Paul Thompson - Dargonesti

“I’m numb,” he replied. “I–I had faith in our ultimate victory, but I never dreamed it would be so near a thing, or that it would happen so quickly!”

Vixa noticed the enthusiasm of the crowd was not so marked for Samcadaris and his brave warriors as it had been for Eriscodera and the militia. Fickle people, she thought to herself. They award the victory to those who’d made such a grand and timely arrival, not to the soldiers who’d labored so hard right before their very eyes.

The captured Dargonesti were diverted and taken to Tower Protector. There they were placed under guard and given water. Samcadaris detailed half his remaining troops to accompany them. He and the rest went on to the Quinari.

When they arrived, the streets were packed with spectators. Speaker Elendar, seated in a silk-draped litter atop the steps, with the robes of Silvanos around his shoulders, was receiving a report from Eriscodera about the conclusion of the battle. The huge crowd parted for Samcadaris, Vixa, and Gundabyr. They crossed the palace plaza. At the foot of the steps stood Coryphene, arms pinioned. Beside him, still masked, stood Uriona. The cart that had borne her was being wheeled away.

They mounted the steps of the palace. The crowd gradually quieted. Samcadaris gave a terse account of the battle. Vixa, covered in soot, dirt, and the blood of friend and foe alike, gave the Speaker a flashing smile.

“How fares Your Majesty?” she asked.

“I’ve been told I can expect to live no more than four or five hundred more years,” he quipped. “What fine trophies my warriors have brought me. This is Coryphene, I presume, and the veiled lady his queen.”

“Uriona,” Vixa said. “The self-proclaimed goddess in mortal form.”

“So it is sacrilegious to see her face? Well, Marshal, remove her mask. Let all of Silvanost behold it.”

“Sire, I would not do that,” Vixa said quickly. “Defeated she may be, but Uriona is a powerful sorceress. Also, humiliating her publicly might provoke the captured Dargonesti.”

“Hmm, yes, I see what you mean. Very well. I shall retire to the Tower of the Stars. Bring them before me, one at a time.”

He raised his hand, and four bearers hoisted his litter. The Speaker was borne across the plaza to the Tower of the Stars. Samcadaris and Eriscodera went to escort the prisoners.

“Now what happens?” asked Gundabyr.

“I’m in the dark same as you, my friend,” Vixa replied. “Why doesn’t the Speaker just throw them in the dungeon and forget about them?”

Once the leaders departed, the crowd of Silvanesti began to disperse. There was some discussion of the momentous events of the day, but for the most part the elves went quietly about their business. Gundabyr and Vixa watched them, both shaking their heads at the strangeness of it all. Just when she’d begun to think the Silvanesti were not so different from her own people, Vixa was reminded anew how different the two halves of the elven nation really were.

Speaker Elendar had taken his place on the emerald throne of Silvanesti. He was pale and drawn. White bandages were visible through the vents of his white and gold robe. An elven youth stood by with a silver ewer of nectar, ready to pour at the Speaker’s nod.

Of Uriona, there was no sign. Coryphene stood proudly on the raised platform below the throne dais. Someone had provided him with water, which trickled from his jade hair and over his battered armor. Samcadaris and Eriscodera stood at his sides, their hands on their sword hilts. Vixa and the dwarf circled around them, coming to a halt beside the nectar bearer.

“Hey, lad, pour me a spot of that,” Gundabyr whispered. The willowy youth turned a scandalized look upon his Speaker. Elendar nodded, his smile fleeting.

“So, Lord Coryphene, what have you to say for yourself?” the Speaker of the Stars asked.

“Nothing,” was the reply. “You have won. I have lost. There is nothing to say.”

“Good. I hate long, pointless speeches. Tell me, Cousin, what should I do with this worthy?”

Vixa had been pondering just that question. Her expression as she looked at the captive Dargonesti had nothing of pity in it. “He’s too dangerous to let go, Sire. I would have his head.”

“I’m with her,” said Gundabyr, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He held out his cup for more nectar.

“What do you say, Marshal of Silvanost?”

The weary Samcadaris inhaled slowly, carefully considering the question. “From what I know, Great Speaker, this one is but an instrument of our true enemy. As such, he deserves some mercy. I would commend him to imprisonment for life.”

“And you, Colonel? As his captor, your voice carries weight,” said the Speaker of the Stars.

Eriscodera spoke without hesitation. “I, Great Speaker, would parole him.” Vixa and Gundabyr started in surprise-the dwarf choking on his third cup of nectar.

“That’s ridiculous!” Vixa exclaimed. “Parole him for what reason?”

The Silvanesti colonel ignored her, addressing himself directly to the Speaker. “Majesty, as lord of a defeated army, Coryphene has no power left. If we send him home in disgrace, his own people will likely disown him. We will not have the keeping of him, and he will not trouble us again.”

There might have been something in what Eriscodera said, but Vixa couldn’t countenance letting Coryphene go. She enumerated his many crimes, from the sinking of unsuspecting ships with the kraken, to his enslavement of free elves and men, and his murder of many of those same prisoners. To that she added the destruction of Thonbec, and the wrongful deaths of many Silvanesti subjects. During her long, impassioned plea, Coryphene stood straighter, as if proud of the record she recited.

“Enough,” said the Speaker at last. “I am convinced of the villainy of Lord Coryphene. Hold him at our royal convenience until further notice.” Four guards came forward to claim the Dargonesti. Before he was led away, his eyes met Vixa’s. She flushed with fury at what she saw in them: an arrogance undiminished by his capture.

When Coryphene was gone, Speaker Elendar sagged back in his throne, his face growing paler. A healer came to him with a vial of yellowish fluid. The Speaker drank some of the nostrum. Coughing, he sat erect again and commanded, “Bring in Queen Uriona.”

Samcadaris and Eriscodera went to one of the Tower’s small side chambers and returned with the queen. Her silver gown had long since dried, the supple musselbeard cloth looking as fresh and unsullied as if Uriona had spent the day lounging on her throne. Her head was held high, the soft silver mask covering all but her violet eyes. She halted a few paces from the throne.

“So, lady, your plans are laid low,” the Speaker began. “What are we to do with you now?”

“You dare not interfere with me,” she intoned. “I am the divine queen of the sea.”

“I believe we have already interfered with you, lady. As for your divinity, well, you need only exercise it and take yourself away from here.” The Speaker paused, leaning forward. “Any time you wish.”

Vixa saw the tendons in Uriona’s throat tense and relax, but nothing happened. Titters of laughter circulated among the ladies of the court. Vixa-almost-felt sorry for Uriona.

“I see you have decided to stay with us,” the Speaker said. “If that is the case, you are my guest. Guests do not hide their faces from their hosts, so I’ll trouble you for your mask, lady.”

Vixa held her breath. Nothing happened for a long minute. Just as the Speaker was about to order her unmasked, Uriona moved. One long-fingered blue hand came up in a slow, steady motion and took the covering from her face.