As Fire is to Gold (Chronicles of the Ilaroi Book 1)

by Mark McCabe

  “We must retreat, but we must do so in an orderly fashion,” he continued. As he spoke, his voice slowly rose. His words were rousing and inspiring, even to these advisers, many of whom had never lifted a weapon in defence of the realm. “When we take a stand, it must be only for brief periods. Just long enough to enable an orderly retreat and to allow the defences here at the heart of the realm to be bolstered. We cannot hope to stand against the sligs for long on such a wide front as we now face, not without the aid of a Guardian.

  “It is only when that front has contracted sufficiently for our smaller numbers to have an even chance that we can then draw the line in the sand. And stand then we will. And when we do, we will call upon the valour of the cream of the twelve great houses of the realm. Then, when the sligs have extended their lines of supply, and when they are far from the lands they know, then we will smite our foe and send them reeling back in confusion and dismay. That is my counsel.”

  And then, thought Regulus, as his colleagues burst into applause, swayed by his rousing speech, then if the Guardians have not yet come to our aid we will surely see what is to become of the Algarian people, whether we will survive this test, or whether we will pass from the history of Ilythia like so many peoples have done before us.

  Having said what he had to, Regulus stood silently, turning once more to face his Queen and allowing the acclaim from his colleagues to slowly subside. Just as he had held the attention of the room while he spoke, all eyes turned now to the Queen. A hush fell over the room as it became apparent she too was waiting for the applause and murmurs to subside.

  From her high-backed chair atop the dais that held the central position in the royal audience chamber, Queen Elissa looked every inch in command of her own emotions, regardless of the trepidation that was rippling through her council of advisers. Regulus knew that it was a practised look. Only her eyes betrayed her, and even then only to him. What the others saw was the commanding presence of the unchallenged ruler of the mighty kingdom of Algaria. The beautiful young woman atop the dais was the picture of a capable ruler of a powerful kingdom, from the glittering diadem atop her long golden hair right down to the jewel-bedecked white satin slippers that covered her feet. Only Regulus saw the barest hint of uncertainty, betrayed by the slight flicker of her eyes as she glanced his way. Only Regulus saw the vulnerability that hid behind the royal façade.

  “Well spoken, Count Regulus,” said the Queen, with the mere hint of a smile for her most trusted adviser. “And so it shall be. Only, we must look to our northern frontier as well. As unlikely as it might seem, we cannot run the risk of the sligs opening a second front with us under-prepared in that quarter.” The nod of heads around the room showed that the Queen’s decision was widely regarded as a wise one. Turning to the Marshall of the Realm, the only member of the council permitted to bear arms in the presence of the royal personage, Queen Elissa issued the direction that would now set Algaria on a course from which there would be no turning back. “Count Brassilius, Marshall of the Realm, you have heard my judgment. I leave it to you to oversee the retreat and the preparation of the necessary defences.”

  As the Queen rose from her throne, all turned to her and bowed, as was the custom of the Algarians. “This council is concluded,” said the Queen as she swept out of the room. “Count Regulus, if you would join me in my sitting room.”

  Count Regulus nodded to the Queen and followed in her wake as she left the room supported by her attendants. Some of the other councillors took this as their cue to depart, no doubt anxious to be off to protect their own interests, particularly those with homes or businesses in the east of the realm where the brunt of the slig offensive would be first felt.

  Some minutes later, when the Queen had dismissed her attendants and she and the Count were comfortably seated in a room closer to her own apartments, a room where they often sat and discussed the business of the realm, the Queen and her most favoured adviser were finally free to speak more openly of the situation the nation was now facing.

  “So, Regulus, we must hazard all and hope that either the Guardians come to their senses or that the sligs run out of puff so far from their homes. It is a dangerous course we have set for the nation.”

  “Yes, my Queen,” answered Regulus, his countenance now betraying the doubts he hadn’t permitted the rest of the council of advisers to see. “I don’t see any other way. We’re in no position yet to meet this threat in the east. I might add that I think your counsel regarding the northern frontier a particularly judicious one. I doubt the finesse of the sligs to open a second front, but then who would have expected such a well-planned frontal assault as they’re currently conducting?”

  The Queen nodded as Regulus spoke, but the frown on her face betrayed her concern. “If only I hadn’t listened to the Council of the Guardians when they promised us their aid in the autumn,” she responded when he had finished. Elissa had dropped her mask of conviction and authority now she was alone with Regulus.

  “Don’t blame yourself, my Queen.” Regulus’ heart went out to his sovereign. She had reigned for barely five years since the untimely death of her father. Although she had a fine mind and a compassionate heart, she was still raw and inexperienced. Regulus knew that was why she depended so heavily on the council. Despite the fact that she often perceived the right path for her people, she hadn’t the experience to quell the doubts that accompanied such heavy choices. Regulus knew that she had come to respect his own counsel more for the reassurance it gave her than for anything else.

  “We all believed the Council would send us their aid. They have done thus for centuries. Don’t chide yourself for not knowing that now, of all times, the Guardians would fail us. And don’t despair, my Queen. They may yet come to our aid. Clearly, Kell and Tarak intend to do what they can for us once they are able.”

  “Yes, yes. I know you’re right. Nevertheless, it has cost us dearly. Instead of spending the winter preparing for war, we did little more than dither. We could have done so much more for our eastern defences in that time. How many of my people will pay for that lapse with their lives? That is a heavy burden to bear, Regulus, a very heavy burden.”

  “I fear it won’t be the last time you’ll have to shoulder such a burden in the crisis ahead. That is the price you must pay for the role you play, my liege. I know it weighed down your father as well. Clearly, despite the length of his reign, he found it no easier in his later years than he did in his youth. For all that, as much as I would like it to be otherwise, it is not a burden that any can truly share with you. It is yours and yours alone. All I can suggest is that you make the choices you know are right. The gods will exact their own price in the end, no matter which way you turn.”

  Although Regulus said the words, his heart wished it were otherwise. His love for Elissa went far deeper than that of an adviser for his sovereign, as she well knew. He had courted her before the death of the king and she had returned his love freely in those halcyon days. On her ascension to the throne, Elissa had chosen to put aside her feelings for him and had asked him to do the same. She had said that as sovereign she had no right to selfishly pursue her own happiness. Her duty was to her people, not to herself. He had respected her decision and abided by it, outwardly at least.

  Elissa had come to accept that he couldn’t truly put aside the depth of feeling he held in his heart, even if he could maintain the appropriate public façade. Eventually, she had even confided that she couldn’t do so any more than he could. Nonetheless, they had agreed, he more reluctantly than she, it would seem. Whatever they wanted their relationship to be, it could no longer be anything more than one of friendship; close friendship certainly, but no more than that.

  Regulus hadn’t pushed the issue. Although there was no reason why they couldn’t marry, and there was never any question that if they did so she would still be the sovereign and not he, he hadn’t wanted to add to the pressure she clearly felt as such a young leader. He no longer spoke of his l
ove for her. He kept his feelings for the woman who was his Queen locked securely away, out of sight if not out of mind. The knowledge that Elissa knew how he really felt was all he had left to sustain him. It was enough. It had to be.

  “Thank you.” Elissa looked up at her friend with a wan smile. “You know I would rather that someone else had been born to this role than me. But you’re right. That is not to be. It is my role and I must play it out as best I can. Only, I’d rather I was making decisions about taxes, or the law courts. I have no mind for military stratagems.”

  “You’re wrong, Elissa. You have a fine mind and I have no doubt of your ability to apply it equally well to war as to finance or legislation. Trust in your judgement and continue as you have done until now. Listen to your advisers and weigh up their opinions. Then listen to your own heart. It hasn’t led you wrong to date.”

  Elissa looked up with a start at his words. Regulus detected a moist sheen to her eyes as, after a brief pause, she spoke to him again, softly now and with a sense of suppressed emotions. “I wish that I could follow my heart, Regulus. I wish that so much sometimes my body aches.”

  ~~~

  Golkar looked up from his desk with a start. A being of power, another Guardian, in fact, was approaching Tu-atha. The spell of detection he had cast was designed to ensure he was alerted as soon as someone with the capacity to use magic passed within a league of his residence. He had just sensed that warning. A being of power, one of his colleagues by the strength and the nature of the feeling he had sensed, was approaching his house.

  For a moment he considered whether it might be Tug returning with the girl. There was no mistaking the signature of a Guardian, however. It was definitely either Kell or Tarak. Golkar wondered what would bring either of them to him at this particular moment. He rarely received visits from his colleagues. If anything, he actively discouraged that level of personal interaction with the other two wizards.

  Trying to suppress the worrying feeling that Sara might have somehow managed to elude Tug and his companions and, worse still, have gotten in contact with one of the other Guardians, Golkar closed the spellbook in front of him and rose from the table. Whatever it was about, this was unlikely to be a social call. He had best be armed for every eventuality.

  Crossing his chamber, Golkar stopped in front of a finely wrought oaken cabinet. Reaching into his tunic he drew out a golden key that hung on a chain about his neck. The key slipped smoothly into the lock at the centre of the cabinet. Golkar felt his pulse quicken as he heard the mechanism turn when he slowly twisted his hand. Replacing the key within his tunic once more, he reached for the doors, pulling them open to reveal three shelves, on the uppermost of which sat a small ebony chest, the cupboard’s only item. It still sat just where he had put it all those years ago.

  Gently lifting the chest, Golkar turned and placed it on the table behind him. Pausing to consider the object for only a moment, the wizard cautiously opened its hinged top and gazed down at the gleaming object within. The long dagger that lay there, with its slightly curved blade and jewel-encrusted hilt, gleamed unnaturally in the soft candlelight.

  With a wry grin, Golkar reached down and clasped his hand around the rough hilt of the dagger, feeling the precious stones that studded its length pressing into his palm and sensing the unnatural warmth of the object against his skin. Lifting the dagger from the box, he couldn’t help but marvel at the object, knowing that the soft glow from the wicked blade was a portent of the awesome power of the thing. He had spent considerable time and effort in acquiring it and now, perhaps, it would finally be put to the acid test.

  As far as Golkar could ascertain, there were only two things in the whole of Ilythia that had the capacity to overcome the invulnerability of the Guardians; two weapons the Guardians had reason to fear. One was the human female, Sara, so recently brought to their world. The other was this blade. ‘DemonClaw’ Tanis had called it, for he was its source. His diary had referred to it, just one brief mention was all there had been, but it had been enough to put Golkar on to its trail.

  He had spent years searching for it once he’d become aware of it, knowing Tanis had hidden it away, but not knowing where, or if the mage had retrieved it and taken it with him when he had left Ilythia. Then, after a long and fruitless search, an obscure note in the diary, one he had not hitherto connected with the blade, had led him to its resting place. Of all places, Tanis had hidden it in the Hall of Embassy, in the Council Chambers high up on Ral Partha. A small panel, cunningly hidden under the large marble table right in front of the spot where Tanis’ empty seat still stood had been its resting place for centuries.

  Having found it, Golkar hadn’t been sure what to do with it. And so he had locked it away, sensing, perhaps like Tanis, that one day it might be useful. Many were the times he had wondered why Tanis had acquired it, and for what purpose. And why did he hide it in the Hall of Embassy of all places? Had he intended to use it against his apprentices, or had he felt a need to protect himself from them?

  And what was it that made this weapon so deadly, so much more so than any of the wondrous blades Tanis could have acquired here in Ilythia? As Golkar knew, the crystal shard that Tanis had bestowed on each of them generated a constant shield of protection no normal blade or weapon could penetrate, though spells were another matter altogether. The Guardians were each bound to the shard they had been given now, and, in turn, their shard was bound to them. It was that binding that guaranteed their longevity, just as it created the shield that protected them from all but the most powerful of spells.

  But this blade, DemonClaw, forged, according to Tanis’ notes, in the firepits of a world of demons, could slice through that shield almost as if it didn’t exist, like a hot knife through butter. And how did Golkar know this was so? Because he had tested it on himself. For the first time in the history of Ilythia, he had drawn blood from a Guardian with a weapon, his blood. Oh, what a thrilling sight that had been! That was the first time he had felt some appreciation of the sligs’ insatiable thirst for the blood of their enemies. And now he thirsted for more.

  Gently, and carefully, Golkar eased the blade under his belt, feeling its warmth even through his thick clothing. Taking his wand from beside the closed spell book, Golkar turned and strode purposefully from the room, heading for the staircase. Once outside of the house, he took up his position, seated on a bench and leaning back casually in the sunlight against the stone wall of Tu-atha. There he awaited the arrival of his colleague, wondering which of them it might be, Kell or Tarak.

  He had only been there a short while, perhaps a half an hour, when three horses emerged from the tree line and slowly approached the house. “Ho, Golkar,” cried the lead rider with a wave of his hand as the horsemen drew to a halt a short distance from where he sat. “Greetings, my friend.”

  It was Tarak. With him were two rustics, from the vale where Tarak played with his herbs no doubt, thought Golkar derisively. He often wondered why someone with the awesome power the Guardians held would want to waste his time dabbling with plants.

  “Greetings, Tarak,” he replied, keeping his voice as casual as he could, despite the excitement he could feel building within him. “What brings you and your friends all this way? I thought you’d be busy gardening at this time of the year, pruning your roses or something like that.”

  “Ha,” laughed Tarak, letting a grin split the serious look on his face. “Roses are pruned in late winter, after the last frost, as you probably know, Golkar. Now don’t try and bait me about my work. I know you well enough to know what you’re up to, so you’re wasting your breath.”

  “Indeed. I guess you do at that. So, what does bring you all this way then?”

  “Come now, Golkar,” exclaimed Tarak, shifting in his saddle, whether nervously or uncomfortably Golkar wasn’t sure. “I think you know that as well.”

  “I think you had better enlighten me,” replied Golkar, still slumped casually against the wall of the house, u
nwilling to concede anything until he had to.

  “Well, to get straight to the point after such a long ride, I hear you’ve been consorting with the sligs. And as if that wasn’t outlandish enough, I also hear you’ve been plotting against Kell and myself, with the aid of some human from another world, it is said. What say you to all of this?” Having said what he’d come to say, Tarak fixed Golkar with a stare, clearly watching intently for a reaction to the allegations he had voiced.

  Golkar smiled as he rose from where he had sat while Tarak had spoken, concentrating on doing nothing to betray the true mixture of emotions he was feeling as he did so. Although he was excited at the prospect of where this encounter might lead, he was in fact quite shaken by what Tarak had said. It was obvious now that Sara had escaped from Tug, Tarak was certainly aware of her existence at least, if not much more. He had also managed to find out about Golkar’s dealings with the sligs. Golkar wondered if this meant Tug had been captured as well. He didn’t think Sara would have known anything about the sligs that she could pass on to his colleagues, so that meant they must have obtained their information from Tug.

  “I say I’m surprised to hear you would even entertain such absurdities,” exclaimed Golkar with a laugh. “Who’s been spreading this nonsense about me? And what madness would induce you to give credence to such a tale? Come now, is this some jest of yours?”

  “This is no joking matter, but I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.” Tarak was already beginning to show some sign of back-pedalling. Perhaps he didn’t know as much as Golkar had feared he might. “You can understand that such serious allegations as these cannot be taken lightly. So you deny you’ve been plotting with the sligs? Why then have you not yet put an end to their raids on the Algarians, as you undertook to do at the last Council meeting? If you had done that, then there’d be no prospect of such a rumour being given any credence.”