David Dalglish - Dawn of Swords

Conall crossed his arms and looked away.

“You know why.”

“Exactly. We play in the lands of gods, and nothing can be certain. It was the power of a god, your goddess, as a matter of fact, that made your home uninhabitable, and now we risk squabbling between two more gods. Karak is righteous, but his brother is not, and I fear the damage he may bring upon our lands.”

“Well,” said Iolas, “we would still like a specific land named. If that area is devastated, you can simply name another one later.”

Joseph sighed. “You people need to understand that this is not going to happen . You are arguing with the word of a god here. If Karak promises that you will be rewarded, you will be rewarded. To think he could lie is blasphemy.”

“He is not our god,” Aeson said. “And I do not hear these words from his mouth, but a human’s.”

“I speak for Karak.”

“So you say,” muttered Conall. “A human’s word. A liar’s word.”

Iolas stepped between them, his hands spread in entreaty. “There is no need for fighting,” he said. He turned to Joseph. “As the eldest present, I promise you our cooperation.”

“I would prefer if the Neyvar were here to confirm this,” Joseph said.

“And my cousins of the Triad wish Karak was here to confirm your promises,” replied Iolas.

“So are we agreed then?” asked Conall, voice tinged with defeat.

The human reached out and shook his hand. “We are.”

“Very well,” said Iolas. “We will inform the Neyvar that we are moving forward. Shen and the Ekreissar will sail across the river a fortnight from now and guard the Rigon passage from then on. We will use Thyne ships to prevent flight into the west or the delta. Fear not.”

“But you haven’t answered my greatest concern,” said Joseph Crestwell.

“Which was?”

“Will Lord and Lady Thyne agree to this?”

In answer to that question, Conall smiled menacingly, the sight of which sent a shiver up Aully’s spine.

“They will,” he said. “The Dezren are a languid race, too agreeable for their own good, and they have been since their first creation. They’ll agree to the terms we give them, and if they don’t, the days ahead will not bode well for their future generations. If there is one thing cousin Ruven is not, it is indecisive. The Thynes know this. They’ll obey.”

“There is one further condition.”

Conall frowned. “What is that?”

“No matter how you plan to execute your plan, I have been told to instruct you that the delegation from Stonewood shall remain untouched. No member of the Meln contingent is to be harmed.”

“Consider it done,” answered Iolas, cutting off his cousin. “That can be arranged.”

“Very well then,” said the human, offering a bow. “I must return to Veldaren to inform the Highest that our strategy is in place. My only other concern is the giant Gorgoros and his people. My father says they are the largest threat to our victory. They cannot be allowed to interfere as events unfold.”

“Fear not,” said Iolas. “We have reached out to the Dezren in Stonewood who are sympathetic to our cause. I am certain they will deal with Bardiya swiftly and brutally.”

“Excellent. And if I may speak frankly, let it be said that my respect for your race only grows. It is unfortunate that your goddess destroyed your lands. I understand your decision, but I wish that you had been the wardens for our young race rather than the ones we received. If that is any consolation at all.”

With that, Joseph reached out, lit a small torch from the larger one, and turned on his heel. He marched out of the chamber, passing within a few short feet of Aully and Kindren. The youths scurried behind a leaning sarcophagus to stay out of sight of the elves, who had much stronger eyesight. Some grumbling between the three elves came next, and then they too exited the chamber, carrying the burning torch with them and leaving the two youngsters trembling in complete darkness.

It took more than a few minutes for Aullienna to gather her courage. She slid across the wet ground and touched Kindren’s thigh. He was breathing heavily and lightly sobbing.

“They’re gone, I think,” she said.

Kindren muttered an unintelligible response. She heard him rummaging about behind him, and then he spoke a few words of magic. A sudden flare of brightness blinded her. She held her hand in front of her face until her vision adjusted to the newfound light, and then peered through her fingers into Kindren’s mournful face. He seemed to have aged a hundred years in the short time they had listened to the four conspirators. The heavy bags under his eyes drooped, and the corners of his mouth were set in a frown. He didn’t say a word, only stared at her.

“What were they talking about?” Aully asked, nudging him with her knee.

“I don’t know,” her betrothed replied, his voice shaking. “I’ve heard Conall poking fun at Father when he visits the palace…and Father just sits and takes it. I never knew why, but now…now.…”

“Now what?”

“He has no respect for us,” he replied, sounding defeated.

“And he threatened your life,” Aully said. “What’s going on? I mean, what kind of help are they giving the humans? Why would anyone harm my family? What’s going on between the brother gods? Why are the Ekreissar coming here? ”

“I don’t know,” whispered Kindren. “I don’t know at all.”

Seeing the boy she had grown so close to crumbling before her caused Aully’s dread to subside. A sort of infantile fury followed in its wake, a sensation she had never felt before. She wished she were a male, wished she were tall and mighty like Jimel Horlyne. Then she could hunt down the Quellans and pound the deceit out of them. For the first time, she began to understand a tiny bit of Kindren’s curiosity about heroism, for she felt it too.

Yet she didn’t want to do this without her future husband by her side.

“Come,” she said, tugging on Kindren’s shirt and breaking him from his despondency. “We have to leave-now. We can flee to Stonewood and never come back. We’ll be safe there, I promise.”

Kindren stood, then shook the fear from his body with a mighty shudder before turning to look at her. The face that gazed back at her was that of young Kindren Thyne again, only a queer sort of despair lurked just behind his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“No, we can’t just run away,” he said. “I need to go to my parents. They have to know what’s happening. They’re good, Aully. They would never allow anyone to be hurt, not knowingly.”

Aullienna bit her lip. “Can I stay by your side?”

Kindren grabbed her hand and together they weaved their way out of the chamber and back into the main passage, through the Crypts of Dezerea.

“Always, Aullienna,” he said. “From life until death, we will be together. This I promise you with all my heart.”

Aully clutched his hand tightly as the dreadfulness of what she’d heard in the crypt sunk in. From life until death. She believed him. Every word. She only wished she could know the length of such a life, know it would end with happiness and joy instead of the hints of war whispered about by men in crypts.

Bardiya awoke to the sound of a strange bird cawing. He shifted on his bed of leaves, mindful of the bundles of fur nestled against his sides. One of the bundles exhaled a sleepy breath, and the stink of rotting meat hit Bardiya’s nostrils. He cringed and turned his head aside.

He opened his eyes and tilted up his head. The two wolves, a male and female who frequented the fringes of Stonewood, had arrived early that morning to slumber beside him, as they often did. They had taken a shine to him two years earlier, accompanying him when he slept beneath the canopy beside the Corinth River on the southern periphery of the Stonewood Forest. He slipped his hands beneath their bellies and lifted them as he sat up, careful not to injure them by squeezing too hard. Part of the problem with his ever-increasing size, he had found, was that his strength continued to increase proportionately. He had only tested the extent of this newfound strength on a few occasions, but the last time he had, he’d lifted a felled tree blocking his hiking trail and hurled it a good twenty feet. Such strength made tender moments a difficult proposition, for he feared that in a moment of distraction he might crush someone.