by Jordan Baker
"You play a very dangerous game, Aaron," Stroma echoed faintly in his mind, his voice weak and distant.
"I do what I must," Aaron told him.
"And you know what you must do." Stroma reminded him once again about the truth of fire. "I wish it were otherwise, but I am at my last. I must leave you now."
"Stroma, I am sorry it must end like this," Aaron said, feeling a little sympathy for the dying god, though there was nothing he could do to help him.
"I have lived a thousand lifetimes," Stroma said. "It is enough for me, and you have your own troubles."
"Yes, it seems so," Aaron replied, looking around at the temple and the black robed mages carrying out the will of the shadow.
"Farewell, my young friend," Stroma said.
"Farewell, Stroma," Aaron said, but the last essence of the god had already faded away.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"Queen Laurana," Rolan exclaimed loudly as he entered Ariana's room. "I thought I might find you here with your half blood niece."
"Rolan, it is quite rude of you to refer to a princess of the ruling house in such a way," Laurana said as she rose from the chair where she had been sitting while Ariana slept, and she moved to block him from the room.
"I speak only truth," he said as he ushered in several other elves who had accompanied him. "Now, will you please explain to the members of the court why you are causing unrest in the royal city?"
"What nonsense is this?" Laurana asked, glancing over at Ariana, who was now awake and squinting at Rolan. "There is no unrest."
"The people are talking," Rolan said. "They say you are acting as though our brave warriors have already fallen, that even though your son Quenta leads them to battle, you have no faith in them."
"Are the people saying this, or are you, Rolan?"
"Word has spread," he replied. "What is the court to do about this?"
"First of all, the members of the court can remove themselves from Ariana's private chamber, and secondly, the court would be well advised to assist in ensuring the safety of the people."
"Then you admit you are afraid of these invaders," Rolan said.
"I fear nothing," Laurana replied. "If you would like to test that, I welcome you to try."
"It will be for the court to decide," Rolan said. "We will convene a special session to discuss whether the House of Solari is fit to rule this land."
"The House of Solari has ruled Elvanar for over a thousand years," Laurana said. "You would commit treason against the throne?"
"Nonsense," Rolan scoffed. "How can the royal court commit treason? We are well within our rights to discuss such matters, especially if a situation might arise when those who sit upon the throne might be considered unfit to rule."
"There is no end to your nerve, Rolan," Laurana said. "Enough with this foolishness. Now leave this room at once."
"No, wait," Ariana said, pushing herself up in her bed. "Rolan, why are you doing this?"
"I am doing what is right for Elvanar," he said.
"You were nice to me before," Ariana said. "You were just pretending. I can tell that now. I can also tell that you hate me."
"Elves do not hate," Rolan replied. "We have civilized emotions."
"That is a lie," Ariana said, and she held out the palm of her hand toward him. "I can hear your feelings and it is not clean, righteous anger that drives you but hatred. I did not know it before, but I know it now. You are a hateful elf, and your heart is dead and withered."
"The half-breed clearly suffers from delusions," Rolan said. "No doubt it is due to the abomination of her birth, or the even greater abomination of her current state. The court should never have recognized her as the third seat." He turned to the other elves, who appeared to be increasingly uncomfortable standing in the room. "Come, let us rally our members and prepare for the court. We will convene upon the setting of the sun."
Rolan left with his entourage of court elves, leaving Laurana standing dumbstruck in the center of the floor.
"Why this?" she asked. "Why now?"
"He is afraid," Ariana said. "He stinks of it."
"Rolan is so bold in his manner and yet you think him afraid?"
"The most fearful often are," Ariana said. "I came to understand many things when I learned to speak with dragonkind. The way the speak is full of emotion, and each feeling gives rise to another. Rolan is like my uncle Cerric, weak willed and desperate to hide his fear, so he pretends to be strong and confident. There are those who are truly strong and confident, but Rolan is not one of them. He is a coward, who hides it well."
"And you can feel this in him?" Laurana asked, curious.
"The only thing stronger than his fear is his hatred," Ariana told her.
"What cause would Rolan have to hate?"
"I know not," Ariana said. "But his fears have given rise to hatred. I did not know it when we first met, for I thought he was a friend, but I think he sought to use me in some way. I do not know." Ariana yawned. "He desires the throne, that much I can tell you."
"Rolan?" Laurana was surprised at this, but it made sense, for he was of one of the oldest elven houses, and there was a time, long ago, when his house had ruled the land, but that reign had ended in disgrace. Still, the elven people were long lived and their memories were even longer, so it was possible that old slights and ancient grudges might still linger. "Perhaps it is time for the court to choose a new representative."
"Perhaps I could challenge him to a fight," Ariana said. "I would very much like to call him a coward to his face."
"You will do no such thing," Laurana said, still growing accustomed to Ariana's willful nature, and not sure if she would actually do such a thing.
"Yes, I know. I must rest," Ariana said with a deep sigh as she closed her eyes. "To be honest, I don't think I could fight him right now. I feel very strange."
"Are you all right?" Laurana asked, but Ariana had fallen unconscious, and her breaths were coming short and fast.
She placed her hand on Ariana's forehead and pulled it away almost immediately. Her skin was hot to the touch, almost hot enough to burn. Laurana touched the wall of the room, which was made from a living tree, and summoned the healers to come quickly, and she bid them bring water as she caught the faint scent of smoke and saw tiny flames flickering around the side of Ariana's face. Not sure what else to do, she soaked a cloth in a basin that stood upon the small table, and she pressed it against her skin and the gemstones that covered her cheek and jaw. Within moments, steam began to rise from the cloth and Laurana continued to smell smoke. She noticed the light fabric of the bed sheets turning a shade darker from heat, so she grabbed the water basin and poured it over Ariana, soaking her sheets completely. At this particular moment, a fire in the palace was the last thing she needed.
*****
Fires raged and smoke drifted in thick, black clouds through the forest behind the army as Lord General Berant sent orders from his command tent to the newly commissioned captains, instructing them to move up to the front and join the Darga, who had already engaged the enemy. They were eager to prove themselves and to use the ensorceled swords they had received, especially after seeing how powerful the lizard men were becoming with every kill. He turned his attention to a report from the scouts informing him that the terrain ahead was thick with undergrowth. It would make for slow going, so he wrote out orders for teams to be sent with large handled blades to cut a path wide enough for the army, and to dig trenches and set fires on either side so the brush would not grow back, which he had learned was some kind of elven trick.
Things had been far easier when the winged lizards had simply killed the forest, but the poison gems they had used were now in short supply, ever since the group of mages that had been making them had disappeared. Berant had argued with Draxis that they should save some of the gems, in case they encountered an impasse of some kind, and though the half-Darga prince was eager to drive deep into the forest, he had finally seen the sense of it.
Of course, he had reserved the remaining gems for use by the Darga, which did not help Berant and his soldiers much, when it came to penetrating the thick forest.
At least Draxis was intelligent to some degree, and more so of late than Berant remembered from his observations of the young half-Darga during the battle against Kandara. He wondered if it might have something to do with the jeweled axe he carried, which appeared to have the same properties as the ensorceled swords. Berant could tell that Draxis was far more powerful than he had been, and while many of the Darga were also gaining new abilities, they still appeared to be simple minded, violent creatures, who also appeared to be increasingly unruly the more powerful they became. They were under Draxis' command, and he did not seem to care what they did, so long as they killed elves, and, at that particular task, they were proving very effective.
Berant felt a strange tingling in his head and he felt his body twitch, a sensation he had noticed whenever Calexis would use her power to look in on him, and he placed the latest reports from the scouts overtop of the ones he had been looking at as one of his soldiers entered the command tent, with a noticeable and familiar glow in his eyes.
"Lord General Berant," the man spoke with a tone that was sultry and seductive like the queen. "I have heard that the army is no longer advancing. Is there a problem?"
"There are many problems, my queen," Berant replied. "However, we are advancing still, only more slowly than anticipated. Draxis and his forces have engaged the elves, and they are putting up a strong resistance, but losing ground. I have just sent the new captains and their commands to join the fray, since this is not a typical battlefield."
"And what is slowing down the rest of the army?" she asked.
"It is the trees, highness," Berant told her as the soldier she possessed poured a glass of wine and wandered over to the table, looking at the various documents and reports. "Just as it was at Kandara, the elves are able to manipulate trees and vines, anything that grows, and they use this to block our path."
"Why is the forest not withering and dying as I instructed?" Calexis demanded.
"The dark gemstones are in short supply, highness," he said. "The mages suddenly refused to make any more of them, and Prince Draxis was about to interrogate them when they disappeared."
"Of course," Calexis said. "There has been a problem with some of the mages, but it is of little consequence. Dispatch a half dozen of the winged Darga to me and I will send a fresh supply at once."
"Yes, highness," Berant replied. "We are making do in the meantime with fire and trenches, which seems to prevent the forest from regrowing. With the poison gems, the campaign will proceed much more quickly."
"Very good, Lord General," she said and the soldier walked up and stood next to where he sat and traced a finger along the side of his jaw. "Yet again you prove your value to me as a capable commander."
"Yes, highness," Berant replied.
"Very well, Berant," she said. "Carry on."
"Yes, highness," Berant said, and the glow left the eyes of the soldier. The man looked down at him, his hand still the side of his face and noticing the glass of wine in his hand. He pulled his hand away, cackled with a squint of his dead eyes and drank the rest of the wine in one swallow.
"It's always a treat when the god visits you, Lord General," the man rasped as he put the cup back next to the bottle. "It isn't often I get to suck back some of the good wine."
"I am glad you enjoy it," Berant said. "Please send word to the Darga that the queen requires six of their fastest fliers to leave for Maramyr at once. And if you could find out what is the status of the war machines, that would be most helpful."
The soldier snapped to attention and gave him a salute.
"Yes sir, Lord General," he said, then he turned and left the tent, taking the stench of his rotting flesh with him.
Berant lifted the reports from atop the documents he had been looking at before he felt Calexis begin to spy on him through his own eyes. These reports had come from the winged Darga, which relayed the terrain just beyond the dense part of the forest. It appeared that the ground was rough, with several ravines and gorges with steep sides, and sending large groups of soldiers through them would be highly dangerous, especially with the elves' ability to travel upon the branches of the trees above. It was something he knew almost instinctively from his years of military study, but he focused his thoughts of how the ravines would provide cover from elven arrows and other such nonsense in order to justify the orders he began to write. If Calexis was watching him with her magic, or if she could hear his thoughts, then hopefully she would believe his reasons for taking such a course of action. He wrote out the orders, along with a number of others that were similar in making rational sense but were entirely foolish in being impractically dangerous, and he had them sent out to the various commanders in the field.
Berant exited his command tent, his hand resting on the pommel of the jeweled sword, which seemed to remove at least a little of the dark fog that had plagued his thoughts. From the relatively high point where his command tent was temporarily situated, he looked back at the wide path the army had cut through the forest and saw only death, withered and fallen trees, burned and smoking ground and the air filled with ash from the fires they had been set behind them. He turned around and looked ahead at the true elven forest, at the thick branches of enormous trees, many of which had already been killed by the poison smoke, and he knew that if his soldiers made it through this last section of the outer forest, things would become much easier. And he hoped, for the sake of the elven people, that his forces would not make it that far.
*****
Draxis felt his great axe bite through armor, meeting flesh and bone, and he reveled in the power that flowed from the dying elf, giving him even greater strength and he leapt down from the thick branch toward a group of his Darga warriors that were battling several elves on the ground. With a powerful swipe of his axe, he cut down one of the elves and spun to block an attack from another. With their numbers lessened, the group of elves were down to three, and with twice their number of Darga surrounding them, they were killed in short order.
"Draxis is powerful leader," one of the Darga said as he pulled his sword, a normal blade, from the chest of his fallen opponent.
"If you fight hard, you will become more powerful," Draxis told him and the others.
"We must have the shining blades," commented another one. "It is the Darga with shining blades that get strong. It is magic, yes?"
"Such blades are given to brave Darga who have shown their loyalty to me and to the queen," Draxis said.
"The humans with shining blades have come," the Darga said, pointing to the group of warriors that had won their blades in the tournament at Maramyr, who had just arrived at the front. "They are weak. They do not deserve such weapons."
"Then why not kill them and take their weapons," Draxis suggested.
"Lord Draxis would order this?" one of the other Darga asked.
Draxis shook his head and turned away, looking in the opposite direction from where the warriors were gathered.
"I would not, but if I am looking at the forest over here, and those warriors are over there, then who is to say that those warriors were not killed by the elves?"
"No one will say," one of the other Darga replied and Draxis heard the group of them turn around and take off in the direction of the warriors, calling out to the other Darga among the trees to join them.
Draxis leaned on his axe and watched as the Darga struck the warriors, catching them unaware, and while a few of them held out, they did not last. It was not long before the Darga returned, along with the others who had joined them, all of them carrying jeweled blades, and they knelt before him.
"Lord Draxis," said one of the Darga. "The elves killed all the warriors, so we took their swords."
"That was very smart thinking," Draxis replied. "Now you can take the magic of any elf you kill."
"Draxis is wis
e," said the first Darga.
"That is why I am your leader," Draxis said. "Without wisdom, the strong may fall to the traps and trickery of cowards."
"The weak play tricks," another Darga said, nodding.
"Yes, they do," Draxis replied. "That is why we kill these elves, for they use the trees to trick the Darga. They are cowards and deserve to die for their insult to our strength."
"Yes," the Darga said, grinning as he kicked an elf, who lay dying on the ground. "Kill the elves."
"Very good, my warriors," Draxis said. "Kill as many as you can, and become powerful. When the battle is done, you can tell me how many have died by your hand."
"Yes, Lord Draxis," the Darga said, echoed by his companions, and Draxis nodded and leapt from the thick branch, spreading the wings that were folded behind his shoulders and he flew up among the trees, looking for more enemies to fight.
One of the Darga looked down at the fallen elves that lay dead or dying on the thick tree branch and he saw a long dagger with an ornate handle in the belt of one of them. He pulled it free and smiled at how the blade glistened in the fading light of the day, then he knelt down and cut away the elf's armor, exposing her chest, then he plunged the blade into her and cut out her heart. The other Darga did the same with the other elves and, with bloody mouths and armed with the weapons they had taken, they continued forward through the forest, looking for more elves to kill, even more eager now that they were armed with the much coveted jeweled swords.
*****
"Lord Quenta!" called a breathless elven scout as she leapt to the branch where Quenta and several elven war leaders had gathered. "The Maramyrian soldiers have broken through the undergrowth. Their army advances once again."
"They are certainly persistent," Quenta commented as the scout bent over and caught her breath, looking as though she might have been exposed to the poison smoke that still lingered in places among the trees. The majority of the elven forces was concentrated on battling the Darga, who were more mobile and far more deadly than the other soldiers, but Quenta knew from having faced the dead eyed soldiers before that they could pose a serious problem, especially in great numbers. "We will send a force to meet them a short distance to the north, where the easier terrain allows for the passage of a sizeable force."
