by Shawn Keys
The last time the dark elf had been in a sun elf court, they had dragged her off to the dungeon to be tortured. This time, she was making a statement of a whole different kind. Her gown was made of a diaphanous black charmeuse that did little more than mute the lines of her naked body. In shadow, the color matched her skin and seemed to cover her. In sunlight, she might as well have been wearing tinted glass. As soon as Nahallanal’s eyes strained in their sockets at the sight of her, Ajax began to understand her intent. She was flexible, lithe, yet possessed all the curves that drew a lover’s eye. She meant to make every sun elf in the whole court devour her sexuality, then die in guilty shame at their own carnal feelings for one of their mortal enemies.
Ajax had decided on something a little less controversial, but a touch intimidating. He had earned the respect of Nahallanal’s Fist by scattering the orcan war party. He decided to go with that. His chosen shirt opened at his chest, revealing his powerful chest. His arms were even more prominent emerging from his short sleeves. His trousers hugged to his hips and on down his thighs, giving hint of the strength rippling up and down his corded muscles. He wore Skyreaver, the half-sword and his kukri on open display. Not in threat, but to complete the image of what he was; a warrior of a different class than the elfish sorcery-dancers. They wove elegant death, but he rammed death down the throats of his enemies and wasn’t going to apologize for what he was.
Elves had trained him to do it, after all.
They entered the sun tower in a united front. Immediately, Ajax felt the malaise lingering in the air. He also noticed that their group was only barely outnumbered by the gathered nobles and guards. Nahallanal was one of only three gendarmes present; which must seem like more than enough to handle the likes of them. There were six other nobles, specific advisors who invited to bear witness. The near-parity of numbers on both sides gave a sense of intimacy to the gathering rather than pageantry. It gave the impression they might be able to speak more honestly; that the King was not simply playing to his crowd.
As they came to rest in front of the throne, Cymarramathis offered a gentle smile but did not rise. From the depths of his fatigue, that felt more like a desire to be casual than a calculated insult. “We all knew you would emerge upon the world again, Callistia. When your brother sent out word of your disappearance, I both hoped you would enter my realm and yet also feared it. You bring promise and plague in the same breath.”
Ajax tensed a little. None of the gendarmes so much as flinched toward their weapons. But the King had given away his first secret; he knew Callistia was a fugitive.
Callistia was standing directly to Ajax’s side, a conscious statement of her loyalties. “What was his message to his fellow Kings about me?”
The edge of Cymarramathis’s mouth tugged into a wry smile. “The careful way you ask me that tells a story. You worry how much he revealed. You worry how much I will read past his furious, public announcement and see the private struggle for power between the two of you. And the embarrassment he tried to cause you.”
Callistia flushed, a large part of her comforted to know that the King wasn’t taking her brothers version of what happened as the unvarnished truth. But that also meant the King might know of the sexual deed her brother had forced upon her. “He made poor choices. He lost me because of them. He wouldn’t have told you everything, I am quite sure. I admit to some curiosity about how much he did reveal.” She narrowed her eyes. “Or how much an informant in Lyvarress’s court may have sold to you.”
Cymarramathis dipped his chin in a slow nod, approving of her instincts. “Quite so. Even elves are not immune to greed. Perhaps not always gold, but everyone has their price. Hardly a betrayal at all to report what happened in the open court of your King, most would say.” A soft chuckle. He gestured to Ajax. “I take it this is the kidnapper who whisked you away from your home? I don’t get the feeling you are in any danger from him.”
Callistia didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply. He had figured out the game that had been played, and nothing more need be said.
Realizing he wasn’t going to provoke her into further comment, Cymarramathis ventured down a different path, “But let us leave such discussions for another time. You threw away much tradition, Lady Callistia, and I find myself unable to approve of such measures. Yet when your family betrays you, hard choices must be made.” His smile became a little more kind. “Perhaps, if your family proved unworthy, your only hope should be the grace of your People to embrace you.”
Callistia’s right eyebrow climbed. “That sounds perilously close to an offer, my dear King.”
“Let us say it is a door I do not wish to shut yet. Shall we leave it there for now?” Then, beyond any precedent other than Lyvarress’s sham bargaining session, the sun elf king faced Ajax directly and addressed him as he would an elfish visitor. Not a peer; he was a King, after all. But on par with one of his own kind. “Because you are the true pivot around which this drama turns, aren’t you? You’ve roused the anger of two Kings and the curiosity of many others. No small feat for a human of common birth.”
If you only knew, Ajax smirked inside. Not common at all. You would call me a beast if you knew. But now was not the time to throw his hidden heritage in the King’s face. Leave the sun elf his prejudice. Just get us out of here alive. “If I may be so bold, My Lord, you do yourself credit for stopping and questioning where others have not.”
Cymarramathis hummed thoughtfully. “A strange perspective. Tell me, mud-knight, what is it you see that sun elf kings have failed to understand?”
Jaw clenched, Ajax swallowed the swell of anger at the elf’s arrogance. After all, for a sun elf king, the elder King was being downright charitable. “Without meaning to insult, for all of your lives, your families teach you to seize the power and authority to which you are entitled. One would have to be insane not to see why. When the chance for power comes with your reach, who wouldn’t take it? And once you are such a King, which of your kind wouldn’t be angry to any new power denied to you if it is lying near your grasp?”
Surprised that the King didn’t silence him then and there, Ajax went on, “But what if this power wasn’t wholesome? What if it was tantamount to slavery? To control it and use it, you would have to kill a pure and innocent spirit for their own desires. And that is what I call evil. This magic is not mine. It is not theirs. It must be set free. That’s what I am trying to do.”
The King released another soft hum. “And for this reason, you have come to my shores.” He chuckled. “I heard the anger of Tyvanthelam was terrible when he discovered your theft. Even more so, the rage of Lyvarress when he realized you had passed off some trinket ensorcelled by an illusionist.” He waggled a finger of warning at the knight. “Never reveal that one’s identity. Not to anyone. They would be executed for their part in this… despite their obvious and clever talent.”
“I never shall, my lord.” Ajax’s memory brushed against the illusionist, remembering how he thought this was such a grand game, not even seeing the wider issues at hand. This had been an exercise of his talent; a game of his own to see if he could fool people. But Ajax shut down the memory there, not even picturing the old man’s face. For all he knew, there was magic in the room that could pluck the name and face from his mind. He didn’t know the full extent of elfish magic, and he wasn’t going to take that chance.
Cymarramathis promised, “I shall not press you. I find it strange that any knight has such talents for subterfuge. Two kings have been fooled by the games you played. Even if I tried to force you to tell me what you know, maybe I would be the next one left looking foolish. But I will not set my hand to slavery and call it respectable. Tell me now of this magic. Convince me that your path is the righteous one.”
Ajax felt like this was a trap. But he couldn’t see it. Maybe I’m just used to distrusting these sun elf bastards. Callistia should have taught me that they aren’t all the same. Has my trust really fallen so far? No matter how hard he tried to convince
himself, he still spoke carefully, as if each word was a step that might find a snare. “The spirit is trapped within a magical construct crafted by one of the most powerful of sun elf mages in history. Perhaps this is why the spirit has such inherent distrust of sun elves and their intentions. I don’t want to harness that power. I intend to enter a gateway to the Wyld and then cross to the outer elemental planes. I will go to the doorway of creation if I must to set her free.” He shook his head. “I asked her to lead us to a gateway not controlled by the elves because they have tried so hard to enslave her. Yet, she led me here. I do not yet know why.”
The King answered with another wry smile. “Your spirit did not misguide you. Most realms keep close watch over their gates. This is not only for our pride. It is rare, but dark and dangerous things can step into our world through unguarded gates.”
He went on, “But in the darker history of my realm, it was a far more fractured thing. A dozen sun elf families vied for control, unwilling to compromise yet none of us strong enough to take firm control over the rest. The gateway stood at the junction of those territories. We fought over possession of it. We were desperate, often times fighting battles just to hold onto it long enough to allow our fading elders to depart into the Wyld. An agreement was struck long before those wars ended. We needed to end the insanity. The gate was given into the keeping of a cult of minotaurs. With our help, they grew a maze in the tradition they love, cloaked in powerful magic to which only they have the key. For generation after generation, they have stood vigil, guiding elfish penitents through the maze when their time has come, no matter from which family.” He let out a tired sigh. “I suspect I shall see the inner walls of that maze all too soon.”
Ajax’s hope re-emerged. “Is the way closed to others?”
“You must convince them of your ability to survive beyond in the Wyld. Allowing the weak to cross would be the same as suicide, and the maze denizens will not allow it. They will permit no violence within, except for that necessary to keep the gateway safe. Before you plead your case to them, you must know the danger of what you face. The Wyld is precisely that. Ceaseless, visceral, never-ending hunger. There is energy there. Revival. But endless energy can cause restlessness, madness and worse. A strong sword arm will not be enough to survive there.”
Ajax gestured to the women on either side of him. “We will have each other. That will be enough.”
The King’s eyes wandered down the line of them. The connection between them could not be missed. “Ah yes. Another puzzle, this odd alliance you have formed. I have never seen the like.” Then, he roused himself from his malaise, as if reaching a final decision granted him a boost of energy. “I believe you. I believe you are not jealously holding this magic to your chest in a selfish effort to drink of its power.”
Ajax wondered if that was the King’s true concern. To him, I’m still a lesser creature. Quala might be enough to forge an empire all my own. I could prop a human lord up as a peer to these elves. That could change the world. He could never allow that to happen. Better to see the magic vanish entirely. If that was the King’s motivations, Ajax would accept it. He was not the man to forge a new dynasty, and a human using the creation spirit for their own power didn’t make such slavery any purer.
The King continued, turning to gesture at a proud, far-younger sun elf standing by his side. “May I introduce to you Riluranath, my son and heir after I walk the Wyld path. I dare not tread the steps to the maze just yet, lest the temptation call to me before it is my time. But he knows the way.”
Riluranath stepped forward, taking his share of the attention. If Cymarramathis was one of the eldest elves Ajax had ever met, then Riluranath was one of the youngest who might be considered an adult. He seemed only a decade or so beyond the tests that proved he could meet the challenges of elfish training. He found a smile easily, and he engaged Ajax’s group with a cultivated intensity. He was not erratic, but there was a clear desire in him to be moving toward solutions rather than be stagnant. There was no waver in his voice. He faced this odd situation with a confidence of an elf many centuries his senior. “The journey is not long, though the path is steep and winding into the mountains. You’ve proven yourselves capable of handling the likes of orcs, but the Wyld is not a place to face while weakened. We’ll see you safely to the doorstep of the maze once you’ve recovered.”
Ajax concealed a smile. No doubt, he will also ensure we don’t wander off. They don’t trust us. But that was alright as long as they don’t get in our way. “My deepest thanks. We should be rested enough by the end of the day. Can we leave then?”
Regret tinted the younger elf’s face. “The minotaurs are not a social race. They open the pathways into their realm only once in a lunar cycle, on the evening of the new moon. That is yet a fortnight away.”
A scowl of frustration came to Ajax’s face.
The King read it instantly. “Where else will you go, my good knight? It would take twice that to walk or ride or sail to another gateway in another realm. Any of them would be equally well guarded. Any of the kings who control them might not be so forgiving of your actions. Stay with us. I ask for nothing in return but the chance to show you my friendship and good will.”
Riluranath favored Callistia with a smile. “Though perhaps, there is one ulterior motive. It pains me that you must wander the world without a home. It would do my heart well to show you that not all sun elf hearts are false. Maybe, when you return from your quest, you might even come to think of this as your new home. A place to find a new family.” He lent a little extra meaning into the words, suggestive of what might exist between them: two royal children properly matched.
A ghost of a knowing smile touched Cymarramathis lips. “My son, always impetuous.”
Riluranath flushed a little, but his smile didn’t totally fade. He sought Callistia’s eyes, clearly enchanted with her.
Callistia couldn’t help a flutter of flattery that made her return the smile. “To think of attending sun ceremonies again in a crystal tower fills my heart with some measure of joy.”
The younger elf took that as encouragement. “Then you’ll stay until it is time to go. Would you let me show you the grounds? Though our towers are modeled from the same great master, I can assure you the view as the sun sets over the distant mountain ridge is miraculous and unique.”
Callistia might have slipped forward then and there if she were alone. Instead, her gaze slid left and right, looking to her friends and lovers.
Ajax knew what this meant to her. She longed to reconnect, no matter what else she might say. She had confessed that to him in her most vulnerable moments. He would not fight her on the hidden desires locked inside her dreams. “We’ll be fine, My Lady. I have no doubt the King’s own will treat us well.”
Callistia rewarded him with a whisper of thanks, ending with, “Later for dinner, I’ll describe to you all what I’ve seen.” She then went to the Prince’s side. Riluranath was beaming ear to ear, the look of any young man who had caught the attention of a beautiful woman and intended to hold on to it as long as he could. They faded through a nearby hall.
Ajax watched her go with a heavy heart. She wanted to have her faith in sun elves justified. She wanted so badly to find them worthy so she could rejoin them with a clear conscience. He couldn’t quash those dreams. He would miss her. He would long for their sordid nights of dark passion. But he couldn’t destroy her hopes or reave her away from the destiny she wanted so badly to embrace.
He turned to Helleanna. “Will you follow her?”
The moon elf shook her head, filled with the same blend of happiness and sadness, if for slightly different reasons. “She needs her own kind, right now. You can feel it too. I can see it.” She swelled with sympathy for him, both of them enduring the pain of giving their lover space.
They turned and joined Krizzilani and Jyliansa, leaving the sun tower behind and descending into the castle proper.
Two weeks, Ajax thought.
We need only survive the lap of luxury for two weeks. Can’t really be that bad, right?
Chapter 14
The servants were everywhere.
In the end, Ajax nearly roared at them to chase them away.
The others had their own styles for dealing with the nuisance.
Helleanna just laughed any time one of the other moon elves asked her if she needed anything, finding it hysterical at being treated like an honored guest. Jyliansa stared at them like they were curious, interesting bugs whose actions she couldn’t quite explain until they got uncomfortable and left. Krizzilani just pulled out her knives and started sharpening them whenever they started to linger.
They weren’t being all that fair to the moon elves. The servants were only doing as instructed, and their motives might have been pure. But Ajax hated having their eyes on him. Or, worse yet, their ears open and listening. Helleanna taught him well that being servants didn’t make them simple.
As it turned out, luxury could be tense. None of them dared speak a word of truth to each other. Certainly not about Quala. But also not about each other. They took separate rooms and spent far too many hours wasting time. A few times, they took to the weapons training room or went for a ride on borrowed horses. On the surface, they didn’t feel like prisoners.
But the effect was insidious. Even with the horses, the stablemasters insisted on having two of their handlers ride with them. “They are spirited animals, and they don’t always trust outsiders. We’d hate to have you walking home, our animals lost.” A perfectly reasonable request, but it stole another chance at privacy between them.
Ajax mocked himself, thinking maybe his frustrations came from having his lovers stolen from his bed. He’d lived his whole life without such extravagant love in his life; was he really so frazzled just because he was forced to be apart from the women for a couple days? He wanted them so badly he could taste them on his tongue. He wouldn’t delude himself on that.
