Don Bassingthwaite - Word of traitors

“A message has been received by messenger falcon,” he said in his heavily accented Goblin. “This is that message.” He produced a piece of paper too large and stiff to have been carried by one of the hobgoblin-trained falcons. Someone must have translated the original Goblin runes for him and coached him in reading it. “To Khaar Mbar’ost,” he read. “A runner from Ketkeet clanhold has arrived in Zarrthec. Valenar raiders have struck at Tii’ator, are advancing on Ketkeet, and are believed to have struck at more locations. Survivors of Tii’ator seeking refuge at Ketkeet report seeing smoke in the direction of other clan- and farmholds. Other runners and falcons sent by Tii’ator and Ketkeet have not arrived. I believe they have been brought down by Valenar. Zarrthec stands to defend itself.”

Geth looked up. “It is signed by the chib of Zarrthec and dated the evening of 20 Sypheros. Yesterday.”

Words of anger and frustration swelled from the warlords, but the old hobgoblin by the pole rapped a staff against the floor. “Respect the order of assembly! The shava of Haruuc continues.”

When silence had returned, Geth looked back at his paper. “Two other falcons have since arrived. One comes from Baar Kai clanhold, along the border of the Mournland south of the ruins of Lyrenton. The message it carried reads only, ‘Baar Kai falls. Elves burn our fields and kill all who stand against them.’” He hesitated, then said, “The third message was written in Elven.”

The room erupted in outrage. Ashi saw those ambassadors and envoys with elf blood-the half-elf viceroy of House Medani, the entertainer who served as the spokesperson for House Thurani in Rhukaan Draal, an aide to the Aundairian ambassador-sitting in the gallery flinch at the anger below. The old hobgoblin slammed his staff down and called for order repeatedly. Geth shouted for calm in Haruuc’s name. There was no response until Tariic’s voice rang over the chaos. “Darguuls! We give victory to our enemy if there is not order!”

And the warlords listened to him. Many took their seats again, dragging more boisterous neighbors with them. “He sounds like his uncle,” murmured Pater.

“The warlords who responded are all in his camp,” said Ashi. “Daavn was one of the first to sit.”

Vounn glanced at her and nodded at the observation. They weren’t the only ones to notice. Garaad, Aguus, and Iizan glared at Tariic, but the new lord of the Rhukaan Taash had already nodded to Geth. The shifter drew a breath and read from his paper.

“The Valaes Tairn”-Ashi recognized the Valenar elves’ name for themselves-“manswer the challenge of Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor. If the blades of Darguun would fall on Valenar, Darguuls must face the warband of Kaelan Vaerian! Kaelan Vaerian will defeat all who come against her!”

Someone below laughed loudly. “A warband? A single warband? They must be junior warriors out to make honor for themselves! They can’t be much of a threat.”

“Be quiet, you fool!” Tariic’s voice cracked like the thunder of a nearby lightning strike. He stood forward again, glaring down among the assembled warlords. “This isn’t just one warband. The territory of the Baar Kai is too far from Ketkeet or Tii’ator. There are at least four or five warbands working together, probably more. We know they’re a threat because they’ve destroyed at least three clanholds-and there has been no further word from Zarrthec.” He turned, snatched the paper out of Geth’s hand, and shook it in the air. “This is no missive from a true war leader. This is a boast sent out to the enemy by an inexperienced warrior drunk on a fleeting victory. If a junior warrior under my command did such a thing, I’d have him whipped.”

The old hobgoblin’s staff tapped the floor. “Tariic of Rhukaan Taash, respect the order of assembly.”

Tariic nodded. “Arbiter, there is more I have to say, but I will wait for recognition.” He turned to look at Geth. Before the shifter could open his mouth, though, Aguus had pushed forward.

“Tariic has already spoken. I will speak now!”

Garaad and Iizan weren’t far behind with their own protests and demands. Geth turned a bewildered gaze to the arbiter, then to Munta and Dagii. Munta pointed at one of the heirs. Ashi couldn’t be sure which one. Neither could Geth, it seemed, because Munta grimaced when he called out “Tariic of Rhukaan Taash will speak.”

The banner of the lhesh came down from the pole and a banner bearing the crest of the razor crown rose in its place. Tariic nodded to Geth. The other heirs backed down-reluctantly, Ashi thought. Geth returned to the throne as Tariic moved forward. He stood straight and proud as he addressed the assembly.

“Chiefs, warlords, elder warlords-warriors, heed me. Lhesh Haruuc was struck down at the height of his glory. We all know the last words he spoke. ‘Ancient blood demands an ancient enemy. As it was in the age of Dhakaan, the People shall go into battle against elves. Let our blades fall on Valenar.’ Haruuc’s murder robbed us of a great leader, one who deserves all of the honor that we give to him.” His voice dropped and he lowered his eyes. “But perhaps in honoring him with mourning and games, we have denied him the greatest honor of all. We have failed to follow his final words.”

He paused for a moment and the hall was silent between his words. “‘Ancient blood demands an ancient enemy.’ We have let our recent history cover our glorious past. Haruuc signed the Treaty of Thronehold that brought an end to the Last War and recognition as a sovereign nation to Darguun-and yes, to Valenar. Yet fear of this document, fear of war, has held us back. Some have even claimed there could be no war.”

Ashi saw Geth sit up, anger crossing his face. Tariic ignored him and continued.

“Our hesitation has cost us. Valenar has struck the first blow. They have seen what Haruuc surely saw: that the Treaty of Throne-hold is a document drawn up by chaat’oor, defilers, strangers to the shores of Khorvaire.”

His voice rose again, filling the throne room. “‘As it was in the age of Dhakaan’-our People ruled this continent before humans even dreamed of its existence. And in those days, only one enemy met us as an equal on the field of battle: the Tairnadal, honored ancestors of the Valaes Tairn. Those who wrote the Treaty of Thronehold are lovers of peace. They see war as unnatural. A temporary condition. There is a reason we do not number elves among the chaat’oor. Like us, they know that war is eternal, that struggle, not peace, is the true way of the world. Since the age of the Empire of Dhakaan, they have been an honored enemy.”

“Their attack reminds us of who we are, of who we were meant to be. Now is the time to throw off illusions of peace. Now is the time to meet their attack. Now is the time to remember and honor Haruuc. The arch-traitor Chetiin silenced his voice, but he could not silence his spirit for it is the spirit of the People.” Tariic drew his sword and thrust it into the air. “Let our blades fall on Valenar!”

There was not even a moment’s silence before a roar of approval rose from the warlords. Light reflecting from drawn blades flashed around the throne room and the thumping of fists on chests in the dar salute was like the sound of drums. The arbiter didn’t try to restore order, but simply stood and offered applause in the form of an open hand slapped against his chest. Aguus, Garaad, and Iizan looked sour, but they roared and cheered along with the other warlords-Ashi knew there was nothing else they could do now. Anything they said would sound like hollow imitation.

Even those dar in the gallery were applauding. Ashi saw Senen beating a hand against her chest, eyes wide and ears high in admiration. At her side, Ekhaas applauded as well, though when her eyes met Ashi’s there was worry in them.