Paul Thompson - Nemesis

Crovax went back to the council table and set his chair upright again. Once he was seated, he visibly relaxed. Greven let out a long gust of breath and ceased writhing.

"Proclaim me evincar," Crovax said in a low voice. "I have command of the flowstone. I've just demonstrated my ability to affect control rods. What more proof do you need? Discharge your commission and name me governor!"

Belbe went silently to her chair. Dorian was still peeking out from behind it. When she stood aside waiting, the chamberlain sheepishly resumed his seat.

"Well?" said Crovax.

"You're the leading contender," Belbe said, "but there are others who have not yet had the opportunity to display their talents."

"Others? Who? Him?" Crovax indicated the prostrate Greven with a thrust of his chin. "No one approaches my power!"

"As I see it, your power is limited. You can influence flowstone in your immediate vicinity but only with great concentration. The shapes you create are not permanent. Just now you were too busy evading Commander Greven to think about the flowstone, were you not? And at what range can you affect a control rod? One yard? Ten yards? More is required than psionic ability-can you command the army? Can you execute the orders of our overlords faithfully and without question?"

Crovax sullenly said nothing.

"My decision will be deferred until I have sufficient evidence as to who is best qualified to be evincar," Belbe said. She sorted through the scramble of scrolls on the table. "Do I have your report on the readiness of the garrison?"

He took a flattened scroll from his inner jacket pocket and tossed it in front of her.

"Thank you. Briefly, what is your estimate of the military situation?"

Several long seconds passed before Crovax replied. "The Stronghold garrison is in disarray. They're afraid the rebels are equipped with airships, and they know Volrath has left them in the lurch. The rebels think they won a victory because some of them penetrated the Citadel and escaped with their lives. They'll be full of bluster and confidence and will no doubt be planning new raids."

She opened the squashed scroll Crovax tossed at her. "What do you recommend?"

"Attack without delay."

Belbe and Dorian exchanged looks. "Are you certain, my lord?" asked the chamberlain.

"It's the course of action the rebels least expect."

Belbe read Crovax's report in seven seconds flat. "How will you do it?"

"I'll form a hard-hitting force, the cream of the garrison," he said, warming to the subject. "Nasser tells me Volrath had agents among the rebels who've provided maps of the Skyshroud Forest. I'll locate and destroy the village of Eladamri, the rebel leader." He tapped a finger against his forehead. "Take out the brains of the rebellion, and the rest are just carrion."

Belbe quickly rolled Crovax's scroll closed. "How many troops will you need?"

"Ten thousand should do it."

"What support? Supplies?"

"I'll take an equal number of moggs along as porters," he said. "No pack animals or clumsy machines-we'll move fast and strike hard." He struck the tabletop with a scratched and bleeding fist.

"You have leave to try, Crovax."

He stood and saluted. "I'll bring you Eladamri's head in a basket."

Belbe blinked several times. "Why would I want his head in any container?"

Crovax limped from the room, smirking. He'd taken some punishment and couldn't quite manage the swagger he'd come in with. On his way out, he deliberately stepped over Greven, still supine with remembered pain.

After the doors closed behind him, Belbe called out, "What do you think of Crovax's plan?"

Greven, white as death, crawled to a chair. "Eladamri will do what I could not," he said hoarsely. The emissary and the chamberlain looked blank. "He will kill Crovax. Unfortunately, he may also kill the best part of my army."

Half a hundred humans and elves gathered in the silent night. Their meeting place was a small hummocky island in the swamp near the edge of the Skyshroud Forest. Here, freethinking Rathi rebels had come to hear the gospel of resistance. All the world's races were represented save the merfolk, who were blood enemies of the elves and would not seek their company even if it meant avoiding total extinction. Most of those present were Dal and Vec. A single Kor male lingered on the edge of the crowd.

No torches were lit. Darkness was the rule for this gathering.

"I don't like this," said a mature Dal man. He was richly dressed and wore a jeweled dagger on his belt. "Agents of the evincar could be here-our lives are at hazard, and for what?"

"Why did you come, if you're so afraid?" This from an elderly Vec woman, leaning on a tall staff.

"I'm not afraid," said the Dal. "Just cautious."

"Caution is our enemy now, as much as Greven and his army," proclaimed a ringing voice.

Into the milling circle of men and women came Eladamri and his lieutenants. The elves were well armed with captured weapons. They fanned out to the edge of the little island, watching the night for signs of an ambush.

"Eladamri, hail!" said the old Vec woman.

"Greetings, Tant Jova," said the elf leader. They clasped hands. "How flourishes the tribe of Jov?"

"We are many, and there is metal in our hands, O Eladamri. In the past twenty days we have seen but few of the evincar's men. The skyship does not fly over us, and we have slain many moggs found wandering in our territory."

"This is just the beginning, Tant Jova," said Eladamri. "As we grow stronger, you will see fewer and fewer soldiers on the plain and in the air."

The rich Dal harrumphed. Eladamri turned to him. "Skeptical, Darsett?"

"Yes, I'm skeptical. A raid is not a campaign."

"All winning campaigns should start with a victory," said Gallan, Eladamri's friend and second in command.

"Yes, but you have a long way to go," Darsett replied. The bulk of the Dal behind him murmured in agreement.

"We have a long way to go," Eladamri said, raising his voice for all to hear. "The time is past when my people alone could resist the Stronghold with any hope but survival. Now is a chance for victory, for the overthrow of the evincar and his tyranny! We must forge an alliance of all free people on Rath to fight the evincar and his forces. Only then can we be truly free."

"A pretty speech," Darsett said. "But speeches won't beat Volrath's army."

"We'll build our own army," Gallan countered. "What about the airship? If we openly revolt, Greven il-Vec and Predator will come and destroy us," said Tant Jova.

Mention of the terrible commander and his flying warship provoked a fresh round of unsettled muttering. Gallan tried to calm the Dal and Vec leaders, but they were plainly afraid of arousing the wrath of Greven.

Darsett raised his voice over the noise. "Already those Dal in the Stronghold who resisted the evincar have vanished-Lady Takara, my cousin Sterba-"

The lone Kor had gradually circled into the crowd until he was close to the elves. He caught Eladamri's eye. "I don't know you, friend. Who are you?" "Furah," he said in his odd, lisping way. "Of the Fishers of Life."

All comment ceased. The Fishers of Life were a tribe that lived near the summit of the Stronghold itself. No one knew the peak as well as they. It was rumored the Fishers of Life even had access to the inner crater through secret fissures in the flowstone.

"Speak," said Eladamri. "Tell us your mind, Furah." The whiskered, catlike Kor shoved his face close to the elf chieftain's. "Volrath is no more," he said.

Four full seconds went by, then the assembly burst into spontaneous cheers. Eladamri alone frowned. "How do you know this?" he asked.

"We know. The Fishers of Life see into the Stronghold, as you see into the water beneath your village. Volrath left Rath on the other flying ship, the one pursued by Greven ilVec."