[Sundering 02] - Shadow King

by Gav Thorpe - (ebook by Undead)

  The commotion brought a small crowd from the manse. Soldiers and servants came out of the gates and gazed in astonishment at the return of their master. Alith spied Gerithon amongst them, who sent several of his staff running back to the house. When Alith had reached the gate, his father and mother were striding across the courtyard, trying to hurry yet remain dignified at the same time.

  Alith had no such pretension. He jumped from his horse and pushed his way through the knot of elves, receiving claps on the back and heartfelt welcomes. He broke into a run and met his mother halfway to the manse.

  The two of them shared a deep embrace, Maieth’s tears wetting Alith’s cloak as she buried her face in his chest. Eothlir joined them, wrapping his arms around both of them. His expression was austere but there was a gleam in his eye that betrayed his joy at seeing his son alive. Alith was grinning widely. Then he remembered his charges.

  Turning to the gate, Alith saw Lirian, Saphistia and Heileth sitting on their horses and gazing around in shock. Servants helped them down, taking the children for a moment before returning them. Alith performed the introductions quickly, mentioning only the names of his companions. Though he knew they were safe here, he did not want idle chatter to spread concerning Lirian and her son.

  “We need to talk,” he said to Eothlir and his father nodded, waving them towards the house.

  “Gerithon will ensure our guests are looked after,” he said.

  “Where is Eoloran?” Alith asked as they walked along the paving.

  “He’ll be waiting inside,” said Maieth.

  Indeed he was. Alith’s grandfather was in the main hall, sat at the end of the table with his fingers steepled to his chin. He looked up as Alith entered, his face a blank mask. Alith felt a sudden nervousness at Eoloran’s behaviour, and feared that he had done something wrong by returning. Or perhaps he should have returned earlier?

  “You have been away a long while, Alith,” Eoloran said solemnly. His facade broke as a smile crept into the corner of his lips. “I hope you have been busy with important matters to neglect your family for so long.”

  “More than I can ever tell you,” laughed Alith, striding to his grandfather and embracing him. “Yet, I will try to.”

  Gerithon appeared at the doorway.

  “Your guests will be quartered in the east wing, lord,” he said.

  “Thank you, Gerithon,” Eoloran replied. “And please ensure that we are not disturbed.”

  “Of course,” Gerithon intoned with a shallow bow. He backed out of the hall and closed the doors soundlessly.

  Alith gave as brief a summary as he could concerning the events in Tor Anroc and the circumstances of his departure. The others listened intently without interruption, but as soon as he was finished they had a barrage of questions.

  “Do you think the Tiranocii will resist?” asked Eoloran.

  “They will try, and they will fail,” said Alith. “The court is held hostage and the army has no direction. If Morathi were to cross the Naganath, I doubt there is much that Tiranoc can do to stop her.”

  “Tell me more of Caenthras,” demanded Eothlir. “What was his part in all of this? Is he knowingly complicit?”

  “It was Caenthras who entrapped Prince Yrianath, Father,” Alith replied. “Though I doubt he is the sole architect of this usurpation he is certainly one of its chief agents. I saw banners of his house amongst the warriors that arrived.”

  “You are sure that Yeasir fell?” Alith’s father continued. “Perhaps his troops will not be so happy to fight under Caenthras.”

  “Some were loyal to Yeasir, but I do not know how many,” said Alith. “And amongst those there were none that he trusted with the location of his wife and child. I do not think the druchii will turn on each other, if that is your hope. And Yeasir definitely fell. No warrior save perhaps Aenarion himself or Prince Malekith could have fought such numbers alone and survived. His family is now my responsibility.”

  “And we will help you bear that,” said Maieth. “Now, tell me more about Milandith.”

  “There will be time enough later to hear about Alith’s romances,” Eothlir said. “First we must decide what we will do next.”

  Alith nodded, knowing that it would be well into the night before such a decision was reached. Maieth fluttered a hand at her male relatives and stood up. She stood behind Alith and laid her hands on his shoulders.

  “You can’t hide from me forever,” she said, kissing him on the top of the head. She walked away and then looked back as she opened the door. “I’ll find out what you’ve been up to!”

  “Give me Morathi’s torturers before an inquisitive mother,” said Eothlir when Maieth had left the room. Alith nodded in fervent agreement.

  ——

  Dark Fen

  As Elthyrior had predicted, the druchii were intent on subjugating all of Ulthuan. Over the course of the following winter Anlec strengthened its grip on Nagarythe, pushing back those factions opposed to Morathi’s return. Elanardris again became a safe haven for these dissidents, including princes and captains. Thousands of Naggarothi warriors made camp in the foothills of the mountains. Durinne, lord of the port of Galthyr, resisted for the whole of the winter, but fresh forces besieged the city when the snows began to thaw and the druchii were victorious. They took many ships that had sought winter harbour, and with this fleet nowhere on Ulthuan was beyond their reach.

  By mid-spring, the armies of the druchii marched. With Tiranoc divided, they were able to control the passes eastwards and advanced into Ellyrion. Their navy prowled the coast to the north and west, only kept from the shores of Caledor and Eataine by their fear of the powerful fleet at Lothern. All the while, the Anars expected the fury of the druchii to fall upon Elanardris, yet the blow never came. Morathi, perhaps out of arrogance, saw no threat from the mountains and was determined to subjugate the other kingdoms as swiftly as possible. The questioning of commanders captured by Anar raids confirmed as much: when Ulthuan was under Morathi’s control, she would have time enough to deal with the Anars.

  The Anars led sorties into the rest of Nagarythe, but were unable to mount any kind of meaningful offensive. Wary of being surrounded or leaving Elanardris unguarded, Eoloran and Eothlir could not bring their full strength against the druchii. Thousands of refugees had fled into the mountains around the Anars’ lands. Food and other resources were scarce, and so the Anars fought a guerrilla war, hitting the druchii columns as they marched to Tiranoc, then withdrawing before their foes gathered their strength.

  In this time, the Shadows were reformed, with Alith as their leader. Their numbers swelled to several hundred of the most deadly warriors in Elanardris, and Eoloran tasked them with disrupting the druchii as much as possible.

  Under Alith’s leadership, the Shadows terrorised their foes. Driven on by his memories of the Khainite camp and the occupation of Tor Anroc, Alith was merciless. The Shadows did not fight battles. Instead, they crept into camps and killed warriors in their sleep. They raided villages supplying the druchii armies and destroyed food stores and burnt down the homes of those that supported Morathi. Nobles loyal to Anlec soon began to fear for their lives as Alith and his Shadows hunted them down, slaying them upon the dark roads or breaking into their castles to kill them and slaughter their families.

  It was while returning from an attack on Galthyr, during which the Shadows burnt half a dozen ships in the harbour with their crews still aboard, that Alith next met Elthyrior. A year had passed since the massacre at the shrine, and for all the psychological damage the Anars had inflicted, Alith knew that they had achieved little real gain. Yet what Elthyrior told him gave him some hope.

  “There is a new Phoenix King,” said the raven herald.

  The pair had met in a copse of trees not far from the Shadows’ camp on the northern edge of Elanardris. It was night-time and neither moon had yet risen. In the darkness the raven herald was invisible, a disembodied voice amongst the trees.

&nbs
p; “Prince Imrik has been chosen by the other princes and, thank the gods, he has accepted the Phoenix Throne,” Elthyrior continued.

  “Imrik is a good choice,” said Alith. “He is a warrior, and the realm of Caledor is second only to Nagarythe in strength. The dragon princes will be a firmer test for Morathi’s warriors.”

  “He has taken the name of King Caledor, in memory of his grandfather,” Elthyrior added.

  “That is curious,” replied Alith. “It is not without merit. It is well that the other princes are reminded that the blood of the Dragontamer runs in the king’s veins. Do you know anything of his intent?”

  “He intends to fight, but more than that I cannot say,” said Elthyrior.

  “Perhaps there is some means by which we can send a message to Caledor,” said Alith. “If we could join forces in some way…”

  It was with this thought that Alith returned to the manse to consult with his father and grandfather. Several messengers were sent south, but the Naganath was well patrolled. The bodies of three heralds were found upon stakes on the road to Elanardris, dismembered and flayed.

  The winter passed without reply, and the fate of the last messenger remained unknown. What little news that reached the Anars was not encouraging. Despite King Caledor’s appointment, the other realms still appeared much divided, especially those to the east that had yet to suffer the full wrath of the druchii. Far from joining forces behind Caledor, the princes were more concerned with protecting their own lands, so that Tiranoc, Ellyrion, Chrace and Eataine suffered greatly at the hands of the advancing armies.

  It was late spring when a bloodied herald rode up to the manse and demanded an audience with Eoloran. The lord of the Anars summoned Eothlir and Alith to the great hall.

  “I am Ilriadan, and I bear tidings from the Phoenix King,” said the messenger. He had been given fresh clothes and a wound on his arm had been bandaged. He sat at the long table with the others, food and fortified wine laid before him.

  “Tell us what you know,” said Eothlir. “What news of the war?”

  Ilriadan drank a little wine before answering.

  “There is little to comfort those who resist Morathi’s expansion,” he said. “King Caledor does what he can to stem the attacks but the druchii, as you call them, have gathered their strength and no force the Phoenix King can yet muster matches them. He is forced to retreat from their advance, slowing it for a time and little more.”

  Eoloran was disconcerted at these tidings. He sighed and bowed his head.

  “There is no hope that the Phoenix King can mount an offensive?” he asked quietly.

  “None at all,” said Ilriadan. “His princes do what they can to rouse the dragons of Caledor to fight with them, but few of them remain willing to aid the elves. Without the dragon princes, the army of Anlec is too strong.”

  “Is there any effort that we might make that will aid the Phoenix King in his cause?” asked Eothlir.

  Ilriadan shook his head.

  “The druchii hold several castles and towns in Ellyrion and Tiranoc,” said the messenger. “The Phoenix King thought to raze the lands ahead of their advance, but the other princes have refused, and say that they will not starve their own people. Morathi consolidates her hold on what she has already gained and we fear a fresh offensive next year.”

  “I cannot believe that in all of Ulthuan there is not the force that can match our foes,” snapped Alith. “Nagarythe is strong, but surely the other kingdoms can muster an army to match!”

  “You are Naggarothi, you do not understand,” said Ilriadan. “You are raised as warriors. We of the other kingdoms are not. Our armies are small compared to the legions of Nagarythe. What warriors we did have, most left our shores to forge the colonies, and those that remain have never seen battle before. The druchii have beasts from the mountains that they unleash upon us, and deranged cultists that lust for blood and do not fear death! Many Naggarothi have returned from Elthin Arvan to swell the numbers of Anlec’s host. Each of them is a veteran of war and a match for every five of ours! How can we fight against such an army, a monster driven on by a hate of its foes and a terrible fear of its commanders?”

  The Anars all remained silent, absorbing the realisation that there would be no help from outside Nagarythe.

  “We train such soldiers as we can, but King Caledor cannot throw his untried forces into reckless battle against such a superior foe,” said Ilriadan.

  “How long before your army can fight?” said Eoloran.

  “Two years, at least,” came the reply, and this was answered by a chorus of sighs.

  “Not all is despair,” Ilriadan added quickly. “The druchii do not have the ships to breach the Lothern gate and so cannot dare to cross the Inner Sea. Caledor to the south still holds strong, and the enemy face fierce opposition to fight their way through Chrace. The Phoenix King’s cousin rules there and was not at the shrine, so Chrace is united under his rule. The mountains will not be as forgiving as the plains of Tiranoc. Should they pass Chrace, the druchii face Avelorn. Isha will not suffer such dark creatures in her forests and the spirits of the woods will fight beside the warriors of the Everqueen. Not all of those whose lands the druchii have occupied have capitulated, and maintaining their grip will sap their strength. In speed and surprise they have gained the advantage, but time is a weapon on our side. The victories of this past year will not be so easy to achieve in the next, and in the year after… Well, let us not get ahead of ourselves.”

  The Anars were forced to conclude that they could do no more than they were already. They fortified the hills of Elanardris as best they could, expecting attack at any time. From this haven, the Shadows sallied forth on their raids and the warriors of Eoloran menaced troops moving along the eastern roads.

  The situation in the mountains worsened as those fleeing Chrace crossed from the east, daring the treacherous peaks to get away from the druchii scourge. There had been little enough food to begin with and thousands more mouths needed feeding. Alith was forced to redirect the attentions of his Shadows. They ambushed the druchii caravans to steal supplies and raided grain houses. They attacked isolated patrols and stole their baggage—tents, clothes and weapons that the Anars needed.

  Alith feared that the Shadows had been turned from feared warriors into quartermasters, but Eoloran was adamant that the refugees needed to be provided for.

  Another bleak year passed, and another. Chrace was almost overrun. Groups of hunters held out in their mountain lodges, but the roads to Avelorn were open to the druchii. In this way, Ellyrion was surrounded, though Prince Finudel still held his capital at Tor Elyr.

  Scattered word came from further east. In the lands of Saphery, some of the mage-princes of that realm had been lured to Morathi’s cause by the promise of sorcerous power. Though outnumbered by the loyal mages, these sorcerers waged war with their kin. The meadows were blasted by magical fire, the skies rained down comets and the air itself seethed with mystical energy.

  The druchii had dared an attack on Lothern, seeking to gain control of the formidable sea gate. The assault had been repulsed with heavy losses on both sides, the loyalists only claiming victory after King Caledor arrived with the army of his kingdom. That realm remained secure against the druchii advance and, like Elanardris, became a sanctuary for those from Ellyrion and Tiranoc pushed out by the warriors of Anlec.

  Still the Anars waited for the time to strike.

  It was not until the fourth year of the war that the druchii advance stalled. Hawks carrying messages from the Phoenix King arrived at the manse with the coming of the spring. Eoloran read these with some satisfaction.

  “The dragon princes have ridden forth at last,” he told Alith and Eoloran. “King Caledor has used the Eataine fleet to gather together his new army on the border of Ellyrion and is advancing north.”

  “That is good news indeed,” said Alith. “When he reaches Tiranoc, we should strike out to join him.”

  “I fear
that we may extend ourselves too soon,” replied Eoloran. “We must judge the right time to strike for the greatest effect.”

  “We cannot afford to be too cautious,” argued Eothlir. “Though our army is not so large as Caledor’s, it is in the right place to threaten the druchii. We cannot hold much longer, and certainly not another winter. Would you wait until Caledor is upon the borders of Elanardris before acting?”

  “You go too far!” snapped Eoloran. “I am still lord of this house!”

  “Then act as a lord!” replied Eothlir. “Lead out the army now! This is our best chance for victory. As we helped Malekith at Ealith, we can do the same for the Phoenix King. Bite into the heart of our foes and force them to bring back warriors from Ellyrion and Tiranoc. Our raids accomplish little, they have become nothing more than an annoyance to Morathi. Let us gather what warriors we can and act boldly.”

  “It is folly,” said Eoloran with a wave of his hand. “Who will protect Elanardris?”

  “The Chracians and Tiranocii have enough warriors to hold the hills until our return.”

  “Leave my lands in the hands of outsiders?” Eoloran laughed scornfully. “What manner of prince would I be?”

  “One who can swallow his pride to do the right thing,” said Eothlir.

  Alith watched the argument with horror. His father and grandfather had quarrelled on occasion before, but he had never seen them both as angry. Always they had debated on principles but now they attacked each other.

  “You think it is pride that steers me?” Eoloran roared. “You think those helpless thousands camped in the mountains are of no concern?”

  “They have no future unless we act,” Eothlir replied, chillingly calm in the face of his father’s ire. “They will starve or freeze to death by the end of the year, for we cannot continue to feed and clothe them. The only way to end their suffering is to end the war. Now!”