the cold hand of betrayal

by ich du

  Connecting the islands of these magnificent structures was a web of curving bridges that spanned the expanse of emerald green waters with great beauty and an easy grace.

  To look upon the realm of Ellyrion was to behold beauty, and Caelir felt his angry heart quelled. Rhianna moved to sit beside him and placed her hand on his arm. His blood quickened at her touch, and when she smiled at him, it filled him with yearning to see such beauty and know that it was not his to have.

  'If the physicians cannot cure him, can they at least make him more comfortable?' asked Rhianna.

  Caelir shook his head. 'They fuss and mutter and speak of new poultices or magical brews, but they are powerless to stop the poison eating him away from inside.'

  'My father will do what he can, but...'

  'I know he will.' nodded Caelir, taking her hand. 'He is a good and true friend. As are you.'

  'I remember when my father first brought us to Tor Elyr', smiled Rhianna. 'You were but a youth, full of fire and passion. I watched you showing off on your horse and thought that you looked very fine.'

  'I remember that day still.' nodded Caelir. 'You wore a gown of azure silk, blue, like the summer sky. And I remember thinking that you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.'

  Rhianna laughed and said, 'Now you are making fun of me.'

  'No.' said Caelir. 'I think I have loved you since first we met.'

  'Hush!' whispered Rhianna, though there was no one to hear their words, and Caelir saw the beginnings of a smile crease the corners of her mouth. 'It is not seemly for you to speak of such things while we are without a chaperone.'

  'I am your chaperone.' said Caelir. 'Was it not my brother himself who asked me to take you riding and show you the ways of an Ellyrion horseman?'

  'Your brother trusts your honour.'

  Caelir laughed. 'And he of all people should know better than to trustme with such a beauty as you. Anyway, if he was so concerned, why does he not take you riding himself?'

  'Your brother bears a heavy burden, maintaining your family lands.' said Rhianna. 'It is a noble thing he does, and takes much of his energies. He has not the time to spend with me in more... frivolous pursuits.'

  Caelir's eyes narrowed, hearing the sadness in Rhianna's voice. And though he knew it was wrong, he felt the stirrings of opportunity. With their father incapacitated, Eldain had become dour and uncommunicative, spending all his time seeing to the myriad tasks that the master of a household must deal with every day.

  Caelir had not been asked to help nor had he offered aid to his brother, preferring the thrill of venturing into the Annulii Mountains to the drudgery of work. To hunt the fabled white lions, fearsome predators whose snowy pelts were worn by the guards of the Phoenix King himself, was the life for Caelir!

  Where was the joy to be had in the running of a household? What honour or glory was there in dull lists and suchlike? No, far better that he roam the mountains as the hunter, or ride the plains as a bold adventurer.

  Seeing Caelir's expression, Rhianna said, 'Eldain has a good heart.' but Caelir could see that she was defending his brother because it was the right thing to do, not because she truly believed what she said.

  'He does.' agreed Caelir, 'but he is foolish indeed to let a flower as beautiful as you go unplucked. I would never allow myself to be distracted from your happiness.'

  Rhianna slipped her hand from his and looked out over the wondrous expanse of Ellyrion, her brows knit in consternation. Behind them, Orsien gave a high whinny of alarm, and both elves turned in surprise.

  Caelir could see nothing that might cause the horse to sound a warning, but it was a steed of Saphery and had senses beyond his. He leapt to his feet and offered his hand to Rhianna.

  'What is it?' she asked, taking his hand and rising to stand next to him. 'What's the matter?'

  'I don't know yet.' he answered, turning and running for his horse. Orsien reared and kicked the air, his neighs of alarm growing more strident. Caelir reached Aedaris and drew his sword, scanning the horizon for any sign of mountain predators.

  Rhianna ran to her horse and unsheathed her bow, a fine longbow inset with mother-of-pearl, that exuded the taste of Vaul's magic.

  'I don't see anything.' said Rhianna, nocking an arrow to her bowstring.

  'Nor I.' said Caelir, 'but this may be no ordinary predator. This close to the magical vortex that circles the Anullii, there's every chance that whatever Orsien has sensed may be something drawn here by the magic. Perhaps a chimera or a hydra. Or worse.'

  'Then we should go.' said Rhianna. 'Now.'

  Caelir shook his head. 'No, not yet. I want to see what it is. Imagine the creatures brought here by the magic! Don't you want to see what such power can create?'

  'No, I do not.' said Rhianna. 'If they are as dangerous as you say, then I very much wish to avoid encountering such a beast. And so should you.'

  Caelir scanned the rocks above, catching sight of a slipping shadow where none ought to be.

  Something was moving up there... something that did not want to be seen.

  He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, and a hot sensation of fear settled in his belly as he realised that this was neither mountain predator nor monster conjured from the mountain's magic. This was something far worse.

  'Rhianna.' he said urgently, 'get on your horse and ride for Tor Elyr.'

  'What is it?'

  'Do it!' he hissed. 'Now. It is the druchii.'

  No sooner had the words left his throat than a trio of iron crossbow bolts slashed through the air from the rocks above. Caelir twisted his body, bringing his sword up in a desperate arc to cleave the first pair of bolts in two. He heard Rhianna cry out and risked a glance behind him to see that the third quarrel was lodged in her shoulder. Blood soaked her dress, and Caelir cried out in anger as three dark cloaked warriors emerged from their hiding places in the rocks above.

  'Rhianna!' he shouted as she slumped against the flanks of her steed.

  'Is that her name?' called out the lead druchii warrior. 'It will make torturing her all the sweeter when I whisper her name as she begs for mercy.'

  Caelir turned to face the warrior, a sharp-featured elf with pallid, ivory skin and a hawk-like nose. Like his companions, his head was shaven, with a single, dark topknot dangling from the back of his skull. The druchii wore light tunics of dark cloth that seemed to swallow the day's light, and held their deadly repeater crossbows aimed unwaveringly at Caelir's heart. Each weapon bore an ebony store of bolts on its upper surface, allowing it to fire a hail of bolts rather than a single shot. The range of such weapons was much reduced, as was their stopping power, but Caelir knew that at this range and without any armour, he would be just as dead if pierced by them.

  'You will not touch her,' swore Caelir, moving to stand between the druchii and Rhianna.

  'And you think you can stop us?' laughed the warrior. 'I am Koradris and I have taken many heads in battle. Yours will simply be one more.'

  'I will die before I let you take her.'

  'So be it,' said Koradris and pulled the trigger.

  But before the firing mechanisms could loose the bolts, the weapons burst into flame. Sparkling magical fire leapt from weapon to weapon, and the druchii cried out in surprise and pain as they dropped them. Caelir felt the surge of magic from behind him and heard Rhianna fall to the ground, this magical gift to him draining the last of her strength.

  Without giving the druchii warriors time to recover from their surprise, Caelir leapt forwards, his sword cleaving through the nearest enemy's chest with the speed of a striking snake. The warrior collapsed, choking on his own blood, and Caelir gave an ululating yell as he attacked the others.

  Koradris easily parried his blow, sending a lightning riposte to his belly. Caelir only just managed to block the cut, rolling his sword around his opponent's weapon and slashing for his head. The druchii ducked and batted aside Caelir's return stroke, as the second warrior circled to his left.


  Koradris lunged and the second druchii warrior attacked at the same moment. Caelir deflected the attack, and, like quicksilver, turned to parry a downward cut from the side, launching an attack of his own.

  The druchii parried another strike and launched a deadly thrust to Caelir's chest, but his blow was deflected, and Caelir spun on his heel, slashing his sword at the warrior's head.

  His opponent swayed aside, but the tip of Caelir's blade sliced the skin just above his temple and blood flowed from the cut. Koradris moved to encircle his prey. Caelir knew that unless he evened the odds, a duel like this could have only one outcome. Koradris and the other druchii circled him from either side, leering anticipation writ large upon their features.

  'You will pay for killing Vranek,' hissed Koradris. 'He was kin to me.'

  'I thought the druchii paid no mind to kith and kin,' answered Caelir.

  'True enough.' agreed Koradris, charging in once more, 'but he owed me money.'

  The blades met with an almighty clang, but Caelir had anticipated this. He leapt back from Koradris and spun, thrusting his sword at the other druchii who sought to slay him from behind. The blade plunged deep into his neck and the druchii's eyes bulged as he toppled to the ground, blood jetting from his torn throat.

  Caelir felt the burning kiss of steel across his back as the short blade of Koradris slashed through his jerkin and bit a finger's breadth into his flesh. He cried out in pain, dropping his sword and falling to his knees as Koradris closed in for the kill. Caelir threw himself flat on his belly and rolled as the druchii's blade slashed and stabbed for him.

  He needed a weapon, and cried out in agony as he rolled over something hot.

  Koradris stood above him, his sword dripping blood and his mouth curled in a sneer of contempt.

  'The lords of Naggaroth fill our heads with the might of the Phoenix King's warriors, but you are a pitiful specimen indeed. Tell me, youngling, do you hear the wail of Morai-Heg? She will be coming for you soon.'

  Caelir fumbled beneath him and felt the burning touch of seared wood and metal. He gripped a smooth wooden stock, gritting his teeth against the pain.

  'If you hear the banshee's wail, it is you she is coming for!' shouted Caelir, swinging round one of the scorched repeater crossbows and pulling the trigger. For the only time in his life, Caelir was grateful for the craftsmanship of the druchii, as the scorched weapon loosed a flurry of iron bolts.

  He kept pulling the trigger until the ebony store on the weapon's top was exhausted, heedless of the stench of blistered flesh where the residue of the magical fire still burned him. Koradris looked down at the four bolts embedded in his chest and stomach, and seemed more surprised than in pain.

  The sword slid from his fingers and he fell to the ground as blood began to seep into his dark tunic. Even as his lifeblood poured from him, he sneered at Caelir.

  'You think you have won?' he gasped.

  'You will die before me.' said Caelir, struggling to his feet.

  'You have slain me, youngling, but the dark riders are but moments behind me.' hissed Koradris with his last breath. 'You are still going to die...'

  Caelir turned from the dead druchii, retrieved his sword, and limped towards Rhianna. She lay beside her horse, the steed nuzzling her in fear and concern. The druchii bolt had pierced her shoulder, but had ricocheted upwards on her collarbone and the barbed tip protruded from the skin. He could feel the shaft of the bolt just beneath her skin.

  'I have never seen the like... you were magnificent...' she whispered, her eyelids fluttering and her skin ashen. 'Like the sword masters of Hoeth.'

  'Hold still.' said Caelir, 'this is going to hurt.'

  Rhianna nodded and closed her eyes as Caelir sliced the blade of his sword along the line of the bolt and slid it from her body. She screamed, and Caelir held her tight, wishing he could take away her pain.

  Caelir and Rhianna struggled to their feet, and Caelir fashioned makeshift bandages from the cloaks of the dead druchii to bind their wounds with.

  'We don't have much time.' he said once he was finished. 'There will be more of them and they won't be far behind.'

  'We must warn Tor Elyr that the druchii are here in force.'

  Caelir nodded and cupped his hands to help Rhianna onto her horse. Before mounting, she leaned in close and put her palm against his cheek.

  'You saved my life, Caelir, and I will never forget this.' she said, and kissed him on the lips.

  'Anything for you, my lady.' he replied, the pain of his wound quite forgotten.

  III

  NAGGAROTH

  ELDAIN REINED IN his steed as he saw the shadow warrior emerge from behind the thick bole of a black barked tree, and raised his hand in a fist to halt his troop of Ellyrion reavers.

  The hooded scout bowed before Eldain and said, 'Clar Karond is beyond the rise, my lord. Where the trees thin out, the land drops away and the towers of the druchii can be clearly seen.'

  Eldain sensed the scout's loathing for the druchii in every word and felt a similar stirring in his breast at the thought of taking the fight to those who had slain his father. He stared over the scout's shoulder, seeing the light from beyond the trees.

  'Well done.' he told the scout. 'Where are the rest of your warriors?'

  The scout waved his hand and the other two warriors emerged from the shadows. Eldain had not noticed either of the scouts, and though it was their forte to avoid being seen, it still irked him that he had not sensed so much as a hint of them.

  'Why do we stop?' asked Caelir, riding alongside.

  'The trees thin out ahead.' explained Eldain. 'We are close to Clar Karond.'

  'At last.' said Caelir. 'I grow weary of this forest. It weighs heavily on the soul.'

  'Indeed.' said Eldain, turning away. 'Stay here, I will scout ahead with the shadow warriors.'

  Without waiting for Caelir to complain about being left behind, Eldain dismounted and lifted his bow from the oiled, leather case slung from Lotharin's saddle. He nodded to the scout and followed him as he slipped into the forest ahead.

  The scout moved effortlessly ahead of him, and Eldain felt as clumsy as a human as he attempted to match his stealth. But it seemed that every brittle branch and leaf deliberately wormed its way beneath the soles of his boots.

  Slowly, they crept forwards, and though the light of the afternoon was a welcome sight after five days of travelling through the dense, dark forests of Naggaroth, it was scant comfort to an elf raised on Ulthuan.

  Each day had been more grim than the previous, though the warriors made no complaint - as was only proper. Each of them was well used to spending many weeks, or longer, in the wilds as part of their training, but the bleak forests of the Land of Chill were something else altogether.

  Though days and nights came and went, the sun neither warmed the skin nor refreshed the soul, instead leeching the life from the world and casting a pall of fear and doubt over their band. As dreary as the days were, the nights were a thousand times worse, with the darkness of Naggaroth unbroken by torch or moonlight. The blackness shrouded them in silence such that each warrior feared to break it with so much as a single word.

  Night was a time to fear, doubly so in Naggaroth, as strange sounds echoed in the depths of the forest around them and in the sky above them. Rustling branches, crackling leaves and the drifting echoes of what sounded like the screaming laughter of lunatic children.

  Each night as they made cold camp, Eldain would picture Rhianna and his fears would ease a little, though each time a shard of ice would enter his heart when his treacherous memories would unfold to include Caelir.

  Eldain shook off such thoughts as the ground began to rise and he felt a pressure on his shoulder. He looked up into the hooded face of the shadow warrior. The scout nodded slowly and gestured to a thorny patch of briars that clung to the edge of the rise like barbed tangleweed.

  The scout dropped to his belly and began crawling towards the briars, and E
ldain followed him, conscious that he would need to dispose of this tunic after the mission. A saying of the reavers was that survival never took second place to dignity in the field, but that was all very well when you hadn't had the finest tailors and seamstresses in Lothern fashion your garments.

  At last he reached the briar patch and parted the thorny brush to see the vast city of Clar Karond in all its hateful glory.

  Three black towers the colour of bloody iron rose from the centre of the city, with tall jagged-roofed temples jockeying for position around them. A high wall, topped with blades and spikes, surrounded the centre of the city, and even from here, Eldain could see the sunlight glinting from the speartips of the city's guards. Beyond this high wall sprawled the peripherals of a city such as could be seen around many other cities: markets, temples, dwellings of the common folk and barracks of the city's soldiery.

  But for all the trappings of civilisation, a vile darkness hung over its cobbled streets and black roofs - a sense of violence about to be unleashed, of blood about to be spilled. It chilled Eldain's soul to see such a place, a place of evil that festered beneath a brooding sun, and a place whose inhabitants plotted the destruction of his homeland.

  Scattered around the city were tracts of elaborate vineyards, choked with grapes of deepest crimson, and Eldain's lip curled as he realised that these were harvested for the druchii's blood wine. Wretched human slaves tended to the vines, guarded by cruel warriors on horseback who emphasised their commands with blade and whip.

  Between the vineyards, and stretching all the way up to their vantage point, the land was scarred by devastation. Shorn tree stumps bore grim testimony to the massive logging operations of the druchii that provided timber for the new war vessels of their raiding fleets. Thousands of trees must have been felled here, and the day echoed still with the distant sound of chopping axe blades and the rasp of saws. More slaves toiled in huge work gangs to the east, felling trees by the dozen and dragging them back towards the desolate city.

  'Look to the north-east, my lord.' whispered the scout.