The Alterra Histories: The Fire King (4 page)

“If he is setting a trap, he has chosen a very bad place to do it,” said Aincor. “The Anvil is too open to allow any subterfuge. All forces will be clearly visible. I have used it as a place of negotiation before.”

“Possibly the very reason he has chosen it—to lull you into complacency. Your negotiations were with men, not Dark Wizards,” said Léiras. “Of all the enemies you have faced, Wrothgar must not be underestimated.”

Aincor rose to his feet. As with many High-elves, very strong conflict or high emotion would sometimes cause a flickering halo to envelop him— the “Inner Light” of his ancient heritage. He could summon this light as a weapon if needed, flaring up like a blue-white star, driving back his anguished foes. Now his strong form began to emit an ominous glow, which it tended to do when he was frustrated or when people contradicted him.

“I am weary of argument. My decision is to do as Wrothgar requests, meeting him for talks of peace. If he appears weak enough, and his forces are in decline, I say we should then attack and finish him! It’s the perfect opportunity.”

A collective gasp went up from the council-chamber. Was the King actually suggesting that they attack Wrothgar even after negotiating terms of peace?

“Could you do such a thing?” asked Kotos, his black eyes hard, yet filled with sorrow. “Always your word has been unimpeachable, Lord Fire- heart. Would you deceive one who talks of making peace?”

“I would trust no peace Wrothgar would offer,” said Aincor, meeting Kotos’ flinty gaze with one of his own. “Anyone who would take his word for anything is a fool. That’s why I suggest we listen to his peace- talk, but prepare to make war. The only lasting peace with the Shadowmancer will be made upon his dying day.”

Léiras sighed. “Then go and parley with him, and prepare to make war. But rest assured that he will do the same. If thoughts of deception have entered your mind, you may be assured they have been in his from the beginning.”

“That,”said Aincor, “is precisely my point.”

~~

In the end, the Council agreed to hear Wrothgar’s proposal, knowing there was no way they could keep Aincor from it. Aincor and one hundred of his finest warriors would meet Wrothgar and his escort upon the Anvil of Fior at the next new moon. Wrothgar’s emissaries had assured Aincor that Wrothgar’s contingent would arrive in plenty of time for his scouts to assess them and the risk to his own people. They also assured him there would be no Bödvari. In return, they insisted that no Asari be present.

Aincor took only his best warriors with him, including his elder son, Asgar. Vathan and his son, Aldamar, who was close in friendship with Asgar, also rode with the King. They waited until their scouts returned with the news that they had seen only savage men and Ulcas, but that Wrothgar himself was hidden from view. They had observed no dragons, trolls, or Bödvari. Satisfied that he could handle any threat awaiting him, Aincor and his party climbed the steep walls of the Anvil to stand before their enemies.

Wrothgar did not care to meet beneath the sun, and so they waited until the first stars were visible in the purple evening sky; they would not raise Wrothgar’s suspicions by abandoning their diplomatic courtesy.

A small fire burned in the center of the plateau, the Elves standing to the west of it and the dark contingent to the east, eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring with mistrust. The Elves were thankful for the west wind, which carried away the stench of their enemies, as they waited for Wrothgar to appear.

The first sign of this was a brightening of the fire. It seemed to grow before their eyes, flaring up as though oil had been thrown upon it, whereupon a dark, shrouded figure appeared. It stepped forward even as every other being, except Aincor, took a step back. When it spoke, its voice called to mind the ghost of a dead, drowned man—cold and watery and threatening. That voice sent a chill even into the heart of the King.

The figure bowed, throwing back its hood to display a flickering crown of fire. Its eyes glowed greenish-blue, like the vapors that danced in the fell marshes surrounding its domain. Yet for all this, Lord Wrothgar did not seem quite as threatening as Aincor had anticipated. He expected a warrior, armored and powerful, with booming voice and fiery gaze. This looked more like a rotting corpse disguised as a man. It reeked of stagnation and suffocating decay.

“I have bowed before you, O King,” said Wrothgar in the same cold, murky tone. “Will you not show the same courtesy to the Lord of Black Flame?”

Aincor inclined his head in a curt gesture, but he would never truly bow before Wrothgar no matter the demands of diplomacy. In response, the dreadful apparition laughed in a horrid, choking gurgle. Then it stood up tall. “I can see you are as proud as your reputation. Please, sit and be comfortable, for we have much to discuss.”

Aincor had little patience for such things, but he forced himself to listen to Wrothgar’s proposal. He was offered both riches (which he had little need for) and knowledge (which Wrothgar knew would interest him), together with the promise not only of peace, but of cooperation. Wrothgar and his scholars had much to share, if only Aincor would agree to leave them to their own affairs.

“I have lately realized that the powers of Light and Darkness can exist in harmony,” said Wrothgar. “I am weary of hiding and striking from the shadows. There is no reason we cannot rule Alterra together—I from my fortress, and you from yours. If you will but grant me the lands north of the copper hills, I will promise to never make war on Tal-elathas. In return, your people will not venture into the northlands. What have you to say?”

Aincor shook his head, chuckling. “And what if my people
should
venture there? They will brook no restrictions from one in your position. You are weak, or you would not now be offering this proposal. Why should I grant you anything but the feel of my blade on your miserable neck?”

Wrothgar’s eyes narrowed and he looked away…only for a moment, but it was enough. When he met Aincor’s gaze again it was clear that the King has seen the fear in his eyes.

Aincor rejoiced, for he knew that his instincts had been correct— Wrothgar was vulnerable, only talking of peace to save himself from war. “I will consider what you have asked, but I must put your terms before the Council in Tal-elathas. I will have an answer for you before the next new moon.”

Wrothgar drew himself up, sending forth an aura of grey vapor. “I had thought to meet with one who could make his own decisions and choose his own course,” said he. “Was I wrong? Are you telling me you must now run back to Tal-elathas, and that I must be kept waiting? That is not your reputation—are you the King or aren’t you? What assurance do I have that you will not return with an army?”

A cryptic smile spread across Aincor’s rugged face. “And if I did, would that dismay you? But I thought we were speaking of peace here. I will do as I promise and take your words back to the Council. From there, I cannot say what will happen.”

“You insult me, Fire-heart,” cried Wrothgar, his voice rising into a strident, whining protest. “By all means, take your leave. But you will need to produce a mighty apology before I hear any more from you or your emissaries. I must withdraw to consider whether I will even honor my proposal should you decide to accept it. And I will be mustering the most powerful army the Èolar have ever seen, so I would banish any thoughts of war if I were you. Farewell, O Bastard-king!”

With that, Wrothgar threw his cloak about him, vanishing into the fire in a whirl of flapping darkness and a rush of wind. His minions cringed back as the Elves took a step toward them. Then Aincor lifted his hand. “Leave them in peace. We will return to Tal-elathas and consider what we have heard.”

But in his heart Aincor knew exactly what he would do. He would muster his own army, an army of Èolar, march on the dark stronghold, and finally make an end of the evil that had plagued the northern lands for so long.

~~

Wrothgar flew back toward his fortress on dark wings, for he had preparations to make. He was proud of his performance on the Anvil— that wonderful touch of fear in his eyes had done the trick. Aincor was so accustomed to inspiring fear that he was ill-equipped to tell whether that fear was genuine. Now the bait had been cast, and Wrothgar knew it had been taken. If all went according to plan, the Èolar would trouble him no more.

Part Three

When Aincor returned to Tal-elathas, he had much to share. The Council reacted with a predictable storm of disagreement. They soon split into two clearly-divided factions: one, led by the Fire-heart, wanted to wage war on Wrothgar’s northern stronghold as soon as could be arranged. The other, led by Vathan, advised caution. The Council Hall was packed full of onlookers anxious to add their thoughts to the debate.

Aincor’s army of stalwart warriors would follow him anywhere, and they were anxious to put an end to Wrothgar’s atrocities, for they had witnessed too many of them. “This chance might never come again,” they cried. “Surely you don’t believe the promises of Lord Wrothgar! The King has seen the fear in his eyes and knows he is weak. Let us press our advantage while we have it!”

“Yet I wonder,” said Vathan quietly when the cheers of the warriors had died down, “is Wrothgar’s fear genuine? He is an ancient spirit, and powerful. Would he have shown his fear even if he held it? Surely he is not that naïve!”

“Are you therefore suggesting that the
King
is naïve?” thundered Talon, the Captain of the Guard and Aincor’s closest friend apart from Faelani.“I, too, saw the cowardice in Wrothgar’s eyes. We all did! I have fought beside the Fire-heart through hardships untold, and he has yet to be defeated. How can you doubt your King?”

Vathan turned to Baelta, Léiras, and Kotos, all of whom had kept silent during the debate. “What say the Asari? What say those whose words come from the mouth of the Lord of Light?”

Kotos the Persuader stood tall before the Council. His hair, as black and glossy as a raven’s wing, rippled in an unseen wind. His dark, bottomless eyes mesmerized the assembly. “My brothers and I are in agreement that this is a difficult question,” he said in a voice as deep and soothing as the sea after a storm. “On the one hand, we do not doubt that Wrothgar appeared fearful. Yet we cannot know if this fear is genuine. We believe the best recourse would be to gather more knowledge—to scout the northlands and determine our enemy’s vulnerability for ourselves. Meanwhile, word should be sent out to the realms of Elves, Men, and Dwarves. They must be warned, and we will need their cooperation if we are to wage war.”

“Scouting? We have been scouting the northlands since this realm was founded!” said Aincor, bristling slightly at Kotos. “Scouts have provided little enlightenment. They certainly have seen no great army poised to overrun Alterra.”

“And many of them have never returned,” said Vathan. “Have you never wondered why?”

“Anyone who has spent any time in the wild northern lands will have no need to wonder,” countered Aincor. “It is a perilous place of ice and bitter winds. There’s no mystery as to why a scout might be lost there.”

“Yet the weather has turned many of them back before their task could be completed…even those who did return had little to say,” said Vathan. “I agree with Lord Kotos. We should be certain of our victory before we embark. And we must convince all of our neighbors to prepare for war—even join us in our efforts.”

Aincor drew a deep, frustrated breath, clenching his strong jaw. “And while we spend months sending out scouts and emissaries, our enemy retreats farther to the north and digs in deeper. I, for one, am unwilling to lose our advantage. Wasting time in debate is exactly what Wrothgar will expect us to do. Why not surprise him by acting quickly?”

“It’s not what he expects of
you
,” muttered Vathan, shaking his head in dismay. “Have you not considered that you are being drawn to your doom? We know how Wrothgar can deceive! Why are you so unwilling to see it?”

“You are all forgetting something,” said Talon. “No one has mentioned the oncoming winter. Even we cannot march on the northlands once the skies darken. Wrothgar knows it. He’s counting on it! He won’t expect an attack before the spring, for he knows we will not be able to mount one…not if we expect to enlist the aid of every realm in the West.” Aincor sat back on his throne and smiled, nodding approval at his friend. This last point was difficult to argue with. “I can muster an army, march on the North, and defeat Wrothgar before the really fierce winds blow,” he said, turning to the Asari. “I have listened to your opinions out of respect and courtesy, but I rule this realm whether Wrothgar knows it or not. My warriors can cover the distance in six weeks. Even allowing time to prepare, I would estimate we have at least twice that before the worst happens. Our forces are well-equipped to withstand the elements, and we can fall back once Wrothgar has been defeated. If you cut the head off a snake, you need not fear the rest of it.”

Baelta, a cheerful and likable Asarla whose intentions were beyond reproach, turned his bright eyes to the King. “Please, my lord, do consider the words of others. I sense you have made up your mind…that you had, in fact, made it up already, but
do
heed the words of those who would dissuade you. Only consider them. That’s all I would ask.”