1 State of Grace

by John Phythyon

  Chapter 17: A Reckoning

  (Thirty-eight Hours before Revelation Day)

  Wolf descended the staircase after collecting his things and saying goodbye to Simone.

  “Au revoir, Cherie,” she said. “I hope someday we will meet again.”

  “The feeling’s mutual,” he replied.

  She looked quickly around to see if anyone was looking, saw it was clear, and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

  “Travel safely,” she said.

  “I’ll do my best.”

  So saying, they parted.

  At the foot of the stairs, he bumped into Ravager. Wolf apologized immediately, still playing the affable noble. The well muscled, blonde Phrygian said nothing. He only stared at Wolf. For a moment, the two men sized each other up. Ravager’s ice-blue eyes revealed nothing but malice. Married with the smirk on his face, he had all the look of a man who killed for pleasure.

  Ravager nodded briefly at Wolf, as if to say, “I’ll see you soon,” and then he ascended the stairs. Wolf watched him go. He wanted to memorize the man’s appearance. He was certain Ravager was going to come between Silverleaf and him, and it would probably be sooner than later. Then he left the manor for the courtyard.

  ***

  Ravager couldn’t wipe the smirk off his face. The Urlander amused him. He seemed to really think he could just walk into a foreign country, invite himself into an important official’s home, bed his host’s mistress, and then walk out as though nothing happened. Typical Urlander.

  Ravager felt no anger over it, though. He truly thought it was funny. It took some serious balls to sleep with Silverleaf’s girlfriend in the ambassador’s own house. The self-righteous elf deserved getting taken down a few pegs, and if this was the same Urlander he’d heard had sharked Silverleaf at Conquest, so much the better. That was two good ones he’d gotten on him.

  It would be the last one, of course. You couldn’t mess with someone like Silverleaf and get away with it for long. The Urlander’s mistake had been going back for more after he’d humiliated the Alfari ambassador once.

  That was another reason he was amused. It was funny that Wolf Dasher had been able to make a fool of Silverleaf, and it was just as funny that Dasher thought he could get away with it a second time. Still, you had to admire his audacity.

  And that was the dangerous part. Lightwater claimed Dasher was a Shadow. Ravager didn’t doubt it. When he looked through the fop cover, Ravager saw a man who was ready to kill at any moment.

  The more he considered it, the more likely Ravager thought it was that Dasher’s appointment to ambassador was nothing more than a cover. If that was true, his fleecing of Silverleaf in Urland was no coincidence either. Yes, he decided, Wolf Dasher was much more than he appeared to be.

  That was no matter, though. Ravager was the most powerful Shadow he knew. Dasher could hide in the darkness all he wanted. It wouldn’t save him from Ravager’s power. He would meet the same fate as Sara Wensley-James.

  All that could wait, though. He had a job to do with Simone de Beausoir first. It would be a pity killing her. She had an amazing body. But she’d given it away wrongly. He didn’t care, but Silverleaf did. So that was it.

  He arrived at her door and took a moment to compose himself. He vanquished the thoughts of Wolf Dasher, Silverleaf’s jealousy, and Simone’s beauty. He put himself in a professional state of mind. Then he knocked on the door.

  “’oo eez eet?” she called out.

  “Eet’s Viktor,” he answered. “I have a message from Silverleaf.”

  “Entré vous,” she said.

  He opened the door, slipped inside, shut it behind him, and locked it. Simone emerged from her bedchamber into the sitting room of her suite. She wore a white, silk slip and a matching robe. Her hair hung down around her shoulders.

  “What eez ze message?” she asked.

  Ravager advanced two steps. Unbidden, a grin came to his face, and his heart started to beat faster in excitement and anticipation. He raised his right hand and extended his index finger towards the ceiling.

  “The message,” he said slowly, still advancing on her, “eez that he does not appreciate you sleeping with another man.”

  The girl’s face darkened. Ravager could see the fear welling up in her heart. His breathing quickened.

  “He finds thees sin unforgeevable,” he said.

  Simone started to back away from him.

  “Please, Veektor,” she begged. “Don’t ’urt me.”

  “Have you seen me work, Simone? Eet’s exhilarating.”

  With a thought, he summoned Shadow energy up into the tip of his right index finger. A bubble of dark, black energy popped up and clung there.

  “Non,” she said, reverting to her native language. “Non, Viktor. S’il vous plait, Viktor!”

  He continued to walk towards her. She continued to back away. The doors to her parapet were open. Ravager sucked air through his teeth in anticipation. He fed more energy into the bubble on his finger. It grew.

  Simone was out the door now. She hadn’t stopped moving back. Ravager licked his lips. The time was now. He brought his right arm back and threw the Shadow bubble at her feet.

  As soon as it left his hand, a hideous maw formed on the front of it. It hit the ground and bounced. Ravager’s loins stirred as his member engorged itself and grew. The ravaging ball bounced again as it made its way towards Simone’s feet. She screamed. It was exquisite.

  ***

  Wolf made his way out into the courtyard. His carriage hadn’t arrived yet. Worried something was amiss, he walked in the direction of what he assumed were the stables. Not far away, Silverleaf stood in the center of the courtyard, staring at him. Wolf put his amiable fool character back on.

  “Hello again, Ambassador,” he called out. “Although I’m afraid it will be shortly followed by goodbye.”

  “Pity,” Silverleaf said. There was no sincerity in his tone.

  “This is a remarkable manor,” Wolf said as he reached the elf. “You didn’t mention how incredible it was in Urland.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” Silverleaf’s reply was as insincere as the last one.

  “You know,” Wolf went on, “I could swear the weather inside these walls is better than what it is outside. How do you accomplish that? Is it elfin magic?”

  Silverleaf gave Wolf a disgusted look. He stiffened his back and fixed Wolf with a glare. Wolf had to steel his nerves not to flinch. Silverleaf’s beauty was almost overpowering, and he aimed it at Wolf like a weapon.

  “How did such an ignoramus get named ambassador to Alfar,” he asked.

  Wolf smiled. He feigned stupidity, but the source of his amusement was Silverleaf’s taunt. He’d gotten to him again; just as he had during their Conquest match. He decided to let his cover down a bit.

  “I’m a man of many hidden talents,” he answered. Despite the difficulty, he forced his eyes to meet Silverleaf’s, and he put the barest hint of a growl in his tone. “But you haven’t answered my question.”

  The Alfari ambassador continued to stare. He looked at Wolf as if he were the most revolting creature he’d ever seen.

  “Not everything in Alfar is the result of ‘elfin magic,’ Mr. Dasher. The power of the land predates its people. Frey’s wisdom and guidance enabled us to tap its full potential.

  “This entire establishment is built from the wood of the Drasil tree. They once grew plentifully throughout Alfheim. Drasils are steeped in the magic of the land. Their branches are often sought for wands and staves, because they conduct magic so well.

  “This manor was built a long time ago by a powerful elfin magician. The magic of the wood itself makes the environment more pleasant.

  “Since the civil war and your occupation, Drasil trees have become rarer and rarer. Most believe that, so long as the land is polluted with the corruption brought about by a divided people and the presence of too many humans, the Drasil will continue to die out. When the last one is
gone, there will be no more magic in Alfheim. There will be nothing left for your people to plunder, and elves will vanish from the Earth.

  “God is angry with us, Mr. Dasher. He is punishing us for fighting each other and for tolerating you.”

  Silverleaf let the insult hang in the air. The glare never left his face. It was as though he held Wolf personally responsible for everything wrong with his country.

  Wolf chewed on his words for a moment. Silverleaf was a patriot. He’d already established that. But it seemed as though he was also a zealot. Wolf didn’t like people who took their religion too seriously. They stopped living in the real world and made their decisions based on their own personal – and often twisted – view of God’s will.

  “I thought Frey’s message was that elves needed to care for other races and bring them into enlightenment,” Wolf said. “Why would God punish you for consorting with humans?”

  “We have lost our way,” Silverleaf said. “We no longer offer you Urlanders enlightenment. We have become slaves to your desire for magic. We are nothing more than pawns in your game with the Phrygians. That is not what Frey or God intended. Thus, we suffer.

  “God does not tolerate deviation from his plan, Mr. Dasher. Soon there will be a reckoning, and those responsible will pay.”

  “You see,” Wolf said, determined to insult the pompous elf a little further, “that’s why I don’t believe in God. I hear all the time about how God is angry and how there will come a reckoning and the wicked will pay. But it never comes. No divine power ever provides justice. In fact, it’s often the god who needs justice visited upon him for not properly caring for his flock.

  “Worse, the people I hear claiming God is angry and proclaiming he will inflict vengeance on us are the same ones who seem to be most interested in claiming power, going to war, and making life on Earth more miserable. Only despots claim God has given them the right to commit atrocities.”

  Silverleaf stared hard at Wolf, saying nothing for a full minute. Wolf found it increasingly hard not to wilt under that imperious gaze. When he thought he might crack and cower away, Silverleaf finally spoke.

  “I suggest you watch your tongue carefully, Ambassador,” he said, accenting the last word so that it sounded distasteful for him to even speak it. “There are many in Alfar, especially in the coalition government, who would love nothing more than to demonstrate to you the folly of those words. There are no atheists in Hell.”

  Wolf was about to retort when he heard a terrifying scream. He turned in time to see Simone fall from a parapet two storeys above and crash sickeningly to the earth.

  “Simone!” he cried and ran to her.

  When he reached her, he knew she was dead. She lay at an impossible angle, and blood was spreading rapidly in a pool around her head. He looked up to the parapet from where she’d fallen and saw Ravager emerge from the door. He came to the edge of the parapet, put his hands on it, and stared cruelly at Wolf as he leaned.

  “As I said,” Silverleaf commented, “there will be a reckoning, and those responsible will pay.”

  Wolf stared in horror at him. The elf displayed no emotion at the death of his lover whatsoever. He simply fixed Wolf with a casual glare. Wolf knew everything he needed to know from that gaze. Silverleaf had declared war between them, and that was just fine with Wolf. His good friend, Sara Wensley-James, was dead and had fingered Silverleaf. Now the man had murdered an innocent woman. And Wolf knew he was at the center of some sort of plot against Urlish interests in Alfar. He was ready to see Sagaius Silverleaf pay for his crimes, known and otherwise. He’d taken the elf down at Conquest; he would do so again in real life.

  Presently, Wolf’s carriage arrived. Silverleaf continued to glare.

  “Be careful,” the elf said. “The forest between here and Al-Adan is not safe. I would hate to see something happen to you before you begin your work here in Alfar.”

  Wolf knew a threat when he heard one. He dropped all pretense of being an ignorant foreign noble.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m well equipped to deal with any difficulties.”

  The two ambassadors stared at each other for a moment. Then Wolf rose and went to retrieve his bags. Silverleaf wanted a fight. Wolf was happy to give it to him, and he vowed the elf was going to regret it.

  Chapter 18: The Forest

  (Thirty-six Hours before Revelation Day)

  Wolf brooded as the carriage rolled through the forest. A road made it possible for the vehicle to gain passage through the thick trees, but, like the rest of Alfar, it was in poor condition. Bumps and divots pocked it, and scrub brush grew across it intermittently, making the travel rough and uncomfortable. Despite being jostled about the carriage, though, Wolf hardly noticed.

  He was angry with himself. Silverleaf may have ordered Ravager to kill Simone, but it was Wolf’s own fault it happened. He slept with the girl in Silverleaf’s own house! It was an outrageous and stupid thing to do. Damn him anyway for letting the wine do his thinking for him. Damn him for having enough of it that was possible.

  And if Silverleaf wasn’t angry about Wolf bedding his mistress, it was possible he knew they’d been snooping around. Perhaps Lightwater had seen them, or maybe the miserable servant had just told Silverleaf something to get rid of Simone. He hated her; it was conceivable.

  Regardless, Wolf had used her. He got her drunk to ply her for information, and he’d hit the goldmine with her showing him Silverleaf’s office and the safe. He’d played her like a pawn, just as Silverleaf had. Was he any better?

  Yes, he decided. He did all the same things to her the elf did, but he didn’t murder her when he was done with her. Silverleaf clearly placed no value on human life. Wolf wondered if he was equally callous towards elves.

  He looked out the window of the carriage and was disgusted by what he saw. All around him were dead and rotting trees. From what he’d read, this woods should be rich and thick and verdant. Instead, it looked like a corpse – or, better, like a dying man with leprosy. It was still alive, but barely, and its flesh was already rotting.

  The sight of the putrescent trees made his mood blacker. He remembered that Silverleaf blamed humanity for this blight and that the ambassador had threatened Wolf with danger in the forest. Let them come, he thought. He’d be more than happy to pay Silverleaf’s minions a portion of what he owed their master.

  As he stared out the window, he thought he saw something move. Fearful he’d just invoked trouble by begging for it, he sat up straight and peered more closely. He saw nothing but the trees passing by.

  After staring for a moment to be sure he hadn’t seen something, he leaned back and tried to sort through the mess he found himself in. Wolf could see something bad on the horizon. The only reason to kill Sara was because she uncovered what was at the heart of Silverleaf’s plan. With the Phrygians involved, it had to be very bad for Urland. But how did Silverleaf benefit? What did it all add up to?

  As he contemplated the possibilities, he again thought he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. Doubly alert now, he sat forward again and peered out the window. Once again, there was nothing but the trees, but Wolf was sure he’d seen something this time. He continued to stare.

  A moment later, he spotted it. Something was moving quickly through the trees approximately a hundred yards off the road. He couldn’t make out what it was at first. The decaying trees helped keep the details murky. Whatever it was moved steadily closer to the road, though. Wolf stared harder trying to make it out.

  A second later, he recognized it. It was a man – or more likely an elf – on a horse. Wolf opened the carriage door and leaned out.

  “Charles,” he shouted. “We’ve got company off to the left.”

  Charles turned his attention to the forest. He scanned the trees for a moment.

  “I see them, sir,” he said.

  Them? Wolf looked again. Yes, there was more than one. It was hard to say for certain, but it looked like six now.


  “You’d better secure yourself inside, sir,” Charles said. “I’ll try to put some distance between us.”

  Wolf did as he was told. Once he was back inside, he tapped the stone Quincy showed him to expose the control panel for the carriage’s defenses. Charles snapped the reins and urged the four horses pulling the carriage to pick up their pace.

  Wolf waited. He didn’t know what to make of the approaching horsemen. For all he knew, they could be friendly. He doubted it, though. Little he’d encountered in Alfar had proven remotely benevolent. Silverleaf had promised the forest was treacherous. This was surely him making good on that threat.

  As if to confirm his thoughts, the horsemen moved close enough that Wolf could see they were armed with bows. They were dressed in white tunics and leggings. White hoods shrouded their faces. They looked almost exactly like the elf who tried to assassinate him in El-Amin. This had to be the Sons of Frey. Did that mean Silverleaf was in league with them after all?

  Wolf had no time to consider it further. One of the horsemen stood up in the saddle and let fly with an arrow. It missed badly. Still, that was enough for Wolf. They were clearly hostile. It was time to respond appropriately.

  He gauged their position and decided the front-left dragon was the correct one. He adjusted the dial to turn the dragon to firing position. As he did so, a red “X” appeared outside the window. Bless Quincy for thinking of putting sights on the weapon! When Wolf thought he had it lined up, he tapped the firing stone. A red beam of eldritch energy erupted from the dragon’s mouth and struck a tree, obliterating it with a deafening explosion.

  “Blood and bones,” Wolf swore.

  He’d missed, but he was pleased to see that the destruction of the tree had spooked the pursuers’ horses and forced them to change course. He’d bought himself some time.