The Alterra Histories: The Fire King (5 page)

“I will consider them,” said Aincor, who was fond of Baelta. “But let no one send forth emissaries or take any action until my course is made clear. To do otherwise will be considered an act of defiance punishable by imprisonment.” He looked pointedly at Vathan. “We must not allow our enemies to know what we are planning. As of now, the walls of Tal- elathas are closed.”

He rose to his feet before the assembly, all of whom bowed their heads in polite submission. Then he bade Faelani rise, take his arm, and accompany him from the chamber. She had said nothing during the entire affair, but there was conflict in her troubled eyes. She would save her words for a better time and pray that she could get the King to hear them.

~~

Faelani’s task would prove to be greater than she had imagined. She had hoped to distract the King from his single-minded course, having gone into her private quarters and donned her most fetching attire. She returned to find Aincor pacing about their bed-chamber, his eyes alight with passion of a different kind than she was hoping for.

“I don’t understand what they’re all afraid of,” he said, allowing her to take him into her arms. “Surely they must realize the folly of all these delays. The defeat of Wrothgar would bring peace to our world—peace it has never known before.”

“And what will you do then, my Warrior-King?” said Faelani, entwining her fingers in Aincor’s long tangle of silken hair. She could feel the heat of his recent argument still steaming off him; he did not like being disagreed with.

Aincor frowned a little as he considered her question. “Despite all reports to the contrary, I have no love of war. I will live out my life, proud that I have brought peace to the West. My name will be forever revered, and our sons will reap the benefit of it. I wish to rule these lands knowing that I will always have you by my side and my sons to rule after me. What I don’t want is to be the King whose indecisiveness allowed Wrothgar to escape his due retribution.”

“Those are worthy ambitions, my love. But is there no middle ground? Can you not see both sides of the argument?”

“I can, and I have,” Aincor replied, caressing the back of her shoulders with his large, strong hands. “Yet my opinion has not changed. I saw what I saw. Wrothgar fears us, and now is the time to strike.”

Faelani sighed. “At least let emissaries go forth to the other western realms. Let our friends know that war is in the wind.”

Aincor’s tone changed to that of a parent instructing a child. “If emissaries are sent forth, Wrothgar’s messengers will know it and they will alert him. The City must remain closed until long after the war-party departs. If all goes as I expect, there will be no need to warn anyone of anything.”

“Let us not speak of this further tonight,” said Faelani, knowing that her beloved’s mind was closed for the moment. She would try her best to relax him. Perhaps then he would hear her. She sank down upon the soft furs beside the fire, encouraging him until he turned his thoughts from the battle at last.

Faelani voiced one final thought before giving herself over to the King’s passions. “Say only that our sons will not risk this assault with you.”

“I cannot promise that. Our sons go where they will. Asgar, at least, will want to share the glory.” The flame of his spirit consumed her then, and for a little while she forgot her fear and doubt.

~~

Vathan made his way down to the deeps beneath the fortress, knowing full well the risk he had brought upon himself. He had already summoned a very special group of followers—he called them his “wind- walkers”. They were unique in that they had no family in Tal-elathas; some were representatives of other races, all had been orphaned by Wrothgar’s attacks. They were clad head to foot in silken garments woven and colored to conceal them in the dappled forest light. Their cloaks, also of silk, were double-layered, black on one side and mottled on the other. Only their eyes were visible from within the silken wrappings. They bore little weaponry; their purpose was to travel by stealth, not to fight.

Vathan had prepared well for this moment, and now he gave the wind-walkers their final instructions. Each would carry a letter bearing the seal of Tal-elathas, a letter warning of the possibility of imminent assault from the North. They were to give neither their own names nor Vathan’s…only the message. They could return to Tal-elathas or not, as they desired.

“You know how important your task is,” said Vathan, placing a trusting hand on the shoulder of one of the smaller females. “You shall travel to the Greatwood, to the realm of the Northmen, to the Light-elves of Èadros, to the great fortress of Mountain-home, to the depths of Cos- domhain, and to the forests of Tal-ailean. Let no one stay you from this. In my heart I believe that the King’s course may turn bad. If that happens, all the people of Light must stand ready. Travel swiftly and think not of your own comforts, for your reward will be great at journey’s end. Now farewell, and may light shine upon your path.”

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 King’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.