“I have come out of courtesy for your family, and for you, whom I once named friend,” said Caenthras, controlling his anger with considerable effort. “I thought you would offer me the same respect. I will not speak against you, Eothlir, but I cannot aid you. I hope that one day, in not too many years, we can meet again and put this behind us and be companions once more. I wish you no ill, Eothlir, but I cannot countenance moving against the will of Anlec.”
With no further word, Caenthras spun on his heel and stalked from the room. Eothlir’s face was a mask of anguish, torn between ire and woe. Alith stared out of the doorway at Caenthras’ retreating back, his teeth grinding.
“See that they leave without incident,” Eothlir said, before waving Alith away and sitting down to bury his head in his hands.
Alith hurried after Caenthras, who returned to his caravan and gave the signal for them to depart. The young Anar watched the coach of Ashniel, hoping to see her draw back the curtain and give him some indication of her feelings, but it was not to be. The coach rattled from the courtyard without the slightest glimpse of her.
Alith silently cursed House Moranin, and he cursed the cowardly Caenthras even more. With a snarl he strode towards the house, the servants and soldiers in the courtyard fleeing before his foul mood like sheep from a stalking wolf.
As when he was a child, Alith sought sanctuary in the wilds of Elanardris, despite the misgivings of his father and the bitter weather. He would walk out into the cold peaks sometimes to hunt, on other occasions simply to be away from any other soul.
On this day he was sat on a rock at the bank of a thin stream, skinning and cleaning a mountain hare he had shot. As he stooped forwards to clean his blade in the almost-frozen water, he caught the reflection of a black shape in the sky: a crow.
“It has been a long while,” said Alith, straightening.
“Yes it has,” replied Elthyrior, sitting down beside Alith. As before, the raven herald was draped in his cloak of shadowy feathers, his face hidden in the depths of his hood. Only his green eyes showed. “And you know that my appearance is not a glad tiding.”
Alith sighed and finished cleaning his knife, slipping it into his belt as he turned towards Elthyrior.
“And what new threat arises?” he said. “Perhaps the dwarfs have built a fleet of ships made from rock and cross the ocean to sack Ulthuan? Or maybe the Sapherian mages have turned themselves all into rampaging goats?”
“Your attitude is unbecoming for a prince of Ulthuan,” snapped Elthyrior. “Allow the grace of your bloodline to show through.”
Alith sighed again.
“I am sorry, but I have much in my mind of late. I suppose you warn me not to go to Anlec?”
Elthyrior sat back in surprise. “How could you know this?”
“Nothing else has changed recently that would warrant your return after twenty years,” explained Alith. “Always you come when there is a decision to be made, to warn against one course of action or the other. It is the way of Morai-heg to lay these dilemmas before us and laugh as we try to navigate our way through the tangled web she has woven.”
“Do you know why you cannot go to Anlec?”
“Bad things will happen, though of an enigmatic nature I am sure.”
Alith stood and looked down at Elthyrior.
“What can I say to you? I cannot promise that I will not go to Anlec. Ashniel is there now, and if you tell me it is unsafe for me there, I cannot believe that it is safe for my betrothed. Your words make me more inclined to go to her, not less.”
“Ashniel is lost to you, Alith,” Elthyrior said sorrowfully, standing and placing a hand on Alith’s shoulder. “Anlec is not the place you think it is.”
Alith laughed and cast aside Elthyrior’s gesture of sympathy.
“You expect me to believe you? You think a few rumours would break the bond that lies between us?”
“Soon there will be more than rumours,” said Elthyrior. “Since Malekith’s return I and others of my order who are loyal to Nagarythe have followed the spoor of those cultists that escaped. They have not been idle, in Nagarythe and elsewhere. Though they are more hidden than ever before, there are ways to find them and learn their secrets. The accusation of the Anars is part of a grander scheme, though what its aim is remains unknown to me. Though word has not yet reached Elanardris, there have been attacks and uprisings in several parts of Nagarythe. The cultists have returned, but this time they declare not for Morathi but for Eoloran of House Anar!”
“That cannot be! You know that we are free of any taint.”
“And yet they protest at the arrest of your family, and so give truth to the lie. Anlec is not safe for the Anars, and I fear that Elanardris will be a haven for little longer.”
“Yeasir…”
“Perhaps,” said Elthyrior. “He should be watched closely. I do not think he knows truly his part in this, he is but a piece on a game board for a more powerful player.”
“Who is this player? Morathi?” Alith waved away his own concern. “She is held captive in Tor Anroc, I cannot believe that she still wields the power over the cults that she once had.”
“You know of the saying, ‘As the parent, so too the child’?”
“You cannot surely suspect Malekith of being the architect of this deception?”
“I cannot surely know anything,” laughed Elthyrior, a bitter sound. “This is a game played with deceit and misdirection. It is played in shadows and with the minds of elves. Yet, I am not a player, I can only follow the moves as they are made and report them to others.”
“So do you know who any of the players are?”
“Morathi, for certain, though at a distance,” said Elthyrior. “Malekith certainly moves some pieces, though for his own ends or those of some other cause I cannot say. Others in his court are also tied to the strings of their puppets, though it is hard to follow the threads back to the hand that controls them. As I have warned before, you cannot afford to trust anyone save yourself.”
“So what am I to do? It seems as though there is little we can do to defend ourselves against accusation if the cults treat us as their own. It seems we are pieces being played, and have no control over the game or its rules.”
“Then you must find a player on your behalf, and change the board in your favour.”
Alith turned away and gazed at his rippling reflection in the icy water.
“The Phoenix King,” he said. “There is no greater player in Ulthuan.”
Elthyrior gave no reply and when Alith turned he saw that the raven herald had, as usual, disappeared without warning. A long caw echoed from the mountainsides and then Alith was left alone with the wind and the babbling of the stream.
Alith brooded on Elthyrior’s words for several days, weighing up the courses of action he could take. Each day brought the risk that news would come of the cults’ uprisings in defence of the Anars, and Alith feared that such tidings would stir Yeasir to firmer security. As midwinter approached, he also knew that travel from the mountains would be all but impossible and, stirred by this vague deadline, called his family together to discuss with them his thoughts.
Unobserved by Yeasir, his soldiers or any of the servants, Alith gathered his family in the chambers of his grandfather. Eoloran was sat beside the crackling fire, while Eothlir and Maieth stood hand-in-hand gazing out of the ice-freckled window.
“I am leaving Elanardris,” Alith announced as he closed the white-panelled door to the chamber.
“For where?” asked Maieth, crossing the room to stand in front of her son. “Surely you do not think to travel to Anlec in such harsh weather.”
“It is not for Anlec that I am bound,” Alith told them. “The Anars are being used, and we do not have the means to reveal this deception. I will go to Bel Shanaar and ask for his intervention.”
“That would not be wise,” said Eoloran. “It is not the business of the Phoenix King to involve himself in matters internal to Nagarythe. Ot
her princes and nobles will not take kindly to interference from Tor Anroc. He knows little of what happens here, and is an uncertain ally.”
“An uncertain ally is better than no ally at all,” said Eothlir. “House Moranin has all but deserted us, no doubt for the benefit of Caenthras’ reputation. Our friends have been few for many years. I think Alith is right that we need to seek strength as times turn against us.”
“Some will say such a move is in defiance of Malekith’s rule,” said Eoloran. “Should we not have the confidence of our prince, then we have nothing.”
“We do not know the counsels Malekith receives,” said Alith, moving to sit in the chair opposite his grandfather. He leant forwards earnestly. “While we can keep our faith with Malekith, are you so sure that what he is told is the truth? Do not his own oaths of honour make him susceptible to lies told by others? If Bel Shanaar is an uncertain ally, Malekith has not yet proven himself a certain master.”
“What of Ashniel and the wedding?” said Maieth. “Caenthras has not ruled out the union between the houses. If he were so turned against us, he would not allow Ashniel to be married. There is hope there, Alith. It is my fear that you would risk that alliance by involving the Phoenix King. Caenthras is a strong advocate of Nagarythe’s independence from the Phoenix Throne.”
Alith shook his head sadly, and gave voice to a conclusion that had troubled him since Ashniel’s departure.
“There will be no wedding,” said Alith. “Though he says one thing to us, I believe that he has turned Ashniel against me. He treads upon the line between friend and foe, not wishing to associate openly with the Anars but willing to keep alive what connection he has should he find the need for us again. In Anlec, I would be the fly trapped in the web. I cannot go there, and in refusing I snub House Moranin and give Caenthras greater excuse to be displeased with us. I wonder how long it is that his goals and ours have been at odds, and it seems that he has positioned himself to benefit whatever the outcome.”
“I am so sorry, Alith,” said Maieth. She crouched beside her son with a tear on her cheek, and stroked his hair. Alith leaned forwards and kissed her on the head and pulled her up.
“I feel as though I had been blinded but now I see the light,” he said. “Though I loved Ashniel, I realise that my feelings were never returned. This was ever a match of politics, made by Caenthras and dutifully carried out by Ashniel. I saw her when she left and there was not a sign that she was sad at our parting. What I saw as calm nobility was no more than cool aloofness.”
Alith found his embarrassment rising and became angry, standing up and balling his fists.
“How much she must have thought herself clever, seeing the ignorant Anar come at her slightest call, like the hawk to its master,” he snarled. “She has played me for a fool, and I filled my part all too well for her. I have read again those letters that she sent me, and think on the conversations we have had, and ever the affection was from me to her, while her own love was but an imagining I had conjured for myself! I am sure she amuses her maids in Anlec with tales of her tame prince, telling them how I will come running to her in the spring with the gentlest flick of my reins!”
Maieth embraced Alith, running her hand down his back. He allowed himself to enjoy the comfort of her love for a while and then gently pushed her away.
“Though I have been wronged, it is not out of spite that I turn to the Phoenix King,” said Alith. “I believe that there is genuine danger for the Anars, and it will come soon.”
“What sort of danger?” asked Eothlir. “How do you know this?”
“First I must tell you that I cannot say from where I gained this information,” said Alith. He held up his hand when Eothlir opened his mouth to object. “I have given my word, but if you trust me then have faith that what I am to tell you is true.”
“Always we will believe you, Alith,” said Eoloran with a concerned look. “Tell us what it is that you know.”
“There have been demonstrations against Malekith’s house arrest of the Anars,” said Alith.
“So there are those who we can count upon as allies,” said Eothlir. “I do not see—”
“By cult leaders,” Alith interrupted sharply. “The cultists make a pretence that we are of their ilk, and thus we will be condemned alongside them. For whatever reasons further their cause, the cults speak openly in praise of the Anars and there is no defence we can make that will stop the accusations that will surely follow.”
“I do not see how Bel Shanaar can help us,” said Maieth. “Why will he not believe our enemies as well?”
“There is no guarantee that he will not,” said Alith. “That is why it is I that must go to him. Better that we put some case before the Phoenix Throne than no case at all.”
Alith waved for his mother to be seated and when she had done so, he stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders.
“I have given this my deepest consideration,” he told his family. “It is not wise that all three lords of the Anars, present and future, are trapped in Elanardris. One of us must leave here so that whatever happens, the cause of the family can be championed beyond these walls. We cannot send a servant to do this, no matter how trusted, for whoever entreats the Phoenix King to help must carry the full authority of the house. I am the most free to leave without question, for Yeasir and his guards are content to allow me to go hunting without escort. They will not expect a swift return and so I can gain a day, perhaps two, ahead of any pursuit that might be sent after me. No one else enjoys that freedom from scrutiny. When my absence is noted, it can be said that I have perhaps fled for Anlec, unwilling to wait until the spring to see Ashniel.”
Alith paused and gave a meaningful look to his father and grandfather. “I am also the most expendable, should things go ill in one way or another.”
“You are not expendable to me!” said Maieth. “You are my son and I would see you safe before all other considerations.”
“None of us are safe, Mother,” replied Alith sternly. “It is not in me to hide here and await the inevitable. The last time we were pressed by the power of Anlec, it was only through the strength of our alliances that we were able to resist our foes. This time the Anars will be forced to stand alone unless we can find help from another source.”
Eoloran and Eothlir exchanged a long look with each other, reading each other’s thoughts from their expressions. It was Eoloran who spoke first, standing and gripping Alith’s arm.
“It is pointless to express regret on things that we cannot change, and I cannot fault your reasoning. I will write letters of introduction to produce for Bel Shanaar. We know each other of old though many hundreds of years have passed since we last spoke. I believe that the Phoenix King will give you fair hearing, though I cannot guess his response.”
“Do not go openly,” warned Eothlir. “Morathi dwells in Tor Anroc and though imprisoned I am sure she has her spies at hand. If the Phoenix King is to aid us, then it must be kept secret as long as possible. I understand why Malekith returned to us without announcement, as the element of surprise is one of the greatest weapons we can yet rely upon.”
“When do you plan to leave?” asked Maieth. “Tell me you will not be going immediately.”
“A day or two at the most,” said Alith. “Though Yeasir has not yet heard of the cultists’ support for us, he will soon and then we cannot say how he will react.”
“Yeasir and his few dozen knights are little threat to us,” said Eothlir. “Should we need to be rid of his scrutiny it is easily accomplished.”
“No!” said Eoloran. “We must be beyond reproach, even when no one will believe us. Yeasir is here under lawful authority and we have accepted as such. We must do nothing that adds further fuel to the fires of suspicion.”
“How will we hear from you, or contact you?” asked Maieth. “Is there a messenger we can trust?”
“There is one who I may be able to use, but I cannot name him now,” said Alith. He directed his gaze t
o Eoloran. “If he does come, you will know him and you must trust him, as I do. I cannot say any more.”
Maieth threw her arms around Alith once more, stifling a sob.
“I will write that letter,” said Eoloran, bowing before leaving the room. Eothlir laid his arms about the shoulders of his wife and son, and the three of them stood sharing the silence for a while longer.
It was three days before Alith was ready to set off for Tor Anroc. His hunting trips roused no suspicion in the warriors from Anlec, and under the cover of these excursions Alith was able to stockpile a small amount of food and clothes in one of the watch-caves in the mountains. On the seventh morning after meeting Elthyrior he was set to go.
He said no goodbyes to his family as they had already said their farewells several times. Alith was eager to leave now that his mind was set—for practical reason of the deteriorating weather and also driven by the urge to act against the forces aligning in opposition to House Anar. He did not depart early, keeping to his usual routine of heading into the mountains mid-morning. Grey clouds swathed the sky though the snow had lightened in the past few days. As he left the manse, Alith saw Yeasir with his knights drawn up for inspection in the courtyard. Alith waved cheerfully and cut eastwards through the gardens, leaving by the gate in the high hedge that bordered the lawn.
Free from the eyes of Yeasir and his warriors, Alith turned south-east and made directly for the cave where he had stashed his provisions. It was past midday by the time he had climbed up to the empty watch post and the snow was falling heavily. The air was filled with flurries of white and Alith was unable to see more than a dozen paces ahead. The wind tugged at his grey hood and cloak and swept his long hair across his face as snowflakes settled on his fur-lined hunting coat. His boots were crusted with ice as he strode purposefully across the snow drifts towards the south. Glancing back, Alith saw the falling snow obscuring the faint footprints his light tread had left. Smiling at being free once more, Alith hiked his pack higher onto his shoulders and pressed on.
[Sundering 02] - Shadow King Page 14
