Teravia smiled when she saw him. “Husband,” she whispered, “why do you look so sad?”
And so he told her. About Ghash and the three tasks. About Diadan and his failure. As Alarais spoke, Teravia’s smile turned to a look of pain and sorrow.
“Why did you not take me to see Ghash, all these years?” she asked. “Do you not think our love is true?”
“Our love is more than true. It is a great love,” said Alarais, tears in his eyes. “But I was afraid. Afraid of losing you before your time, as I lost my friend Diadan.” He closed his eyes. “This burden, I could not have borne.”
Teravia looked on her husband sadly, squeezing his hand. “You should have trusted me,” she whispered. “I would not have failed you, my love.”
Her grip loosened and her gaze faded. With those words, Teravia, Last Queen of the Shining Lands, passed on.
Alarais looked on her and wept bitter tears, for he knew in his selfishness he had not only lost his chance to prove Ghash wrong, but left Teravia believing she had not had his trust.
When his eyes cleared, he was before Ghash in Kyste once again. How he came to be there, he did not know.
“You have broken our agreement, Alarais. You spoke of our accord to another.”
Alarais nodded. “I did.”
Ghash leaned back. “Yet she is dead. I will overlook your mistake, should you wish it.”
Alarais shook his head. “I finally found a woman worthy of my love,” he said softly, “ only to discover I was not worthy of hers.” He straightened. “I concede to you, mighty Ghash. You spoke the truth; the tasks you set me were impossible. I will serve you as you see fit. The Shining Lands are yours.” He spoke truly, for his spirit, and his heart, were broken.
Ghash rose from his throne, eyes burning. “It is done!” he proclaimed joyfully. He fitted Alarais in the black armour of Telaesthesia and charged him to lead his army against the Shining Lands.
Alarais did as he was commanded, slaughtering those he had once sworn to protect. The Shining Lands, without a king and facing a force unlike any they had ever seen, fell swiftly into chaos and destruction.
So ends the story of the Impossible Tasks of Alarais Shar.
Davian stared at the book thoughtfully for several minutes.
It had made no mention of Aarkein Devaed; if it had not been for the picture at the beginning, he would not have thought this story had anything to do with Devaed at all. Was Alarais Shar actually Aarkein Devaed? Or was Ghash? Or had he made a mistake by picturing the symbol when using the Adviser, leading himself to a book that held no useful information at all? He gritted his teeth in frustration.
He read the story again, but gleaned no more from it than the first time. Finally, reluctantly, he snapped the book shut, drew some Essence from the lamp, and got to his feet.
He’d probably have time to examine it again, and read the remainder of the stories in the book, once he reached Ilin Illan.
For now, though, he needed to keep moving.
- Chapter 46 -
Asha gaped a little as she entered the ballroom.
She’d never been in this part of the palace before. A vaulted ceiling held thousands of tiny crystal lanterns that reflected softly off the polished black marble floor, highlighting the dazzling designs of inlaid white marble and gold. Tables lined the enormous room, each filled with gleaming silver platters and goblets. Arched stained-glass windows let in the last of dusk’s light; these depicted various scenes – battles, moments from legend – in stunning colour and detail.
"Impressive, isn't it," murmured Michal from next to her.
Asha nodded. "It is, but... they still shouldn't be going ahead with this. Not now," she said quietly as they were ushered to their seats. She rubbed her forehead, trying not to sound bitter. "I just don't understand why everyone is trying to hide from what's happening."
Michal was silent for a few seconds, then glanced at her sideways. "You're not just talking about tonight, are you."
"No." They'd had a meeting at Tol Athian earlier that day, in which Elder Eilinar had informed them that if the Tenets were not changed, they would not be joining in the defence of the city. "The Gifted could make a real difference healing the wounded in a battle. I understand that they're angry, that they feel like they're being asked to go out and fight without any way to defend themselves. But to hide in Tol Athian while the city gets attacked is just...." She shook her head in frustration.
Michal gave her a reassuring smile. "I actually agree, but it's not going to come to that. General Jash'tar and his forces will have dealt with the Blind soon enough. And if for some reason they do not, I'm sure the king will reconsider." He shrugged. "As for tonight, the Northwarden is perfectly within his rights to celebrate the return of his only son."
Michal glanced around, then lowered his voice. "Besides, I suspect the king will use it as an excuse to show himself in public. Quieten all these rumours that have been swirling about him."
Asha sighed, but didn't argue further. She gazed around at the people already filling the room, every one clad in finery that made her new red dress look almost shabby by comparison. She recognised many of them; some she'd met in her role as Representative, and others Michal had previously pointed out. There were plenty of minor Houses, as always - si'Bandin, si'Dres and si'Kal were all near her table, laughing and drinking. The Great Houses - Tel'Rath, Tel'Shan, Tel'An and Tel'Esh - were all well-represented, too, but their lords seemed less jovial.
She took a deep breath, letting some of her frustration fade into the background as she focused on her surroundings. "The Great Houses," she said softly to Michal. "They don't usually speak together so publicly, do they?"
Michal followed her gaze. "No," he said, frowning. "They don't usually speak together at all."
Asha watched for a moment longer, then glanced over with interest at the king's table. Princess Karaliene was already there, as were a couple of others she did not recognise. As she watched, Dras Lothlar, the Gifted advisor from Shen, came and sat only two seats away from Karaliene. The princess shot him an angry look, but Lothlar ignored it.
“We’ve done better than I expected, being seated here,” murmured Michal. They had people seated either side of them, but the chatter of the crowd was loud enough that no-one would be able to overhear. He shot a dark look at the king’s table. “Though I could say the same for Shen. Something odd is going on there, mark my words.”
“The princess wasn't too happy to see Representative Lothlar sitting there,” said Asha.
“I saw that. Ionis didn’t look pleased, either. Though that’s not really a surprise.” Michal made a discrete gesture to where the tall, severe-looking Administrator was sitting.
At that moment a horn sounded and the room quickly fell silent, all eyes turning to the king’s table. Introductions were made by a herald and everyone rose as King Andras himself entered; though Asha didn’t think the king looked as sick as some people had claimed, he did seem pallid, almost fragile as he walked. As if he were a much older man than his fifty years.
Behind him came the duke, regal in his formal attire, even his fine blue cloak for once looking far more for show than practical. He was followed by Wirr – or Torin, as she now had to think of him. Even after their afternoon together a few days ago, she almost didn’t recognise her friend; he was as finely attired as his father and looked self-assured as he came to a stop at the seat of honour, to the right of the king.
“You and everyone else,” whispered a voice in her ear.
She started, turning to see the young woman sitting next to her giving her a conspiratorial grin.
“Sorry?” said Asha.
The girl gestured towards the king’s table. “Our young prince. All grown up,” she said. “Every unmarried girl in the room is having the same thought right now.” She glanced around. “Some of the married ones, too, I’ll wager.”
Asha flushed. “I wasn’t….” She trailed off; the young woman had already twisted away ag
ain, staring hungrily at Wirr. Asha restrained the urge to snicker.
The first course was served and Asha ate absent-mindedly, barely responding to attempts at conversation by Michal and the others around her. She knew she was being somewhat impolite – Michal even shot her a few irritated glares – but every time she caught a glimpse of Wirr, her mind wandered.
She wished again that she could tell her friend about Davian. When she and Wirr had spent the afternoon swapping stories, that had been the hardest part - watching his face as he'd hesitantly, despondently described their flight from Deilannis. The moment that Taeris had told him the connection had been broken. There had been such pain there that Asha had almost spoken up, despite Davian's warning not to.
But she'd kept silent, and the moment had passed. The rest of that afternoon had been the happiest she could remember in months. Wirr, for his part, had been thrilled to discover Asha was living in the palace - and suitably astonished by the reasons why. If Elocien hadn't returned after a while to confirm he was working with the Augurs, Asha didn't think Wirr would have believed it.
She couldn't help but smile now as she watched her friend. As dinner progressed, small groups of people – usually in twos or threes – were brought up to be formally introduced to the prince. Everyone bowed, many brought gifts. All looked vaguely intimidated by him.
Time passed, and soon there was an usher touching Michal on the shoulder. The Athian Representative rose, gesturing for her to do the same.
“Try to be a little more attentive than you have been so far,” Michal whispered to her as they made their way between the tables towards Wirr, a hint of irritation in his tone. “We have this one chance to make an impression - and the prince is going to notice that you're a Shadow. Regardless of whether he already knows, it's going to be a point of conversation. So be prepared to do some talking.”
Asha didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or to laugh. In the end she did neither, instead inclining her head in acquiescence.
Asha kept her eyes firmly on Wirr, who was deep in conversation with the young woman sitting between him and Princess Karaliene - the king's ward, from what Michal had said - and didn’t notice who was approaching. When he looked up, his eyes flashed with amusement as introductions were made.
“Michal. Ashalia.” Wirr nodded politely. “A pleasure to meet you both. You are the Representatives for Athian?”
Michal bowed, and Asha remembered to curtsy just in time, trying not to smile as she did so.
“We are, Your Highness,” said Michal. “It is a pleasure to meet you too.”
Wirr inclined his head, then leaned back, studying them openly. "So. A Shadow as a Representative," he said, looking at Asha with a raised eyebrow. "An unusual choice."
"One that we have not regretted, sire," Michal assured him. "Asha is a quick study; she'll one day make an excellent addition to the Assembly. I could not have asked for more."
Wirr nodded, looking thoughtful. He stared at Asha intently. "High praise," he said, the faintest hint of amusement back in his eyes. "And I've heard good things from other sources, too. I'm impressed."
Asha kept her face smooth. "Thank-you, Your Highness. That means so much to me," she said with as much sincerity as she could muster.
The corners of Wirr's mouth crept upward, and he was about to say something more when an older man – one of the generals, Asha thought by his uniformed attire – hurried past, going straight to King Andras and whispering something in his ear. The king glowered at whatever the man had said, then shooed him away, gesturing to Elocien.
The duke paled as the news the king had been given was relayed, then stood, heading straight for Wirr. He frowned for a moment when he saw Asha sitting opposite Wirr, but relaxed again once he realised that Michal was there too. He bent over Wirr’s shoulder.
“You’re needed, son,” he said, his voice calm. “Our army has been broken.” The Northwarden glanced across at Michal and Asha. “You two should come as well. I think Tol Athian may need to have some say in what happens next.”
“Of course,” said Michal, looking sick.
Asha's stomach churned too as she processed the news. Despite having known what was coming, she’d still been clinging to the hope that it would turn out differently.
They trailed after Elocien and Wirr, leaving the hubbub of the feast behind them as they moved into an adjoining room. The king was already seated, and he gestured for everyone else to follow suit. Princess Karaliene was there, as was Laiman Kardai and Dras Lothlar, the latter of whom looking especially displeased to see Michal and Asha.
The group was soon completed by Ionis, who looked even more disgruntled when he realised that both Tol Athian and Tol Shen were represented.
“What are they doing here?” he asked irritably, gesturing at Michal and Asha.
“I invited them,” said Elocien. “This discussion will doubtless revolve around the Gifted. They have just as much right to be a part of that conversation as us, Ionis.”
Ionis muttered something inaudible, but subsided as the duke looked at him steadily. Once the Administrator was seated, a middle-aged man – a general named Parathe, if Asha remembered correctly – stood.
“Jash’tar’s forces haven’t just been broken. They have been decimated,” announced Parathe. There was a heaviness to his tone, a despondency that made Asha’s heart sink.
Everyone just stared at the general for a moment, with more than one face going pale at the news.
“How?” asked Elocien. “They were told to dig in, to hold them up. Possibly to negotiate, if that was an option. But to retreat if necessary.”
Parathe shook his head. “It wasn’t in open battle. The Blind stopped marching when they saw our men coming; they’d been dormant for a couple of days. Jash’tar thought they were intimidated, might even want to talk.” He sighed. “To be honest, Your Grace, we’re not sure exactly what happened. It seems that our men were overconfident and didn't set an adequate watch. The enemy snuck in under cover of darkness somehow, while many of our people were sleeping. Killed most the men in their tents before the alarm was even raised, then swept in and finished the rest off. There were only a few survivors.”
There was a stunned silence. “How many is a few, General?” Wirr finally asked.
“Four hundred or so,” replied Parathe. “Maybe five, depending on how many managed to scatter to the forests nearby.”
Asha swallowed, and she could hear Michal’s sharp intake of breath beside her.
The duke just grimaced. “You're certain the others are all dead?”
“Yes.” Parathe stared at his clasped hands, unwilling to look anyone in the eye. "And that report is days old now. Depending on how hard the Blind have been pushing, they could be here in a couple of days. Maybe less."
Elocien leaned forward; he wore a calm expression but his knuckles were white as he gripped the table. “Do we at least have any new intelligence?”
Parathe nodded. “We know that they move in squads of ten men: nine with those strange helmets, and one who sits back from the fighting like a commander. They all seem to be well-trained - hard to fight individually, but especially cohesive as units.” The general sighed. “Other than that, Your Grace? No. Only what we already knew.”
“Which is that there’s something unnatural about them,” growled Ionis, shooting Dras and Michal an accusatory look as if it were somehow their fault.
The Northwarden took a deep breath, then laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “This is an enormous loss, Your Majesty,” he said. “I know you’re against it, but there is no other way. We need to change the Tenets, allow the Gifted to fight.” Parathe inclined his head in agreement.
“I concur, Your Majesty.” It was Dras. “I can have a contingent from Tol Shen ready to defend the city walls by dusk tomorrow.” Michal, reluctant though he looked to be agreeing with Dras, nodded too.
“You know my thoughts, Your Majesty,” interjected Ionis. “Administration h
as an obligation to protect the people, and the Tenets are what allow us to perform that function. Changing them is taking a short-term view.” He shot a hard look at the duke, as if daring the other man to reprimand him. Elocien scowled, but said nothing.
The king stared vacantly at the table for a few moments, then shook his head. “No.”
There was silence as everyone exchanged questioning looks, then Elocien cleared his throat. “Brother, surely you don’t mean -”
The king slammed his fist down onto the table, suddenly and violently, making everyone jump. “I mean NO!” he roared. His face had turned bright red, and spittle came out of his mouth when he spoke. Sweat clung to his brow in great beads, now, and there was no doubt in Asha’s mind that he was a very sick man. “Don’t you see, Elocien? Ionis is right. This is what they want. It's what they've always wanted.” He sneered at Dras, then twisted to glare at Michal and Asha. “You Bleeders are probably behind all of this. I should have you all hung for traitors. Every last one.” He stood as if to carry out his threat immediately.
Dras had gone deathly pale. “Your Majesty, I….” He trailed off helplessly, clearly not sure what to say.
“Kevran, please sit down.” Elocien looked more troubled than Asha had ever seen him. “We can lay blame later, but right now we need a plan to defend Ilin Illan. The Gifted are our only -”
“We have our six thousand. We have the city guard,” interrupted the king. He had calmed again, though was still a little wild-eyed. “We have the four hundred returning to us. We have citizens who will fight. The Blind have no ships; they cannot come by river, so the only way into the city is through Fedris Idri. This is the most defensible city ever built. We will prevail without the Gifted.” He gestured. “I tell you this as a courtesy, not to seek your advice. It is my decision, and mine alone, to make.”
Parathe opened his mouth to protest, but a quick glance from the duke silenced him. The general gave the slightest of nods to the Northwarden, unseen by the king. Elocien could obviously see that arguing the point now would only cause more trouble.
The Shadow Of What Was Lost (Book 1) Page 58
