The Fourth Age Shadow Wars: Assassins (The Fourth Age: Shadow Wars Book 1)

by David Pauly

  Stowing his gear in the room, Daerahil decided to unpack later; he paused only to change into fresh clothes and use the small washroom at the end of the hall outside his door before heading to the inn. Wearing a cloak with his hood drawn, Daerahil had no desire to attract attention. Entering the Inn, he asked for a private room and the best wine and food to be brought to him promptly. Tasting each dish as it arrived, he found while the fare was certainly not up to his own cooks' standards, it was much better than what was to come when he left for Ianus Malus. Daerahil resolved to load the new pack animals with what preserved food products and wine were available and affordable, so that his exile would not be as grim as it promised to be. Hearing a knock on the door, Daerahil said, 'Enter.'

  Hardacil came into the room. 'My lord.'

  'A sight for sore eyes,' said Daerahil, smiling. 'Sit down and eat, my friend. And tell me how you came to be here.'

  'Yes, lord.' Between bites, Hardacil quickly and quietly complied. 'Larissa, who is still free from Mergin's clutches, came to see me before we left the City and presented legitimate travel and reassignment orders for me to take to my guard captain. Where she obtained them, I have no idea, but my new guard captain did not seem in the least surprised that I was going to be allowed to accompany you into exile, as I was still your aide-de-camp. The captain insisted that I take a fine horse and wanted me to wish you his fondest hopes for a speedy return.'

  'Well, he might be a toffee-nosed little weasel, but he does have manners,' replied Daerahil. 'It was thoughtful of him to provide you with a fast horse.'

  'Yes, Lord, it was. Larissa also sent a large purse of gold and silver. Where she got it she did not say and I did not ask.'

  'Excellent, Hardacil. Once you are done eating, go and buy the best supplies for our trip—as much you think we can conceal from the men.'

  After the meal was done, Hardacil left to buy supplies, while Daerahil returned to his room. There he changed into somber clothes, with darkened armor, the better to blend into the black night that awaited them, for the moon was young and set early. Besides their torches, there would be little light upon the road.

  Once dressed, he hastened to the stables, where Hardacil was already waiting with their horses. Mounting up, Daerahil told the chief groomsman that they would not be long. 'And make certain there is someone on duty to care for our horses when we return,' he finished.

  The groom inclined his head but said nothing.

  Daerahil and Hardacil rode for the East Gate. Daerahil knew this was where his greatest danger would be, both on his departure and his return. Speaking to the guard sergeant, he said, 'Open the gates so that my escort and I may ride forth.'

  Stammering in surprise, for it had been months since the gates had been opened after sunset and then only to receive men who had desperately marched west to reach the Crossroads, the sergeant asked, 'Captain, are you sure of your decision?'

  'Must I have everyone in this realm question my orders day in and day out, Sergeant?' demanded Daerahil. 'Should I go and extract your captain from his place of comfort so that I can ride forth?'

  Opening his mouth to speak, the sergeant saw his lieutenant arrive and gave way to the superior officer. The lieutenant asked, 'Do you intend to ride far this night, Captain?' thereby skillfully avoiding questioning Daerahil's orders while still attending to his duty.

  Daerahil beckoned the officer near. 'I have a comely wench waiting just west of the Elven encampment,' he whispered, 'and it would be unseemly for a former Prince of the Realm to be seen gallivanting in public. I will be away until just before dawn. I am sure that we are both men of the world enough to know that where I am heading, there will be no such amusing companions.'

  Chuckling at Daerahil's disclosure, the lieutenant smiled knowingly and said, 'Well, my Lord, for I hope that will soon be your title again, I can see that you are a man of superior taste and accomplishments. Be safe on the road.' He then ordered the gates to be opened and, turning to Daerahil again, confided that he would tell his replacement the prince was expected back before dawn and to ask no questions.

  Turning their horses eastward, Daerahil and Hardacil cantered along the road and soon reached the Elven encampment, where they were greeted by the Elven guards and escorted across the compound. These Elves, tall and dark haired, with typical reserved expressions on their faces, had little of the common speech and directed them more by gesture than words to a large tent: the headquarters of the Elves of the North Forest.

  Smaller in size and scope than the Crossroads, the Elven encampment contained the headquarters for the representatives of the North Forest Elven government, merchants, and army within its walls. At a distance, there were two small, heavily guarded barracks, one for Dwarves and one for Men, neither of which was used much by either race, as they did not like the standoffish attitude of the Elves. Tonight, however, a raucous din could be heard from the Dwarven barracks. Otherwise it was quiet.

  Leading them to the headquarters of Ferox, the Elves nodded their respects and turned them over to two other Elves guarding the tent. Two bright torches illuminated the Elves, who gestured for them to enter. Daerahil saw a non-descript large tent made from heavy canvas, with a small stove-pipe rising from the far left of the tent.

  As they entered, Daerahil saw an Elf sitting behind a beautiful ornate desk piled with papers. Standing, the Elf was quite plain by Elven standards, rather shorter and more slender than many Lesser Elves, without the unearthly beauty normally associated with Elves, Greater or Lesser.

  'Felorad is my name, Prince Daerahil, chief counselor to Prince Ferox. Please be welcome and sit.' He indicated two comfortable leather sofas set at an angle toward each other, with a low table between them. Felorad's mousy brown hair and a high-pitched voice would lead the common observer to believe that he was weak, until you felt his presence and knew that you were meeting someone who was not to be trifled with

  Clapping his hands, two servants that Daerahil now noticed, standing next to a small iron stove, approached and set down a platter of fruit, cheese, and wine on the table. Though he was full, Daerahil sat and took some of each, nibbling so as not to offend his host. Hardacil reached for the wine and cheese hungrily, as Elven fare was never served to Men unless they had a great errand with the Elves.

  'My Lord Ferox is nearby, Lord Prince,' said Felorad. 'We will leave for him as soon as you and your friend finish eating and as soon as it is safe to do so.'

  'Safe? How are we in any danger here?'

  'Patience, lord, it should only be a few more minutes until we can leave. Word has reached us of the events in the City and your current status. We offer our sympathy and our aid.'

  'Your sympathy is well met, but how could you and your Lord aid me, unless you know more about the assassination attempt on my brother than you have admitted to?' asked Daerahil darkly.

  'No, Lord, we are as confused as you are about who might wish to kill your brother. But even if we did know, the knowledge would be of no use to you.'

  'Why not?' asked Daerahil in surprise.

  'Because, Lord,' interjected Hardacil, 'if you discover knowledge about the plot, everyone, including the King, will think that you set it up all along and now wish to betray part of your own treachery to atone for your misdeeds.'

  Starting at this suggestion, Daerahil at once saw the merit behind the thought. 'If I prove my innocence, I admit my guilt at a subtle level, while if I act at all suspiciously I am guilty on a more obvious level. Either way, I am guilty in their eyes.'

  'So it would seem,' said Felorad. 'Therefore, your only course of action is to do what?'

  'Nothing,' replied Daerahil bitterly. 'Absolutely nothing, but ride to my command; endure my exile there, and petition the King for my return once I have served my time.'

  'Precisely,' said Felorad. 'As to aid, we will certainly be able to help make your exile more comfortable. A train of pack horses is being assembled now that will arrive at Ianus Malus shortly after you do with
their baggage disguised as routine supplies. Inside you will find many things not usually provided to the Men guarding Plaga Erebus, which should make your stay within the forts of the black land less wearisome.'

  'Thank you,' replied a startled Daerahil. He could not imagine why the Elves were going so far out of their normal customs to indulge him in this fashion; clearly they wanted something from him, but what? 'I am curious,' he went on, 'about a warning I received while I was in Nen Brynn.' He described the circumstances of the mysterious visit he had received while in the bath and asked if the message had come from one of Ferox's Elves.

  'Not that I am aware of, Lord. I will speak to my Lord Ferox and ask him if he has any knowledge of these events,' said Felorad.

  At that moment, another Elf entered the tent and began whispering into Felorad's ear.

  Daerahil studied Felorad's face for a moment but could detect no obvious subterfuge. He gently brought his mental powers to bear, but all he was able to sense in the most highly disciplined mind he had ever touched was a steadfast resolve to obey his master's will. There was no trace of deceit. Suddenly feeling a change in the mind in front of him, Daerahil knew that he had been found out and quickly withdrew his mental focus.

  Felorad said sternly, 'That was not courteous, Lord Daerahil. I can see that the rumors of your powers are true. But do not try that again with me, and certainly do not try it with Lord Ferox, or the aid of the Elves shall be withdrawn.'

  Daerahil began to apologize when, with a wintry smile, Felorad said, 'No matter. You are young, desperate, and reckless. Let us not speak of it again.'

  Daerahil breathed a sigh of relief, than politely made small talk while Hardacil watched and ate.

  At last, the same Elf who had earlier whispered to Felorad returned. Catching sight of him, Felorad gave a nod and spoke to Daerahil. 'It is this for which I craved your patience. Now you shall see something that will interest you greatly, I think.'

  Before Daerahil could reply, three Elves entered the building, dragging a cloaked body with them. Then the cloak was pulled aside. Daerahil gasped at the sight of a Shadow in dark hues of green and black, his body bleeding slightly onto the wooden floor.

  'How?' he asked Felorad. 'How could you know that a Shadow was there, much less surprise him in such a fashion?'

  'A small group of Elves has been trained by the Hagar tribesman, for they promised loyalty, not exclusivity to your King. Our healers were of particular service in saving the life of their tribal chief's favorite grandchild, and they have agreed to train some of us as well. When you combine their training with our natural skills, you will find that we are more than a match for these so-called Shadows. I hope that we have not upset you by disposing of this man?'

  'Not at all. These Shadows have plagued me for years. They are personal minions of that vile serpent Mergin; if you rid the entire kingdom of Eldora of them you would be doing me a tremendous service.'

  Felorad smiled with relief and spoke softly but quickly with the other Elves in their language, then said to Daerahil, 'There are two more Shadows waiting outside the encampment for this one to report and to follow you back to the Crossroads. They followed you from there, and we have been watching them the entire time. It is lucky for you that they were ordered to follow you rather than slay you.'

  'Slay? What do you mean?'

  Drawing the Shadow's dagger from its sheath, Felorad held it up to the light, where it glimmered with an unpleasant sheen. He then thrust the knife tip into the candles on the table in front of them. A bright flame came off the knife, followed by a foul, smoky odor.

  'This blade was poisoned with the plant that you call Fallsbane,' said Felorad.

  'A Night Blade," said Daerahil, his eyes widening in horror. 'They are issued to the Shadows only when an order for assassination has been given.'

  'Yes. Only one antidote to this poison is known to us Elves, and it is difficult to make and keep. Be careful on the rest of your trip, Lord Prince, when we are not there to watch over you.'

  'I cannot believe that even Mergin would dare to order my death,' said a shaken Daerahil.

  Felorad shrugged. 'Perhaps, then, the blades were issued for your protection. In any case, we will keep the other two Shadows under watch and see that they do not follow you to your meeting with Ferox. When you leave here, we will supply the necessary makeup, perfume, and other subtleties that will confirm your story of a romantic tryst. When you return, the Shadows will see only what they are meant to see.'

  'Why not just kill them, like you did their fellow?' asked Daerahil. 'Certainly they are our enemies.'

  'Enemies?' asked a quizzical Felorad. 'They are not Elven enemies, except for this one who breached our boundaries. He would still be alive if he had stayed outside the encampment. We are not at war with any segment of mankind. We simply wish to be allowed to tend our own affairs.'

  'Then why are we having this meeting?' asked Daerahil.

  'Sometimes our own affairs and the affairs of mortals overlap. In your case, my Lord, the result will be positive for both of our peoples. Come; let us ride east to meet Ferox so we can have you on your home road in time to complete the ruse.'

  Striding out of the building, they quickly walked along the dappled darkness of the main road through camp so that the Shadows on the western end would not see them depart. Following closely behind Felorad, Daerahil saw that a troop of twelve Elves was ready, bearing long spears in addition to their bows and daggers.

  'Even we are not immune from whatever haunts these woods at night,' said Felorad. 'Since our arrival in Ackerlea many years ago, no less than five Elves have vanished without a trace. It is not easy to surprise an Elf in the forest, my Lord.'

  Climbing on to the horses provided for them, the troop moved east at a walk for the first half mile to reduce the noise from their horses. Daerahil felt the night breeze blow softly over his cheek and saw the last moonbeams glimmer through the foliage before the moon set in the west. The stars were brilliant here, and only a faint glow from distant Titania disturbed the night sky. Haunted or not, Ackerlea was indeed beautiful, and Daerahil well understood why the Elves had been drawn here. His father believed that sooner or later they would claim the forest as their own, wresting it from Eldora. But Daerahil was less inclined to credit his father's fears than ever. He would judge Ferox on his actions rather than on rumor.

  As they reached a slight rise in the road, Daerahil saw faint lights ahead. The Elves led the two Men through a cleverly disguised gap in what appeared to be a thick, impenetrable wall of trees and brush. Indeed, it seemed to Daerahil that the vegetation parted of its own accord to admit them, and then closed behind them in eerie silence.

  Here was a large, opulent Elven tent, surrounded by three smaller tents. Faint music could be heard from the smaller tents. Dismounting, Daerahil and Hardacil strode toward the entrance of the main tent. Pausing for a moment, Felorad spoke briefly to someone inside the tent in the Elven tongue, and then the tent flaps were pulled back so Alfrahil could enter, while Hardacil was asked to remain outside.

  Walking into the tent, Daerahil saw opulence everywhere. Silk couches, ornate tables, and beautifully wrought silver lamps that hung from the center beam of the tent. Several cabinets with glass fronts revealed bottles of wine, and, having controlled his thirst earlier in the evening Daerahil could only hope that wine would be served. Thick, beautiful carpets were laid upon the tent floor, and Daerahil, seeing that Felorad removed his boots just inside the entrance way, bent to pull off his own boots. Daerahil then saw Prince Ferox lounging upon a comfortable divan at the far right end of the tent, with a small brazier in front of him. The self-styled Elf Lord of Ackerlea arose to greet him.

  Tall and fair, with jet black hair streaming down past his shoulders, Ferox brought all of the usual stereotypes of Lesser Elves to mind. His presence filled the tent. Dark gray eyes under slender dark brows above chiseled features completed the picture of the quintessential Elf Lord. Aside from Fe
lorad and Hardacil, there was no one else in the tent. He could hear soft voices speaking in Elvish from the neighboring tents, but for all intents and purposes, they were alone.

  'Well now, Lord Daerahil, please sit,' said Ferox warmly. 'Felorad, if you would not mind, would you pour some wine for our guests?'

  Felorad went to a cabinet and, after musing for several moments, chose a bottle and presented it to Ferox.

  'Yes,' said Ferox approvingly. 'Such a splendid vintage is called for tonight.'

  Uncorking and decanting the wine into a crystal vase, Felorad served Daerahil first, then Ferox, Hardacil, and finally himself.

  Raising his glass in a toast, Ferox said, 'Prince Daerahil, you are most welcome. Please enjoy the hospitality of the Elves.'

  Daerahil took a strong sip and tasted an extraordinary red wine. The garnet color in his crystal glass was rich and dark, supporting the dark cherries, leather and hints of wood smoke that emanated from the wine.

  'Thank you, Prince Ferox. This wine is truly exceptional.'

  'You are more than welcome, Prince Daerahil. It is seven years as Men count them since last we met. How have you fared amongst your mortal kin in that time?'

  'Until recently, quite well,' replied Daerahil.

  'Indeed,' said Ferox. 'We have heard of the extremely disturbing events in your City, and we are saddened to hear that you are being sent to the gates of the black land in exile and that your return to your home in a position of strength and honor is not an assumption anyone can make.'

  Tired of talking about his predicament, Daerahil simply replied, 'Felorad said that you wished to speak with me.'

  'I wanted to assure you of the support of the Elves of the North Forest during your dark times and ask if there is anything we can do to help.'

  'Felorad has already offered supplies for my comfort, Lord, but otherwise I will have to suffer in exile until my father relents from his current course of action.'