“Her Majesty hopes that having fresh eyes on the situation will inspire an as-yet unseen solution,” he said.
“In other words,” Goldenfawn said, “Nothing’s changed.”
“Not yet,” Wolf said. “Her Majesty is hoping my appointment will make a difference.”
“And just how is your appointment going to change that?” Lumendrake said, his voice rising just a touch. “Your military is here without a mandate, and this government refuses to do anything about it.” He looked at Spellbinder as he said the last sentence.
“Without a mandate?” Blackstone roared. “The only reason this government is in power now is because we were asked to come provide assistance. It wasn’t elfin soldiers who pacified the extremists. They were Urlanders, who gave their blood and their lives to save this God-forsaken country, which now doesn’t have the decency to even say thank you.”
“Thank you?” Goldenfawn spat. “We should thank you for occupying our country and refusing to leave?”
“General Blackstone,” Spellbinder said, “I’ll thank you not to use the phrase ‘God-forsaken’ in reference to Alfar. We are the Children of Frey, God’s true servants. I will not tolerate the implication that God has forsaken us.”
“But he has,” Lumendrake said. “Look around you, President Spellbinder. The land dies as we watch. How else could this happen without God’s absence. And he has abandoned us because we tolerate these infidels!”
“They are not infidels, Minister,” Waterdown said. “Humans believe in God and worship him just as we do. They just do not accept Frey’s decree that elves are God’s chosen people. Who can blame them? Would you want to be told they are his special creatures and not us?”
“They are infidels, Minister Waterdown,” Lumendrake replied. “They occupy our lands and pillage them for their own nihilistic conflict with Phrygia. If they believed in the same god we do, they would have more respect for the land.”
Wolf drank some more wine and took a bite of his salad. It didn’t taste good anymore. He felt a headache coming on. With a wan smile, he did his best to listen to the bickering, hoping to gain some insight that would allow him to negotiate a way out of this.
Chapter 22: A New Day is Nigh
(Twenty-three Hours, Forty-one Minutes before Revelation Day)
Ravager smiled as the Sons of Frey frisked him. He was constantly amused by their pointless security measures. He’d worked with a number of them. They knew what he was capable of. No amount of restraint they administered could prevent him from unleashing his power and killing Starfellow if he wanted to, but they worked away diligently like ants every time anyway.
After a moment, they seemed satisfied and led him out of the front room of the dilapidated hovel they occupied back to what seemed to be a kitchen. There was a hearth, and some pots hung on the wall, although it looked as if they hadn’t been used in some time.
One of the elves who frisked him threw back a threadbare rug to reveal a trapdoor at the center of the room. He opened it and indicated Ravager should go down first. He did as he was told, still unable to wipe the condescending smile from his face.
He descended into darkness and found himself grabbed just as he reached the bottom. He consented to this treatment with the same indifferent humor with which he treated their other security attempts. He was half surprised they didn’t throw a bag over his head.
They led him in the darkness down what he presumed was a passageway of some sort. He couldn’t be certain, but he thought he could make out walls on either side of him. They entered a wider room after about ten paces and stopped. Ravager waited for what he presumed would be a melodramatic entrance.
He wasn’t disappointed. There was a flash of light that temporarily blinded him. When his eyes adjusted, Mustique Starfellow, leader of the Sons of Frey and most-wanted terrorist in Al-Adan, sat casually in a chair in the middle of the room. He was easily the smallest elf Ravager had ever seen. Where most of his race was tall, well muscled, and beautiful, Starfellow seemed exactly the opposite. He was short and very slight. Ravager estimated he couldn’t weigh more than one hundred or maybe one hundred fifteen pounds. His black skin managed to somehow look pale, and his cheeks were sunken in, like he hadn’t eaten for months. His eyes were hollow and seemed to be focused on some terrifying thing that was occurring in another dimension. He did not look of this Earth, and he gave every appearance that he would soon be departing it from malnourishment.
Ravager smiled again. It wasn’t returned.
“Why have you come, Infidel,” Starfellow asked in Phrygian. His voice was strong despite his frail appearance.
“Why have I come?” Ravager repeated. “The great calamity is to take place tomorrow, and my master is very concerned that your recent bumbling is going to jeopardize the operation. He has sent me to make sure you are, in fact, ready.”
Ravager suppressed a laugh, but he smiled broadly. Silverleaf had no intention of calling off Operation: Hammerfall. Everything was proceeding exactly the way he wanted. Moreover, all of the “bumbling” of the operations was a direct result of Ravager tipping off the authorities about the coming attacks. Silverleaf was determined to keep things tense but not allow one side or the other to gain the upper hand until he could play his masterstroke tomorrow.
But threatening Starfellow with the implication that the Sons of Frey could be cut out of the operation would ensure he would make certain to do everything correctly. And Ravager thought it was fun to bait Starfellow.
His efforts were immediately rewarded. Starfellow first looked shocked and then furious at the implication the Sons of Frey weren’t doing what they were supposed to.
“Bumbling?” he said, as though he’d never heard the word before. “My martyrs have gone to glory exactly as planned every time.”
“No, not every time,” Ravager said. “Recently, the girl who was supposed to destroy the Central Police station was killed by the Elite Guard before she could set off her wand. Another of your martyrs successfully blew himself up, but the government officials he was supposed to kill had already left the scene. And then, of course, there is your recent failure to kill the new Urlish ambassador upon his arrival in El-Amin.”
“None of those things were our fault, Mr. Krilenko,” Starfellow protested. “We followed your instructions explicitly. Perhaps your intelligence isn’t as accurate as you claim.”
“My information is accurate,” Ravager replied, still smiling. “I have provided you with exact intelligence allowing you to stage your attacks. It is not my fault if your martyrs cannot execute their missions correctly.”
Several of the elves bristled at his comments. Ravager snorted. He dared them to try to punish him. These idiots would be dead in seconds here in this tiny room with little space for escape if he unleashed his power. Their grasp of strategy was poor.
“My martyrs—” Starfellow began.
“Are fools,” Ravager finished. “I provided the location of the new Urlish ambassador’s arrival. The idiots tried to sneak him in without security. There were no Urlish or Alfari security personnel present. Yet the ambassador is not dead. He lives and is here to inflict the mandate from his queen on your people longer. There is no excuse for this, Starfellow. I gave you everything you needed. You failed, not me.
“My master is extremely concerned that something could go wrong tomorrow. Your track record of late has been poor, and we cannot afford another failure.”
There was a pause as the two of them stared at each other. Ravager watched Starfellow’s jaw clench and unclench. He didn’t like what Ravager said, but he knew the Phrygian Shadow was right.
“You may inform our benefactor that everything is exactly as I told him it would be,” Starfellow said. “I have selected twelve of my very best martyrs. Their devotion to God is unquestionable.”
“I am unconcerned with how much they love their god, Starfellow,” Ravager said. “Whether they love God or the Great Bear or The Devil is of no consequenc
e to the mission.”
“Blasphemy!” one of the guards said and made a move towards him. Ravager lifted his hand and popped a bubble of Shadow to his fingertip immediately.
“You may be willing to be a martyr,” Ravager growled, “but are you willing to die painfully for no reason beyond your own stupidity?”
The guard stopped and considered his chances. Ravager smiled. He felt his loins stir. This was getting exciting.
“Enough,” Starfellow said. Much to Ravager’s surprise, he didn’t raise his voice. His tone was calm and even. “Glitterblade, stand down. Mr. Krilenko, please extinguish your power.”
Ravager dispersed the Shadow harmlessly with the slightest pang of disappointment. It would have been fun to kill the fool and watch the horror on the faces of the others. Still, he was here on business. Glitterblade stepped back, but he glared at Ravager, who decided to press the advantage before his elfin hosts could do something else stupid.
“As I was saying, I am more concerned about their ability to execute the mission than what god they worship.”
Starfellow stared at him for a moment. His hollow eyes searched Ravager’s.
“Devotion to God is critical to the mission, Mr. Krilenko,” he said at last. “A martyr must be convinced his mission is holy and in accordance with God’s plan for him to be willing to sacrifice his life. In the case of the twelve elves in question, their fervor is strong. They will do what is necessary.”
“But can they get in without being detected, so they can make the sacrifice?”
“They can, so long as you provide the proper documents,” Starfellow replied. “That was your end of the bargain. Remember?”
Glitterblade sneered. Ravager snorted again. He smiled at the defiant elf, imagining his death screams. Then he returned his attention to Starfellow.
“The paperwork is being finished as we speak,” he said. “I will deliver the documents to you tomorrow morning.”
“Very well,” Starfellow said. “But meet me at the eastside location. We’ve used this one too much recently.”
“You see?” Ravager taunted. “You can think about being careful and successful. My master had nothing to fear. Tomorrow, you will be the architect of a new Alfar.”
“I am not interested in grand promises, Mr. Krilenko,” Starfellow said. “This may be a game for you, or perhaps it is only a dalliance for your government to irritate the Urlanders. But it is deadly serious to me and to the Sons of Frey. We are willing to give our lives, every one of us, to see this illegal coalition government felled and a proper theocracy established in its place. We need a government that will enforce the will of God, not cater to the whims of human interlopers.”
“You know full well my master will give you the opportunity to do just that,” Ravager said.
“You still have not told us who this master of yours is,” Starfellow said.
“As you know, I cannot reveal this person’s name at the moment, since he or she needs to remain above suspicion prior to the attack. Suffice to say, this person shares all your aims.”
“It has to be Ahmed Lumendrake,” Starfellow said, a gleam in his eye. “They’ve called upon him multiple times to condemn the Sons of Frey and call for an end to hostilities, and he refuses. It couldn’t be anyone else.”
“Again,” Ravager said with a smile, “I am not at liberty to reveal the person who is interested in helping you. But don’t worry, Starfellow; your long struggle is about to end. A new day is nigh.”
As he left, Ravager couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. Starfellow was such a naïve fool. He had no idea how such a man could possibly have organized the largest insurgency in Alfar and stayed in control of it for so long. He must have done it purely on charisma, because he wasn’t much of a strategist. Ahmed Lumendrake was the perfect fall guy for Starfellow’s suspicions. He looked for all the world like a terrorist sympathizer. It was genius of
Silverleaf to argue for his inclusion in the coalition.
But Lumendrake wasn’t capable of what Silverleaf had planned. He was too narrow-minded. He was a one-issue politician, and men like that rarely had vision to accomplish great things. Lumendrake didn’t have the connections to pull off what they were about to. Only Silverleaf had his fingers in enough pies to assemble an operation on this scale.
Moreover, Lumendrake was a pain in the ass. If he survived the holocaust, he would interfere with Silverleaf’s post-coalition government plans. Thus, Ahmed Lumendrake was going to have his next conversation with God and Frey in person. Sadly, the Minister of Culture would be among the dead when it was all said and done.
As he emerged from the hovel, Ravager found himself in a fine mood. He enjoyed his job. Manipulating idiots into doing what he needed was almost as satisfying as killing. With a happy sigh, he started off towards the palace, so he could put Silverleaf in the picture.
Chapter 23: A Fresh Voice
(Twenty-two Hours, Two Minutes before Revelation Day)
Wolf thought his head was going to split open. The officials at the dinner had been arguing incessantly among one another for nearly an hour. All of their positions were exactly as Kenderbick described them, and they reiterated them in multiple ways, while never bothering to listen to each other. Spellbinder tried vainly to moderate the discussion, but she didn’t have the skill or the will to hold them in line.
“I’m willing to listen to reason,” Goldenfawn said – a remark Wolf highly doubted – “but you have yet to present a plan that gets the Urlanders off Alfari soil.”
“Yes, I have,” Waterdown argued. “You’re just not listening to me.” Wolf thought the first statement was false and the second true. “If we bolster our own security, we can convince the Urlish government, I’m sure, to begin withdrawing forces.”
“You do not deal with an oppressor by first offering him what he wants,” Lumendrake said. “If the Urlish want to continue their magic trade with us, they must first give us a good faith gesture by withdrawing all military forces from Alfar.”
“So that you can fall to a Jifani coup and be out of power,” Blackstone spat. “Or I suppose, Minister Lumendrake, that would put you in power.”
“General!” Spellbinder scolded.
“I will not be spoken to that way by an infidel!” Lumendrake roared.
Wolf put his hands to his head. This job was impossible. There was no way to get these people to agree on the color of the sky, let alone how to protect both Urlish and Alfari interests. As he braced himself for the next insult, the room suddenly fell silent. Wolf looked up to see what caused the sudden change. Everyone was looking towards the door. Wolf turned his attention there as well and saw Sagaius Silverleaf standing in the threshold. He had a look of smug superiority on his face.
“I’m very sorry I’m late,” he said. “It’s sounds like I’ve been missing a lively discussion. Someone please fill me in.”
He swept into the room as though he owned it, heading directly for the empty seat. Lumendrake and Blackstone both scowled at him.
“Good evening, Ambassador Silverleaf,” Spellbinder said. “It’s good of you to join us. We’ve been ... ‘briefing’ the new Urlish ambassador on our various positions. Have you met Ambassador Dasher?”
Wolf stood and did his best to suppress a grin. Silverleaf stared coldly at him. His look betrayed no surprise. Ravager had obviously informed him of his failed mission.
“Ambassador Silverleaf and I are acquainted,” Wolf said. “He showed me the most interesting hospitality last night.”
“I was only returning the favor from your treatment of me while I was in Urland,” Silverleaf replied.
The two men held each other’s gazes for a moment. Wolf found it was getting easy not to buckle under Silverleaf’s frightening beauty. When he looked upon him now, he did not see a gorgeous elf; he only saw a sadist. His hatred of the elf immunized him against Silverleaf’s charisma.
“Perhaps you could offer us some help,” Spellbinder suggested. �
�No one here seems to be able to express himself or herself civilly.”
Silverleaf seated himself with great flair. Wolf struggled but succeeded in not rolling his eyes. He sat back down.
“Well, to be sure, the issues do not always lend themselves well to civil discourse,” Silverleaf began, “but it is no less necessary to get these thoughts out. To be frank, the coalition government has extended the welcome of the Urlish occupiers too long. How can they not cry out in furor?”
“Occupiers!” Blackstone shouted. “Occupiers? We are here at the behest of this government, Ambassador.”
“No,” Silverleaf corrected. “You came at the request of the previous government. The coalition government did not actually invite you here.”
“The coalition government still asked for our aid,” Blackstone roared. “It was the coalition government that begged for us to maintain security while it organized its own police and military forces.”
“And we thank you for it,” Silverleaf said, his tone remaining even and calm. “But now it is time for you to go.”
“And then what will happen, Ambassador?” Blackstone shot back. “Your military is inadequate to withstand all but the most pitiful assaults from your neighbor, and your so-called Elite Guard is incapable of preventing sectarian violence in your capital city, let alone any of the outlying areas. The Central Police is consistently infiltrated by insurgents. Every day, innocent elves are murdered by madmen whose only goal is to sow chaos. And without our soldiers making the sacrifices they do, it would be ten times worse.”
“Oh, don’t pretend to care about the lives of innocent elves, General,” Goldenfawn said. “You care nothing for the elves that die in the insurgent attacks. Your only concern is the precious magic trade. Your worry isn’t that more elves will die; it’s that you’ll lose your competitive advantage over Phrygia.”
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