02 - Shadow King

by Gav Thorpe - (ebook by Undead)

  Alith did so, with a bow. Bel Shanaar leaned forwards, examining the contents of the platter. He carefully picked up a slice of cooked meat between thumb and finger and as he straightened the Phoenix King glanced at Alith, unobserved by Malithrandin who was still stood by the door.

  “Is this Yvressian loin?” asked Bel Shanaar, waving the sliced meat in front of Alith.

  “That is Sapherian loin, your majesty,” replied Alith.

  “Really?” exclaimed the Phoenix King. “And what is the difference?”

  Alith hesitated and glanced towards Malithrandin.

  “Oh, you might as well leave us, steward,” said Bel Shanaar with a dismissive wave of the meat cut. “My guards can escort your companion back to the kitchens when I’m done.”

  “Yes, your majesty,” Malithrandin said stiffly, bowing as he left, though Bel Shanaar had already returned his attention to Alith.

  “Well?” said the Phoenix King. “What is so special about Sapherian loin?”

  “It is smoked for three years, your majesty, over chips of mage-oak and whitegrass,” replied Alith, who was glad that Iathdir had taken it upon himself not only to improve Alith’s butchery skills but also his general knowledge of meat preparation. “After that, it is soaked in—”

  “You can dispense with the pretence, Alith,” said Bel Shanaar. He delicately folded the thin meat into a small packet and popped it into his mouth. Alith waited patiently while the Phoenix King chewed deliberately. Swallowing, the Phoenix King smiled. “Your acting is as good as your carving. Tell me, why should I not call my guards and have you arrested as an assassin?”

  Alith opened his mouth and then shut it, taken aback by the accusation. He quickly rallied his thoughts.

  “Have you not read the letter from my grandfather?”

  “I am addressed as ‘your majesty’,” Bel Shanaar said calmly. “Even if you are a prince, I am still your king.”

  “Of course, your majesty, my profound apologies,” Alith replied hastily.

  “This letter indeed comes from Eoloran Anar, of that I am certain,” said the Phoenix King, pulling out the parchment from inside his robe. “It makes assurances of the bearer and requests that I offer you every assistance that I am able. Other than that, it tells me nothing. It tells me not of your intent, nor of the loyalties of your grandfather. I know Eoloran Anar of old, and respect him very much, but it appears he does not extend me the same courtesy. It has been more than seven hundred years since I have seen Eoloran in my court. How do you explain this?”

  Again Alith was unsure what to say.

  “I cannot speak for my grandfather, your majesty, or his actions, or lack of them, your majesty,” he replied. “I know only that he has also shunned the court at Anlec and has withdrawn from a public life to enjoy introspection and the comforts of Elanardris.”

  “Yes, that sounds like the Eoloran I fought with at Briechan Tor,” said the Phoenix King. He thrust the letter back into his robe and waved Alith to sit down on the chair opposite. “Nagarythe is an enigma to me, Alith, and I cannot say that I wholly trust you. You come in secret to my palace and masquerade as a servant. You waylay my chief herald and arrange a meeting in which only you and I should be present. My only comfort is that enchantments are woven about this chamber and any blade that passes the door would be revealed to me. So, I feel safe enough, I suppose. What is it that you want me to do?”

  “I am not sure,” confessed Alith. “All I know is that the Anars, a loyal family of Nagarythe and Ulthuan, are victims of some political game or vendetta, and we cannot withstand this on our own.”

  “Tell me more,” said Bel Shanaar.

  Alith then related the recent history of the Anars, from before the return of Malekith and the travails with Morathi, to their recent indictment and arrest as suspected cultists. Alith was not much of a storyteller and frequently he related events in the wrong order, forcing the Phoenix King to ask questions or press Alith to highlight some pertinent point that he had skipped earlier. Throughout, though, Alith kept secret the existence of Elthyrior and was vague when Bel Shanaar quizzed him on how he had come by a certain piece of information or other.

  “You know that there is little I can do to act directly in the lands outside Tiranoc,” Bel Shanaar said when Alith was finished. “The people of the kingdoms answer to their princes and the princes answer to me. Perhaps if it were some other realm than Nagarythe I might be able to intervene, but there has never been anything less than cool relations between the Phoenix Throne and Anlec.”

  The Phoenix King stood and paced to the high, narrow window, the afternoon sun bathing his face. He did not turn around as he spoke, perhaps unwilling to look at Alith as he delivered his decision.

  “I cannot act unless your grandfather petitions me directly,” he said. “Or perhaps your prince, Malekith, though that would seem unlikely. Your opponents have woven their tapestry of lies with considerable skill it would seem, and nothing has occurred that would threaten the authority of my position.”

  Bel Shanaar turned and there was sympathy written across his face.

  “All I can offer you at the moment is the sanctuary of Tor Anroc and my palace,” he said. “I will keep safe your secret, and in fact I will do what I can to make your life here as pleasant as possible without revealing who you are or drawing attention to your presence. You are, of course, free to return to Nagarythe whenever you wish, and I will provide papers and escort to the border to ensure your safety if you do so. I will also make discreet inquiries with Malekith as to his current plans and thoughts, though I will leave out any direct mention of the Anars. If you wish, I can arrange for a message to be delivered to your grandfather, and perhaps he will come to Tiranoc and speak openly of these problems with me. Whatever pressures I can bring to bear on the matter will be brought, but I can offer no promises.”

  The winter passed slowly for Alith, though it was not without event. Bel Shanaar was careful not to reveal Alith’s true identity, but by subtle means was able to extend his patronage to the young prince. It was made known that the Phoenix King deemed his new servant too old and too sophisticated to work as a kitchen boy, and so Alith was, through the stewards, elevated to a member of the court staff, attending to the ruler of Tiranoc and his family. In particular, Alith’s duties were directed towards the comfort of Yrianath, Bel Shanaar’s eldest nephew. This new position required that Alith had the seal of the Phoenix King and he found his freedom to explore the palace greatly increased.

  Alith’s ascent was something remarked upon by the other servants for a short while, but it was not the first time Bel Shanaar had shown favouritism to a particular elf in the household and most of the staff speculated that Alith’s star would soon wane. Though graceful and diligent, he was considered somewhat uncouth for a future career at court, and those jealous of his sudden rise in esteem put down Alith’s promotion to an eccentric fondness of the Phoenix King for the rural, oafish mannerisms Alith occasionally exhibited.

  With his rise in position Alith felt a change in his relationship with Milandith. A bearer of Bel Shanaar’s seal, Alith was privy to parts of the palace his lover was not, and so frequently she interrogated him on the latest gossip from the royal family. Alith became acutely aware that the passion that had brought them together was diminishing, and where once Milandith had viewed him as a source of pleasure she now regarded him as a bottomless well of information. The irony that their expectations of the relationship had been exchanged was not lost on Alith. Milandith’s constant delving disturbed him, through a combination of his natural reticence and discretion, and growing feelings that any gossip might be a disloyalty to the family of Bel Shanaar.

  Alith was keen not to draw attention to himself nor make an enemy of Milandith and her friends, so over the course of the winter Alith saw less and less of her and began to feign disinterest in her advances. Sure enough, as midwinter passed, he heard rumour that Milandith had abandoned her pursuit of Alith and turned her a
morous attentions upon one of the guards. Over a pitcher of Yvressian wine, Alith and Milandith agreed that what they had enjoyed had now passed and they were to go their separate ways with no ill-feeling.

  Though his secret was now safer, Alith’s loneliness increased. He felt trapped in the palace and missed his home. The mountains of Tiranoc were several days away, and even though the winter was far less harsh here than in Nagarythe, he could not spare the time to go hunting there.

  His isolation was not helped by the absence of any news from the north. Bel Shanaar assured Alith that he had despatched a messenger to Elanardris, but Alith feared that the herald had been waylaid, or that his family found it impossible to reply. Information from Nagarythe was sparse, and during the winter months the icy waters of the Naganath seemed to separate the kingdom from Tiranoc as much as any ocean.

  So it was a frustrated, lonely Alith who wandered the corridors of the royal palace, or could be found upon the walls of Tor Anroc at dawn, gazing to the north. A few of his new friends expressed concern for this behaviour but Alith was quick to assure them that he was simply feeling a little weary and homesick and promised that he would be more entertaining when spring returned.

  Yet when spring came, there was no surcease to Alith’s worries. Merchants who had tried entering Nagarythe had been turned away at the border without explanation. What little news that came south was startling. There was fighting between the army of Anlec and pleasure cultists, and even in Anlec it seemed as if Prince Malekith struggled to maintain his rule. Some of his princes had turned against him and supported the cults, while others remained neutral, waiting to see where this latest power struggle would leave Nagarythe. Alith became quite agitated and enquired as to the names of those families involved, but not once were the Anars mentioned, for good or ill.

  * * *

  As these disturbing tidings found their way to the capital, Alith resolved to head back to Elanardris. By means of Carathril, he sent word to Bel Shanaar of his intent and in reply was brought again to the Phoenix King’s chambers.

  Bel Shanaar’s expression was drawn as he stood beside the high arched window that looked out over the south of Tor Anroc. He turned as Alith closed the door.

  “I cannot allow you to leave Tor Anroc,” said the Phoenix King.

  “What?” snapped Alith, forgetting his manners entirely. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that it would be unwise of me to allow you to leave my protection at this time,” said Bel Shanaar. “And I do not think it would be to your benefit either.”

  “But my family will need m—”

  “Will they?” said Bel Shanaar, his expression stern. “Are you so great a warrior that if they are involved in the fighting you will swing the tide in their favour?”

  “That is not what I meant, your majesty,” said Alith, regaining some of his composure.

  “Then perhaps they think you are unsafe here, away from this violent dispute, and would be better protected in Nagarythe?”

  Alith shook his head, confused. He knew he should return to Elanardris to help, but Bel Shanaar was distracting his thoughts with these questions.

  “I am sure they think me safe, your majesty,” said Alith. “It is my duty to aid my house if they are in peril.”

  “Is it not also your duty to keep alive the future of that house?” said Bel Shanaar, his expression as unrelenting as his words. “Though it pains me to say this, you may already be the last of the Anars. Would you see that name die to satiate curiosity? Would you risk every future generation of the Anars because you are afraid of your uncertainty?”

  Alith did not answer but his expression made it plain that he would indeed do such things. Bel Shanaar frowned deeply.

  “Let me make myself as clear as a mountain lake, Alith,” said the Phoenix King. “I am not allowing you to leave these palaces until there is more clarity in this matter. I have given you the benefit of my patronage but these new developments in Nagarythe are disturbing—open fighting between Malekith’s soldiers and the sects—and I wish to know where you are at all times.”

  Alith guessed the intent behind the words.

  “You are keeping me hostage, in case the Anars are traitors.”

  Bel Shanaar shrugged.

  “I must consider all eventualities, Alith,” he said. “While at this time I believe that you and your family are loyal, that loyalty is to Anlec and Nagarythe. Where the loyalty of the kingdom resides is as yet uncertain. It would be foolish of me to allow a potential spy, one who knows much about Tor Anroc, to return to Nagarythe. It would be foolhardy not to keep what means I have for negotiation with your house. Your house decided to bring me in as a player of this game and so my fate is woven into yours. I will use all of the pieces at my disposal.”

  Alith stared dumbfounded at this statement, quite unable to believe what he was hearing.

  “I demand your word of parole that you will not attempt to leave my palace. If you refuse, I shall have you imprisoned,” said Bel Shanaar. His expression softened as he crossed the room to stand in front of Alith. “I bear you no ill-will, Alith, and I give my prayers to the gods that your family is safe and that Nagarythe swiftly overcomes this current turmoil.”

  It was plain to Alith that he had little choice in the matter. If he refused to give his oath, he would be thrown into the cells beneath the palace. Not only would he lose his freedom, even amongst such momentous times this scandal would not go unseen and questions would be raised over his identity. That risked his life and his family’s fortunes. He took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts.

  “By such gods as might bear witness, I swear as a prince of Nagarythe and Ulthuan to remain under the protection of Bel Shanaar, and to make no attempt to leave Tor Anroc until such time as he gives me leave or circumstances change.”

  Bel Shanaar nodded.

  “I wish it were otherwise, and when you become lord of the Anars you will understand that with power come hard decisions. If I learn of anything, I will pass this on to you, and you must promise to do the same for me.”

  “I will, your majesty,” said Alith with a formal bow. “Is there anything else that I might attend to whilst I am here?”

  Bel Shanaar shook his head. “No, that is all.”

  The last fingers of summer were struggling to keep their grip on Tor Anroc when Alith began to overhear reports from Bel Shanaar’s commanders at the northern border, telling of how the skies above Nagarythe were filled with smoke. They sent scouts over the river and found villages in ruins, burnt to their foundations, corpses littering their streets. Seers proclaimed a great darkness was sweeping down from the north, and these rumours soon rooted themselves in the populace of the city.

  Word came via the heralds of other princes that the cults were on the rise once more. For twenty years they had stayed hidden, plotting and growing. At some unheard command they attacked the soldiers of Ulthuan’s rulers, desecrated shrines and temples to other gods, and kidnapped the unwary.

  Even in Tor Anroc there were small sects found practising rites to Atharti and Ereth Khial, and their members fought to the death rather than be taken prisoner. Paranoia gripped the palace at the resurgence of the cults, and hundreds of soldiers were brought back from the border to police the citadel and the surrounding city.

  Fifteen days after the violence began, Alith received a message telling him that his presence was required by the Phoenix King. Alith hurried to the south hall as he had been instructed, and entered to find a great many of the princes of Tiranoc and their households gathered there, along with a small army of attendants and councillors. Alith could not see what was happening and surreptitiously made his way to the front of the crowd.

  Bel Shanaar and his son Elodhir were stood beside the throne at the end of the hall, and Alith could see that Carathril was also in attendance. But it was the figure standing with them that drew Alith’s eye. He wore a suit of golden armour, decorated with the design of a coiling dragon, and a long p
urple cloak that hung to the floor. The warrior wore a long sword at his waist—unusual in that most elves were not allowed to bear arms in the presence of Bel Shanaar—and under one arm he held an ornate warhelm decorated with a silvery-grey crown. His features were severe, his hair black and his eyes glittered with a dark light.

  It was Prince Malekith.

  “I have three thousand soldiers and knights that need billets,” the prince was saying. “Once again I find myself putting practicality before pride, and must ask for sanctuary and the hospitality of Tor Anroc.”

  Bel Shanaar regarded Malekith calmly, no hint of his thoughts betrayed.

  “This is a grave situation indeed, Malekith,” said the Phoenix King. “Doubtless the woes of Tiranoc are not of the magnitude of Nagarythe, but here also the cultists seek to usurp just rule. I am afraid that such aid as I may have been able to provide in times past is now impossible.”

  “I need nothing from the Phoenix King, save his patience and understanding,” said Malekith with a slight dip of the head. “Those that seek to oust me from power have revealed their hand, and this time when I strike back my blow will find every mark. There are many in Nagarythe that fight to protect my rule. Anlec is currently denied me by these wretches. I need a place to rally those forces loyal to me. Soon enough I will commence a new campaign to free Nagarythe of this vileness, for good this time.”

  Malekith’s expression was severe, his manner exuding anger, a deep rage that set his jaw twitching his eyes fierce. Alith had seen that expression once before, when Malekith had spoken of seeing his mother after taking the gate of Anlec.

  “Though surprise has garnered some victories for my enemies, they haven’t the means or the courage for a true war,” the prince continued. “I offered clemency before. Now I offer only swift retribution.”

  “It is in the interest of all of Ulthuan that Nagarythe returns to stability as soon as possible,” said Bel Shanaar. “I cannot deny you the right to shelter, but I must warn you that no other Naggarothi may cross the border without invitation. Is that understood?”