The Alterra Histories: The Fire King Page 4
The wind-walkers bowed, knowing that should the King discover them there would be no words to turn his wrath aside.
~~
The next few weeks were spent in preparing the war-party. Aincor enlisted the willing aid of his fiercest, most loyal fighters, including his elder son, Asgar. The younger son, Dardis, had tried without success to dissuade his father from war. Afterward, he had been so discouraged that he had retreated to the depths of his study-chambers and would not emerge even when Aincor summoned him. Instead, he sent his Master, Léiras the Far-sighted, to speak for him. Aincor would only hear from Léiras in private, and so they met in the King’s audience chamber.
“My son will not face me?” growled Aincor. “And why should he fear his own father?”
Léiras, a very sensitive and reclusive Asarla, was named “the Far- sighted” because he possessed remarkable powers of premonition. He shook his head, his pale golden hair waving gently from his scalp to his waist. “You ask such a question when your disregard of your son is evident? Dardis has told me of his attempts to turn you from your course, and also of your rather uncharitable response. In my opinion, trying to argue one of your decisions took tremendous fortitude. I can’t blame him for avoiding you in your present mood.”
“He knows I love him,” Aincor muttered.
“Does he? I wonder,” Léiras replied in a voice that could easily have belonged to either a man or a woman. He usually wore white garments in a vain attempt to bring color to his translucent cheeks and nearly-colorless blue eyes, resulting in an almost spectral appearance. Aincor had never been comfortable in his presence. Though Léiras was kind-hearted, his premonitions were nearly always disturbing. Aincor usually received him with dread.
“He does,” said Aincor, trying to soften his tone. “He knows because I have told him.”
“I do hope you had less fire in your eyes when you did so,” said Léiras, raising one nearly-invisible eyebrow. “But whether you love your son or not is irrelevant to my mission here. He wishes me to convey a message. I have one of my own, as well.”
“Naturally,” grumbled the King, who had already guessed that Léiras would deliver some premonition concerning the upcoming battle.
“Your son’s message is this: that he wishes his father would heed the words of his teacher, Léiras, before it is too late. He also wishes to tell you that he will not be joining the war-party. He has neither the heart nor the skills for such things.”
“That is well known to me already,” said Aincor, his dark auburn brows drawing together in a frown. “And I suppose you are about to grace us with the typical pronouncement of impending disaster?”
Léiras gazed at Aincor with an expression that was difficult to read. It might have been sadness, but it was definitely tainted by disgust. “What I have done to earn such a lack of respect from you evades me, my lord. You usually listen to my counsel, which is a wise thing, as I am seldom wrong. Will you hear me now?”
Aincor drew a deep sigh, resting his chin in his left hand. “I suppose I must. Speak, then, your prophecies of doom.”
“I can give you no specifics,” Léiras replied. “Only this: I saw sorrow in the midst of triumph...a hollow victory. Battles won, and battles lost, but sorrow over all. Things are not as you expect.” He waited for a moment, his eyes on the King, who did not appear to react.
“Go on…”
“Wrothgar is stronger than you believe he is. He has deceived you.”
“And the fear I saw in his eyes?”
“That fear was false. It must have been.”
Aincor considered, pursing his lips and looking down at his lap.“Tell me exactly what you saw, Soothsayer, and leave nothing out.”
“I saw no vision this time, Fire-heart. I have only feelings…no pictures to illustrate them.”
“Then they are too vague for me to take seriously,” said Aincor. “Perhaps we will be defeated if we wait too long to attack! That has always been my belief. Perhaps the sorrow is that of the army who has spent too much time in following the advice of others. Can you be certain otherwise? I cannot stay the war-party based on the vagaries of feelings.”
“Not certain, but still confident,” said Léiras. “The doubts I have refer to your present course. If you do not stay the war-party, you will come to ruin, even though your army may prevail. I cannot say when, nor how, nor define the nature of this ruin, but it will come. I felt sorrow… immense and deep. And that sorrow was yours to bear.”
Aincor drew another long, growling sigh, rumbling in his massive chest. “So what would you have me do?”
“Just wait a while, my lord. That’s all I ask. Wait and see whether new insights may be gained. Send scouts northward, call a council, and gather your allies. You might be right—Wrothgar may be weak and fearful—but you will not defeat him alone.”
“The Èolar have never needed aid from anyone! My army has never been defeated. I have never been defeated,” cried Aincor. “I should not need to remind you of that.”
“You have not yet faced the Shadowmancer,” countered Léiras. “He has plied his dark trade since the Time of Mystery. Do you truly believe he is foolish enough to reveal his weakness to you?”
“Careful, Soothsayer. You go too far,” rumbled Aincor, his bright eyes nearly glowing. His form had begun to radiate a soft yet menacing light. “You have just come perilously close to calling me a fool.”
“Just consider what I have said. Again, I know I can ask no more of you. Think of the consequences if I am right…and compare them with the risks if I am wrong. You will find that one far outweighs the other.” Léiras turned to leave, but Aincor stayed him.
“Wait! I have not yet dismissed you.”
Léiras turned back, both eyebrows raised in anticipation, to behold a conflicted expression on the face of the King.
“I…I wanted to thank you for coming here and sharing your insight,” said Aincor. “It takes courage to face me when I am convinced of something. I promise to consider your counsel, though I cannot promise to act on it.”
“That’s all I can hope for, my lord,” said Léiras with a rare, slight smile.
~~
Faelani tried one more time to persuade Aincor. She was hopeful, as this time he had actually come to her for advice. He had done this only twice in all the years she had known him (other than with very inconsequential matters such as whether his tunic went well with his breeches). She knew the weight of the decision before him, and she knew that everyone had advised against his present course. She also knew how single-minded, stubborn, and prideful he could be. His army was equipped, trained, and ready for battle. The opportunity diminished day- by-day as the summer waned into early autumn. She had only this last chance to influence him.
She loved him with every part of her body and soul. She loved his strength, his independence, his brilliant mind, and even his fiery temperament. When he was near her, she always felt safe. His passion for her was obvious, as was the depth of his love, yet he still looked through her most times. Though he was unrestrained and formidable in the bedchamber, he was uncomfortable with intimacies of the heart.
She took him in her arms, baring her innermost soul to his vast energies. Though he did not wish to, he submitted to her invitation, allowing his own mind and heart to open—to join with her. Their spirits moved as one, as two streams flowing into a river. She saw as deeply into him as she dared, trying to cool his battle-lust with her own gentle sensibilities, but in the end she knew she could not overcome the obstacle of his pride. There was a hole in his spirit—a hole too vast and deep even for her to fill. She wept for him even before she broke their embrace, for she felt his fear. He clung to her, saying: “As long as I have you, I will fear no darkness. As long as I have you, I will never be alone again.”
By the time he released her there were tears in his eyes, though he did not know why. It was the first time Faelani had ever seen him weep.
Part Four
The K
ing’s army went forth a few days later. Over five hundred Èolarin warriors, each wearing the scarlet leather plated armor of Aincor’s elite guard, went forth in the early morning. With them went their wagon- drivers, weapons-masters, cooks, healers, and horse-masters. The wagons were laden with provisions, including cold-weather gear, for the northlands were already feeling the first whispers of winter. It was Aincor’s plan to make swift work of Wrothgar and return before the northern winter could truly bite.
Aincor rode at the head of the column, resplendent in his own scarlet armor, his dragon-helm flashing in the early morning sun upon his proud head. Beside him rode Asgar, bearing the battle-standard of the Fire- heart, and Talon, who always fought at Aincor’s right hand. Vathan was there as well, for he would not abandon the King whether he agreed with him or not. His son, Aldamar, rode beside him.
Aincor looked around for Faelani, finally catching sight of her standing upon one of the tall parapets near her private quarters. He knew she would not come down to him, but at least she had put in an appearance for the sake of his reputation. They had quarreled that morning, and she had threatened not to appear at all. “You are so full of your own importance, you surely won’t need any additional well- wishers,” she had said. Those words still stung a little, as he had only tried to reassure her that her fears were groundless. After all, he was right about most things, and he was right about his decision to attack Lord Wrothgar. About the time he had cursed her for her stubbornness, she had stared at him in open-mouthed incredulity, whirled on one heel and stormed from the chamber, throwing the oaken door shut with finality.
Now he raised his right arm to her, bringing his hand down to rest upon his heart in a gesture of farewell. Even from this distance he could see the worry in her pale face. She extended her right hand toward him and brought it to her heart, but there was no joy or enthusiasm in either the gesture or in her melancholy expression. Aincor sighed and shook his head once before putting her out of his mind, wondering if he would ever really understand what motivated her.
A more magnificent sight had not been seen in Tal-elathas. The three Asari stood upon the walls, their arms extended in a gesture of farewell, and began to glow with powerful Inner Light. This light flared forth from their hands and enveloped the army in a soft, radiant glow—a parting blessing.
Aincor raised his right hand to acknowledge the gift, and his warriors all followed suit. Then he blew his great horn—a beautifully carved, gilded dragon—and spurred his powerful red horse toward the North.
~~
After he had gone, Faelani returned to her private chambers. She had preparations to make. Once the great gates had closed again, the City would return to its usual business, but though Faelani had been appointed by the King to rule in his absence, she had no intention of remaining in Tal-elathas. Everyone would assume she had gone into temporary seclusion to lament the departure of her life-mate—she had, in fact, laid the groundwork for that assumption—but her plans were quite different. She had to keep them secret for as long as she could, for they would greatly upset her younger son, Dardis, who was already broken-hearted enough.
~~
Dardis had not attended the departure of Aincor’s army, retreating instead to his underground study to await the return of his master, Léiras. He truly had not wanted to say goodbye to his father and brother, for he knew of Léiras’ premonition, and he was afraid.
Léiras finally appeared in Dardis’ study-chamber, the sadness evident on his ageless face. “We tried to dissuade him, my friend,” he said, placing a gentle hand on Dardis’ shoulder in an effort to comfort him.
“I don’t understand why he wouldn’t listen…why he never listens!” said Dardis, his voice unsteady, tears starting in his eyes. “I almost wish h e had known some humiliating past defeat—something which could have made him see that he can fall to an enemy.Léiras drew a deep breath.
“So do I. Wrothgar is an enemy that may be beyond him. There is no worse one in the West, at any rate. But perhaps he will prevail…my premonitions do not always come to pass.”
Dardis raised one eyebrow. “Can you tell me of one which has not?”
He waited for several moments, but Léiras did not reply.
~~
Wrothgar had been preparing for this day for many years. He had assembled a far greater force than anyone was aware of, sending them forth a few at a time. They had amassed in quite respectable numbers within striking distance of each of the realms of Elves, Dwarves, and Men, including Tuathas, the Cavern-realms, the Greatwood Forest, and the City of Light. These underground armies went undetected, for they were hidden by the Shadowmancer’s art. He had placed them into a sort of dark sleep, to awaken only when he summoned them. Each force was commanded by a dark, fearsome Bödvar.
Wrothgar planned his uprising carefully, knowing that his dark forces would likely prevail in a surprise attack. After all, his power was at its peak, despite his leading Aincor to believe otherwise. Word reached Wrothgar’s ears that Tal-elathas had been “sealed”…that no emissaries had been allowed to warn their allies of the impending conflict. The Shadowmancer chuckled from within the flames of his stronghold. There would be no warning given. Everything was as he had predicted.
Aincor had been the one obstacle of real concern—Wrothgar had never met another like him. This Elf did not fear the Bödvari, a fact Wrothgar still could not fathom. Aincor had fortified Tal-elathas until it was impenetrable, or nearly so. His warriors were the fiercest in all of Alterra—they could summon their Light at will, though only Aincor could maintain it without tiring. Aincor believed himself to be invincible, which made him the most dangerous of enemies, one who is without fear. Still, Wrothgar knew that if all went according to plan, Aincor would be defeated. Wrothgar intended to lure him deep into his own dark realm, to put the King at a fatal disadvantage.
He positioned some of his forces, including one of his specially- bred dragons, in an outer battalion to the south of his stronghold. These would engage the Fire-heart, falling back before him, luring the Elven army ever-closer. Wrothgar would then send forth a much larger and more powerful defense force, although there would be no Bödvari—they had been sent to command his outer armies, which were already laying siege to the realms of Aincor’s allies.
It made little sense to risk the Bödvari to defend the Pale Fortress. Wrothgar already knew that Aincor could prevail over them. Bödvari relied on their two weapons: fear and flames, which they cast with deadly accuracy. Aincor, who had once defeated a dragon single-handed, was obviously not afraid of fire. And he didn’t even seem to be aware of the black, oppressive aura of fear surrounding the Bödvari; he charged forward with his dragon-shield before him, his Inner Light flaring, blinding and slaying them before they could even react.
Wrothgar would need to rely on his legions of Ulcas, his remaining dragons, trolls, savage men, and other dread creatures. He hoped that the sheer numbers of his defenders would fell the majority of Aincor’s warriors, but if not, he was unconcerned. It didn’t matter whether he faced five attackers, or five hundred, or five thousand, or merely Aincor himself. Wrothgar possessed a weapon of such power that his enemy’s defeat was all but certain, and he needed nothing more than his own evil nature to summon it.
~~
When the Elves of Tal-elathas first engaged Wrothgar’s outer battalion, Aincor believed his instincts were well-founded. All was as he had thought—Wrothgar was indeed weak and fearful if this was the extent of his resistance.
Vathan wondered. Surely Lord Wrothgar was expecting Aincor to attack. After all, they had done nothing to keep themselves hidden, riding forth in splendor, their horses and wagons raising dust that could be seen for miles. The weather grew colder the farther north they traveled, and soon it would become really difficult. Vathan knew that Aincor was planning to attack swiftly and vanquish his enemy with all speed. That alone should have alarmed Wrothgar, yet there were no Bödvari and only a single dragon. Wrothgar
must have known that a pathetic rabble of Ulcas and hill-trolls was no match an army of seasoned Èolar. Vathan wondered what still awaited them.
Wrothgar’s forces would doubtless put up a better show with the second wave. Aincor’s army had drawn within sight of the Pale Fortress, which rose above the barren landscape as a rotten, stinking pile of stone. It radiated corruption and hopelessness in a cloud of foul, icy mist that hung about the edifice like a death-shroud. The horses would not draw nearer to it; they shifted unhappily beneath their riders, snorting and lifting briefly onto their hind legs. The Elves had little choice but to make an encampment there, for they were travel-worn. They posted sentries and waited for darkness, knowing the battle would then begin anew.
~~
Elsewhere, attacks had already begun. The Dwarf-realms of Rûmm and the Deep-caverns were besieged, as was the Elf-city of Eádros. The realm of the Northmen had also been forced to engage Wrothgar’s dark army, and the Greatwood stood upon the brink of battle. It would take too much time to send word of the assaults back to Tal-elathas; by then the Èolar would be embroiled in their own conflict if all went according to plan.
Fortunately, both the Tuathar and the Wood-elves of the Greatwood had received messages from Vathan’s wind-walkers, and were not taken entirely by surprise. They had little time to prepare, but at least they were aware of their enemy. The others had not been as fortunate. The distance to Tal-elathas was too great for the message to be carried to the Dwarf-realms, or to Eádros. Of the fate of those messengers, little is known.