D&D - Birthright 01

by The Iron Throne # Simon Hawke

  The wolves were howling and squealing with pain, and in moments, they had all thrown their riders and bolted off into the trees. And yet, miraculously, Aedan and Michael had remained untouched. All around them in the clearing, the moss was covered with a thick carpet of pine needles, and the ferns were beaten down … except for a three-or four-foot circle where they stood.

  The goblins had all dropped their weapons and were crouching on the ground, crying out and snarling with pain, trying to cover themselves up, and then, as abruptly as it began, the rain of pine needles stopped.

  Aedan and Michael stood motionless, frozen with astonishment, holding their breath. Everything was quiet, except for the moans and curses of the goblins.

  Aedan was completely at a loss to explain what had just happened. And then Michael said, “Aedan, look!”

  From the underbrush at the edges of the clearing all around them, tall, slender figures in dark, hooded cloaks appeared. Each of them carried a short, powerful, double-recurved bow to which long arrows had been nocked.

  “Michael, get down!” Aedan said, dropping to the ground and pulling the prince down with him and covering him with his body.

  The arrows whistled through the air all around them and each one found a mark. In seconds, the goblins all lay dead. Aedan raised his head as the hail of arrows stopped. The elves standing around the clearing remained where they were, but they had lowered their bows. And then the wind returned. It blew through the clearing, then came back and began to swirl roughly in the center, forming a rapidly spinning vortex, and as it dissipated, a tall and slender figure stood revealed, his long cloak swirling around him and then settling to drape around his shoulders.

  For a moment, the figure simply stood there, gazing at the bodies of the goblins, and then he turned toward them. Aedan realized this was the explanation for the mysterious rain of pine needles. An elven mage.

  Now the elven archers who had killed the goblins moved into the clearing, as well. Several of them began to pick up the weapons the wolfriders had dropped, while others stripped the bodies of their daggers and armor.

  ‘What are they doing?” Michael asked him softly.

  [II

  The mage overheard him. “The goblins have no further need of their armor and their weapons,” he said to them in a deep, resonant, lilting voice that seemed almost musical. Aedan wished he had a voice like that. “We can make good use of them, however. We are not a rich kingdom, you see, as is your human empire.”

  “But they are much too small for you,” said Michael with a frown.

  Aedan was still trying to get over what had just happened, but Michael’s impetuous curiosity asserted itself even at a time like this.

  Apparently the boy was simply incapable of feeling fear.

  “Indeed, they are too small for us,” the mage replied, “but not for our children. We start their training at an early age.”

  He pulled back his hood, revealing long, ravenblack hair with silver streaks running through it, gracefully curved and sharply pointed ears, and a sharp-featured, youthful-looking face that was strikingly handsome.

  Aedan drew himself up and gave him a slight bow. “Greetings, Sir Wizard,” he said. “I know not what you intend to do with us, but allow me to thank you for saving us from the goblins.”

  The mage gazed at him speculatively for a moment, a faint trace of a smile at the corners of his mouth. He returned the bow. “You are welcome, young lord,” he said. “But in truth, we were less concerned with saving your lives than in taking theirs.”

  “As that may be,” said Aedan, “you could still have shot us down along with them, but you chose to spare us. And for that, we are both grateful.”

  “Indeed,” said Michael. “I shall see to it that you 112 are well rewarded when we return to Seaharrow.”

  Aedan winced inwardly. Would the boy never learn when to keep his mouth shut? There were still elves within the Aelvinnwode who pursued the gheallie Sidhe, and though these elves had spared their lives, at least so far, they could still be held for ransom … which Lord Arwyn would be in no great hurry to deliver.

  “What he means, Sir Wizard,” he said, hastily, “is that we will do our utmost to persuade our families to compensate you to the best of their abilities for rescuing us from our captors.” He shot Michael a quick warning glance.

  The elven mage watched them with bemused interest. “Knowing what I do of Arwyn of Boeruine,” he said, “he is much more likely to repay us in steel rather than in gold.”

  “I would never allow that,” Michael said emphatically.

  “You would not allow it?”

  Aedan nudged him, but it was already too late.

  “I give you my word that you shall always be treated fairly, and with respect, at Seaharrow and throughout the empire,” Michael said, oblivious to the warning.

  “Indeed?” the mage said, raising his , sharply arched eyebrows. “I take it, then, that I have the distinct honor of addressing the Prince of Anuire?”

  “I am Prince Michael Roele, heir to the Iron Throne of Imperial Anuire, and this is my standardbearer and chamberlain, Lord Aedan Dosiere.”

  The mage bowed to them both. “A rare privilege, Your Highness,” he said. “And your lordship,” he added to Aedan.

  “And whom have we the honor of addressing?”

  Michael asked.

  “I am Gylvain Aurealis, wizard to the elven court of Tuarhievel,” the mage replied, inclining his head slightly.

  “How did you make those pine needles come down like arrows from the trees?” Michael asked him.

  “It was done with magic, Your Highness, as you have doubtless surmised.

  However, as to the precise method, I fear I cannot tell you that.”

  Michael frowned. “why? Is it an elven secret?”

  No, it was an elven spell, Your Highness,” said Gylvain. “But having used it, I have now forgotten it. So even if I wished to, I could not tell you just now how it was done.”

  “You mean a spell, once used, is always forgotten and must be learned anew before it can be used again?” asked Aedan.

  “Such is the nature of magic,” the mage replied.

  He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “They do not teach you such things?”

  “Our mages teach only their apprentices,” Aedan replied. “Such knowledge and power is closely guarded.”

  “Indeed?” said Gylvain. “Pity. We teach all our children about magic.

  They do not all choose to become wizards, of course, for the path is a long and arduous one, but they can all use magic in small ways, to add depth and meaning to their lives.

  Magic is a part of nature, as are we, and to understand it is to understand the world around us and become attuned to it.”

  “Well, I have learned something new,” said Michael, nodding. “That is useful.”

  Gylvain smiled. “Knowledge is always useful, Your Highness. And you will soon have an opportunity to add to your store of it. You shall be my guests at the court of Tuarhievel.”

  Aedan was about to protest that they could not go to Tuarhievel and needed to return to Seaharrow as soon as possible, but these elves had saved their lives. They were in their debt, and it would be dishonorable to refuse their hospitality. Aside from which, Aedan was not sure if he could refuse. He was still far from certain as to the elven wizard’s motives.

  Gylvain was being very civil, even courtly in his manner, but Aedan knew there was just no telling what an elf would do. The elven king of Tuar

  -uevel was officially at peace with the empire, ut humans had nevertheless been their enemies for generations. The gheallie Sidhe was not a distant memory in these parts. For Rhuobhe Manslayer, it was still a way of life, and it was impossible to tell which elves in the Aelvinnwode gave their allegiance to Fhileraene and which followed the Manslayer. In many cases, it was said, they followed both.

  Either way, the miracle they’d prayed for had been delivered and they were in Haelyn’s
hands now, though unlike Michael, Aedan’s faith in their god was not quite as simple and unquestioning. He did not regularly pray to Haelyn, as devout Anuireans did each night, and he had only been to temple a few times in the last year or so, during official functions on the holy days. He swore by Haelyn in his speech, but that was more from habit than from faith. When it came to that, Aedan had his doubts.

  In part, this was no more than a function of his age, for he was at a stage in life when young people

  questioned everything they had been taught. To a large degree, however, his doubts had grown as a result of his exposure to the Fatalists, a group of young people who believed that when the old gods died at the Battle of Mount Deismaar, the storm of dissipated god essence gave birth to the bloodlines, but no new gods were created.

  What proof was there, the Fatalists asked, of their existence? The priests claimed to speakfor them, but what proof was there that they spoke to the priests? None. The new gods were a fiction, they maintained, devised merely to give the people hope and the priests power. Haelyn and the other champions of Deismaar had simply died from being too close to the explosion, and that was all there was to it.

  There were no more gods. The people of Cerilia were on their own, and their fate was their own responsibility.

  When Aedan first heard this philosophy expounded in the tavern known as the Green Basihsk, back in the capital city of Anuire, he had been deeply shocked. It was sacrilege to speak so, nothing short of outright blasphemy. And politically dangerous, as well. But at the same time, the rather shocking nature of the patrons who frequented the tavern was the reason he kept going back there. The Green Basihsk was a bit disreputable, and known to be the gathering place of some unsavory types, but that only added to its allure.

  During the day, the only breaks he had from Michael were those hours in which the prince was forced to spend in study, during which time Aedan had to be with his own tutor. At night, however, his time was more or less his own, and he was anxious for stimulation in the company of people his age. He had found that in the Green Basihsk.

  The tavern was little more than a hole in the wall in the artists’

  quarter, a square room with a bar in the back and no windows in the walls, which made the atmosphere inside quite dark and stuffy. The Green Basilisk catered mostly to a younger crowd, a mix of artists and bards, craftsmen, students, and the more adventuresome children of the noble class and merchant guilds, who saw themselves as daring nonconformists. They all dressed down when they came to the Green Basilisk, in plain tunics, demicloaks and breeches of dark gray or black, though Aedan noted that the material and cut of the clothing worn by the children of aristocrats was markedly superior to those of all the others. During his first visit, shortly after he had turned eighteen, he had been attracted by a girl seated with a group at one of the tables and had wandered over to join their discussion.

  The young nobles among them had naturally recognized him, for his father was prominent at court, and a few of them he knew, although not very well.

  They introduced him to the others, whom he had never met before. The girl who caught his eye was Caitlin, the pretty blonde daughter of a farrier.

  Aedan was very much attracted to her, though he knew a serious relationship would have been out of the question. As a tradesman’s daughter, she was of the peasant class and not descended from a bloodline. A serious liaison between them would have been frowned upon, as any offspring such a relationship might produce would dilute the powers of the bloodline. Nevertheless, Aedan had started frequenting the tavern and often met there with the

  others for long discussions over ale, bread, and cheese, late into the night.

  Initially, Caitlin was the main attraction, but Aedan soon discovered she was interested in another member of the group, a young hard named Vaesil, who was the chief exponent of the Fatalist philosophy. For a short while, Aedan allowed himself to nurse the hope that Caitlin might eventually come to prefer him, but he soon realized that he could not compete, either with Vaesil’s handsome looks or his sharp wit and musical talents. The two of them always sat together, and Caitlin hung worshipfully on Vaesil’s every word.

  With a wistful resignation, Aedan had eventually accepted that Caitlin saw him as no more than a casual acquaintance, merely one of the crowd, and he began to entertain the thoughts of other possibilities. Caitlin was not the only pretty girl who came to the Green Basihsk, and the Fatalists always attracted a good deal of attention. For the young aristocrats, the Green Basihsk was a place they could go slumming, mingling with the lower classes and getting a taste of common decadence.

  For the others, the tavern was a stimulating gathering place for freethinkers and rebels, albeit the rebellion was mostly in the form of dress and conversation. Young women went there to meet interesting young men, hopefully someone from a well-off merchant family or, better yet, a blooded noble, and young men, whether of the aristocratic class or not, went there to meet young women.

  For the blooded young aristocrats, it was fairly easy pickings, for there was no shortage of young women from the common classes who nursed the

  dream of marrying a nobleman. Most of them, however, were doomed to disappointment. Though it occasionally happened that a blooded aristocrat took an unblooded commoner to wife, weakening the bloodline was the sort of thing that could get a man disowned. Most of the young men of the Anuirean aristocratic class had their marriages arranged for them by their families, often at a very early age.

  Still, that did not stop many of them from dallying with young girls from the lower classes, most of whom were more than eager to accommodate them.

  They knew that even if such a liaison did not lead to a marriage, if a child resulted, the child would be blooded and would, in time, possess the blood abilities, albeit diluted, of the father. Because of this very fact, many aristocratic fathers lectured their sons sternly on how to conduct such casual affairs, stressing the importance of breaking off the act of lovemaking at the crucial moment so that a pregnancy would not result. However, this was not always successful and on those occasions when blooded bastards did result, they were often taken into the service of the father’s family and, on rare occasions, even recognized. Consequently, there were many female commoners who went to great lengths to entice a blooded young aristocrat.

  For Aedan, however, it had never been as easy as it was for the others.

  While he had made many new acquaintances, he had not really found any close friends. Part of this was due to his natural reticence in conversation. He could not hold court the way Vaesil did, and had always felt awkward around girls, especially attractive ones. Aside from that, he was Lord Tieran’s son, and while most girls had no big reservations about flirting with young viscounts or baronets, they always took a different attitude when they found out who Aedan was.

  Even with the other young nobles, Aedan was always aware of a certain forced deference in their manner.

  It took a while before he realized the reason for it.

  As the future royal chamberlain and the young prince’s friend and confidant, he was practically a member of the royal family as far as they were concerned. No one ever took issue with him over anything, except perhaps only in the mildest way, and he soon understood it was because of who he was and his position. He could never be sure if they would tell him what they really thought. Still, he didn’t mind that so much. He had enjoyed the company of the group and found their discussions very stimulating. He felt a certain daring recklessness in associating with them.

  Now, just a few months later, it struck him he had not previously even had the barest inkling of what true recklessness could be. Laera had certainly taught him that. He doubted he would ever again feel quite so intimidated by a pretty face or shapely waist. And the recklessness he had displayed in going after Michael had been unforgivable.

  Ordinarily, they went out hawking with a party of armed men from the house guard, even when they stayed relatively clo
se to Seaharrow. Not only had he neglected to assemble such a party, which was what he should have been doing instead of rolling in the hay with Laera, but he had allowed the impatient prince to go off on his own and then compounded his offense by going after him alone, forgetting his sword in the stables. Not that it would have done him a great deal of good, he realized. Still, if he had immediately assembled an armed party and then gone after Michael, there was a chance that none of this might have happened.

  Had he simply been so distracted by what occurred with Laera that he wasn’t thinking, or was he too concerned about the questions that would have been raised, such as why he had allowed the prince to ride off by himself in the first place, and what had he been doing? Either way, he had acted stupidly, and even the risks involved in his affair with Laera seemed like nothing now compared to what they had gone through.

  And there was still no way of knowing how it would turn out.

  Although Gylvain and his elves had rescued them from the goblins and did not seem to mean them harm, now they were going to Tuarhievel, in the northern-most section of the Aelvinnwode, even farther from Seaharrow than Thurazor. And though Gylvain seemed favorably disposed toward them, once they reached Tuarhievel, it would be Fhileraene who would decide what to do with them.

  If Haelyn had truly ascended and become a god at Deismaar, Aedan hoped he was watching over them.

  But if the Fatalists were right, he and Michael were completely on their own. However, as the saying went, there were no atheists in a melee, and while the goblins had them, Aedan had discovered that when his own life was at stake, he could become as devout as the Patriarch, himself.

  In the comfortable safety of a tavern, it was one thing to question faith and argue the virtues of self-reliance. In the Aelvinnwode, it was another thing entirely, and now Aedan found himself fervently hoping he could rely on a greater power than himself.

  Gylvain had left them for a few moments to confer with the other elves, who had finished stripping the bodies of the goblins they had slain.