by Greg Curtis
“The Mother has time for all her children.” Priests! Iros knew that he would not win that argument with him. Or any other. And that he didn’t really want to.
Saris though saved him from losing too badly as she ran for the aged elf, and he quickly fell to one knee to greet her. After that it was as it had been many times before. She beat her tail against the ground and yipped and nuzzled him excitedly while the elder praised her and bemoaned her master’s many failings. For a moment it was almost as it had been many months before in Leafshade. Before the war. Before so many things.
But as usual the pain of the scars reminded him that it wasn’t, and the ache of his backside from having sat for too long, told him that there were important matters to be discussed.
“Thank you Master Enderi.” He tossed the wagon master a couple of silver pieces for having brought the elders to him, even though the man had probably been paid before they’d left. But the man had proved a useful source of information in the past and he wanted him to remain that way. “Hand their bags to the guards and find yourselves a good place in the market. You will find no shortage of people wanting to purchase your wares.”
“And elders if you would follow me back to the castle, I’m certain we can find comfortable chairs for you to sit on and some refreshments.” And when they’d settled in a little they could tell him of what had happened in Leafshade. And then they could help him with his Tenir problem. He’d been in Greenlands for three long weeks and every week Iros considered to be worse than the last. Though Tenir performed his duties faithfully, helping the rest of his family to make new lives for themselves, it didn’t seem to be enough. Day by day Tenir seemed to sink further into a cloud of guilt and recrimination.
If anyone could use some divine guidance it was his father in law. And Herodan’s arrival might help as well.
Chapter Seventy.
“You’ve failed.” The high priest looked angry as he accused Y’aris of the most terrible crime possible, failing his master, and the former high commander shifted nervously in his saddle. Very nervously since he was completely surrounded by more priests of the Reaver. Once they had been the inquisitors from the prison, the few that had survived the swamp witch’s attack. His inquisitors. Now though they were just priests. Angry priests. And not his.
He’d needed their help to escape Leafshade. He’d known that the people would be searching for him throughout the city and the rangers would be scouting the land, hunting for him. Meanwhile his watchmen had no magic and little understanding of stealth. Their loyalty had actually been a problem. He was their lord and they naturally assumed that anyone who wished him harm was an enemy. And since they knew that they were invincible, they would have fought. To them all of the city, all of Elaris itself should they attack him, would simply be an enemy to be vanquished for their lord. It would never occur to them that they could lose, even when they were outnumbered hundreds to one. And if he had tried to tell them that they might, it might create doubt in them. They might have begun to wonder if they truly were the finest. He couldn’t allow that. They would have fought to the end, getting him killed along with them.
Instead he’d sought out the surviving inquisitors in the dungeon’s depths, helped them escape through the prison’s back passageway that no one, not even Finell knew of, in return for their helping him. It was a deal they were happy to make, but not because they valued him in any way. It was simply because he was the master’s chosen and they needed to bring him back to the Master.
So Y’aris had travelled with them and left his watchmen, a full thousand of them, guarding all the southern roads from Leafshade, making sure that he could not be followed. They had to be useful for something.
The priests had helped him avoid the ranger patrols and escape the region as he’d known they could. Their magic was useful, and unlike his soldiers, they had some ability to think. But they had done so for only one reason. He carried their master’s artefact, and with it his favour. A gift that had never been given to a mortal creature before. Therefore it was only the Reaver himself who should determine his fate. So they intended to bring him back to their dark temple. If not for that decision he would already be dead. Or worse.
Unfortunately worse had turned up only a score of days after they had fled the city, in the form of the high priest. Crassis the others called him but he didn’t like it when Y’aris called him that. He didn’t like any part of him.
Crassis was a horrifying figure of a man. If he was a man. Physically he was bursting with strength, and the muscling in his arms and neck was shocking. He made most blacksmiths look weak. But the real terror was his eyes. His black orbs that he somehow saw through. Or maybe it was the veins, bulging black veins that throbbed with rage and covered every part of him from the top of his bald head to the tips of his fingers. And then there were his teeth, pointed fangs that stood out against his black gums. Teeth that Y’aris suspected he very much wanted to bury in his throat. The high priest was part man and part abomination. And all dangerous.
Somehow Crassis had known they were coming and waited for them. Waited angrily, and with a small party of abominations by his side. In the moonlight they looked even more terrifying, and the fact that Crassis could control them only made things worse.
The priests could command them like animals whereas Y’aris could only command those not nearly as far down the path to soulessness. Which meant that all his watchmen would sooner or later become the priests’ soldiers as they continued their degeneration. He knew that if the high priest said to attack, they would strip him down to his bones in minutes.
“It’s Only a setback.” Y’aris sought to reassure Crassis. “And one that can be set right.” As they’d made their painfully slow escape from Leafshade and Elaris, travelling only by night and barely at a trot most of the time to avoid suspicion, Y’aris had had time to plan his revenge. And there would be vengeance for this. Blood would flow.
The black eyed priest’s response was an almost animalistic growl of rage that set Y’aris’ teeth on edge. He didn’t believe him. And were it up to Crassis Y’aris would already have been fed to the small party of abominations accompanying him. Luckily it wasn’t. As long as he didn’t try to run.
“You forget, I still have an army loyal to me.” But only for a time and they all knew that. If they didn’t act soon the effects of the water would wear off and things would get worse for them all. And he didn’t even know how many watchmen he still had left guarding the roads. Or how many would remain loyal even for a short time. Somehow the elders had been able to overcome his commands and walk straight past his most loyal soldiers in the prison.
“And?”
“If I can get word to them, they can be brought to the master. They can be persuaded to drink a little more of his water. And then they can be transformed into an army of vengeance against our enemies.”
“Bah!” The priest spat at him, the black veins in his face bulging, and Y’aris knew Crassis desperately wanted to kill him. All he needed was an excuse. “You still want to attack the humans? You’ve lost once already and you would waste our master’s blessing on another failed war?”
“No. Not the utra. Not yet. They are too strong with those accursed cannon of theirs.” And he meant it. He hated it but he knew it for the truth that the utra were out of his reach for the present. It still angered him that he hadn’t considered that the cannon could be wheeled. But it had seemed like such a small matter at the time. And at least his new enemies did not have cannon.
“There is another enemy closer to us who is not nearly so strong. Not since they lost the war so badly. Half a dozen large cities and hundreds of small towns, all nearby, all defenceless without their soldiers. None of them would stand a chance against our new soldiers. And each town that falls will not only feed our lord but also provide more soldiers for the next attack.”
Finally he’d said something to stop the high priest’s tirade, if only because he hadn’t expected it. It
was actually possible to surprise him. That was something Y’aris had never guessed. The priests were always so focussed on their master’s will. Of course it couldn’t last.
“You sought our master’s aid to destroy the other races and make your own people supreme, and now you would destroy them? Why would I believe you?”
“My people!” Y’aris screamed in fury. “They spurned me! They turned on me! And after everything I had done for them!” It was Y’aris’ turn to spit with anger, and he was truly angry. Seeing them there on that night when the swamp witch had destroyed his prison, seeing them lost in their grief and outrage, he’d known that his life among them was ended. That they would kill him if they caught him.
But it was more than just fear that had sent him fleeing, it was the knowledge that his people would never understand why he had done what he had. They would never forget or forgive. And they would hate him for all of time. His name would go down in their history as a traitor and demon worshipper. Nothing of all he had done for them, all he had tried to do, would be remembered. And he hated that. He hated them for it.
“I see now that it was a mistake. That I believed them better than they were. I believed them true elves. But the blood has thinned too far over the years. The rot has eaten at their very hearts. And all that remains is an image. The memory of who they once were.”
“For that they must die. All but a few. And I will raise a new race of elves from their ashes. Those of the purest blood only. My blood. The blood of the ancient elven kings. The blood of Turion of Doven”.
“Besides, it doesn’t matter what you believe priest. Only what the master says.”
The high priest snarled at that, a sound that no human throat could make, and by the light of the slowly setting moon, Y’aris could see the black veins in his forehead throbbing angrily.
“Bring him!”
Chapter Seventy One.
“Sophelia.” Iros finally decided to raise the subject. It had been too long already as he had tossed the decision back and forth in his thoughts. But she was lying in bed beside him, knitting away furiously, and he was certain as he rested his hand on her belly that it was thicker than it had been. Not much. Not enough for him to be sure. But enough to make him wonder. And she was knitting. His mother had done that.
“Iros.” She smiled at him, but didn’t put her needles down. For some reason she had thrown herself into the crafts with a passion, and their bedchamber was strewn with her handiwork. Wall hangings, rugs on the floor, draft stops and table cloths. He took a deep breath and forced the words out.
“Are you with child?” It was soon, too soon he would have thought, but it wasn’t as if they hadn’t been spending a lot of time in the bedchamber.
“Husband are you suggesting that I’m getting plump?” She finally put her knitting down and stared straight at him, and he couldn’t tell if she was upset or having some fun at his expense. He often couldn’t tell, and she knew it. She had used it against him several times. Still his answer was the same of course, whichever it was.
“No! No! Never.”
“Then why do you ask? And why are you rubbing my belly?” She looked so serious, her blue eyes holding him tight, and he stuttered and stammered for a bit.
“I’m … just asking.” It wasn’t much of an answer, but it was all he could manage just then.
“And would you be unhappy if I was putting on weight?”
“No!”
“Because in this land of yours I’m surprised that everyone doesn’t weigh as much as a house. Your food is so rich and there is so much of it. And why so many meals in a day?” Naturally he had no answer for her, at least nothing that wouldn’t make him sound like a village fool, so he held his tongue and hoped that she wasn’t actually upset.
“Besides, - ” She abruptly reached out and rubbed his belly. “You’ve been putting on a little weight.”
“It’s muscle.” And it was, mostly. But he was eating like a horse, and despite spending hours every day with the swords and the trainers, maybe it was too much.
“Are you sure husband?” Suddenly she smiled cheekily at him, and he knew that her upset, if she had truly been upset, had passed. Now she was just playing. Who would have guessed that elves could play? “Because maybe the Mother has favoured us and it is you that is with child!”
“But -.” Iros stopped speaking as he suddenly realised he had no idea what to say.
“But what? Would that be so terrible? Truly?” She rubbed his belly some more and he lay there, speechless.
“I would run warm baths for you, and rub your feet when they ached. I would help you down the stairs and hold doors for you. And I would make certain that you wanted for nothing.” She pushed her knitting aside, rolled over and kissed his belly, while he lay there wondering if one of them was crazed. And if so which one. “Wouldn’t you like that?”
“But -.”
“And it is after all a very nice belly.”
“But -.” He ran out of words. Again.
“It’s not normal?” She smiled at him and he was almost sure she was teasing him. Almost. “Of course it isn’t. But Trekor’s tea is very powerful and she is an elder. What is normal for you and me is as nothing for her.”
“You know they say she once turned a man into a tree simply for annoying her. You haven’t annoyed her have you?” But she started giggling as she said it, and he finally let loose a small sigh of relief as he knew that she was simply enjoying a jape.
“You know woman, annoying a lord is just as foolish. I could have you thrown in the town prison!” But he gathered she didn’t feel threatened, by her giggling, which was growing louder.
“And then what? Would you be visiting me in the cells to go for all your rides? In front of all your subjects?” Iros groaned quietly, knowing that she had the right of it. He was very fond of their time together and she knew it. Especially just then as she was letting her hands wander and he guessed she was also looking forwards to a ride. “What would they say?”
He decided to return the favour. “And what would you do if I didn’t?”
“The gaolers?” Iros almost choked when she said that. And then he looked in her eyes and saw the truth. By the divines she could look innocent when she wanted to!
“Old and fat. And if it was you they guarded I would make sure they were women as well!”
“That seems very cruel!”
“So does making a fool of your husband!” But he was laughing too as he said it.
“Ahh but I pay for that. I let you ride as often as you want and in seven or so months I will even present you with a child.” Iros laughed as she said the first, knowing she was speaking the truth even if he wasn’t completely sure who was letting who ride. Then he heard the other part and stopped dead.
“You mean you are?” It was a shock, and a miracle as well. The most natural miracle in the world. “I knew it!”
“Hush my foolish husband.” She put a finger to his lips before he could say something stupid. And when she was smiling like the sun, he knew he had to let her. “You knew nothing. You wondered. You ummed and ahhed like a nervous bride. You tried a dozen times to work up the courage to ask, and then backed away each time. Watching you twist and turn in the wind these past few weeks has been a wonderful sport for me.” And this time he knew she was being honest. No one could fake that sort of laughter, or the tears of joy streaming down her cheeks.
“You will pay for that!” But he wasn’t angry, he simply couldn’t be, and his threats were completely toothless and they both knew it. She didn’t even stop laughing. But she did start tugging up his nightshirt.
“Right now my lord. Please make me pay right now.”
“Well, since you ask so politely.”
Chapter Seventy Two.
“Iros, isn’t it a little early in the morning for this?”
“Elder.” Iros turned, surprised to see Trekor standing by the wall only a few feet from him, but at the same time he had to t
hink it was good timing. Just as he was about to test the range of one of his new cannon. His big cannon.
The eight footer was a beauty, though a true nightmare to manoeuvre into position in its new housing. A dozen strong men and horses with pulleys and ropes had been needed, and all of them straining mightily as they lowered the cannon into its housing. One thing at least was certain. If and when the armies of either Elaris or the Reaver came for them, they would never be able to turn the cannon around and use it on the town.
Of course if what the elders had said was right, then Finell was no longer high lord, and though it seemed hard to credit it, he had to believe them. He only wished that they’d stayed long enough in Leafshade to confirm the outcome of the trial before bringing Herodan back to his family. Sometimes obeying the demands of honour could be costly. But if Finell was gone, that could only be a good thing. It would at the least put off the day when the war broke out.
