  “How can this be?” Varö asked. The High Guardian’s long , blond hair was tied up into a knot atop his head, so that not a single hair touched his pristine, white armour.

  “It seems Paldora’s gem never left Elethiah,” Elym explained. Images of his sister, Nalana, flashed before his eyes, along with her blood on his hands. “My sister gave the gem to a boy, an Outlander.” The story was well known, but Elym was reliving accounts more for himself than anyone else. “She thought he had a better chance of escaping the city unseen, and the gem with him. She was wrong...” Elym rested his hands on the table and unclenched them. “The power of the gem fractured the Amber spell from within Elethiah’s walls. It took a thousand years, but it finally freed him, along with the Outlander.”

  The king could hardly believe his own words. The pathetic looking boy he had met in Elethiah’s library so long ago, longer than some of these elves had been alive, was still walking around Illian, and now a warrior of capable skill according to Faylen. That brought him to the next revelation.

  “Not only is Valanis free, but the Hand has survived, or at least two of them have. Faylen Haldör claims to have seen Thallan Tassariön and has even fought Alidyr Yalathanil. Perhaps the wildest claim of all is that my daughter, Princess Reyna, has slain Adellum Bövö. Samandriel and Nakir have yet to make themselves known.”

  The elves sat in silence, struggling to take in such crushing news. It had been this council that had planned every detail of Illian’s invasion. These thirteen elves had sat and planned the genocide of a race and the elevation of their own, along with finally defeating Valanis. Now it seemed their greatest foe was still a step ahead of them.

  “For the last millennium, Alidyr has been leading the notorious Arakesh. He has been building this army in secret and teaching them our ways. They fight as we do, with some magical assistance. Their numbers are unknown, but Alidyr has pitted them against Faylen and my daughter, destroying the Graycoats in the process.”

  “The legacy of Tyberius Gray deserved such an end. Dragon-slayers!” Varö exclaimed, with his strong fist landing on the table.

  “What of Mörygan, My Lord?” Petröna Mörgö, the head of her house and the aunt of Mörygan, asked with unease.

  Elym was truly sorry that his family had to hear of his death this way; he would rather have conveyed the news in private. Though Mörygan’s mother and father had been sympathisers of Valanis and executed after the battle of Elethiah, the surviving Mörgö’s had done everything in their power to make things right.

  “I’m afraid to say he was killed in Velia. His attacker is unknown but believed to be one of the Hand. My deepest sympathies, Petröna...” Elym bowed his head. Mörygan was the first casualty in a war that had yet to be declared, and wouldn’t likely be the last.

  “He died for the princess,” Petröna said without pause, always ready to seize the moment.

  “And the Mörgös will have the gratitude of house Sevari for all time,” Elym replied with the only words Petröna wanted to hear.

  “Forgive me,” Tai’garn, the oldest and perhaps wisest of the four elders, looked to Petröna apologetically. “But how long has Valanis been free of the Amber Spell?”

  “Some forty years,” Elym said. “But the worst news is yet to come.” The king could barely bring himself to speak the words. “Valanis has Paldora’s gem.”

  The table erupted into chaos, as every member of the council, the elders included, broke into arguments about past errors and future plans. Through it all, Elym could see the fear that drove them. It had always been Valanis’ greatest weapon of all.

  “He has but a shard of the gem,” Elym went on. “Though it is unknown how this will affect his control of the magic that corrupts him.”

  “Where is the rest of it?” Tai’garn asked desperately, his youthful features twisted in dread.

  “Lost for now. Through some twist of fate, the Outlander has found his way, yet again, into the middle of our war.”

  “The boy?” Varö’s sharp eyes focused on the king incredulously.

  “A man now, freed at the same time as Valanis apparently. He was raised by the same assassins that Alidyr controls.” Elym could hardly believe Faylen’s tale, especially the level of involvement from Asher. How could one man be so woven into their lives, the lives of immortals?

  “Is this Outlander allied with Valanis?” Petröna asked.

  “I doubt it,” Elym replied. “He must have had the gem for some time and yet Valanis only recently gained possession. It matters not,” Elym waved his hand to dismiss the topic. “The man is insignificant. What matters is what we do next.”

  “We cannot invade without the dragons!” Gadavar Reveeri sat forward in his chair. House Reveeri was the newest addition to the council, having only been given a seat thirty years ago.

  “Your son is yet to deliver us one.” Varö matched Gadavar’s posture with a harder stare. “Galanör should have returned days ago, with or without Malliath. We should consider his mission a failure and assume he and his companions are dead. We need to invade now, before Valanis has any more time to gather his forces, or before he has another attempt to kill Princess Reyna.”

  Gadavar sat back in his chair with a sullen expression, except Elym knew it wasn’t over the potential death of his son, but rather the way his failure would taint their house name.

  “How do we know Valanis isn’t controlling the armies of men?” Arion of house Kaidön asked. “If the Hand has survived all these years they could easily be manipulating the weak willed kingdoms of man. We need more information before we launch our attack prematurely.”

  “We should attack now, I say,” Elder Illithör Athatar offered.

  The council looked to Elym for guidance. “We must increase our efforts constructing the fleet immediately.” The king looked to Therö of House Velanii.

  “We are yet to harness all the material, My Lord.” Therö looked to others on the council for support. “We thought we would have decades before...”

  Elym held up his hand to silence the elf. “We must assume Mount Garganafan will remain closed to us and the dragon eggs with it.”

  Elym could feel his plans unravelling. Without Malliath he could see no way of opening the Dragon Wall and retrieving the eggs hidden within. He had planned on raising the dragons over a period of years, while the fleet was constructed and his army fully prepared to go to war against a possible six armies. All the while, Valanis was supposed to be trapped inside Elethiah.

  Now his daughter was being actively hunted down, Galanör hadn’t been heard from, Valanis was free of
his tomb and Adilandra was still missing...

  “Therö, you will have the assistance of all to construct the fleet - all will help.” The elders looked to protest but Elym silenced them with a look. “From this moment we are on a war footing. There will be no more talks with King Rengar and the human kingdoms. We take Illian now.” With that, the king rose from his chair and turned to leave, ending the council meeting.

  Elym waited for an hour to pass before having word sent to Varö and Tai’garn to return to the council room. The king waited for them on the wide balcony, lost in thought.

  “You summoned us, My Lord.” Varö appeared behind him with Tai’garn by his side. Reading his king’s expression, the High Guardian went on to add, “We were discreet. No one knows we are here.”

  “Faylen had more to say,” Elym explained at once. “Alidyr’s wicked tongue has worked against him. He has boasted that Valanis intends to use our war against the humans to weaken us before he strikes.”

  “With what army?” Varö asked. “The Arakesh are too small to pose any real threat against an army, especially an elven one.”

  “I have no doubt that Valanis has more going on than we can see. Forty years is a long time to make plans. My immediate concern is that he will find Reyna and use her against me.” Elym put aside thoughts of his daughter’s potential harm and focused. “A small band can pass through the land unseen and get into places no army could. Tai’garn, you are to leave at once for Illian and find the princess. Keep her safe until we arrive in force.”

  “My Lord...” Tai’garn bowed, his obedience unquestioning.

  “Varö, you are to provide Tai’garn with a small group to accompany him.” The king turned back to the elder. “Do not concern yourself with hiding your heritage, your reason for being in their lands is warranted and it may grant you access where it would otherwise have been rejected.”

  “Why the secrecy, My Lord?” Tai’garn asked, always perceptive of his king’s decisions.

  “Trust, Tai’garn. Both you and Varö have my trust. But I learned today that Valanis broke free from Elethiah forty years ago, and exactly forty years ago, members of that council came to me and persuaded me to invade Illian...”

  5

  The Remnants Of Hope

  Nathaniel watched as his brothers and sisters said their farewells to the people of Vangarth. Carts and horses had been supplied to transport the wounded, along with healing elixirs and potions to see them through, until they reached Darkwell, in the east of Orith. The town’s governor embraced forearms with a Graycoat Nathaniel recognised as Elijah Bennett, a good knight by his recollection. It appeared that Elijah was now leading the ragtag group in the absence of Fennick or Horvarth.

  “Last chance,” Reyna said, eyeing Nathaniel with a coy smile.

  Nathaniel returned the smile, aware that the princess already knew of his intentions to stay with her and the others. He couldn’t deny that there was still a part of him that wanted to go with them, but he had chosen to forsake his duty in favour of a higher cause. His oath to the order had died with Elaith.

  At least with Reyna and the others he could make a real difference in Illian, possibly even help to avoid a war. There was also the matter of his feelings towards Reyna to consider.

  “Let them go their way, and I’ll go mine.” Nathaniel turned away from the departing crowd of knights and wandered back towards the Greenleaf inn.

  In the weeks since the battle of West Fellion, Nathaniel’s usually shaved hair had grown somewhat, though not enough to conceal his identity. He was careful to keep his hood up and his face low, as Reyna did with her long, blonde hair flowing out over her chest. The knight was unaccustomed to his new attire and didn’t care for loose-fitting clothes and a cloak. He longed for the comfort of his thick coat and missed the authority it granted him. Nathaniel especially missed carrying his sword and bow. Asher had warned him about keeping the sword in particular, due to the Graycoat sigil etched into the end of the hilt.

  That did feel good however, was the warm elven hand clasped in his own. They walked hand-in-hand back to the inn, a real couple who caught no one’s attention. This was a life he could get used to. That thought turned sour when he considered what a life that would really be. In ten, maybe fifteen years, there would be a notable difference in his human appearance. Reyna looked to be in her early twenties and would do forever, but he would grow old and die before she reached her first century of life. She would remain strong when he would grow weak, healthy when he would become sick. What life would that be, for either of them? Eventually he would hold Reyna back with his increasing age, and cause nothing but grief and sorrow for her. And he would have to live with knowing that she could be doing so much more instead of caring for him.

  Nathaniel squeezed her hand a little tighter for a moment, appreciating the moment and savouring the feeling of youth. Leaving her now would be the easiest way to prevent so much grief in the future, but leaving her just didn’t seem possible.

  Then they finally returned to the Greenleaf inn, it became apparent that a heated discussion was taking place inside Reyna’s room. It wasn’t entirely unusual to hear Faylen disagreeing with Asher, but this time it sounded the reverse.

  “...It might be the only way!” Faylen was saying, exasperated.

  Nathaniel and Reyna walked into the room and observed the man and elf standing by the window, brows furrowed.

  “It would be suicide, trust me!” Asher replied sternly before turning away. The ranger appeared more concerned than angry. “Did you get it out of your system?” He directed his question to Nathaniel with the same tone he had been using to argue with Faylen. It quickly became apparent however, that he regretted his harsh tone and choice of words.

  Nathaniel was learning to read Asher’s expressions and body language very well. “The Graycoats have left for Darkwell,” the knight replied, using his expression alone to convey his acceptance of Asher’s unspoken apology.

  “And what are you two discussing so... passionately?” Reyna asked, though Nathaniel caught sight of the coy smile she offered to Faylen.

  Faylen looked to Asher and the two took a breath, as if for the first time. The ranger collapsed into one of the tattered, yet comfy chairs in the corner, while Faylen bit her lip, carefully considering her words.

  “We have to stop the invasion,” the older elf state flatly.

  Nathaniel took his cloak off and walked into the middle of the room. It had only been a few hours since Faylen had spoken to Elym Sevari, the lord of the elves, and told him of recent events. Even though they couldn’t see or hear the conversation between them. It was clear how it had gone when Faylen’s consciousness returned. The king wasn’t happy. His attitude towards Faylen had been one of the reasons that Reyna chose to go out with Nathaniel to see the Graycoats leave. The elven princess couldn’t stand anything to do with her father and had needed the fresh air.

  Of course, Faylen’s conversation with the king led the group to discussing what they should do next. Faylen was convinced that the invasion would come sooner, but no one knew what had happened to Galanör or the outcome of his mission to steal Malliath the voiceless. If an attack had been made on Korkanath, the news hadn’t reached any of the towns in Illian yet.

  “I told you not to tell him that Valanis was free!” Reyna said for the third time that day. “It will only give us less time.”

  “I agree,” Faylen quickly replied. “But the truth is; if Valanis is manipulating events, our people might be the only ones who can stop him.”

  “At the expense of everyone living in Illian,” Nathaniel added. “The elven army won’t come all this way and stop at killing Valanis. They’ll invade…”

  “That’s why...” Faylen looked to Asher, her frustration rising again.

  Nathaniel was getting used to the heightened levels of emotions that elves displayed. They reacted to everything with more zeal than humans, even sad emotions. Reyna’s urges didn’t take so much gettin
g used to as they did energy.

  “What is it?” the princess asked, looking at them both. “What were you discussing?”

  “If we can kill Valanis we might still be able to avert war.” Faylen had a hint of hope in her eyes.

  “It’s suicide.” Asher remained seated, staring at Alidyr’s short-sword in the corner of the room.

  “What’s he talking about?” Reyna asked, becoming frustrated.

  “Valanis has a shard of Paldora’s gem,” Faylen explained. “If we can get the rest of it, we might have enough power to destroy him.”

  “But you said you threw it in The Adean.” Nathaniel walked between Asher and the short-sword, focusing the ranger’s attention.

  “He was lying...” Faylen stated confidently.

  The news appeared to excite Reyna, who flew across the room until the table stopped her from pouncing on Asher.

  “Where is it?” the princess demanded with half a smile on her face.

  Asher looked up slowly. “Beyond all of our reach.”

  “Asher,” Nathaniel said softly. “This might be the only advantage we have over Valanis. Who knows what plans he’s already made? Whether the elves come or not, it might be too late to stop him if we don’t act now.”

  “You’re all insane if you think that the four of us can stop the most powerful elf who ever lived.” Asher stood up from the table and made for the window.

  “The four of us beat Adellum,” Faylen offered.

  “Five...” Nathaniel added. For the rest of his days he would make certain that the world remembered Elaith Nevandar.

  “You’re not talking about challenging one of the Hand,” Asher continued. “You’re talking about fighting the other four and Valanis and every Arakesh and who knows what else.”

  Reyna circled around the ranger and looked at him with her brilliant, emerald eyes. “I know you’re not afraid, so what’s holding you back?”

  Asher hesitated. “Everything in me, everything I know tells me to blend in, be a face in the crowd, disappear. What you’re talking about is going to put us out there for all of Illian to see. There will be no coming back from this. We’re going to have to fight and fight and fight, until they’re all dead, or we are.”