Blood of the Emperor (21 page)

“Braun!” Ethis shouted.

“Yes, of course,” Braun said, rolling his eyes. “You’ve returned with a proposed pact from the Queen of Ephindria who offers to support Drakis and his merry pilgrims by ceding lands to our cause in exchange for us doing her a little favor.”

“It’s no small favor,” Drakis said, shaking his head. “She’s asking us to take down an entire elven city.”

“Yes, but think of the possibilities, Drakis,” Ethis continued. “This city is the key to Aether collection and distribution throughout Chaenandria and serves in support of the rebel houses of Southern Ephindria. You bring down the Wells in that city and it robs the Empire of nearly half of the Aether production from the Wells all along the Benis Coast. You choke off the flow of Aether from the Empire to the families of Pashorei and Surthal, and they cannot stand against Queen Chythal.”

“Why not?” Drakis argued. “How does cutting of the Aether end your civil war?”

“Because it was the Aether that
caused
the war of rebellion in the first place,” Ethis answered, anger creeping into his voice. “After the elves conquered Chaenandria they began trading with the southern
families in Ephindria. Most of the elders saw the danger but the young were particularly susceptible to its allure.”

“Indeed?” Braun asked with an eager expression. “Are chimerians seduced by the power of magic?”

“No,” Ethis sighed as he allowed a pained expression to fill his features. “We are seduced by our desire to please.”

“As they have always been,” Marush said. The dragon rarely spoke to anyone but Drakis. “It is their greatest gift and their curse; their strength and their downfall.”

“That makes no sense,” Drakis said. “Everyone knows the Ephindrians are the most secretive and reclusive people in the known lands.”

“We hide because we are too giving, too responsive to others’ desires and needs,” Ethis said, his words halting and coming with difficulty. “It is never spoken of outside of the family. All chimerians naturally desire to build rapport with everyone we meet. While the adults of our kind learn to be more guarded with outsiders, it requires discipline which the youth of our race often lack. Our ability to change our shape is greatly enhanced by our natural ability to become attuned with the emotions and even, on some level, the thoughts of others.”

“Ah!” Braun said, his thick eyebrows rising with his understanding. “So Ephindrians do not just change their shape to suit others but modify their own thoughts to align with them. That is how you make yourselves so convincing to others; by not only mimicking forms but attitudes and thoughts as well.”

“That has always been the danger to us,” Ethis nodded. “The elves brought Aether magic to the young princesses of Surthal and Pashorei. It seemed innocent enough at first—indeed it was welcomed as a new convenience among the southern families, especially the young.”

“But it didn’t stop with the Aether, did it?” Drakis said.

“No, it did not,” Ethis sighed, folding his upper arms across his chest while his lower hands remained in contact with the dragon. “The young chimerians in those southern families began to adapt to the thoughts and ethics of the elves. Soon they began placing themselves under Devotions to the Aether altars and desiring more of the Aether, became more and more like the elves in their thoughts and ethics. By the time the danger was realized in Chythal’s court, the south was already poisoned by rapport with the elves. Chythal closed all the borders,
trying to quarantine our nation from the sickness of the world but by then the southern families were too infected by the Aether to go back.”

Drakis drew in a deep breath. “And your Queen believes that if we cut off their supply of Aether…”

“Then the illness will no longer be fed and the southern families may be redeemed,” Ethis finished. “The elves are very jealous of their Aether. They collect it in a vast field of Aether Wells that cover the Southern Steppes well into the Chaenandrian Plains and have begun establishing new Wells in the southern lands of Ephindria over the last few months. But the Wells do not supply the chimerian mages directly; all their power is drawn through their folds to the city. Only then is it distributed back for the use of the chimerian mages—but only a trickle compared to the river they pull from our lands. That is how the elves keep Ephindria balanced on a knife’s edge—and too weak to challenge the elven Empire.”

“A very inefficient system,” Braun said with disdain. “Our Aether is a much better and more efficient system of distribution.”

“Ethis, I understand your nation’s—your family’s problem,” Drakis shook his head. “But taking these people into battle is exactly what I wanted to avoid!”

“But think of how many
more
battles you would have avoided,” Ethis argued. “You would have won a place where your people could settle in peace with a newly strong ally between your people and the Rhonas. And consider your advantage…”

“My advantage?” Drakis almost laughed. “I’m outnumbered by the Rhonas Legions almost a hundred to one!”

“Legions who will not be there! Look!” Ethis turned slightly, unfolding his upper pair of arms and pointing toward the map etched into the curved surface next to them. “Here is where we are now, between Nordesia and Ephindria. Down here between Chaenandria and the Aeria Mountains is your objective. The elf spy…”

“Soen,” Drakis said.

“Yes, Soen,” Ethis continued. “He says that the Rhonas Legions will move up the Northmarch Folds and march up the Shadow Coast, hoping to catch us with the Bay of Thetis on our right and the Shrouded Plain on our left.”

“You think he’s lying?” Braun asked.

“No, I think he’s right,” Ethis continued. “But what if we accept this pact with Queen Chythal? What if we move the army and the encampment
east
instead of south and down the Mournful Road…”

“But that takes us back into the Shrouded Plain,” Braun said. “That is, trust me, very much a dead end in every sense of the word.”

“No, there is another road,” Ethis said. “It is ancient and has remained unused since beyond memory but it is there nevertheless. Queen Chythal commanded its closure but for this pact she will permit it to be opened for the passage of Drakis and his people—if you will accept the risks involved in traveling it.”

“What risks?” Drakis asked.

“They are minimal, I assure you,” Ethis said. “All we have to do is push southward down the road and then west along the elf folds. The elves have pulled out their Legions here, intent on pursuing us to the north as quickly as possible. Opposition will be light all the way to the gates of the city itself.”

“But to take an entire city!” Drakis shook his head.

“You took Port Glorious in a matter of hours,” Ethis said.

“But this is entirely different!”

“No, not different…just bigger,” Ethis urged. “The tactic is the same. Find the central Well of the city, fly Braun or one of his trained acolytes in on the back of a dragon and bring down the Well. The elves are useless without their Aether. When the Aether dies in southern Ephindria, Chythal will move against the southern families. Your victory is accomplished swiftly. You will have won a land of refuge for your people and the face of the world is changed forever.”

“Will it work, Braun?” Drakis asked.

Braun considered the possibilities with a half-smile. “Bringing the central Well down or, preferably, reversing it, would cause a cascade reversal of any of the Wells that were feeding it. You would be bringing down the Aether across Chaenandria and probably most of the Northern Provinces if what Ethis says is true. Yes, it would work, but might I suggest that there is a delicate problem to be addressed.”

“What problem?” Ethis asked.

“We must find a way to reverse the Wells but keep the Devotions intact,” Braun said quietly.

Drakis drew in a deep breath.

“I have heard from Belag the accounts of the fall of House Timuran,” Braun said wistfully. “What would such madness do to an entire city?”

“Then find us a way,” Ethis said. “Make it work, Braun. The only question we need to address is whether your acolytes can be depended upon to move this entire encampment and its army.”

“The distances involved are staggering, the amount of Aether required beyond calculation,” Braun said. “I cannot guarantee that any of my acolytes would even survive such a repeated use of Aether and we’ll need to reverse a number of Wells as soon as possible to make it work.”

“What of Soen?” Drakis asked. “We cannot take him with us. Everything depends upon the elves not knowing where we’ve gone.”

“I’ve got something special in mind for Soen,” Braun smiled. “Something unexpected and simple that I’ve been holding back from him for just such an occasion.”

“You plan on killing an Iblisi?” Ethis asked in astonishment.

“Kill him? Nonsense!” Braun answered. “That’s all warriors think magic is good for; reducing the creature standing in front of you to a pile of ashes just because you disagree with him. We don’t have to murder the elf; just get rid of him. I’ve been working him pretty hard lately and learned about as much as I think I can from him. I think he deserves a long, well-earned rest—long enough for us to slip away and the longer, of course, the better.”

“Very well,” Drakis said. “One battle, one victory, and then these people can settle in peace. How soon can you take care of Soen?”

“Tonight too soon?” Braun asked, cracking the knuckles on both his hands.

“Do it,” Drakis said.

“It will be a masterful performance,” Braun bowed. “Sadly, no one will be around who will remember it except your humble conjuror. I just need to know one thing more.”

“What is that, Braun?” Drakis asked.

“How do I leave this most enchanting place?” Braun beamed.

“Oh, all you have to do is remove your hand from…”

Braun suddenly vanished.

Drakis sighed, turning toward the Ephindrian.

“He is dangerous,” Ethis said.

“Which one?” Drakis rubbed his neck. He could feel another headache threatening to blossom at the back of his skull. “Soen or Braun?”

“Take your pick,” Ethis replied. “I don’t like depending on either of them. Soen is power mad and Braun is just mad. However you achieve it, for the plan to work, the Well of Tjarlas must come down. If Braun cannot do it…”

“Then we need someone who can,” Drakis nodded. “A certain dwarf comes to mind who would delight in fulfilling such a quest but only if Braun fails. I’ll speak with him about it—assuming he can find us again.”

“Then you will accept Chythal’s offer?”

“If I can save these people without having to take on the entire Rhonas Empire then perhaps it is worth a single battle.”

“What about Belag and the council?” Ethis asked.

“They already know we’re moving the encampment,” Drakis shrugged. “Braun will just change the destination for the first fold and we’ll explain the change in plans after we’re well on our way to Ephindria. I don’t want anyone knowing where we’re going who doesn’t have to know and no sooner than they have to know it. Will that satisfy the offer from your Queen?”

“Our nation is our family, Drakis, but it is now a broken family,” Ethis said. “The Queen will be pleased. As long as the Rhonas armies are still moving north—we can be victorious.”

In the jungle beyond the tower in which Drakis, Braun, and Ethis spoke lurked a second dragon, white with gray markings.

Next to it, listening intently, stood a lithe woman with her hand to the dragon’s scales. If any pilgrims chanced to see her they might wonder why she and her dragon were not standing with Drakis and the rest.

The Lyric had heard everything the other three had said and knew exactly what she had to do—for she believed herself to be Drakis, the Hero of the Prophecy—and she would save her people.

Uprisings

“L
EGATE XHU’CHAN!” THE WAR-MAGE BOWED slightly as he stood at the threshold of the command tent for the Legions of Rhonas Steel and Blood.

The elven Legion commander stood up from examining the maps spread on the table before him and arched his back, cracking several vertebrae back into place as he did. They had been surging forward through the Northmarch Folds for the last four days, arriving at last at a miserable, dirty backwater called Port Dog at the southern end of Manticus Bay. Here he had given the twin Legions under his command a day to regroup while he planned his next move. The orders of Ghenetar Praetus Betjarian had been specific up to this point but now allowed the Legate some discretion regarding how to proceed. There was an army of rebels operating in Nordesia which, according to the wise and noble masters of Rhonas, would be marching down the Shadow Coast to challenge the elven homeland.