Someone at least on the Prismatic Council was still trying to do right by him.
Gerard immediately chose Danner, Garnet, Marc, Michael, and Flasch, and they accepted unhesitatingly. He gave them acting commissions as captains, and promoted Trebor to the same rank. At first Trebor had been opposed to following the “suggestion” of the Council, but when he found out Morningham had recruited his friends, he walked wordlessly up to the Red paladin and saluted him.
“Sir, Trebor Dok reporting for duty.”
Chapter 9
In scaling the trees to create our homes, we brought ourselves that much closer to the sun, the symbol of life. But in so doing, we forgot that the tallest tree casts the largest shadow.
- El’Maran El’Eleisha,
testimony given during trial (983 AM)
- 1 -
The boat slowed and for the first time Perklet realized the sun was almost down. He’d been so enraptured by their travel and conversation, however disturbing parts had been, he hadn’t noticed the sinking of the sun and the rising of the moons. Sin and San were now visible in the dim sunlight remaining in the sky. Crickets chirped lustily, and the air itself carried the peculiar taste and scent of nighttime in the woods – the pure sensation of night, as though the sun’s light itself somehow polluted the air, seasoned with the bite of pine sap and the bitter scent of ash and elven oak.
When their boat was moving at a slow crawl, Maran and the elf who commanded their boat both stood and glanced at each other. They nodded and, with identical looks of intense concentration, they turned their backs on each other and spread their fingers toward the front and back of the boat respectively. Inky black tendrils of pure shadow slipped from their outstretched fingertips and stretched to the ends of the boat. The shadowy lines thickened and stretched until they touched, and soon the entire boat was encased in a shadowy bubble.
Perklet was so stunned he couldn’t have cried out in surprise if he’d wanted to. He could still see through the veil of shadow, but it was like looking out on a world gone suddenly and permanently into a moonless night.
“Remember, no sound,” Maran said, his voice less than a whisper of wind. Their boat just barely cleared the space beneath a low-hanging branch, and then suddenly the city of El’aman’niren’a came into view. The outer-most section looked little different to Perklet than any of the elven cities and settlements they’d passed, although he did notice a distinct increase in the number of stone dwellings on the ground. But the outer rings of the city were the last thing on Perklet’s mind as he stared in open-mouthed astonishment at the towering pillars rising above even the tallest of trees. They seemed half made of glass, half of pure light, and they gleamed iridescently in the white light of the moons, rivaling the celestial twins for dominance of the night’s luminescence. Their delicacy was rivaled only by their perfection and beauty, and Perklet wasn’t surprised when he found tears of awe brimming in his eyes. He glanced about and saw it seemed to be affecting all the non-elves similarly, all except Birch, who gazed up with his customary stoic expression. Maran’s face was perhaps tighter than usual, and the one-eared elf stared fixedly at the tallest and most splendid of towers.
During their river trek, Maran had indicated the elven capital was supposed to be a combination of the four elven sects, even if only three were acknowledged to exist. Stone, wood, and light blended openly in the elven city; but as Maran had told them, where there was light there was shadow as well, and the fourth elven sect was not unknown in the capital city.
“Theirs is a culture as real and rich as any the light has to offer,” Maran had said, “if they’d only the wit and wisdom to see it.”
Then the glowing city was hidden from view as they drew closer to the bank and the towering trees greedily devoured the sight as if jealous. The foliage overhead was so thick that not a speck of the glimmering light could be seen through the dense canopy.
They followed the river’s course, making less noise than the wind over rippling waves as they slipped through the night. At last Perklet began to see other vessels on the water, but they avoided these whenever possible. Once they were required to slip between two neighboring boats, or else risk detouring through a hopeless cluster of other vessels. They all held their breaths as the two boats passed on either side, then Perklet forced himself not to exhale explosively with pent-up nervousness. He finally realized they were trying to slip into the city like thieves, and at first he was repelled by the idea.
But then, If Birch has no problems, who am I to complain? he thought, and laid the matter to rest in his mind.
Eventually, the boat curved gracefully through the water until it was pointed straight into a large stone on the side of a hill that sloped down to the water’s edge. Perklet looked up just in time to see the stone, then he saw the prow of their boat pass through the rock like so much smoke. Remembering his promise, he kept silent. In seconds, the boat was fed steadily to the greedy maw, and Perklet was consumed by darkness.
- 2 -
When the light came, Birch couldn’t seem to find the source of the illumination. At first he thought it was merely another instance of his unique night vision, but his surroundings had more color than his orange-to-black relief. There was light on all sides of him, a steady, violet-white color too steady and pure to come from torches. He was distracted from his search by Maran’s silent motion for them to follow him. Birch checked to see the others were all right, then he stepped from the boat, offered a hand to help Moreen, and then followed the silent elf. The awkward footsteps of his companions and near-inaudible stirring of the elves told Birch that nearly everyone from the boat was following them. Moreen’s hand stole quietly to his upper arm and she clutched his left bicep anxiously. Selti swooped down from the air and landed carefully on Birch’s other shoulder. He twined his gray tail around Birch’s neck and softly scolded him for disrupting his nap earlier. Birch bore the berating squawk in silence, deciding it was better to ignore Selti for now.
Maran paused briefly to speak with another elf, then he continued down the passageway into a small room. He stopped in the room and waited until the other humans were with them. Somewhere along the way, they had lost their elven escort from the boat without Birch having noticed.
Birch forced his shoulders not to squirm as he glanced at the low, earthy ceiling. It was like being on the inside of a giant groundpup tunnel, and he wasn’t particularly fond of the sensation. Giant tree roots grew down from the ceiling, if it could be called such, and intertwined seamlessly with the earthen walls all around them. For all the space, however, Birch felt as though he was one short step away from suffocating under a thousand tons of earth.
“I’ve been informed the Do’Valoren will grant me an audience tomorrow evening,” Maran said quietly.
“You’ve mentioned this Do’Valoren before,” Nuse said. “Who is he?”
“The master of the Do society in the elven nation,” Maran replied crisply without looking at the Blue paladin. “His mere existence is hardly more than a rumor, even among my people.”
“Let me guess,” Nuse said impudently, “we mention him to others on pain of death?”
Now Maran did turn to Nuse and looked at him with an intense stare.
“Yes.”
The Blue paladin’s smile faded.
“And you see him tomorrow? Not immediately as you’d hoped?” Hoil asked, drawing the elf’s attention to him.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I wasn’t told so, but it is to give me time to visit my family and pay my respects, I’m sure,” Maran said in an emotionless monotone.
“Will they see you?” Nuse asked.
“They will have little choice, however they may deny it,” Maran replied. “My father, at least, may be glad for the contact, though he will not acknowledge my presence. Perhaps my sister will deign to notice me, if only to condemn me.”
“As you said before, not a happy homecoming,” Hoil said sadly.
“Not as you’d think of it, no. But just seeing the crystal pillars of El again has made this trip worthwhile to me.” There was a note of near-reverence in Maran’s voice when he spoke of the pillars, and Birch assumed he was talking about the glowing towers they’d seen from the river.
“Will you be going alone to see your family?” Birch asked.
“I would ask you, Birch and Hoil, to accompany me, if you will,” Maran said after only a moment’s hesitation. His soft voice now betrayed nothing of what he might be feeling within. “Birch, I would present you, however indirectly, before my father as a forthright representative from the Prismatic Council so you may lay the matter of your presence before him. Hoil, I ask you because Birch will need a translator, and…” he hesitated, “and it is proper to be accompanied by family.”
Birch realized Maran wasn’t just referencing the brothers’ family ties, but acknowledging a kinship between the elf and master thief that tied them together. By the expression on Hoil’s face when he accepted Maran’s request, Birch’s brother realized the same kinship and was both pleased and honored by its presence. Birch was fast coming to realize the strength and importance the elves placed on family, and not just on blood relations.
“What should Perky and I do while you’re gone?” Nuse asked. “Assuming you’re either leaving very soon or tomorrow morning, what are our options?”
Maran stared speculatively at the thin-boned Nuse and Perklet, who was nearly as thin and even shorter than the Blue paladin.
“How attached are you to your humanity, paladin?” Maran asked.
“I suppose I’m as attached to it as the next human,” Nuse answered with a perfectly serious face. “It’s been with me so long, I’d feel rather naked without it.”
“Have you ever considered becoming an elf?”
- 3 -
It was a meeting of shadows. One elf who did not exist met with his superior, who was little more than rumor to all but the highest-placed elves within their order. His face was insubstantial, his name forgotten long ago by all who might have once known him as a man. The name by which he was now known, the sole indicator of a living, breathing presence, was a thing of legend, half-believed by many of the elves who used it, and nothing more than a word to the rest.
But there was power in that word. Invoking his name was a signal of membership in a society of shadows, and requesting to see him was a password that was sent up through the chain of command. Only elves who had achieved a master’s rank knew to invoke that name, much less knew how; the rest knew only that when they heard it, they were to pass word to their superiors and forget they’d ever heard its passage from mortal lips. Eventually, a master placed in their hierarchy would receive the signal and contact the one they all acknowledged as their true master. Such contacts were rare and carefully obscured. To even hint at the master’s actual existence had cost many elves dearly; some their lives, others merely their sanity.
He was the Do’Valoren.
The Do’Valoren knew of the presence of the elf known as Do’n’El’Maran. Moreover, he knew of his use of the Do’Valoren’s title in front of humans, an offense normally punished by an order for a swift and unquestioning execution. But the circumstances were different… Maran was different, and the Do’Valoren made allowances.
It was this special treatment that baffled the other elf who met with the Do’Valoren. No other elf in the history of the clandestine existence of their order had ever been granted such a reprieve of life, much less a seemingly permanent stay on death. Maran should have been executed before ever leaving the elven isle in the first place, and yet he was allowed to leave in safety. Likewise, he should have been slated for assassination during his stay among humans, but again, no. In fact, word had gone out that specifically forbade anyone from acting against him. Now he had returned in the company of humans, three of whom were holy warriors who would likely condemn and expose them. He spoke to them about secrets of the elven society, their own order in particular, but still he drew breath to tell them more.
Now, Maran’s death would not be enough. The paladins, too, would have to die to protect their secrets. The possible repercussions of such an action were terrible to imagine, however, which left them with a paradox of death.
The elf was torn between questioning his master about the strange exception Maran had become and staying quiet and accepting the strange decision. On the one hand, he might one day inherit his master’s position and was curious as to what possible circumstances could give one elf so much power and leniency. On the other hand, he had been trained to remain silent and observe to offer insight, not to question.
After all, even more so than his master, he did not and could not exist.
“I can feel your question,” the Do’Valoren said. “I can hear the conflict of your mind. Your heart. Your very soul. It is worthy. Ask.”
“Why him?” the elf asked. He knew the Do’Valoren would know the breadth and hidden depths of the question. Had he been able to see his master’s eyes, he would have been peering intently, trying to read him as he so easily read others.
A blackness beyond night surrounded the two non-entities, enveloping them in their natural element. Darkness was their true home. They did not fear the light, and they often walked there in the world of their cousins. But even there, they remained blanketed in the perpetual Mist of Shadows they cast over themselves. Both of them lay enshrouded now, as always, deepening the already lightless shadows of their meeting place. No elves came here, at least not those of the light. They were incapable of conceiving the existence of this place, or of any like it. A cultural flaw the Do’Valoren and his predecessors had encouraged for generations on end to protect their secrecy. Here, they were home. Here was safe.
“He is unique,” the Do’Valoren replied. His voice was like a dark whisper, little more than a shadow itself, yet every word impressed itself with intense force on the other elf’s ears and mind. “He has a role to play in the future, and I would see him in a position to accomplish it. He who was once El’Maran may yet cross a line even I cannot ignore, but no action will be taken against him unless I give the order. Be sure of that.”
“Of course.”
“Do I hear relief or regret in your voice?”
The elf nearly jumped in surprise, so accurately had his master read him.
“Both,” he admitted immediately. “That anyone should have been indulged as he has is beyond my ability to understand. Yet who am I to question you, and should I not feel relief he may yet serve us?”
The Do’Valoren chuckled dryly.
“Should you not indeed? You did, after all, train him. He was and is your to’vala. I should think you are quite pleased that he may serve some role vital enough for me to spare his life so willingly.”
“He was the best,” the elf said proudly, “and I was honored to have trained him. And of course, he is unique.”
“And therein lies both his use and his danger,” the Do’Valoren said.
A deep silence settled between the two elves.
“What will the boy do?” the Do’Valoren asked. “You are sure he doesn’t know the truth?”
“Just as the one was my to’vala, so is the boy,” the elf replied. “He trusts me above all others, and is unaware of his twisted heritage. As to what he will do, I think we can count on his cooperation.”
“Now is not the time to think, but to know. Our safety, indeed the very legacy we have spent our lifetimes upholding, lies in jeopardy.” The Do’Valoren’s voice was chill, made all the more terrible by the burning import of his words. “We are in the dangerous position of knowing what will happen, but seeing the greater good that will come from the unthinkable. When the time comes, we must be ready, and that boy is the key.”
“He will be ready, I promise you.”
“If he is not, he will die, and his life is yours.”
He nodded
Another silence grew in the darkness. Again, it was brok
en by the master.
“You will, of course, be present when he confronts his father,” the Do’Valoren said. “You must devote yourself doubly now, to the boy and to him. He must learn the truth, and his efforts could be of great use to us. As you say, he was the best. I am also interested in the humans and their purpose here. What role do they play now, and what role might they play in the future? For us?”
“I will glean all I can.”
There was a slight pause, as if in hesitation. “You understand the dangers of his talking to the boy? It cannot be avoided, but he may be tempted to reveal certain truths. Doing so will cross the lines we spoke of, in which case you must take immediate action.”
“If those lines are crossed, I will kill him myself.”
And then no more words were necessary. The master disappeared between the passing of one wind and the breath of another, and with less noise. The other melted into the shadows of which he was already a part, and then he was gone. They left no trace of their presence, no sign anyone had been there at all, not even the breath of a whisper on the breeze.
Neither elf existed, and no meeting had ever taken place.
Chapter 10
Improvise, adapt, and overcome.
- Gerard Morningham,
“A Treatise on Modern Warfare” (991 AM)
- 1 -
Over the next several days, Danner was forced to reevaluate his opinion of Gerard Morningham. Their commanding officer and former instructor quickly underwent a startling transformation: before, he’d been the harsh, aloof, and demanding man they’d come to both hate and grudgingly appreciate; now the hatred melted away leaving only a healthy respect and a sort of awe for the sheer presence and ability the man had at his command. He now spoke to them almost as equals, for they were paladins in their own right ─ all but Trebor, who was nevertheless included in this newfound companionship ─ and they became privy to the ins and outs of training and command necessary to mold men into fighting units. Now included in the inner circle of command, they witnessed his leadership from a whole new perspective.
The Devil's Deuce (The Barrier War) Page 13
