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A New World

Page 14

by Brendan O'Neill


  “You too,” I said, then nodded to the woman. She gave me an uninterested nod in return. I tried giving him my most convincing smile. If I failed Vale was far too good to show it. “I’m guessing this is the summit?”

  “Indeed, Mr. Martin. We’re simply waiting on the other parties to arrive,” he said smoothly. “I do hope you didn’t eat before coming.” A look of what appeared to be genuine sincerity showed on his face. “The Corporeals can have something of a tumultuous effect on the stomach of the unprepared.”

  “No. I decided the nap was a good idea.”

  “Splendid!” he almost shouted. That damned fatherly aura he exuded was infectious. I almost smiled for real. “I hope you had pleasant dreams,” he finished.

  “Yeah, not so much.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Jacob. May I call you Jacob?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Jake works too.” I regretted that immediately. I certainly don’t want to give Vale the impression we’re friends.

  “I sometimes forget how traumatic Withermoor can be on the living,” Vale said. “Hopefully this meeting won’t take too long so you and your party may leave. As much as I enjoy your company, you have important work awaiting you.” He gave me a seemingly sad smile. “Also, I have no doubt that we undead cause you and your friends no small amount of disquiet.” The arrival of two Corporeals killed any response I might have come up with.

  The first was a tall, hulking brute wrapped in strips of linen cloth. Between the gaps in rotting material was disgusting, putrefying flesh. Its breathing was heavy and rasping, each exhale seemed to carry the slightest growl. It sat, drawing a loud creek of protest from its chair, and stared quietly at us. Vale’s whispered its name to me: Kellim Seth.

  The second member of the Corporeal delegation was an uncomfortably familiar individual. Strod’s armored feet clicked importantly as he marched into the room, his head tucked imperiously under one arm. He placed his head on his shoulders as he sat, opening the face plate. The white of his skull seemed to glow in the room’s unnatural light. As did his hatred as he stared at me.

  “What is that doing here?” Strod’s evil voice rumbled as he looked at me. “It’s not one of us. It has no place at this summit!”

  “This summit was convened to address a matter of state,” Vale said smoothly, then nodded toward me. “A matter to which Mr. Martin is directly related.”

  Strod growled and turned to his companion. The black knight and the mummy whispered amongst each other, their low voices so rumbling their conversation sounded like a muted rockslide.

  During their little whisper-fest, Vale likewise turned to whisper in my ear. “Before the others arrive, I want to warn you not to speak during the summit unless spoken to. Our traditions for summits are quite strict and only the Fallen are recognized to speak. If necessary, you may speak to me in a whisper but, even then, it must be kept to a minimum. If you are called upon, you may speak to the council but your time will be limited.” Footsteps echoing from the depths of the dark hallway drew our attention. “One last warning, Jake. Do not trust the landgrave of the Corporeals. She is far more dangerous to you than I will ever be.”

  I nodded and we turned our attention to the dark hallway as the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen walked into the chambers. She wore a long silken dress as pale yellow as her ashen hair. A plunging neckline exposed a generous amount of her ample cleavage, and the slit to the top of her right hip showed a shapely leg. Her eyes, as blue as the most idyllic lagoon, would have been captivating if they weren’t so cold.

  Her icy stare swept across the four of us as she glided to the opposing table. She sat in the chair between Strod and the Seth, staring at everyone at our table with the deepest contempt. Especially me. As the black knight and the mummy whispered in her ear, Vale turned his head ever so slightly to me.

  “Xerena Frostmere,” he said. His voice wasn’t a whisper, but it was lowered in respect for his bitter rival. “Most powerful of the liches and landgrave of the Corporeals.”

  “She looks human,” I whispered. “I thought that was a trait of Eternals.”

  “She’s using magic to cloak her appearance. It’s a superficial change, not a physical aspect as it is in us, and easily countered with the right resources,” Vale whispered back. “I must begin the summit now. Please keep your questions to a minimum.”

  Rasthamus Vale stood, raising his hands to the other delegation and smiling his most disarming smile. “My friends!” he started. “Thank you for joining me. I come before you bearing wondrous news.”

  “I should think so after convening a summit so quickly,” Frostmere said. “You have broken several conventions to do so.”

  “Ah, yes,” Vale said, not losing a step or his smile. “But conditions for doing so exist if the threat is real enough. Or opportunity.”

  “Then perhaps we should wait on the arrival of the Ethereal landgrave before you share this glorious opportunity with us,” Frostmere hissed, her voice dripping venom.

  “The great Sharat hasn’t graced this council in several centuries,” Vale said. “We shall simply have to carry on without Sharat’s wisdom.”

  “That will not be necessary,” said a disembodied voice. All eyes turned to a richly decorated wall as three ghostly bodies materialized out of the tapestry covered stone.

  One figure was distinctly feminine, from the curve of her hips and breasts. But there were no finite features to make out. No eyes, cheekbones, or waving locks to distinguish her from females of the living. She was just a floating feminine shape of shifting shadows and swirling light.

  The second was definitely a woman. She looked almost like a normal woman, except she was semi-transparent and floated in the air like her associates. Her face constantly shifted between a dip-shit grin and supreme disinterest. The woman’s eyes perpetually looked at every detail in the room yet seemed to notice nothing. I don’t know if I could call her maniacal, but she definitely looked unstable.

  The final specimen was a vaguely humanoid shape of a semi-transparent gray… something. Its shape was so vague that I couldn’t tell if it was male or female, and even its voice was too ethereal to assign a gender. But Vale did inform me of its name: Sharat.

  “We regret our presence has been absent from so many summits of the past,” Sharat said with its strange disembodied hum. “But the daily governing of Withermoor have been so well managed that our presence has not been needed.”

  Even with its strange voice, the sarcasm was clear and Frostmere noticeably bristled at it. Vale, instead, smiled like a salesman who spied a rube drooling over an overpriced car. He stood and bowed to the Ethereals, spreading his arms in esteem.

  “Landgrave Sharat of the Ethereals,” he said. “We are honored with your presence. Our summits proceed with so much more wisdom when you attend.”

  “Yes, yes,” Landgrave Frostmere said dismissively. “We are all so grateful for their appearance. Now why did you call this bloody summit?”

  “We stand at the threshold of an opportunity unlike any we’ve seen in centuries,” Vale said. He’d stepped out of car-salesman mode and into full politician mode. “Over the last few decades our numbers have been slowly but steadily diminishing. Whether from Hospitallers hunting us, infighting, or simple accidents makes no difference. The simple fact that we cannot reproduce as the living means we face the very real possibility of eventual extinction.”

  “But we’ve already addressed that,” Frostmere said sounding bored. “At the inception of Withermoor the council formed the Wild Hunt to bring back bodies to bolster our numbers. They were placed under your command, Landgrave Vale. Are you insinuating that you’re incapable of discharging your duties?”

  Vale turned his politician’s smile on her. “My dear Landgrave Frostmere. Over the last couple centuries, the living have been growing more and more difficult to acquire due to the involvement of Hospitallers, druids, and the Arcane Academy. The Wild Hunt is returning with far fewer…volunteers… than
ever before and suffering far greater losses.”

  “I fail to hear anything that sounds like an opportunity,” Frostmere said with a dark smile. “It sounds more like gross incompetence. If command of the Wild Hunt were turned over to the Corporeals…”

  “You would sweep across the lands like a plague,” Vale interrupted. His politician’s smile was gone. “And rally every nation against us. You would bring about our extermination far sooner than what we face now.”

  “Indeed, the plight of Withermoor is well known to all the Fallen,” Landgrave Sharat said. “But this summit was not called to discuss the obvious, nor was this outsider invited frivolously.” It waved its hand toward me.

  “Landgrave Sharat makes a good point,” Frostmere said. “Why is an outsider, a lifer, at our summit?”

  Vale’s eyes narrowed at the comment, something I assume the undead use as a vulgar epithet for the living. “Have a care, Landgrave,” Vale growled. All pretext of his congeniality had fled. “Mr. Martin is under my protection. Anything said about him reflects upon me, and I will not put up with many more of your insults.”

  “That creature’s presence…” she said pointing at me, “…is an insult to all of us. How dare you invite it to our summit, the most respected proceeding in Withermoor?!”

  “He’s a representative of the elves in the Royal City. They have a proposition that is an answer to our dilemma.” He turned to me and motioned me to join him in the center of the room. “Please, Mr. Martin, address the summit.”

  I stood and walked to the room’s center, trying not to look as terrified as I really, really, was. I used the few seconds to take some slow deep breaths and regain some self-control. “Ladies and gentlemen,” I said, the titles drawing a few derisive snickers, “the elves will soon go to war against an alliance of the human empires. They ask your aid against your mutual enemies.”

  “Us?” Frostmere laughed cynically. “Form an alliance with the elves? NEVER!” Her final rant was echoed from the other two Corporeals with her.

  “Let us not be too hasty,” Vale said. “This is the opportunity that I spoke of. The elves’ desperation will be our salvation.”

  “NO!” Frostmere shrieked. Suddenly the illusion of beauty failed and I saw her in her true form. Gone was the rosy glow to her skin. It was replaced with a sickly pallor and paper thinness. Numerous holes of rotted flesh spotted her body, showing either gray organs or bleached bone. Her once elegant silk dress was now tattered and worn, faded with age and use. Breasts that were once full and firm, were now sagging sacks of decomposing meat. The maggots that made them home seemed quite content as they ate away at her undead flesh.

  She stared at me, a deep amber glow in her eye sockets instead of eyes. As hateful as those glows were, it dark triangular hole where her nose should be that most captured my attention.

  “We do not serve the interests of lifers!” Frostmere spat. “We will make no alliance with them!” Her two associates shouted their agreement.

  Vale roared like a wild animal. In less than a heartbeat, he’d changed as well into the former demonic visage I’d first met. Fiendish howling, a dark flowing cloak of living shadows and infinitely black eyes sent a tremor through almost all in attendance. I slunk back to our table, my hand instinctively finding the handle of my pistol. Strod and Seth backed their chairs against their wall, watching Vale carefully. Even Stormcloak and Tallia Mel looked scared, although the leader of the Wild Hunt had the presence of mind to reach out and grab my arm. It was the only thing that kept me from either pulling my weapon or tearing away from that room in sheer terror. Frostmere continued to snarl, but much quieter and sat back in her chair. Only the Ethereals held an air of indifference at the Vale’s monstrous intensity.

  “No, we don’t,” Vale growled. “But we do serve our own interests. And very soon the fields just outside our lands will be blanketed with dead. So many bodies that one could not even see the ground. Dead that we may turn to our own.”

  “If we try to usurp their dead,” Frostmere said quietly, “both factions will destroy us.”

  “No, I do not think so,” Vale rumbled smugly. “The elves won’t chance alienating us, and the humans won’t take the chance of being ambushed. The only factions we’ll have to worry about are the Hospitallers and the Arcane Academy. But with the sheer number of dead on the fields, the risk will be well worth the reward.”

  The room fell silent as the Corporeals considered his statement. They whispered amongst each other, hushed tones mixed with the deep grumbling of undead voices. Their eyes flicked around the room conspiratorially.

  Sharat and the other Ethereals floated unconcernedly as they looked between the tables of Corporeals and Eternals. They didn’t look surprised by the gravity of the summit. It was like they were waiting on a decision they already knew was coming. In fact, during the entire summit they acted like they were simply waiting on the obvious.

  As Vale walked back to our table, Mel pulled a bit of cheese from inside her robe. I was thankful when the vampire ate it and changed back into a normal-looking human.

  “I apologize for my outburst, Jake,” Vale whispered smoothly as he glanced at the representatives of the other two factions. “It was an unfortunate necessity to gain control.”

  After a few moments more of whispering with the other Corporeals, Frostmere stood and addressed the summit. “Because it was the Eternals who brought this option before the summit, we assume it is their position to be in favor of it.” Vale had nodded as she spoke, but stopped when she continued. “But it is our position that the risk is far too great. With our attentions split, the Hospitallers may attempt an all-out assault on Withermoor. And even if the humans or elves do not attack us as we collect bodies in this war, we will have shown ourselves as an organized threat that cannot be ignored any longer. To that end, we cannot agree to anything that poses so substantial a risk to our lands. The Corporeals vote no.”

  All heads turned to the Ethereals. For a moment, they said nothing. If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn they were trying to build tension. Finally, Sharat spoke. “There is wisdom in both positions,” it said. “Landgrave Vale is correct in the alliance will bolster the numbers of Withermoor to levels never before seen. However Landgrave Frostmere is correct that the inherent risk of sending an organized force against the living will set us in a new and undesirable light.”

  Again it paused. By then I was sure it was seeking dramatic effect.

  “But there is one detail that may not have been considered,” it continued. “While Withermoor is all but stagnant, the living, and especially the Hospitallers grow stronger. If we continue as we have, we will eventually face a challenge by some form of organized living force. To that end, we find the greatest wisdom in bolstering our forces now to repulse the future threat.”

  Dissenting shouts broke out from the Strod and Seth. Frostmere stared daggers of hatred at us, but held her tongue. For about five seconds.

  “Enough!” she growled. Her two associates wore shock and rage on their faces, but they went silent. “As the outvoted party, we Corporeals are allowed stipulations that must also be agreed upon.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously at Vale and I. “We only have one. In order to ensure the best interests of Withermoor, we demand a Fallen escort to accompany those lifers, one who is not of the Eternals.”

  “Absolutely not,” Vale answered. “Only an eternal can pass for human. Any other Fallen would bring about their death.”

  I could see another argument was close to breaking out when Sharat floated to the center of the room. An eerie silence descended upon the summit as everyone waited for it to speak.

  “Once again, the deciding vote falls to we Ethereals,” Sharat’s disembodied voice said. “And we agree that Fallen interests must be looked after. To that end, we feel an escort is necessary.”

  A smile started creeping across Frostmere’s face until Sharat spoke again.

  “We Ethereals nominate Gallinea of the Ethe
reals,” Sharat said, waving its hand toward the transparent woman with her.

  “Agreed,” Vale said quickly. His large smug smile was back.

  “No!” shouted Frostmere. “It’s my stipulation to make, not anyone else’s!”

  “And you made it,” Sharat said. “You stipulated the elvin delegation to have a Fallen escort that is not of the Eternals. Any other conditions are up to the Summit.” Frostmere scowled at Sharat as it turned and floated in the direction of the wall the Ethereals had entered from. “All pertinent conditions to this summit have concluded. Gallinea will be at the East gate of the Fallen Palace at dawn,” it said before vanishing into the stone.

  After the last of the Ethereals disappeared through the rock wall, the Corporeal faction of the Trinity stormed out of the room. Vale, who was still standing at the center of the room, turned and walked to me with a smile.

  “Congratulations, Jake,” he said. “You have your first victory. The Fallen will march to war.”

  The Ambush

  None of us slept much after I returned. Instead we made plans and I gave the others a detailed recount of what I’d experienced. When we finally did manage sleep it was fickle and nightmarish. So even though the early morning had a bitter chill to it, no one had to be prodded out of their warm beds. We were motivated to get the hell out of Withermoor. The sun was just brightening the horizon to the east when we were all at the eastern gates of the Fallen Palace. Vale, Stormcloak, and Gallinea were waiting when we arrived.

  “My friends!” Vale said, wearing a smile and extending his arms wide as though he wanted to embrace us all. “I can’t tell you how much it saddens me that you’re leaving. Your presence was a welcome light in our otherwise gloomy lands.” He gave each person in our group a smile and finished with his hand on my shoulder. “Jake, promise me you’ll return some day. I quite enjoyed our conversations.” Then he lowered his voice and leaned in close. “Also, should you meet an unfortunate end and are restored as one of our kind, promise me you will return and join our illustrious realm. I don’t wish your early end, of course, but you would make quite a valuable member of the Fallen.”

 

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