Ambassador (Conqueror of Isles Book 1)

by Stephen L. Hadley

  “Oh, the sort you might expect,” Elias said. “It involves sneaking into the capital and probably getting ourselves killed.”

  Avans barked a dry, humorless laugh. Then, much to Elias’ surprise, Kyra did the same.

  “Well, that is partly why I decided to come with you,” she said. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t give me a chance for sightseeing.”

  “You’ll do it?”

  “It isn’t like you’d change your mind if I said no. Besides, what choice do I have?” She nudged Avans with her elbow and forced a grin. “This one dumped all our food in the sea. I can’t trek all the way back to Islesmark alone and on an empty stomach.”

  Avans opened his mouth to retort then closed it again, smiling ruefully. “Aye,” he agreed. “I haven’t heard any better ideas. If we survive by some miracle, maybe you’ll have learned enough to spread some of Offert’s coin around. So, why not? At the very least I might get to stick one or two of Cotora’s elves.”

  Rhona’s flinch was subtle but Elias had been expecting it. He turned to her, brow furrowed.

  “What do you think?” he asked. “Will you help? We can’t do it without you.”

  It was the truth and she knew it as well as he did. Sighing, Rhona pulled her cloak tight around her shoulders and stared into the distance. She stood like that for so long that Elias nearly interrupted her. But, before he got the chance, she nodded. It was a small nod and far from enthusiastic, but he had his answer, nonetheless.

  “That’s decided then,” Elias said, struggling to hide his relief. “We’ll wait an hour or so then head back the way we came. Lucasta asked to see to the dead. Then we’ll follow Cotora north toward Dan Tien.”

  Kyra and Avans nodded in agreement. Rhona, on the other hand, frowned.

  “I cannot call on Tekali often,” she said. “Two, rarely three times each day. More than this and she may not answer. This is important.”

  “It is,” Elias said. “I’ll make sure Lucasta knows. We can’t risk moving too fast.”

  “Or too slow,” Avans pointed out.

  Elias sighed, yet again. The more he learned about the elven gods the more like his own neglected ones they seemed to become: Distant, unknowable, and never ones to make life easy.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The latter half of the day proceeded much as Elias expected. After lingering in relative safety, the surviving trow made their way back to the glen and the half-forested battlefield beyond. Many tears were shed as the dead were dressed and buried to an endless chorus of prayers and murmuring. Elias did not participate. Instead, he sat beneath a tree and watched contemplatively as the trow went about their work. He would have volunteered to help, but nothing he saw suggested that his presence would be welcome.

  Kyra sat beside him. Unlike him, however, the woman studied the trow with an almost manic intensity, muttering to herself and miming as if jotting down her observations. Elias didn’t bother her either.

  Thankfully, it did not appear that Cotora’s elves had discovered their unbuilt camp. Either she had assumed that the trow who’d fought her were the only ones nearby or she’d taken sufficient casualties to conclude that exploring further was unwise. The latter was certainly possible; the ground was littered with almost twice as many elven bodies as trow ones. And although Cotora’s forces had made some paltry efforts at funerary rites—covering the elven bodies with shallow piles of dirt—the trow refused to touch them. The proper rituals had fallen to Rhona. The Gwydas hadn’t paused to rest since their return and Elias had watched as she wandered from corpse to corpse, kneeling and whispering inaudible prayers over the fallen.

  And then, as afternoon turned to evening, it was time to leave. To Elias, that decision was both a relief and disquieting. Though he had no desire to remain so near, the thought of another night march unnerved him, especially when they might accidentally stumble into Cotora’s camp. Fortunately, between Lucasta’s wisdom and Rhona’s occasionally supernatural eyes, the long walk ended only a few hours after it had begun.

  Sleep was a daunting prospect. Without any of the muffled laughter or quiet conversation he was used to by now, and paired with the occasional quiet sobbing, Elias felt as though he was resting in a crypt. He slept fitfully, unable to clearly differentiate dreams from reality, until morning arrived and he found Kyra’s outstretched hand draped over his face.

  The days that followed were tense, wearying, and occasionally nerve-wracking. Cotora drove her elves hard, covering vast stretches of wilderness and inconsistently resting at the most unexpected times. Twice, they crested a hill or emerged from a patch of woods to discover her forces camped less than a hundred paces away. Besides those brief, terrifying instances, however, the journey was a grim, mentally draining one. Nerves frayed regularly and Elias was once forced to physically separate Kyra and Avans before they came to blows. Nor were the trow exempt from such hostility. One morning, after stepping away to relieve himself, Elias had returned to find Rhona and the younger Lucasta cursing at one another, their snarling faces inches from each other. Fortunately, the elder Lucasta had reached her daughter’s side almost immediately and drove the pair apart with a shove and several stern warnings.

  He tried to inquire as to the cause of the spat, but none of the three would answer him. Even the elder Lucasta dismissed his questions with a shrug and an announcement that they would be moving on.

  It was when they stopped to make camp on the fourth day of marching that Elias noticed the change in atmosphere. It wasn’t as though the trow had ceased grieving; many still wept privately or comforted those who did. But there was a subtle edge to those around him. Rather than stow weapons in bedrolls or blankets, many of the trow wore them openly. Furtive glances studied the trees around them. And the little conversation that had endured over the past few days persisted only in quiet grunts or whispers.

  He was therefore unsurprised when the elder Lucasta approached.

  “A word?” she asked.

  He nodded, following her from his usual place between Kyra and Avans back to hers. Without preamble, the matriarch dropped to her blankets, fished out the gano, and took a deep swig of the stuff. She offered it to Elias with a quirked brow and returned it to her bag when he declined.

  “We’re less than a day from Dan Tien,” she explained as he sat. “Should be able to see the city walls once we’re over the next ridge.”

  “That’s good isn’t it?”

  Lucasta shrugged, drawing a knee up to her chest and hugging it. “I suppose it is.”

  Elias sat, waiting for her to continue. When she did not, he frowned and cocked his head. “Was there something about it you wanted to discuss?”

  “Yes.” Lucasta breathed deeply and held it. She looked almost to be waiting for the gano to take effect. “I’m no fool, Elias. I realize this plan is unlikely to succeed. And I want to thank you for helping see it through anyway.”

  He nodded slowly. Lucasta took another deep breath and continued.

  “This is a hard thing I’m going to ask of you,” she said. “And I don’t… I don’t expect you to answer now.”

  “What is it?”

  “If we fail, I would prefer not to fall into Tereus’ hands. I can’t speak for the others. But for me and my daughters, death would be preferable. Do you understand?”

  Elias stared at her, more than slightly alarmed. “It won’t come to that,” he assured her.

  “I hope you’re right. But you may not be. And, as I said, I’m not expecting an answer. I simply thought it was important that you know.”

  “I… understand,” he said, struggling to find the correct words. Lucasta’s request was horrifying, at least as horrifying as the unspoken suggestions that prompted it.

  Elias crawled forward and plucked the flask of gano from Lucasta’s bag. He didn’t drink much, not even a full mouthful, but the trow was grinning by the time he replaced the flask. From experience, he knew that it would tak
e several minutes at least before the effects made themselves known, but even the anticipation was enough to loosen his tongue.

  “I do doubt it will come to that,” he said. “This is Dan Tien we’re talking about. I’m sure we’ll be cut down long before we’re captured.”

  Lucasta stared at him for a moment then chuckled and dropped her gaze. “That’s probably true,” she murmured. “Dan Tien is hardly a welcoming place for my people, especially now. The gods alone know how we’ll make it past the gates.”

  “I thought you said they would be unguarded?” Elias asked. Lucasta’s doubt should have alarmed him greatly, but it merely worried him.

  “They were when we were expelled,” Lucasta admitted. “Mostly. It depends on how near Tereus is to open war. For all I know, he may have soldiers patrolling the streets by now.”

  Elias pondered this for a few seconds then shrugged. “We’ll deal with that too, if necessary,” he said.

  Lucasta eyed him more purposefully. At first, she appeared ready to challenge him on the issue. Then, with another quite laugh, she flashed a fleeting grin.

  “Are you always this optimistic?” she asked. “Or did the gano go straight to your head?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Chuckling louder, Lucasta flopped back onto the blankets. The angle afforded him an extraordinary view of her cleavage and, thanks to the gano, it took Elias far longer than normal to remember to avert his eyes.

  “Honest, too,” Lucasta noted, so softly that Elias couldn’t be certain whether she was addressing him. “That explains it.”

  By Elias thought to ask her to explain, the trow’s eyes were closed and her breathing even. He rose silently, made his way back to his companions, and stretched out on the grass. Both Kyra and Avans glanced at him as he joined them but neither spoke.

  There was no need.

  ***

  The younger Lucasta woke them just before dawn. Or, more precisely, she woke Elias and Kyra, then left him the task of rousing Avans and Rhona on his own. Unlike the previous mornings, the trow did not bother gathering and bundling their possessions. That responsibility fell to the adolescents, elders, and those responsible for caring for one or both—the ones who would remain behind. The two Lucastas, on the other hand, oversaw the fourteen trow who would accompany them into Dan Tien.

  Compared to the warriors who’d died fighting alongside Gilla and Barneis, the cloaked and stealthily armed trow were somewhat underwhelming. Most were equipped with nothing more than slender knives or polished staves, while the two or three with swords struggled visibly to conceal them under their cloaks. The sight reminded Elias suddenly of the exposed scabbard at his own hip and he toyed with it for a moment before the elder Lucasta noticed him.

  “Here,” she said, waving him over. “Wear these. We had to take them from Cotora’s dead, but there shouldn’t be any blood on them.”

  Elias accepted the cloaks with only a little reluctance. True to Lucasta’s word, the garments were stained with dirt and grime only, a fact which he confirmed as he helped Kyra tie hers in place.

  “They’re well-made,” she noted, tugging at the fabric. “A bit of washing and it’d fit right in in Islesmark.”

  “Oh?” In spite of what lay before them, or perhaps because of it, Elias could not resist teasing her a bit. “Since when have you cared about fashion?”

  She shoved him playfully and for just an instant, the worry on her face was replaced by a good-natured scowl.

  “Bastard,” she grumbled. “Just because I prefer trousers doesn’t mean I don’t like to look nice.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing you don’t look too nice,” Avans interjected. “We don’t want to attract attention.”

  “Being quiet is rather more important, Avans,” Elias cut in, before Kyra could retort. “Think you can manage?”

  Avans glared at him then pulled up his hood and drew the edges of his cloak tightly around himself. “Aye,” he growled. “But you’ll have to check my ears once we’re done. Can’t have them getting all pointy. Who knows how they’ve enchanted these damn things.”

  The bickering was so ordinary that Elias had to mask his grin. After everything that had happened, it was strangely reassuring to find his companions still able to snipe at one another. Unfortunately, he didn’t have long to enjoy the moment.

  Clearing her throat, Lucasta summoned them with a small wave. As Elias moved to join her, however, he was surprised to see the younger Lucasta embrace her mother and turn back.

  “She’s not coming with us?” he asked.

  The matriarch grimaced and shook her head. “No,” she said. “I asked her to remain here and look after the others. She is… not pleased, but will obey. They will rejoin us if we escape.”

  “When we escape.”

  Lucasta snorted and shook her head with a rueful smile. She didn’t contradict him, but every last bit of her body language made it clear that she did not believe him.

  “Very well,” she said. “Are you ready?”

  The path they took to Dan Tien was not a particularly arduous one, at least not when compared to the marches that had endured so far. The hills and valleys grew less steep and the trees less dense until, by midday, they might as well have been strolling through farmland. The first road they encountered startled him but that surprise was nothing compared to the sight of the first elves upon it.

  “Hoods up,” he whispered, soon as the figures drew near enough for him to be certain. Kyra and Avans obeyed instantly while Rhona hurried forward to take her agreed upon place at the head of the column.

  It was hard to keep from reaching for his hidden sword, but Elias was soon grateful that he had restrained himself. The pair of elves—father and son by the look of them—slowed as they approached and offered polite, if rather inquisitive bows. Rhona answered with a bow of her own and a few friendly words. Whatever she said must have worked since the duo laughed and passed them by.

  Once they had gone and the road was once again clear, Elias inched forward to Rhona’s side.

  “What did you tell them?” he asked.

  “You are penitents. I lead you to Dan Tien to be cleansed.”

  “And that worked?”

  “Obviously.” Rhona stared at him from the corner of her eye. “It is a common thing. He laughs because I joke. I complain that you sin at an inconvenient time.”

  “Well done.” Uncertain what else to say, Elias patted her on the shoulder and shuffled back to his place in line. Kyra glanced at him as he rejoined them, but said nothing.

  Unfortunately, the next encounter did not proceed quite as smoothly as the first. The first clue should have been the riding beasts, but Elias was so taken aback by the sight of them that he almost forgot to be wary. The elven beasts were similar in form to the various beasts of burden he’d seen countless times in Islesmark, but were so tall and slender that the riders could have kicked him in the chin without needing to rise from the saddle. There were four of them, soldiers by their armor and suspicious ones by their scowls.

  The lead rider’s sleeves were embroidered with gold. And if that alone wasn’t enough to mark him as an officer, the haughty manner in which he guided his steed into their path would surely have sufficed.

  “Eret,” he growled. “Ijal nos vevan, na’konara?”

  Rhona folded her arms and answered him, but the officer barely let her manage a word before he waved his subordinates forward. Two of the elves dismounted, dropping gracefully despite their mounts’ height, while the third edged forward to surround them from the rear.

  Subtly as he could, Elias fingered the hilt of his sword from beneath his cloak.

  He needn’t have bothered. One of the soldiers cried out in alarm as he pulled back a trow’s hood. And, in a split-second, both of the dismounted soldiers were cut down by swiftly produced blades. The rearguard toppled nearly as quickly. One of the trow barreled into his steed’s legs, startling the cre
ature into the rearing. The equally startled rider slipped from his saddle and died a second later with his feet tangled in the stirrups.

  The officer, however, was somewhat faster. Turning his beast about, he raced back the way he’d come without a moment’s hesitation.

  “Move!” Lucasta barked, shoving one of the trow aside when she was too slow in responding. Producing her bow from beneath her cloak, the matriarch strung it in a single motion, nocked an arrow, and loosed before Elias could even process what was occurring.

  The fleeing officer cried out as he was struck. Topping forward, he fell from his mount and, like his subordinate, managed to snarl his ankle in a stirrup. Unlike his subordinate, it was actually the beast who dealt the final blow. Startled by the unexpected weight dragging it from the road, the elven steed thrashed and kicked until the rider slipped free. Then, before the dying elf could even hope to stand, much less flee on foot, one of the beast’s narrow hooves lashed out and met his skull with an audible crack.

  “Drag them into the brush,” Lucasta instructed. Her voice was taut and urgent, but remarkably fearless, and several of the trow leapt into action at the sound of it. “Don’t worry about the famos just yet. You, Gwydas, can you ride?”

  Rhona hesitated and, strangely, glanced at Elias before replying.

  “Yes,” she said. “But not well.”

  “That hardly matters,” Lucasta said. Stepping forward, she grabbed the reins of the nearest and drew it near. “Take this one, it seems calm enough. A proper mount may help avoid suspicion.”

  “Won’t it be recognized?” Elias asked.

  “Unlikely,” Lucasta said, smiling grimly for just an instant. “There are thousands of famos in Dan Tien. We will have time before these are missed. So long as nobody discovers the bodies before nightfall, there’s no reason to worry.”

  Elias wasn’t sure he agreed. It seemed to him that missing soldiers, discovered or not, would be more than enough reason to raise alarm. But then, they were only elves.