Douglas Niles - The Kinslayer Wars

“I’ll believe in dwarven help when I see their banners on the field and their weapons pointed away from us!”

“But what else?” pressed Sithas. “What other tactics do we have?”

“I wish I knew,” his brother replied. “I hoped that you might have some suggestions.”

“Weapons?” Sithas explained the key role Lord Quimant was playing to increase the munitions production at the Oakleaf Clan’s forges. “We’ll get you the best blades that elven craftsmen can make.”

“That’s something—but still, we need more. We need something that cannot just stand against the human cavalry but break it—drive it away!” The second bottle of wine began to vanish as the elven lords wrestled with their problem. The first traces of dawn colored the sky, a thin line of pale blue on the horizon, but no ready solution came to mind.

“You know, I wasn’t certain that Arcuballis could find you,” Sithas said after a pause of several minutes. The frustration of their search for a solution weighed upon them, and Kith welcomed the change of conversation.

“He never looked so good to me,” Kith-Kanan replied, “as when he came soaring into the fortress compound. I didn’t realize how much I missed this place—how much I missed you and mother—until I saw him.”

“He’s been there in the stable since you left,” Sithas said, shaking his head with a wry grin. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of sending him to you shortly after you first became besieged.”

“I had a curious dream about him—about an entire flock of griffons, actually—on the very night before he arrived. It was most uncanny.” Kith described his strange dream, and the two brothers pondered its meaning.

“A flock of griffons?” Sithas asked intently.

“Well, yes. Do you think it significant?”

“If we had a flock of griffons ... if they all carried riders into combat ... could that be the hammer needed to crack the shell around Sithelbec?” Sithas spoke with growing enthusiasm.

“Wait a minute,” said Kith, holding up his hand. “I suppose you’re right, in a hypothetical sense. In fact, the horses of the humans were spooked as I flew over, even though I was high, out of bowshot range. But who ever heard of an army of griffons?”

Sithas settled back, suddenly realizing the futility of his idea. For a moment, neither of them said anything—which was how they heard the soft rustling in the room behind them.

Kith-Kanan sprang to his feet, instinctively reaching for a sword at his hip, forgetting that his weapon hung back on the wall of his own apartment. Sithas whirled in his seat, staring in astonishment, and then he rose to his feet.

“You!” the Speaker barked, his voice taut with rage. “What are you doing here?”

Kith-Kanan crouched, preparing to spring at the intruder. He saw the figure, a mature elf cloaked in a silky gray robe, move forward from the shadows.

“Wait.” said Sithas, much to his brother’s surprise. The speaker held up his hand and Kith straightened, still tense and suspicious.

“One day your impudence will cost you,” Sithas said levelly as the elf approached them. “You are not to enter my chambers unannounced again. Is that clear?”

“Pardon my intrusion. As you know, my presence must remain discreet.”

“Who is this?” Kith-Kanan demanded.

“Forgive me,” said the gray-cloaked elf before Sithas cut him off.

“This is Vedvedsica,” said Sithas. Kith-Kanan noted that his brother’s tone had become carefully guarded. “He has ... been helpful to the House of Silvanos in the past.”

“The pleasure is mine, and it is indeed great, honored prince,” offered Vedvedsica, with a deep bow to Kith-Kanan.

“Who are you? Why do you come here?” Kith demanded.

“In good time, lord—in good time. As to who I am, I am a cleric, a devoted follower of Gilean.”

Kith-Kanan wasn’t surprised. The god was the most purely neutral in the elven pantheon, most often used to justify self-aggrandizement and profit. Something about Vedvedsica struck him as very self-serving indeed.

“More to the point, I know of your dream.”

The last was directed to Kith-Kanan and struck him like a lightning bolt between the eyes. For a moment, he hesitated, fighting an almost undeniable urge to hurl himself at the insolent cleric and kill him with his bare hands. Never before had he felt so violated.

“Explain yourself!”

“I have knowledge that the two of you may desire—knowledge of griffons, hundreds of them. And even more important, I may have knowledge as to how they can be found and tamed.”

For the moment, the elven lords remained silent, listening suspiciously as Vedvedsica moved forward. “May 1?” inquired the cleric, gesturing to a seat beside their own.

Sithas nodded silently, and all three sat.

“The griffons dwell in the Khalkist Mountains, south of the Lords of Doom.” The brothers knew of these peaks—three violent volcanoes in the heart of the forbidding range, high among vast glaciers and sheer summits. It was a region beyond the ken of elven explorers.

“How do you know this?” asked Sithas.

“Did your father ever tell you how he came to possess Arcuballis?” Again the cleric fixed Kith-Kanan with his gaze, then continued as if he already knew the answer. “He got him from me!”

Kith nodded, reluctant to believe the cleric but finding himself unable to doubt the veracity of his words.

“I purchased him from a Kagonesti, a wild elf who told me of the whereabouts of the pack. He encountered them, together with a dozen companions. He alone escaped the wrath of the griffons, with one young cub—the one given by me to Sithel as a gift, and the one that he passed along to his son. To you, Kith-Kanan.”

“But how could the flock be tamed? From what you say, a dozen elves perished to bring one tiny cub away!” Kith-Kanan challenged Vedvedsica. Despite his suspicions, he felt his own excitement begin to build.

“I tamed him, with the aid and protection of Gilean. I developed the spell that broke him to halter. It’s a simple enchantment, really. Any elf with a working knowledge of the Old Script could have cast it. But only I could bring it into being!”

“Continue,” said Sithas urgently.

“I believe that spell can be enhanced, developed so that many more of the creatures could be brought to heel. I can inscribe it onto a scroll. Then one of you can take it in search of the griffons.”

“Are you certain that it will work?” demanded Sithas.

“No,” replied the cleric frankly. “It will need to be presented under precise circumstances and with a great force of command. That is why the person who casts the spell must be a leader among elves—one of you two. No others of our race would have the necessary traits.”

“How long would it take to prepare such a scroll?” pressed Kith. A cavalry company mounted on griffons, flying over the battlefield! The thought made his heart pound with excitement. They would be unstoppable!

Vedvedsica shrugged. “A week, perhaps two. It will be an arduous process.”

“I’ll go,” Kith volunteered.

“Wait!” said Sithas sharply. “I should go! And I will!” Kith-Kanan looked at the Speaker in astonishment. “That’s crazy!” he argued.

“You’re the Speaker of the Stars. You have a wife, a child! More to the point, you’re the leader of all Silvanesti! And you haven’t ever lived in the wilderness before like I have! I can’t allow you to take the risk.” For a moment, the twins stared at each other, equally stubborn. The cleric was forgotten for the moment, and he melted into the shadows, discreet in his withdrawal.

It was Sithas who spoke.

“Do you read the Old Script?” he asked his brother bluntly. “Well enough to be certain of your words, when you know that the whole future of the realm could depend upon what you say?”