“Why are they armed?!” Lianthorn hissed as we descended the gangplank. He glared at Ari, who flinched at the reprimand. He spoke English. He wanted us to know his displeasure.
“They are our guests, Lianthorn,” Allandrea interjected, stepping between Lianthorn and Ari. Her blue cape fluttered as she did so. Noticing that, I realised that Allandrea’s retinue all had blue details on their clothing. While Lianthorn and Ari had red. Factions? Castes? Interesting.
I was soon distracted from that train of thought as, past the towering, slender elves, was a stockier figure. A man without pointed ears, inspecting the hull of the ship and signing a clipboard.
I looked at Brett. He frowned, as he noticed it too.
It was a human. A human seemingly acting as a dock master or some sort of clerk.
“You look surprised again, Ms Drummond,” Allandrea said. I had a feeling there was little I was going to hide from her. I didn’t really like that.
“There are humans here,” Brett said, sparing me the uncomfortable explanation. “The news from the outside is that all humans on the North Island were killed. You told us that yourself.”
The accusation was levelled at Lianthorn, who balked.
“And you believed that?” Lianthorn asked, offended and a bit embarrassed under the scrutiny. “We aren’t savages, human. We do not kill innocents. It was a ruse to scare you away.”
“You were awfully close to killing us…” I muttered, under my breath. I forgot about elvish hearing and he glared at me.
“We do what we must to defend our home,” he replied, almost hissing.
“Our enemies across the straits are adept at deceit. The truth is inconvenient to them,” Allandrea explained, calmly, as she glided past us. “I do not enjoy using their deception for our own gains, however, Commander. You know this.”
Lianthorn reddened but did not respond to his queen.
She indicated for us to follow. Past the quay and the human dock master, we entered a waterfront. Humans were everywhere. Working on ships, in warehouses and, as we got to the nicer part of the waterfront, waitering at restaurants or being waited on. Among them walked elves. There was a clear divide between many of the elves and humans, but a few were talking or working on the same jobs.
I had seen the racial slums in Hope City, and they weren’t like this. They were divided. Violent. You could smell the animosity. But, while there was the natural distrust of different species here, there was also a genuine sense of coexistence.
“How could we not know about this?” I whispered, knowing the elves would hear me anyway.
“The elves are a gentler people, Kat,” Treth said, looking at Allandrea with true reverence.
“That is not completely true, Sir Treth,” Allandrea said, frowning. “But the Star and Earth Courts, with my guidance, believe in the virtues of coexistence. We live here now, true, but this is your country. Your world.”
“It is our country,” Lianthorn hissed. “Won by valour and blood. Blood of the long-lived, worth far more than the less-fair folk. We allow humans to live here because we aren’t monsters. But, by right of conquest, this is our land.”
Allandrea frowned, creasing her immaculate forehead. “That is the view of the War Court, yes…”
“The view that has kept us alive this long…your majesty.”
Allandrea turned to Ari. “Do you share your commander’s view? Is this elf land, with humans merely living here at our behest?”
Ari blushed, as she looked between her queen and commander. Both looked keen for a reply from the presumably young elf. She looked down and said something in elvish.
Allandrea nodded, understandingly, but Lianthorn looked dissatisfied.
“This is a complicated country to be sure,” Pranish said, as we strode past a seaside café. Elves and humans alike stopped their working and eating to look up at the queen. Some bowed. Human and elf alike. “But, why have the lies about human purges persisted? These do not look like conquered people.”
“The Star Court has attempted to assuage the rumours,” Allandrea said. “But we do not have the means to fight the human media machine. It is true that violence did occur at the birth of New Sintar…”
“Necessary violence,” Lianthorn interjected again. “Which we must leverage to keep our shores safe and unpenetrated.”
If Allandrea was a human monarch, I doubted she would allow him such disrespect. But elf politics was going to be different from ours.
“Necessary or not, violence is violence,” Allandrea replied, her tone lending a profundity to what otherwise would be mere truism. “Evidence of the violence and the humans who fled south, not to mention the fear-tactics of some of our most zealous warriors, lent credence to their claims. While this land is now peaceful, and I hope living in a semblance of harmony, the humans across the water have not seen that.”
Allandrea looked towards the sea. Just past the horizon must be the South Island. Close enough that when the treaty finally collapsed, artillery would be in range to decimate this beautiful city of both elf and human design.
“But, have you tried reasoning with them?” Pranish asked. “Reporters aren’t Anzac. They could help spread the word.”
Lianthorn shook his head with an air of finality. “The humans own the media. Anzac keeps an iron fist on all information about the island. Even if a reporter could cross the strait, they would disappear as soon as they returned to the South Island. No. We have no choice but to fight. Our survival depends on it.”
Allandrea didn’t reply, but her silence spoke volumes. She couldn’t dispute Lianthorn’s claim. But she wanted to. This violence saddened her. More than anything.
Despite the discomfort at her seeming ability to mind-read, I was starting to grow at least sympathetic towards the elf queen. She had a humanity to her. But something even better than humanity. Perhaps, a compassion that was truly inhuman.
Despite the peaceful nature of the waterfront, as we passed a checkpoint, I started noticing some semblance of what I had expected to see in New Sintar. Elves in similar uniforms to Ari and Lianthorn guarded entrances, saluting Lianthorn and bowing to the queen as we passed. Their armour was oddly modern and oddly medieval. Some bore Sintari runes. Strength or shield runes, I suspected. While bullets made mincemeat of normal plate-mail, magic could even the odds. And metal held enchantments much better than Kevlar or fabric. I heard that even the CDF was considering wearing metal breastplates to counter the impi to the east.
“A lot of swords,” Brett commented, whispering to me. “You should be right at home.”
I smiled. Less at what he said, but more just for the proximity from which he had said it. I reached out and held his hand. He squeezed, reassuringly.
“Swords work well against Anzac?” Trudie asked, through mouthfuls. She had somehow found some dried meat and was chewing away.
“Monsters are not exclusive to Hope City, wolf,” Lianthorn replied, with a tone that suggested he felt the same way about werewolves that most humans did.
Ari frowned at the curtness of her commander and continued. “The swords are not just ceremonial. And we don’t use them against Anzac. Well, not usually. These soldiers serve as monster hunters as well.”
“Swords are sometimes more persuasive than bullets,” I interjected, cutting to the chase. Trudie nodded, understanding. Very few Crusaders doubted swordsmanship after seeing me in action.
Lianthorn glanced at my waist, where Ithalen lay. He nodded, surprisingly, with respect. Perhaps I’d said something he liked.
Suddenly, Ironfoot stopped. His remaining crew stopped with him. We turned and Allandrea walked towards him.
Ironfoot began speaking a tongue unknown to me. It was a straight-forward chant. Practical. As geometrically solid as dwarven runes. Yet, proud.
Ironfoot lowered his head and Allandrea touched his cheek. She replied in his language, shocking some of his crew. He did not show any surprise.
“Never sink, Master Iron
foot,” Allandrea ended, in English.
“And may the winds never fail you, my Queen.”
He looked at me.
“I will see you again, Last Light.”
He turned and walked back the way we had come, his crew joining him.
Allandrea rejoined the group.
“The Greyak’ta must never sleep on land,” she explained. “And he must make rites for his beloved and crew. His ship has been retrieved and waits for him. And you. He will help you make your journey west when the time comes.”
I couldn’t help but frown. Ironfoot had been a fixture in my life for what seemed an age now. I wasn’t sure if he was a friend, but he had become a companion. My heart stung for his loss.
We proceeded through the last checkpoint and were greeted by a bus, of all things. The type of passenger bus you could find in Old Town. It had been painted a chromatic blue, however, and its windows were tinted black.
An elf with the bearing of a butler bowed and spoke elvish to the queen.
“The Royal Carriage,” she explained, for our benefit.
I resisted snorting in amusement. This was the type of bus I had ridden to campus every day. There was nothing royal about it.
But, as I entered its confines, I realised that outside appearances could be deceiving. The rows of seating had been removed and replaced by a veritable luxury lounge. Plush couches faced each other, with a mini-fridge and bookshelf dominating the back. A human driver doffed his cap at us and bowed towards the queen. He was dressed like a chauffeur, in a black tuxedo. It seems that the elves didn’t impose their dress style on humans.
“I prefer this design to the vehicles the human politicians were transported in,” Allandrea explained, indicating for us to sit. There was more than enough room for everyone. Ari was about to take a seat, but Lianthorn glared at her. She remained standing, with him.
Allandrea reclined back in a seat identical to ours. “Refreshments?”
After today’s tribulations, I was parched, starving and exhausted. Allandrea must have sensed all those things, as she muttered an incantation. The central table opened with an electric hum, revealing some chilled bottles of neon blue liquid.
“Elvish frost-wine,” she explained.
“What spell did you use to do that?” Pranish asked, curious. Now that he mentioned it, non-lawmantic magic was not meant to interact with electronics. And this was a very much electronic fridge and mechanism.
“Not a spell,” Candace explained, before Allandrea could do so. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you said ‘Seras, open wine cooler?’”
“Your elvish is good…” she paused, waiting for Candace to reveal her name.
“Candace Evergreen.” She blushed.
Allandrea turned back to Pranish. “I have seen many realms across the In Between and have always been a fan of the technological advances on each. My people’s long life spans and affinity for magic has stifled our scientific advancement somewhat. We think it unnecessary to make advances as we are content in our place in the world. As such, I am overjoyed when I learn of new developments that make magic obsolete. A weyline can only take one so far.”
“So…it’s just voice activated…?” Pranish asked, looking a bit embarrassed and disappointed.
“Yes. But I wouldn’t say just. Technology is a marvellous thing. When sufficiently advanced, it can be indistinguishable from magic. Now…try the wine. It’s refreshing.”
Everyone but Ari and Lianthorn accepted the wine and drank. It went down smoothly and, unlike normal alcohols, truly felt like it was refreshing my thirst. When offered a refill, I accepted.
From out of the windows of the refurbished bus, I watched the city pass by. Streets and city blocks looked straight out of Hope City. But, every so often, an elf-designed building or adaptation intermingled into the landscape. These were usually hard to spot. Elvish architecture was subtle. As if designed to mimic its environment.
But, what did stand out were the fortifications. Many buildings had been converted into fortresses, with cannons and reinforced plating starkly contrasting with what was otherwise a nice and peaceful looking city.
“I can understand the media being dominated by Anzac interests,” I said, restarting that conversation. “But there are other methods. What about the internet?”
Ari, surprisingly enough, frowned. “That was cut off a long time ago. The sea cable was snipped after the Schism. We’ve been dark since then.” She sighed, sadly. “I must be so far behind on my shows.”
“What shows?” Senegal asked, I realised that he had not taken his eyes off Ari since the ship. But, like any good wolf, he was just skilled at pretending not to look.
“Ah, mostly superhero stuff. I was binging the Iron Gauntlet when the cable was cut. And just before we found out if his fiancé was alive!”
“Wait…you watched Iron Gauntlet?” Senegal seemed to start glowing. If he had been in wolf form, his tail would be wagging. “I’ve got all twelve seasons on boxset!”
Ari’s face lit up.
“Star! Oh, apologies, your Majesty. But, that’s amazing. Please tell me, is his fiancé alive? Actually, don’t. No spoilers, but…”
She sat down next to Senegal as they started chattering away about a show that had finished airing when I was in high school. Lianthorn stared daggers at his subordinate but she didn’t notice as she had found a kindred spirit. Their conversation soon turned into niche references that I suspected no one else understood.
I turned back to Allandrea, who looked quite pleased that Ari and Senegal seemed to be getting along.
“There must be some other way, though. Reporters from other countries, sending secret diplomats to other nations.”
Allandrea shook her head. “We have tried. But, while we have secured some fishing waters around the island, Anzac keeps a close eye on any ships entering and exiting the area. If that nymph’s storm hadn’t covered your entry, I’m sure some Anzac vessels would have waylaid you.”
She took a sip of frost-wine, then swilled the remainder as she seemed to become lost in thought. Lucidity soon returned to her eyes and her sadness deepened.
“There is something out there. Some power at work that wants this war to continue. Your aunt assures me that the New Zealand government isn’t as xenophobic as they appear. That there is a real desire for peace. But, the war continues despite that. It doesn’t help that there are elements in our own nation that wish to default to slaughter.”
That jab was pointedly aimed at Lianthorn, and he glared at her.
Something she said struck me, though. It got me thinking. Could it be?
“Allandrea, this is a long-shot…but do you know anything about the Conclave of the 6th Convent?”
Candace and Treth swivelled their heads towards me, shocked at my openness. Candace squirmed, but remained silent.
Allandrea squinted at me, her eyes not falling on Treth or Candace, but I suspect that she had noticed their reactions all the same.
“I have heard of them. And I am glad that you bring them up. I have had my suspicions that they are involved in this as well. Of what I know about them, they seem to be a cabal of dark magic practitioners. There is evidence to suggest that they are pulling the strings behind many conspiracies. And have committed many atrocities.”
Candace looked down. I felt her guilt resonating through her eye in my socket.
Before Allandrea could question my friend, I continued.
“I have faced some of their members before. An elf named Darius and a changeling before then. They seem to be quite racially diverse. They had a werewolf among their ranks as well.”
“Diversity alone isn’t a virtue,” Allandrea replied, actually misunderstanding what I was getting at. That comforted me. It meant she really couldn’t read minds.
“I know, but the elf, Darius’, goals seemed centred around vengeance for what had happened to his people in the city. While I have come to suspect the Conclave to have their hands in many
conflicts, why would they be involved in ensuring an elvish nation is attacked when elves number in their ranks?”
“We don’t need to look at secret societies to know why there’s war,” Lianthorn stated. He crossed his arms, expertly remaining steady even as the bus went over a bump. We had exited the city and were driving up an overgrown road. I glanced out the window and saw a familiar sight. Fae forests. Magically enhanced by dryad magic. We had forests like this in Hope City. There was something simultaneously tranquil and terrifying about them. Twisting roots and dark canopies of greenery, dotted with pink, blue and red flowers. And, between their weaving branches, darkness. They truly embodied the terrible beauty of nature.
“No, the Conclave may be involved,” Allandrea said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “This Darius may have had his own individual goals, but I suspect the goals of the society are different. Not freedom or equality. Perhaps not even vengeance. I feel something about them. A great longing for a simple and primal thing.”
She looked up, her eyes intense.
“Power. Raw power and control. And, if there is a way to gain power by pitting Anzac against us, then so be it.”
“You’re right,” Candace muttered but, as everyone looked at her, she might as well have yelled. Under the sudden scrutiny, she blushed and fidgeted. I squeezed her knee, reassuringly.
“You’re right,” she repeated, strengthened by my touch. “My Mentor didn’t care about people. Or principles. He just cared about his experiments and the power it would gain him.”
“You were mentored by one of these Conclave members?” Allandrea asked, hiding any sense of worry or scepticism. Trudie, on the other hand, resonated both curiosity and disgust.
“I…I was. The Conclave is very secretive. I knew only a few members. All but the Mentor is dead of those I knew.”
“Did this mentor have a name?” Lianthorn asked, impatience in his voice.
Candace shook her head, but hesitated. “He never told me it, but some of the others called him Mr White.”
The Silver Star (Kat Drummond Book 11) Page 20
