Consequences (Majaos Book 2)

by Gary Stringer

  “When you left us the last time, you were warned what would happen if you ever returned,” said the tall, slender elf with the jetblack hair. He gestured to the guards. “Bring him.” Dark elf guards routinely performed special cleansing rituals in order to ward off the effects of touching those who were dishonoured, as their roles often required them to do. It may not have the power to affect them in any spiritual way, but it still made their skin crawl and in special cases such as this, it would take several moons of bathing to entirely wash off the stench. Preferring to avoid such contact as much as possible, they pushed Phaer along with their spears.

  “What warning is that?” Phaer demanded. He knew it was his brash human side talking and that would only serve to condemn him further, but what did that matter? He was home, among his people, here to give them news of impending doom at the hands of an Ancient and powerful force. How much worse could things get? One way or another his death was assured and his elven side was prepared to accept that fate with good grace. His human side, however, was concerned with a single, crucial difference: He had to share the dread tidings of Niltsiar prior to his execution. These days of course, necromancy was, ironically, dead. Therefore there was no chance of giving his warning posthumously. Legend held that this had been dark elf practise in ages past: kill first, ask questions later. It was imperative that the dark elves be warned. His encounter with Z'rcona in the mine of Marina Fells proved that one of them was already involved, and if something affected one dark elf, it affected all dark elves. That was the way of things. Suddenly a chilling possibility occurred to the ranger: what if his people already knew about Niltsiar? What if they had already chosen sides in this conflict? In that case he was doubly dead...at least the fall of necromancy ensured he could only die once.

  No, he told himself. He had to assume that they knew nothing of Niltsiar's return and stick to his original plan. Therefore he gave his human side free reign. It was not enough that he should say the words he had come to say; the dark elves had also to listen, and sometimes, in his experience, one needed to give the placid elves a good shake in order to get their attention.

  “You never gave me any warning,” Phaer continued to argue, “and I did not `leave`. I escaped!”

  “Correction: we permitted you to escape. Had we wished it we could have easily hunted you down in the forest.”

  “But you didn't, did you?”

  T'lar shrugged. “Even dark elves make mistakes occasionally.”

  Phaer pounced. “Was that an angry retort you just made then? A weak human response from the great T'lar? Where is your elven calm and control?”

  “I was merely pointing out that allowing your escape was a tactical error.”

  “That's not what you said,” Phaer persisted. “You read too much into words. You always did.” “Surely, T'lar, you are just a pebble in the flow of the Great River of Destiny that is merely following the course that was intended from the beginning! Surely you're not suggesting you could have changed anything that was not meant to be changed?”

  By now, Phaer had been taken into the elf city proper and he was causing quite a stir.

  “Enough!” T'lar spat. “You will not cause an unpleasant scene in the sacred city.”

  “Sacred?” Phaer scoffed. “You don't know the meaning of the word, any of you!”

  “Be quiet!”

  “Or what? You'll kill me?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  “Oh, you're just full of surprises aren't you?”

  “You will desist!” “No I will not!” His voice rang clear and true through the trees, carried to sharp elven ears for miles. He knew this place. He remembered it. The acoustics were ideal. “At least, not before I cause enough of a disturbance to make sure I have everyone's attention around here so you will be forced to hear what I have to say and you will never be able to later hush the whole thing up and pretend it never happened. This is too important for that!”

  He stopped suddenly on the spot, belatedly realising he was lucky that the guards' reflexes were up to the task; otherwise he might have been run right through with a spear.

  That would come later. Right now he had something to say.

  “Listen to me, all of you! I come with a dire warning: the Ancient One, Niltsiar, has returned!”

  * * * * * Phaer was bundled into a cage, the door bolted from the outside and guards placed - at least two to watch the prisoner, continuously. Their bowstrings were taut; if the half-breed should attempt to escape, no matter how fast he was, he couldn't be fast enough to avoid being struck by at least one arrow. And it did not even have to be a clean hit in order to be fatal. Their arrow tip glistened, betraying the herbal poison they were laced with. The tiniest nick would carry with it enough poison to drop an ogre within five heartbeats. The guards had already wagered among themselves how many steps Phaer would take before the poison killed him - if, that is, he should try to escape...and they dearly hoped he would. Phaer, however, had no intention of doing anything so futile. His elven side had reasserted itself and he was surprisingly calm. Sooner or later - probably sooner - he would die. Whether by a poison arrow or a blade or the executioner's axe, what difference? Dead was dead, no matter the how.

  The main part of the dark elf city was something like the forests of their cousins. Like, yet unlike. Elves traditionally lived among great tall trees, reaching ever higher to touch the sky and though entrances to their community were few, the surrounding area was open and inviting. In the city of the dark elves, towering, overhanging cliffs formed a roof on their world, while the undergrowth around the perimeter at ground level was impenetrable unless one knew precisely where to look. Any random explorer - even another elf - would naturally skirt around the dark elf community without ever knowing it. Of all differences, however, one reigned supreme in its significance as a reflection of the philosophy of those who lived there.

  The elves' ancestral home was shaped to fit within and compliment the natural beauty of the forest. Sometimes magician’s woodshaper magic was used, often after years of deep consideration, to make a minor adjustment to some natural feature, but only in a way that gently enhanced nature and benefitted the tree. It was not uncommon for an entire elven House to build a new home to make way for a tree that was growing into their old place.

  The dark elf city was perfection in form, where nothing so much as a single stone had been left to its natural shape, aspect or position. A cruel sense of order prevailed there and no forest elf could bear to venture any distance into this world of twisted, tortured nature. But this was the dark elf view of how the world should be: dark elf control, dark elf power, dark elf mastery.

  Phaer had explained to his people, in detail, about the rise of the woman who had taken the name of the Ancient One and decimated the highest echelons of the Council of Magic - Gamaliel just barely clinging to life and then only by chance. Who else could have such power? He mentioned also that one of their people, Z'rcona, was already working for Niltsiar. The only reason she had not stopped to kill him, as she had long since vowed to do should they ever meet outside dark elf lands, was that Niltsiar had some kind of rule against pursuing personal vendettas. That much struck a concordant note with dark elf history.

  Phaer did not mention Eilidh or his role in the rescue of Princess Mystaya of Shakaran. He was determined to protect them. Besides, it didn't really have anything to do with why he was here. Still, his people were not stupid. They knew he was holding something back and they had a number of ways of encouraging their captives to reveal that which they wished to keep hidden. Whether Phaer could hold out against the torture that they were no doubt planning, the ranger honestly didn't know. His only advantage was that he was well versed in dark elf interrogation techniques. He knew what to expect and so long as he picked his moment properly, he could force the dark elves to kill him. Then the information would be safe.

  He could, in fact, have taken that course of action at that very moment. If he made a d
etermined, futile effort to escape, one of those guards would have no choice but to put an arrow in him. He didn't suppose they could learn very much from his last few breaths. But the time had not yet come for that. He first wanted to be absolutely convinced that they believed him. That was why he had come here. It was his sincere hope that the shock of Niltsiar's return, coupled with the ancient history as they told it to each generation, would force them to change. They would have to work with other races to survive and maybe, just maybe, their unique view of history would provide vital information that was lost even to other elves. Phaer was sure Niltsiar had been forgotten by the elves of the forest, except perhaps as some vague, mythical figure from the Ancient world. One side of his nature told him it was a vain and foolish hope that his people would do the right thing; the other said he had to try...strangely, as T'lar returned, Phaer realised he wasn't sure which side was which.

  “Now, let me give you one more chance to go through this from the beginning,” T'lar said, smoothly. “This time you will tell me everything, leaving out no detail, or it will become necessary to resort to more unpleasant methods.”

  “I can't tell you anything more,” Phaer insisted. “All that matters is that you understand and accept the fact that Niltsiar is here in the world.”

  “But that is precisely the point, is it not? Why should I accept your words, half breed? Why should we believe you?” “Oh you should definitely believe him!” came a voice from the shadows. T'lar and the elven guards whirled around until they found themselves face to face with an uninvited guest who stepped into the midday sunshine and leaned casually against a tree. She appeared to be a human female with flaming red hair, a mere two decades of age, but Phaer knew better, for how could he fail to recognise the striking, alluring silhouette of Bernice Ardra, or Bunny as she called herself?

  The fact that she was standing there, calm as you please, apparently unconcerned by the multitude of arrows pointing at her, gave the dark elves reason to pause. This woman was either very foolish or very dangerous and since T'lar could not comprehend anyone - even a human - being so stupid, he was ready to assume the latter.

  Identifying T'lar as the elf in charge, Bunny said, “I should thank you...er...sorry, who are you exactly?”

  T'lar drew himself up to his full height of over seven feet, and answered, “I am T'lar, Chief Aide to the Sovereign.” Smiling sweetly, Bunny expertly pi erced his ego, with the admission, “I'm sorry, I'm afraid I have absolutely no idea what that means. It does sound awfully impressive, though,” she added in a patronising tone.

  “The Sovereign, madam, is our ruler and I see to it that his wishes are carried out.”

  “Oh I see, kind of like a king's secretary, then.” Phaer had to stop himself from applauding. Bunny was insulting the second most powerful figure in the entire dark elf communion, but doing it with such an air of innocence and grace that left the elves looking at each other, confused and unsure what to do.

  She continued, “Well, I have no fancy title to offer.” Again the veiled insult, dismissing dark elf authority as meaningless and irrelevant in her eyes. To dark elf thinking, that could only mean that she worked for someone of great importance. Someone very powerful. While they were still so unsure about who this woman before them was, they were fearful of the consequences that might result from any precipitous action.

  “I am nothing more or less than an agent.”

  “An agent of whom, madam?” Phaer was sure T'lar was going to choke if he had to address a mere human as `madam` one more time.

  Bunny blinked as if the answer were so obvious, it never occurred to her that anyone would ask the question. “Why, an agent of Niltsiar, of course.” T'lar and the guards took a few unconscious steps backward, and a number of dark elf citizens who had been making to pass by the area suddenly remembered they had pressing business back the way they had come.

  “Anyway, as I was saying, I should thank you for capturing my target for me.”

  “Your target?”

  Again the surprised blink and an expression that seemed to say, silently: Am I dealing with children here that I have to explain every little thing to them? “The hal f-elf you have caged up - Phaer - of the House of the Fountain, I believe? I've been tracking him for some time. Quite tricky to catch, you elves, especially in these tree-bound areas. Anyway, if you could just hand him over. I'll be on my way.”

  T'lar was suspicious, but Bunny's manner continued to stay his hand. “Why would the great Niltsiar entrust a mere human to such a task and, come to that, how can I be sure you really are an agent?”

  “Actually,” Bunny replied, “those two questions have the same answer. You see...” Her face abruptly changed with a roar that sent the elves back a few more steps. “...I'm not human,” she finished, although by now that was quite obvious.

  “A vampire!” T'lar squeaked, making a show of clearing his throat to try to regain c ontrol of his voice. Phaer could see it was futile: T'lar had lost control of everything the instant Bunny appeared.

  Bunny held up a finger for emphasis. “A vampire who is standing here in the forest around midday in glorious direct sunshine. Quite pleasant, actually.” She stretched luxuriously in the heat. “I’m hoping to get a decent tan. Now I ask you: who else but Niltsiar would have the power to grant me such resistance to sunlight and fire?” She fixed the guards with a dangerous glare. “Wooden stakes and poisoned arrows don't work too well, either,” she growled.

  That, of course, was a lie, but since her first claim was obviously true, the elves were not about to take a chance on the others. At that moment, with little more than words, Bernice Ardra was almost invincible.

  “What does your Mistress want with him?” T'lar asked. Bunny shrugged. “I am not privy to the full extent of Niltsiar's plans. As an agent, she simply tells me to do a thing and I do it. Still, I would imagine that she will have questions to ask him and, one way or another, he will give her the answers. With the proper training, I am sure he will soon be begging to tell my Mistress everything he knows.”

  “Why don't you leave him here, then,” T'lar suggested, “and let us interrogate him? We will find the answers Her Divine Excellency seeks and thereby prove our loyalty to her cause.” Phaer's heart sank at that: his people had just picked sides and they had chosen as their ancestors had. Niltsiar would once more have the support of the dark elves. He supposed that placed him on the side of those who would fight against them. What difference that would make, he couldn't imagine - he was dead either way. He could end it all right now, he realised once more. Ironically, suicide would probably gain him a small measure of honour in the eyes of his people, which he could never have gained in life. Were he an elf, he was almost certain he would do it, but being half human gave him a different perspective. He had done his best to help his people, given them a chance - there was honour in that, surely. A very human concept that: that one could make one's own honour, shape one's own destiny. OK, so he was the walking dead. That meant he had nothing to lose.

  Besides, Bunny had gone to a lot of trouble to try and get him out of here; it would be a shame to spoil it for her. “Those are not my orders,” Bunny answered, simply, restoring her human looks. “You can show your loyalty by fulfilling her wishes. I will personally bring your assistance to her attention; explain to her how you handed over the captive quickly and easily without fuss or complaint.”

  Phaer was growing more and more impressed with Bunny's skills. She had taken the dark elves' declared loyalty to Niltsiar and manipulated it into a noose, which she had deftly slipped around their collective necks.

  T'lar visibly struggled with the decision, which he was authorised to make without consulting the Sovereign, but he really had no choice at all. From the Sovereign Aide's perspective, if she was lying and he released Phaer, the worst that could happen was that they let one insignificant individual escape their justice and T'lar would look slightly foolish. He had done foolish things in the past and survived. Ho
wever, if she was telling the truth and he refused to hand Phaer over, Niltsiar might well decide to bring the entire forest down around them. No, he dared not risk defying an agent of Niltsiar. There was nothing to lose and everything to gain by co-operating.

  He inclined his head, respectfully. “Of course, the half breed is yours. Please, take him away with our compliments to Her Divine Excellency. Is there anything more we can do to help?”

  “Just escort us out of your main city and I can take care of the rest until I can present him to my Mistress.” T'lar motioned to his guards who did as they were instructed. Phaer was released from his cage into Bunny's custody. The pair walked away from the dark elf city and the guards followed close behind. A short distance into the forest, Bunny stopped, forcing Phaer to do the same.

  “We will be leaving now,” she declared imperiously. “I suggest you stand back a little way I'm not sure you would like to experience the effect of the magic up close.”

  T'lar and the guards pulled back and asked, “Is this far enough?” Bunny nodded, “Should be. Farewell.” With a quick gesture of her hand, there was a brilliant flash of light, accompanied by a sound like a clap of thunder and a great deal of smoke. When the smoke faded, the half breed and the vampire were both gone.

  Chapter 9

  Hannah noticed that Rochelle was already at her specially prepared guest place at the feast table, so the newly promoted Knight joined her. It was unusual, but not unheard of, for non-humans to be present at a celebratory feast in the Knights' barracks.

  Their other companion, Brash, had declined the invitation to be present, saying, “Formal dinners just don't agree with me. Dear gods, sitting still for any reason doesn't agree with me!” He decided he would be much more comfortable in the dragon stables with the silvers. Silver and bronze dragons usually got along very well, both being quite sociable creatures. They put on none of the aloof airs one often associated with golds, were better tempered than brass dragons and all coppers cared about was hoarding treasure in their cold, remote hideaways. The forest habitats of silvers naturally intersected with great bodies of water, which were home to their bronze cousins. Bronzes loved to swim the waters just as silvers loved the skies. Most of them agreed that the two exercises were more-or-less the same thing, really. Consequently, meetings between the two species were very common and so the silver mounts of the Paladins - the females especially - would indeed enjoy a visit from a dashing young bronze buck.