by Greg Curtis
But which danger was greater? High Lord Finell discovering the truth and executing him for treason? The elders discovering what he’d already done in the high lord’s name and telling him? The Grove spotting the effect of the benediction on the high lord? Or him failing his master?
As he poured the water, Y’aris fretted over the answer like a nervous bride on her wedding night. And try as he might he couldn’t find an answer, save that he needed a war.
Until it finally occurred to him that there was always one cause that Finell would start a war for, no matter the cost. His sister. And there was one human who could never be attacked because it would be taken as a declaration of war. Finell didn’t have to actually declare war, just commit an act that would be taken as a declaration of war.
It was just a matter of bringing the two together.
Chapter Fifteen.
The Royal Chamber was empty, the business of the day finished, and Finell was sitting on the throne looking tired and angry. He looked that way a lot these days. His time as a ruler was not a happy one.
Y’aris of course, was pleased with the ways things were going. At least in the court. As of that morning he had become the high lord’s only advisor, or at least the only one he listened to since the others had all foolishly suggested that he spend some time in the Grove and discover forgiveness. They didn’t understand that Finell was an angry child who had no forgiveness in his heart. Naturally he had dismissed them all in a fit of anger, and Y’aris hadn’t had to say a word.
The only thing the high lord truly lacked was someone to blame, and that was Y’aris’ task for the day. His only task. To furnish him with an enemy. And when he had that enemy, he would take action that would begin the war Y’aris so desperately craved. The war that had begun over a month before, even if Finell didn’t know it. The war that had unexpectedly claimed so many elven lives. But finally it would be official and Y’aris wouldn’t have to lie to him constantly, always fearing that sooner or later Finell would find out what his soldiers were doing. Or worse that they had suffered such a crushing defeat only a few weeks before.
The pigeon from their envoy relating Herrick’s words, had been difficult to explain away, especially since the high lord had no idea just how large the army had become or even where it was. If he had even once thought to ask Y’aris if he could inspect the men as they went about their duties, his lies would have been revealed. But fortunately he hadn’t, another lie in Finell’s ear about the humans hunting brigands and blaming them, had twisted his thoughts easily enough. Still caught up in his grief and rage, the boy was even more pliant than a young girl.
Then a simple comment about how when the humans had caught their brigands and discovered the truth, they might even consider an apology for all their lies, had had both of them chuckling. Though for very different reasons. Finell had actually been imagining that he would receive an apology. The boy was truly stupid.
And once the war was started officially, Y’aris could explain the terrible loss as simply the casualty of war as the utra had attacked his soldiers while they were training, unprovoked and without warning. In weeks he could have every death accounted for and the people in mortal fear for their lives.
Then, with a crisis to force Finell’s hand, he could start recruiting in earnest. Even this shocking defeat could be turned to his advantage. But first the war had to be officially started, and after a long night of nervous pacing, he had a plan. He knew what to say.
“It’s clear High Lord that these human brigands had help. That someone within the city was guiding them. Telling them the number of soldiers there are, where the patrols travel. How else could they know where and when to strike so accurately? First at your dear sister, and then at my own watchmen as they guarded the city.” His words drew a worried look from the high lord and Y’aris was almost beside himself with glee as he saw his plan coming together perfectly. Finell was one step away from declaring all out war anyway, and not a very large step. The pigeons he received from King Herrick, after being suitably rewritten, were infuriating him, and his sister’s death was always in his thoughts. All it would take was a gentle push. And then Y’aris’ armies who were already invading the human realms, sacking town after town, would have his sanction. And the envoy’s assistant would no longer be able to come before the high lord day after day in protest at what he kept calling a new outrage.
It was lucky that Finell trusted him. Though it wasn’t really so much luck as hard work and planning. He kept believing that the envoy lied to him through his aid. That he was making up these strange stories of elves sacking his people’s towns. That he was simply trying to take away from the fact that humans had killed the high lord’s sister. Finell was a fool.
But the envoy wasn’t completely stupid and he was surely starting to understand as his aid kept returning to him day after day with the high lord’s words, that Finell actually knew nothing. He was almost certainly beginning to realise that Y’aris was the true master and Finell the puppet. And armed with that knowledge he might be able to make trouble for him. And if he knew of the battle and the terrible loss of Y’aris’ strike force and brought that before him in front of the Court, even Finell would begin to wonder. The envoy had to be stopped before that happened. And he had to be punished for annoying Y’aris. And for simply being an utra.
“No elf would do that.” Finell looked down at him from the throne, angry at the thought that there could be a traitor amongst his people. Exactly as Y’aris had hope for, and it was hard to keep his face carefully reassuring while at the same time showing surprise at the thought.
“Of course not High Lord. I did not mean to suggest such a thing. No true elf would ever do something so dishonourable. But there are others within the city. Others who do not share our people’s honour.”
“Others?” Finell looked confused. “All the utra have been driven from the city. Driven from all the cities like vermin.” Driven away and killed, but the high lord didn’t know that last part. The envoy had warned them and sent them all packing as quickly as he could, but not quickly enough, and the bodies of hundreds of merchants and other human vermin now fed the animals along the road north while their valuables had become his. Y’aris was particularly pleased with that. Coin was always useful.
“Not quite all High Lord. There are still a few left. A few who have connections to King Herrick himself.” It took a moment for Finell to gather his meaning, and another for him to find the obvious objection.
“The mission? They would never do such a thing. It would be against their oaths.” But he could see the worried look in his eyes. The boy wasn’t half so sure as he pretended to be, and Y’aris knew that would be enough for his purposes. More than enough. He tried not to smile.
“I wish I could have your faith in these outsiders High Lord. I truly do. But through my soldiers I have learned that all with them is not as it seems. And in any case they are not of our people. They do not share our honour.” It was difficult to maintain his expression of respectful concern when he really just wanted to celebrate his impending victory, but he managed it.
“Why? What have you learned Y’aris?” The high lord was hooked, leaning forwards on the throne, his eyes wide with concern.
“I have learned that the envoy himself was seen running from this very chamber the day the terrible news of your sister’s death was broken. Running through the streets like a wild man. And shortly after that every human trader in the city left. Perhaps fearing the rightful anger of our people. But perhaps also spiriting away the guilty.”
“He was afraid?” But it was a question not a statement, and Finell sounded uncertain as he said it.
“Perhaps High Lord. Or perhaps he was simply surprised that there were any survivors of the attack. And just think what would have happened if there hadn’t been. Bodies chopped up into small pieces for the animals to feed on. Days more to wait to find the remains. It would have looked like an animal attack, your sister’s deat
h an unfortunate accident, and the realm weakened, all without anyone knowing the truth.” Finell’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open as he started thinking about what he was being told. Putting the pieces together.
“You mean…?”
“Yes High Lord. It would have been a perfect attack if it hadn’t been for the courage of a few brave elves as they survived to bring back word.”
His master would be proud Y’aris thought. The way he could so easily twist the young high lord’s mind so that he saw what he wanted him to see. Of course he was barely a young man, and childlike in his trust, so it was quite easy. But still.
“And the mission?” The high lord was listening to his every word and starting to see the utra plot against him.
“Pigeons fly all day and all night from the mission. Surely far more than are needed to keep their King informed of what is happening. And some of my watchmen have reported that not all of the pigeons fly due north. Some fly to the east and west. Some even to the south. As if they are communicating with others within our home.”
“The other missions?” Finell’s eyes were so wide that it was almost laughable. He really had no idea of what was true and what wasn’t. The only thing Finell knew was what he told him.
“Perhaps High Lord. But my fear is that they are speaking with other humans within our realm. Perhaps even the brigands themselves. If they are even brigands and not soldiers dressed as such. My fear is that he is in sooth giving them their instructions.”
“You think that the envoy himself is leading the attacks against us?” Finell wanted to say it couldn’t be. But he couldn’t. Not when he was still a child dealing with his grief. And not when that envoy had stopped so many of his plans over the years. And not when he had no clue that he was being lied to.
“Leading? I do not know that High Lord. Perhaps only passing on instructions. But I do know that the envoy has spoken against all of your plans these past years. He has openly defied your rule in this very Chamber. I do know that he has never been your friend. And I fear that in the messages that he has been sending back to his king, he has made you out to be a danger to the human realm. If that were the case, then they would have to act against you. They would want to find ways to weaken you.”
“And they would want to kill my sister to weaken me.” Finell suddenly saw the plot exactly as Y’aris had laid it out for him to see, and he believed it completely. He even thought he’d come to the conclusion by himself. Y’aris could see the white of anger growing in his clenched jaw. It was so hard to keep the smile from reaching his own face in turn. But he still had one more thing that needed to be said.
“There is also one more thing I have learned High Lord. The envoy knew your sister’s schedule. He knew when she would be at the Wildwood Rose Grove. He paid one of the caravan masters for that information.” It was a complete lie of course, but it didn’t matter any more.
“Elwene!” It was a cry of pain and rage that escaped Finell’s throat. Everything that Y’aris had wanted to hear. He forced himself to bow his head in fake sorrow.
“He killed my sister!” The high lord bellowed it out for everyone to hear, at once surprised and shocked, but mostly angry. And that anger was growing. Killing Elwene had been a brilliant move in so many ways. For a time he had considered wedding the mist addled wench himself, and advancing his claim that way. Finell could have been persuaded to his ends. But then he could not have used her to start a war. And he would have had to have listened to her ceaseless babbling about her precious Mother.
“We cannot prove that High Lord.” But proof was no longer needed. He knew that. Not when Finell had finally found someone to blame, and he so desperately wanted someone to suffer for what had happened to his sister. It was then that Y’aris knew that his work had been done.
“Quiet!” The high lord ordered him to silence as he thought on what to do. Or rather he already knew what he wanted to do. The only thing that mattered to him was that it was done soonest and with great anger. And despite his calming words Y’aris wanted the same.
“Send your soldiers. Capture that utra. Kill the rest and burn the mission. Make it seem as though it was an accidental fire. And then I want your best inquisitors in that prison of yours to question him. We must know everything he knows. We must know who he speaks to. We must find those brigands.” And kill them. The boy didn’t say it but Y’aris could see it in his eyes. He so desperately wanted someone to die for Elwene’s death, that the passion consumed him.
“My Lord!” But Y’aris was only pretending to be opposed, just as he had to be. Later, when this all came down around Finell’s ears, he could point to him and say he had tried to stop him. That the boy was crazed. That he had had to take the Heartwood Throne to save the people from his madness. His grandfather’s madness reborn. But until then he could do everything he dreamed of as he turned a small war into a crusade to crush the humans, and Finell took the blame if and when it failed.
“The utra will not believe it was an accident. And then they will begin a war in retaliation.”
“Do as I say.” Finell was hearing nothing of his objections, which was as he’d expected. As he’d wanted. He was simply too angry. Too much a child. And with those four words the cards had been played and Y’aris’ dreams of glorious war had begun.
“Yes High Lord.” He bowed respectfully before leaving to begin his duties. But anyone seeing him leave would have wondered at the smile on his face. He was never one to be known for his levity. But the sense of relief he felt as he went to fulfil the high lord’s orders to the letter, was immense.
Starting the war without the high lord’s knowledge had always been a game of quo’ril. But waiting for Finell to make a decision about anything was like waiting for the seasons to change, and his master was hungry. He needed to feed, and war was his favourite food. It brought so many souls to his maws, so many new soldiers to his temple doors.
For a moment it had seemed as if his gamble had failed and he had feared the consequences. But now it seemed, the game was turning in his favour once more. Soon he would have his war. Soon he would have his armies. And soon Greenlands would fall before them. And the rest of the utra realm would follow in time.
Soon.
Chapter Sixteen.
Banging at the door in the middle of the night. Thumping and yelling. That could never be a good sign.
Iros knew that as he dragged himself out of his bed and found a robe to tie around himself. These days, there were no good surprises. Even placed under house arrest, confined to the mission and its grounds for so long, he knew that much. Still he knew he had to answer it. Before whoever it was started breaking the door down.
Iros hurried from his chambers and headed for the stairs down to the main room and the entrance hall beyond, after carefully locking Saris in the chamber before she could become upset. On his way he ran into Pita in the hallway, also finishing his dressing and heading the in the same direction. His assistant was just a little slower than him. That he decided was a good thing. The boy was too young and too inexperienced to handle whatever was happening. And if something went wrong, he would have to lead the mission.
“Stay in your chambers Pita. Listen to what is said and send a pigeon if needed. But do not get involved.”
Others were getting up too. He could see their doors opening all along the hallway and worried faces peering at him from the cracks. Everyone had been woken by the banging. “And remember, this is a mission. We observe the code and we do not respond no matter the provocation.” And in his heart he knew that this would be some sort of provocation. Every day of late had been the same.
“Send that to Tendarin as well. We stand for the law always.” He only wished he’d remembered that when he’d faced down Finell. Before he’d let a slimy black hearted toad get the best of him in front of the court. Before he’d foolishly got himself locked away from the court, and left poor Pita to have to try and take his place. He did his best but the lad simply
wasn’t ready for that sort of responsibility, and it was entirely Iros’ fault.
At the bottom of the stairs he turned and headed across the generously sized main room, to the foyer and the front door. He tried not to wince as he heard splintering sounds and realised that the polished cedar couldn’t take much more. Fortunately it didn’t have to and he quickly pulled the door open before their visitors broke it down.
Outside there were soldiers. Lots of soldiers. Watchmen dressed in their blackened chain and carrying weapons, one of them a heavy bronze mace with pieces of cedar in its teeth. And just behind him, standing in the middle of his watchman, was an elf he knew only too well.
“Advisor Y’aris?” Iros was surprised to see him. The man had never called on him before, and he had hardly ever smiled either. But now he wore a blood chilling smirk that set Iros’ heart racing. Even worse than the one he’d worn on that day in the court. Between that and the way that his soldier’s were carrying their weapons, Iros knew that things had to be bad.
“Utra.” Y’aris’ smirk grew broader as he openly insulted him. Iros knew that he had never liked humans but suddenly it seemed he had gained the authority to be open about it. That was not good. “You are under arrest for espionage.”
