Had the council truly concealed such a historical backlash for their corruption? Hidden such a desire of the people?
She wanted to believe his words were a lie, but she knew that was not true. She had witnessed what the council members’ selfishness had wrought upon Taemrin’s army in the Sevilan Marshes—nothing withstood their greed.
“And of course, the council did not forget the sirens. The ongoing skirmishes with the race were small during the rebellion—Sevrigel’s army could not spare many of our soldiers to combat their aggression. But when the True Blood uprisings finally settled… the council ordered a complete massacre of the siren race.” The unrelenting tone of his voice finally quavered; pain lanced his pretty face. Beneath his amber gloves, his grip on the reins had grown so tight that the leather between them was pulled taught. “And we marched to their waters to obey.”
Alvena swallowed. Genocide… even if the sirens had been in the wrong, to wipe out an entire people…
Adonis seemed to know exactly what she thought. She felt his chest stiffen against her back. “Yes, Alvena. All of them. Age mattered not. Involvement in the original kidnappings was irrelevant. If you were a siren, then by Malranus Almighty, you were sentenced to die.” He paused, letting her eyes widen until Alvena was quite certain they would all but fall from her head. “It was terrible. Horrific. The first week of battle… the murders we saw… the murders we committed. Against a true military operation, they were powerless. We poisoned their waters. Burned the surface when they tried to escape. We swept them into nets. Cut them down while entangled. And at the end of that first week, Saebellus refused to comply any longer. He killed General Angrenor.”
Alvena stilled, but no pity for the dead male reached her heart.
“That night, Saebellus rallied our allies in the army. It was a long, bloody struggle; we could not desert without a fight. We vanished deep into the forests where we hid with help, no less, from the sirens.” He paused to smile fondly at the soldiers around him. “That’s where your late general comes in—Jikun Taemrin. The council summoned him from the north—he had been too far secluded to know the details of Saebellus’ military history or his reasons for rebelling. And he was too militaristically obedient to question the council. For fifty years, we hid and grew in number. But we tasted battle. Fifty years of skirmishes with General Taemrin. At that time, I am certain he did not consider us a true threat. In his opinion, we must merely have been a group of outlawed rebels, hiding in the woods, causing him a minor inconvenience. But when those fifty years ended and we emerged in our accumulated force, he thought differently.” His chest expanded in what could be nothing short of admiration and pride.
Alvena made no attempt to interrupt him now. She was enthralled.
“For the last century, Alvena, we have been fighting to reclaim this country from its corrupted leaders and compliant followers. To reclaim it for every decedent’s voice that has been silenced. We are fighting for the very reason the True Bloods would not. Tell me, is your side truly so just?”
Alvena felt her stomach knot. No. The answer was no. But she straightened her spine, elevating her chin to his hardened gaze.
Her side had become complacent to injustice. As she had lately grown to share.
‘But neither,’ she thought firmly, ‘is justice found in you. What Saebellus has ordered is murder no less than what you said the council has done.’
The wind began to howl again as though siding with her, demanding answers. It roared through the polished ranks about them, flinging ice as it went, tossing Adonis’ hair askew to hide all but remnants of his face. “…Ilsevel is queen now,” he spoke after a moment, his voice a bitter concession. “We find ourselves on a different road than that envisioned by Saebellus alone… but as long as we have him, the end will be the same. That is what we are fighting for. If you want to exact change, you do not always have the luxury of walking a paved path. Sometimes… that way is barred. When you thus find yourself at the crossroads of morality, is it better to choose the lesser of two evils but, in such a path, never reach your destination? Or, is it at times better to choose the darker road, if such a course means you will find the light at its end? There are times when you must play the role of the thief in order to rise still greater as the hero.”
And then the earth itself seemed to agree, quelling its howling wind to an amenable murmur.
But Alvena’s lips pursed. She understood now how Saebellus and his supporters had pulled her in. They were not the faceless, soulless males that had distressed Hairem and now haunted her nightmares. They had felt pain. Loss. Desire. Hope. They were elven. But any kindness they had was not synonymous with goodness.
Using evil to combat evil made them no better than the wickedness they fought to oppose.
‘And I,’ Alvena determined, ‘will not accept evil as our only path. If the middle road is barred, I shall find a way to break through it. I will be complacent no longer!’
She had heard how, across the channel, the former general had made one last stand against Saebellus—and how he had finally met the end he had managed to evade for so long. Here within her own country, the Resistance had lit the fire of truth and hope within her people. But now they too were gone.
Yet one road remained. The middle path. Unused by the last three centuries of separation. It was a force Saebellus had once fought for. A force he beheld for himself. A force capable of rallying the world against him.
And Saebellus’ victories on both continents had not damaged its viability.
Someone had only to tear the barrier down.
The True Bloods who had once refused to stop the corruption could remain silent no longer.
It was time for them to come home.
It was time for the people to rise with them.
…But if even she understood their threat… their power… this last, untrodden road to Aersadore’s salvation… then Saebellus did too. And to keep the way barred, she knew he would strike them from the earth—Silandrus, Sairel, Darcarus, Hadoream—there would be no heroes left to raise the strength for Sevrigel’s last battle.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Alvena wiggled in the lush grass, shying away from the clusters of long and seeded blades. Despite the wide, open air, they determinedly drooped toward her, invading her winter garb with unwelcome tickles along her throat. She snatched several of the offenders with a sweaty palm and uprooted them viciously from the earth. But even as she crossed her arms in triumph, a new score taunted her neck from behind.
She huffed, waving one hand before her face. She had dozed for just a moment during the ride to Raestra—yet somehow when she had reawakened, the wintery slopes of Sevrigel’s eastlands had entirely vanished. Adonis had given her no explanation before he and the mare had abandoned her in a valley’s weeds with the rest of the army. ‘Where are we?—What an awful place to rest!’
The sun reappeared from behind the single cloud, and Alvena increased the vigor of her hand. The wind was a capricious stalker—it had wailed and moaned at her for their entire trek east from Elvorium, but now, the moment that she desired it, the frosty current was nowhere to be found! The humid air hung so heavily she was liable to drown in it!
Suffering in solidarity with her, thousands of silver lumps were scattered across the jade field as far south, west, and east as she could see. The winter air they had so meticulously prepared for was gone. How—in their silks and wool and heavy metal suits—were Saebellus’ troops not simply keeling over from the swelter?
Their resolve certainly made her own seem woefully feeble.
She elevated her gaze longingly above their glinting helms to the shadowy north. While the sky above her shone as blue as the kisacaela gemstones, she had but to follow its expanse for a hundred yards before darkness swallowed it in a grey, dense, wintery gloom. As though she was gazing onto a wholly different plane. There the clouds hung above the abrupt beginnings of a forest, whose towering branches were bent low in their shea
ths of ice. Yet not a single one protruded so much as a twig into the summery air.
‘How strange!’ Had they entered some grand expanse of magic?
“So, do you have to work hard to maintain such an excellent physique?”
Ugh. Vale had returned.
She glanced surreptitiously askance and located his lean, sweaty frame sitting cross-legged nearby. He was bent forward suggestively, engaged in a sad attempt to woo a striking Sel’varian soldier.
Alvena rolled her eyes, lifting her heavy tome and fluttering the pages before her face. The few loose strands of hair not stuck to her cheeks with perspiration flew back to bat her ears.
The ill-fated Sel’ven fended Vale off with polite disinterest. “No, Captain,” he replied.
Something slipped from the last pages of her book and Alvena quickly stuffed the object into her boot. She stiffened, shooting the captain another glance. To her luck—and the soldier’s misfortune—Vale’s eyes retained their blatant perusal of his well-toned figure.
“By Kamora’s hand, you have the prettiest eyes—after Adonis, of course,” he blundered again, and Alvena could almost hear the elf’s revulsion.
She plucked at a remaining clump of impudent grass and turned away. ‘Is this how Galadorium began?—This doesn’t seem like the beginning of a battle,’ she thought as the horde about her slumped and yawned. The humans in their ranks had taken to chewing on long stalks of grass like some furless and distastefully bearded form of cattle.
“After Raestra, how would you like to step into a tavern with me and Adonis? He may not openly display this adorable trait, but he loves a second pair of hands,” Vale cooed softly.
‘A second pair of hands for what?’ Alvena pondered briefly. She pinched herself as his vulgarity formed an obscene image. ‘That’s what you get for eavesdropping!’
“…While the offer is generous, I must decline, Captain.”
A distant laugh followed the sarcastic rejection, and Alvena jerked her head around.
Her scrunched nose relaxed. Adonis was wading through the grass, as majestic as a prince in an assemblage of white silks and grey leather. Two tall men flanked him on either side, one round-chinned and thick of frame while the other possessed an old face besieged by a ghastly goatee. Alvena wondered if Vale had not selected the men in part for their homeliness—insurance that his lover would never be tempted to stray. Regardless, the vibrant purplish red of their noses and ears—attesting to their voyage outside the field’s warm boundary—only worsened their garish appearances. The larger of the two humans quickly masked his toothy grin as Adonis ripped the seeded heads off of several lofty stalks.
Adonis halted behind Vale, his stance dangerously austere.
‘Oh, punch him again!’ Alvena urged. While there was no bed for Vale to topple from, a good sprawl in the grass would still do well to lift her mood.
Vale carried on, fully unaware of the peril. “I prefer to be on top myself, but if you change your mind, I might even extend you the honors.”
Adonis cleared his throat with impressively loud sonority, sliding to the west until his shadow towered menacingly over Vale. “Captain,” he began sternly.
Vale jolted with a wince. “Y-yes, Lieutenant?” He collected himself swiftly. “What did you see?”
Adonis gave him the faintest of reproachful glares before he struck a pose of militaristic rigidity. Alvena pushed out her bottom lip in disappointment. “Everything is as we expected, Captain. The docks are quiet and the commoners appear to have retired for their evening meals. What city guards we found stand at ease.”
Vale relaxed, as though the divulging of such information had spared him from Adonis’ forthcoming punishment. But Alvena expected a rowdy spat would follow the battle.
She smiled smugly. Vale always lost such scuffles.
The captain pushed off his knees with a grunt and for the first time, the meaning of Adonis’ words registered in Alvena’s mind.
Adonis had left her in the grass to scout. He had finished scouting.
Battle was upon them!
“ON YOUR FEET!” Vale bellowed across the lazy expanse. Instantly, the inertia fell away. The only sound that dared reply was that of the soldiers’ tinking armor as they rose at his command. The captain thrust his long fingers unceremoniously into the windless sky and gave a twist.
No words were needed to spur the soldiers to further action—their polished ranks reformed in perfect, orderly rows to march in Vale’s wake. Adonis turned his attention immediately upon Alvena and drew her close, shielding her from the thousands of feet that increased their pace into a northern-bound stampede.
“Come,” he finally issued as he whirled to follow the army’s flank.
Alvena’s clammy hands closed about her tome. ‘This is it? No speech? No rally?’ She should not have expected anything different from Vale, who had the poetic sense of a tifrat, but she would have welcomed a delay of any kind! How the spirits of his troops held fast without even a restorative word astounded her!
Adonis was not deterred by her hesitation. He clamped a hand about her elbow to direct her after the two soldiers that served as his unsightly escort. They crossed the distance to the border of ice-laden trees, where Adonis’ alabaster mare, Ethwen, was flicking the last remnants of Alvena’s braid from her tail.
‘I’d much rather remain here while you fight!’ she thought as her eyes trailed the crisp line between peace and war. On one side of the invisible boundary, the jade field rolled across a serene valley. On the other, where the arching roots and massive branches soared, the russet earth was a tangle of autumn leaves and winter frost.
The thick man on Adonis’ right extended a calloused hand, coarse black hair springing between the gap in his bracer and glove. “Give the soldiers a moment to clear the way, my lord,” he instructed.
Adonis pushed the hefty arm aside. “I know the process, Ronan. Before Vale appointed you, I had done this successfully a hundred times.” When the older of the two opened his cracked lips to interject, Adonis rebuffed him sternly. “You are here for Vale’s sake, Kevus, not mine.” He stiffly swung himself atop his mount.
Alvena surveyed the bulging hulk of the plate-armored human and the strong, leathered stalk that was the older man. The more soldiers to guard Adonis, the safer she was as well! ‘But I suppose even he has pride…’ she thought as she clambered into the saddle before him. She could afford none.
Adonis’ voice suddenly rent the air, and Alvena let out an internal squeak as the horse plunged forward, smacking her body backward against his armored chest. ‘Ouch-ch!’ she grunted as her head tested the solidity of his breastplate.
The pain was swiftly forgotten as they lurched across the final patch of sunny grass and into the shadow of the arching root of a massive tree. Instantly, the world changed. Cold assaulted them, penetrating through Alvena’s defenses to find the sweat that had once made her heavy clothes cling. Thick, cinereous clouds swirled overhead while billowing flakes prodded for any kink in her winter gear. She glanced once behind her for the desirable shield of warmth and light, but only the bleak sky stretched beyond.
As they broke from the shelter of the trees, Kevus’ voice strained against the violent gusts of wind. “Stay close,” he bellowed, pulling ahead with Ronan. They galloped down the frosted grass, their horses’ hooves pounding against the hard earth of the valley’s gentle slope.
Alvena clutched Ethwen’s mane for comfort. They galloped across an auburn valley that was bisected by a river of breathtaking width. Marring the stunning landscape was an impregnable fortress of grey stone, its walls so high that its interior buildings were fully obscured. Elvorium boasted of its canyons and lakes, but these elven-made walls put such trifles to shame! A hundred mages could hurl spells at the stonework for days, yet Alvena felt certain the defenses would remain unscathed. Before it, Saebellus’ troops surged, seeming no more than a colony of silver-backed ants.
The Ruljarian city of Raestra!
And yet, Adonis rode toward such a fortress! She squinted her eyes, putting the assemblage of Saebellus’ forces into focus. They were gathering near the four black steel gates that served as the egress into the city. Gleaming shields hung above them, protecting the ranks from the hail of arrows that descended by the thousands.
Unlike Galadorium, the river city would not fall easily. While Alvena had no prior battle experience, it was clear to her—as it must be to even Vale—that Saebellus’ troops had challenged too great a target.
Her eyes snapped away in search of a safer point of entry, falling upon the frothing crests of the Velhar River. It twisted along the valley, wild and untamed as it flowed from the center of the city. Bobbing along its eddies floated a fleet of sleek ships, each vessel fluttering a deep blue banner in the evening light. Saebellus had no ships, and he would never dare face the Ruljenari in their field of military proficiency. Over the expansive waters she beheld a pair of tremendous female statues who extended their arms to form a mighty bridge between Raestra’s northern and southern walls.
Those indomitable females offered but two options: drown within their waters or shatter against their walls.
“Hold fast,” Adonis’ voice whispered against her ear.
Alvena returned her attention to the gate, letting out a cry as a shadow engulfed them. A volley of arrows cascaded from the heavens, the mass so thick that the evening’s rays could not penetrate their shroud. Kevus’ hand elevated, and with a grand sweep across the bitter air, the attack sailed clear of Adonis’ vicinity to clatter harmlessly in the tall red grass.
“They are ready, Lieutenant!” Ronan bellowed as they burst into the midst of Saebellus’ waiting horde and closed in on the looming gate.
When the lieutenant did not reply, Alvena dared a single glance away from the danger. A canopy of shields had arisen to protect them and Adonis’ face was shrouded in the darkness. She spun back round, the gate suddenly a goblin’s nose from Ethwen! Her mouth flew wide and then…!
Heroes or Thieves (Steps of Power 2) Page 57
