by Cindy Dees
The party was less tense through the afternoon, but quiet as fatigue set in. Not long after they’d started looking for a likely spot to stop for the night, Cicero abruptly called a halt, studied what looked like some random scratches on a tree, and, without explanation, plunged into the trees. He returned a few minutes later, grinning widely.
“What?” she demanded.
“Follow me. We will sleep safe from Anton’s soldiers this night,” he declared.
Perplexed, she and the others followed him off the path and into heavy woods. The trees were huge here. Old-growth forest. Somehow, this stretch of timber had escaped the ravages of the Forester’s Guild.
They picked their way through dangerous tree roots and thick brambles for several minutes. Without warning, a half-dozen elves dropped out of the trees around them. Raina noticed intricate russet-colored swirls decorating their faces. Kindari. Cicero must have seen their sign along the margins of the road.
Cicero murmured under his breath. “The ursari. Bear clan.” Louder he said, “Greetings, cousins. I am Cicero of the arachnari.”
One of the elves stepped forward. He was tall and held an axe in his right hand, but the blade was behind his body in a nonthreatening fashion. “Ho, long legs. Do northern stars take away your sorrows?”
Cicero replied, “Would that they could. We travel in search of a lost friend. And this night, we seek safe shelter.”
“Then come with us and be welcome,” the big elf replied.
In short order the kindari had invited the party to their village, tucked into the hillsides and roots of the largest trees in the forest.
They were ushered into a large roundhouse, some sort of gathering place for the village. The construction was beautiful, with arched wooden ribs that looked carved directly from tree roots climbing to a point in the center of the high ceiling. The wood-paneled walls were carved with gorgeous representations of nature—vines and flowers and fanciful creatures. It was a room worthy of any king, tucked here among the trees.
Food and drink were brought, and dinner was a merry affair with laughter and song aplenty. The kindari embraced life with zest, not shying away from displays of emotion like their cousins of other elven persuasions. They laughed loud, freely shed a tear at a sad song, and seemed more at ease in their skins than any other elves she’d met.
After everyone had dined and the assemblage was served mugs of bracing hard cider, the kindari elders and travelers settled down around a bonfire to trade news.
Raina sat quietly, listening to the events of the day. The big news was that an expeditionary force from Dupree marched north to the Forest of Thorns and was wreaking havoc along the way, requisitioning whatever food and supplies it wanted. She wondered how these forest dwellers managed to get such current information way out here. Word had it the governor was leading the force personally. The idea concerned the ursari greatly.
Rumor also had it the governor was looking to provoke a war with the Boki. The kindari elders, led by a fellow with a thick head of snow-white hair, predicted that in his ambition and greed Anton would use the invasion as a free pass to steal all the gold and other resources he could lay his hands on. Or worse, he might attempt to make a great conquest of the Forest of Thorns, an endeavor the ursari scorned as folly.
If Anton truly provoked the greenskin tribes, it was generally agreed that the Empire would be forced to send a large Imperial legion to Haelos to quell the hornet’s nest Anton would stir up.
Cicero chimed in, “The way I hear it, the governor is unbalanced in the head. Kothite nobles always seem to be a little off, if you know what I mean.”
This from the man whose friend and colleague had ranted about her bringing down a kingdom, compliments of a vision from his dragon lord?
Knowing nods bobbed all around. Several ursari spoke in quick succession while she was momentarily distracted by the reminder of the elf Moto’s disturbing prophecy.
“… The people of the Black Flame go a little mad with power when they come to Haelos.…”
“… If the Viper knows what’s good for him he will stay clear of the sky people of the Ariannas.… .”
“… But if he fells the nomads then all the Valelands would be his for the taking.… .”
“… The Wyldes will be lucky if he stays occupied high of Dupree.…”
“… the Lady knows the Boki will draw much blood. Fighting in the thorns is madness.”
A momentary silence fell. Kendrick leaned forward, grinning with surprising violence. “Personally, I’d like to see the governor try the full might of the Boki. If anything, their strength has grown since the last time he quelled them. They’d crush Anton.”
Eben argued, “I dunno. I’ve run my caravans through the Forest of Thorns, and those orcs are always brawling and squirmishing among themselves.”
The white-haired elder replied sagely, “Ahh, yes. Wolves fighting over a single bone are fierce individually. But such a pack will rend the bear that comes to their supper limb from limb. The Lords of the Boar have an entire forest under their control and all of its power.”
Rosana piped up, “Like our violent little colony is not the same way if properly provoked?”
The ursari elder shrugged. “We make our homes in a dangerous land. Those who live here must keep their reflexes and swords sharp to survive.”
Cicero commiserated, “Better perilous freedom than safe and certain servitude. Is that not what our kind always says?”
The elder nodded slowly. Raina’s head was in a whirl. These people were speaking treason. Casually! Surely there was an informant somewhere in their midst. Merely thinking these sorts of thoughts was a crime punishable by death. Her parents had no love for the Empire, but never … ever … would one of them utter aloud anything like these folk were chatting about over mugs of hard cider.
Furthermore, the vitriol dripping in the kindari’s voices at any reference to Koth was breathtaking. The Empire was all-powerful. All-knowing. One did not gainsay it. Ever. And yet, these wild people dared to speak their minds.
A staggering exercise of freedom.
Freedom. A notion for which she had a new and utterly profound respect after her own narrow escape from unwilling servitude to the Mages of Alchizzadon. She had to find a way to rouse the Great Mage. And sooner rather than later.
CHAPTER
20
Aurelius peered surreptitiously out the window of his office high in the Mage’s Guild. He spotted the individual he awaited entering the far side of Eldritch Circle. How could anyone miss the man? Not only was he a head taller than any other person in the open space, but he still moved as gracefully as a dancer, still exuded an odd sense of utter calm in the midst of a great storm, still wrapped himself in an aura of deadly menace.
But from this vantage point Aurelius watched most of the people in the plaza completely failing to notice one of the most feared assassins on either shore of the Abyssmal Sea. Shaking his head, he headed downstairs to greet his guest.
When a knock sounded upon the guild’s outer door, Aurelius brushed aside the apprentice on door duty and opened it himself. He grinned at the faint shoulder twitch that was his guest’s only indication of surprise.
“Come in, you old reprobate.” Aurelius laughed. “Are you wearing that getup to frighten small children, or do you seriously think it hides your identity?”
Selea shrugged out of his voluminous hooded cloak and passed it to Aurelius. He stripped off the black gloves that completed the ensemble. “It seems to do the trick. So, Aurelius. I am surprised to find you here. You do not accompany our illustrious governor?”
“What’s this? Is your spy network failing you?”
The nulvari grinned, his smile all the whiter for his midnight dark face. “Go ahead and think that, my friend. We’ll see who’s still standing in two hundred years.”
Aurelius had no illusions as to why Selea had come to visit. The nulvari had come to collect on the favor owed him and woul
d finally demand answers. Answers Aurelius had avoided giving the assassin for sixteen years. Selea followed him into his office complete with its new desk, making no sound whatsoever with his passing.
Aurelius ushered Selea to the pair of new armchairs he’d brought in after De’Vir’s boy blew the place to bits, propped his feet on the raised hearth before the fire, leaned back, and feigned a casualness he was far from feeling. “What can I do for you, my old friend?”
“I seek answers to questions you already know I am here to ask.”
Like most nulvari, Selea could be incredibly obtuse when he chose. He was a master at speaking around a subject, at conveying vast amounts of information without ever once mentioning a thing directly. And vice versa, he could talk for hours and never actually reveal a thing. Interesting that he indulged in no pleasantries today, no subtle wordplay, no hints or innuendos. The reappearance of the names De’Vir and Ki’Raiden in the same week must have worried Selea as much as it worried Aurelius.
Seeking to delay the real issue, Aurelius asked, “What news of the boy?”
In much more typical Selea fashion, the nulvari answered a question with a question. “What do you know of the lad?”
He temporized, “I’m assuming this conversation is between two friends and not the representatives of our respective guilds?”
“Of course.”
Even Aurelius, who’d known Selea for some two hundred years, had no idea what Assassin’s Guild rank the man held. But his assertion that this was not a guild matter seemed to relax the nulvari. Ever the cautious one, he was. Didn’t entirely trust his closest acquaintances, even after centuries.
Selea finally ended their verbal dance by saying bluntly, “I sought out the boy as you asked. Delivered him to the Heart. And at my request, Lenora duly let him slip out with that gypsy girl he came to Dupree with. As we expected, they headed toward the Forest of Thorns. My informant reports that your boy caught up with Hyland’s son before they even passed through the city gates.”
“Excellent,” Aurelius murmured. “On what pretext did Lenora let the boy go?”
“I suspect all she had to do was leave the door unlocked and look the other way.” Selea added reflectively, “That boy gravitates to trouble like his father did.”
Aurelius rose and went to the liquor cabinet. “Your usual?”
“Indeed.”
He poured honeyed mead into a pair of tall glass mugs and carried them back to the fire. The two men sipped in silence, contemplating the flickering flames for several minutes. It was a pleasure to be in the leisurely company of another elf. Humans were always in such a blasted hurry. They talked fast and moved fast, racing through life like madmen. Of course, with so little time to live he supposed they had cause.
“Why this particular chain of events?” Aurelius murmured. “Why now?”
Selea frowned to show he’d heard the question, but the silence stretched out while he considered his answer. Finally, the nulvari murmured back, “Perhaps it is merely coincidence.”
“Cursed improbable coincidence that the Boki leave their forest for the first time since the incursion, De’Vir’s boy shows up out of nowhere, and Anton goes tearing off to the Forest of Thorns on some flimsy pretext. You’ll forgive me if I’m not that big a believer in random chance.”
“What’s your take on it, then?”
Aurelius shrugged. “Something’s afoot. Something having to do with that twice-cursed Boki grove and the legend surrounding it.”
“Like what?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea.” He huffed in frustration. “I even resorted to consulting a seer about it.”
Selea’s brows shot up, as well they should. Aurelius had long been a proponent of logic in all things, and soothsayers were anything but.
“What did you learn?”
Aurelius sighed. “I wish I could say it was all stuff and nonsense, but I cannot. She said the blade heats in the fire and awaits only the beating of its edge. I take that to mean the players are nearly in position and some great event is nearly upon us.”
“What event?” Selea asked.
“No clue.”
“Did she say more?”
Aurelius rolled his eyes and quoted, “‘In the glow of the sun will hope endure, whilst they battle dread for an ancient cure. She who waits will, too, play her part, half a light will grow to fill the heart.’”
“What does that mean?” Selea asked.
“I haven’t the slightest. I can tell you the seer had no memory of telling me those words when I repeated them back to her, though.”
Selea jerked upright. “She didn’t remember her own vision after she spoke it?”
Alarmed, Aurelius answered, “No.” A pause. “Why do you ask?”
Another long silence ensued as Selea’s formidable mind worked on something. Aurelius was patient, however. Finally, the nulvari replied slowly, “I caught a whiff of an incident at the Imperial Court some time back.”
At court? What in the world did that have to do with their current problem?
“A bare whisper,” Selea continued. “Years ago. From the innermost circles of power. That a prophecy killed a seer. Have you ever heard of such a thing? And now you speak of a seer forgetting her vision immediately after giving it?”
“Is something wrong with the Veil that is causing seers to fail?” Aurelius asked in surprise.
“Nay. Exactly the opposite. I think the seers are getting something exactly right. Something powerful enough to erase itself from their minds or even kill them.”
“All my seer indicated was that the event is near. But what event?”
The two men stared at each other. What event indeed? And why were all the players from another event, long past, suddenly converging again? Aurelius listed them in his head. Himself. Selea. Hyland. Tiberius De’Vir—or at least his son. Anton. Even the Boki and their blasted grove. Aurelius asked Selea, “Do you know where the Boki raiders are, now?”
“A few rumors have come in of Boki scouting parties. They seem to be seeking something or someone specific. They are not engaging in their usual killing and looting. And there was that one large raiding party seen moving fast to the north. Fast enough not to bother sacking any crofts. One would assume they made for home.”
“Did they find what they were after, then?”
Selea shrugged. “They wiped out Tiberius’s village. One must assume they killed our old friend.”
Sorrow stretched out, silent and painful between them for a time. He had quietly checked the Heart death logs and no one matching Ty’s description had resurrected recently. Aurelius had already grieved the loss of his adopted son once, long ago, but this time seemed so much more final. Only his previous centuries of life and loss gave him the strength to endure it. It was the price of living among humans. They lived and died so very quickly.
He finally broke the silence. “What is really going on behind the stage of this play? Who pulls at the puppet strings?”
Selea countered, “Who would benefit by bringing all of us back together? What does that being have to gain by it?”
A log burned through just then, its halves collapsing with a burst of sparks. The blaze flared up briefly, then settled back to a sluggish flicker. An interesting word choice, that. What being indeed? Selea thought greater powers were involving themselves in the affairs of humans? Such a thing had not happened in a very long time.
“I think,” Aurelius said carefully, “that someone wants us to finish what we began.”
“And what, exactly, was it that we began?” Selea shot back.
Aurelius winced. He’d known this conversation would come to this. That the price for the assassin’s help with De’Vir’s boy would be the secret he and Tiberius had guarded so closely for all these years. “I don’t suppose you’ll accept that it is Mage’s Guild business and leave it at that?”
“I accepted that once. I will not do so again. The last time you nearly led me to dishonor.�
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Aurelius sighed. If Selea deemed this a matter of honor, he would not budge. He had come for answers and would not leave without them. Nonetheless, Aurelius tried one last time to divert the nulvari. “The Boki are slaughtering innocents. It is up to us to find a way to stop them. Is that not enough?”
Selea’s voice was deceptively gentle. Chiding, even. “Surely you know that slaughter is no argument to sway me, of all people.”
Aurelius closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. It did not alleviate the dull ache starting behind his eyes. “I take my word and my oaths no less seriously than you, Selea. What you ask of me is tantamount to betraying my oath to the Mage’s Guild.”
“Which part of it?”
Aurelius snapped, “Does it matter?”
Selea replied promptly, “Nay, it does not.”
They traded commiserating looks. Living by a strict code of honor could be a many-horned pain in the arse sometimes.
Finally, Aurelius broke the stalemate. “I will tell you as much as I can. You will have to fill in certain blank spots for yourself, however. After that, I leave it to you to decide whether or not to help me finish this thing.”
Selea nodded, the only movement disturbing that uncanny stillness of his.
“When I first arrived in the colonies and realized the magical nature of the land itself, I immediately suspected that there might be more to this continent than the Empire realized. Much more. I sent several of my most trusted people forth to learn what they could of this land and its past. I had no way of telling how much history the Kothites had successfully expunged.”
Selea made a wry face. “If my limited research is any indication, the Empire has vastly underestimated Haelos.”
Aurelius nodded. “On that, we are agreed. I sent my Dragon north into the Forest of Thorns, which rumor said was an especially dangerous—and magical—place.”
“Tiberius?” Selea interjected.
“Aye. He brought back word to me of a land guarded by fantastic creatures—gruesome magical constructs, talking trees, and the fiercest greenskins ever encountered. I sent a request to my superiors for resources to research the contents and magical properties of this place. Governor Volen got wind of the discovery. He made a stink that the guilds were becoming too powerful, too independent.”
