The Halfblood King: Book 1 of the Chronicles of Aertu (23 page)

The smell of honey permeated the air of the city.  Elves rear massive populations of honeybees and use beeswax for candles and preservation of the copious woodwork of their settlements.  Though they produce wine and beer as well, mead is by far the most popular beverage in elvish lands and is commonly distilled into a honey scented clear liquor, several casks of which now burdened their long suffering pack horse.  The honey scent, combined with the constant music, from all corners, lent the city a dreamlike feel.  For Aleron, his memories of Wynn were fuzzy compared to those of the other cities they had visited in the past year, despite the fact that it was the one most recently visited.

As a people, the elves seemed strange, yet familiar.  He had, after all, been raised by an elf who was expert at impersonating men.  Not surprisingly, Aleron found them to be serious and studious, compared to men.  All elves are literate, regardless of their social standing and abject poverty is unknown among them.  He noticed several men and women living among the elvish population.  In fact, Hadaras chose to maintain his guise, in order to avoid questions regarding his non-elf grandson.   He told Aleron that it was quite common for scholars and sorcerers alike, to study among the elves, at their numerous colleges and libraries.  “So, most of the men and women I see here are sorcerers?” Aleron asked.

“Yes, Aleron, though many are simply scholars, interested in the accumulated knowledge of the elves.”

“But, I thought sorcery had pretty much died out, since the decline of the noble houses.”

“It has, among the high houses, become no more frequent than it is among the common folk.  However, there is some elvish ancestry in all men of the south, even the Coptians, so occasionally the traits line up in an individual and a sorcerer is born.  Many of them end up here, due to the distrust of the general population towards them.  Also, there are a few true halfbloods, like you and Cladus, roaming around.”  He added that, “There is a Sorcerer’s Guild in Arundell, but it is small and highly secretive.”

“Could the Halfblood Caste be reestablished from these people?”  Aleron asked, beginning to formulate a plan for the future.

“Unfortunately, no,” his grandfather answered.  “Now that the elvish blood is so diluted, it does not consistently breed true.  I have seen before, two sorcerers wed, but none of their children have the slightest inkling of ability.  On the other hand, I’ve also seen powerful sorcerers born to completely mundane parents.  Ability crops up very unpredictably.  Now, I suppose you could breed for the trait, always pairing those with ability and discarding those without.  Eventually you would reinforce the desired traits, just as we do in cattle and dogs.”

“That doesn’t sound right at all,” Aleron observed.

“No Aleron, breeding men like cattle would be an atrocious assault to freedom, making us no better than the Adversary.  He did as much before the Great War, enslaving elf maids and breeding them to his sorcerers to build his own halfblood caste.  He did worse to the females of other races, breeding them to his trolls and goblins.  One thing that many don’t realize is that the Nameless One had no intention to destroy the free peoples, just enslave them.  He would take away our free will for our own well being, relieving us of the heavy burden of choice.”

“It was just a thought.”

“Just not a good one,” Hadaras concluded.  “The Halfblood Caste is a thing of the past and only happened because there were enough of them to form a viable ruling class and exclude all others.  There were quite a few moral quandaries surrounding that choice to begin with, but the Sudeans arrived at the system on their own.  Both the mundane population and the halfbloods agreed to the arrangement and any were free to marry outside the caste, as long as they were willing to give up their titles.”  He went on to say, “When we elves returned to Sudea, we saw no reason to try to change the system, since the people arrived at it through the exercise of their own free will, even though we did not agree with the caste system ourselves.”

“Didn’t my mother intend to reestablish the Halfblood Caste through me, Grandfather?”

“Yes, my boy, that was her intent,” he conceded, “but that was a misguided sentiment on her part.  It takes more than one person to found a population, so where are all the other halfbloods to come from?  Then, would you divest the noble families of their legacy and supplant them with these new halfbloods?  Or, would you force them all to marry elves?  Where then  would all these  willing elves  come from?   It was  never very feasible to begin with, plus she did not live in those times, to see the impingement on free will that the system entailed.”

“I understand, Grandfather.  I want to be able to marry who I want and I wish the same for any children I may have too.”

“Good,” Hadaras replied, with a gentle smile.  “I’m glad you are able to see the view from the mountain, rather than the bottom of the valley,” puzzling Aleron with the metaphor.  He would have to think about that one.

Aleron found the elves to be most charming and courteous, if a little stiff and aloof.  He got the feeling that many of them believed themselves to be above him.  He surprised more than a few with his intelligence and quick wit.  Overall, they had an enjoyable stay, but when it was time to leave, Aleron was more than ready to move on.  He could tell that even his grandfather was tiring of the snobbishness of his own people.  Hadaras lived in the colonies for most of the last fifty-five hundred years, sometimes in the guise of a man, but mostly as an elf, under different names at different times.  In every instance that he returned after living among men or dwarves, there was a period of adjustment to the strict social mores of his people.  He liked it less each time he experienced it.

One intriguing piece of news came to them while at Wynn:  Due to their ability to communicate over long distances, the elves receive news from their envoys around the world, far quicker than could ever be achieved through overland travel.  Reports from around Aertu told of Thallasian envoys arriving at all the capitals of the east and south.  So far, the westmen seemed to have been left out, but it was likely that they would receive ambassadors as well, soon enough.  The Thallasian diplomats, the one at Arundell especially, told of fresh entreaties by representatives of the Nameless God.  It seemed that the Thallasians were not receptive to their advances and chose to seek allies elsewhere.  It was dark and foreboding news, but good all the same to find that not all of the Adversary’s former allies were pleased at the prospect of his return.  Kolixtlan and Adar, however, were already back in the Nameless One’s pocket.  The most distressing part of the news was that these emissaries for the Nameless God were elves, wielding red magic.  This news created quite a stir among the people of the colonies.  Hadaras wondered how the Adversary managed to communicate with his followers, though he always believed that the god would someday find a way through the bindings that held him. 

As they rode into the old familiar yard, the old mare came trotting up to greet her long lost companions and much snorting and nickering ensued.  Jessamine stood at the doorway to the cottage, next to the rose bush Aleron remembered so well.  It was definitely good to be home.

Chapter 25

Feast of Korelle, Zorekday, Day 6, Growing Moon. 8765 Sudean Calendar

Today is a good day to be a marine
, Aleron thought.  It was Zorekday, dedicated to the god of the sea and a traditional rest day for Sudeans.  It was also the feast day of Korelle, the goddess of wind and sailing, meaning extra rations for all.  He lounged on the foredeck with Barathol, Geldun and other fellow marines, passing around a jug of smoky tasting Elmenian usquebaugh.  He was rubbing olive oil along the blades of his freshly sharpened cutlasses.  Barathol reached over and grabbed the bottle of oil, pouring out a palm full and rubbing it into the new tattoo he acquired in Corin.  An incredibly detailed viper, rendered in deep blue ink, now coiled around his heavily muscled upper right arm.  Barathol took quite a fancy to the Thallasian custom, as had many Sudean sailors and marines since the two nations began collaborating nearly four years earlier.  The young warrior now sported several pieces of body art.   “You’ll be quite the sight behind a plow in Swaincot, with all that artwork, Barry,” Aleron commented.

“I’m not thinking that will ever happen, Al,” he replied.  “I think I like this line of work too much to go back to plows and cows.”

“What, hacking up Kolixtlani and Adari sailors?  I will admit, you are pretty good at it.”

“We are, you mean,” Barathol corrected him.  The trio remained together after training, because they proved to be such an effective assault team.  Aleron, gifted with preternatural speed and agility, gravitated to the dual-sword form, while Barathol’s solidity and strength made him an unmatched pike-man.  Geldun favored a medium punch-buckler and cutlass, functioning as a tenacious obstacle, around which the other two worked.  The last summer before the boys enlisted, Hadaras conceded to train them together as a team for the first time.  The three arrived for training in Arundell, already knowing their preferred weapons forms and having a basic grasp of group tactics.  Three and a half years later, their team could carve a path through an enemy formation, like a hot knife through butter.  Geldun had nothing to add to the conversation.  When they looked to him for comment, they saw that he was asleep against the bulkhead.  The extra rations and liquor apparently, had taken their toll.  The others had a chuckle at his expense and went back to what they were doing.

Their ship was six days south of Corin, heading back to Arundell for month-long furlough at their homeport.  They had spent the past six months in the northern sea off Chebek and Thallasia, patrolling for Kolixtlani and Adari warships.  Now, winter was in full swing for the northern half of the world and the northern waters too treacherous for the ships of the enemy.  Though the coast remained heavily fortified, they could afford to minimize seagoing patrols.  Other, unfamiliar ships were spotted over the years, but they always avoided the blockades and took flight when pursued.   The Thallasians confirmed that these new ships were similar to the ship sailed by the elvish emissaries for the Nameless God.  A fleet remained to overwinter in the north, maintaining the blockade of the Wabani Inlet to the Kolixtlani Sea and to be ready, in case these strange elves arrived in force.  Rather than attempt to run the blockade, the elvish vessels remained in the treacherous waters close to the northern ice.  It seemed as if they were searching for something.  They had been spotted approaching from the east and the west and High Admiral Kor believed they originated from the other side of the world, in an area where the sea ice seemed to run further south than was normal.  He thought there to be an uncharted landmass in that area and the sea ice maintained through the magical efforts of these elves.

Aleron was curious about these strange elves as well.  His grandfather suspected them to be descended from the abductees of four millennia past and having somehow been twisted to the use of the chaotic red energy.  The Thallasians said they were darker complexioned than was normal, indicating an admixture of some other race.  Hadaras thought it was likely man or goblin. 

At this moment, however, Aleron did not care about any of that.  He was looking forward to seeing Eilowyn again, though there were still months to go, before they would reach Arundell.  Aleron began courting the Steward’s daughter a few months after returning from the yearlong journey with his grandfather.  True to his word, he returned to Arundell to see her, before he enlisted that fall.  During that visit, he made plain his intentions to her father that he intended to wed Eilowyn, if she would have him.  Together, they concocted a fiction, to explain away why the Steward’s youngest daughter was to be engaged to a lowly marine private.  The outward story was that Aleron was of a minor offshoot of a noble house, but had yet to accrue the necessary capital to purchase a commission.  It was common practice for the sons of petty nobles to enlist in the ranks and save up to buy a commission.  Many said that, indeed, they made better officers than their more well to do counterparts who directly purchased their commissions.  Most believed that Gealton was simply doting on his daughter and conceding to the whim of a spoiled child, especially those nobles who had hoped to arrange a match for their own sons with the Steward’s daughter.  It helped that Aleron rapidly gained a reputation as one of Arundell’s most skilled fighters, at such a young age.  His future career looked bright and some believed he could ascend to the rank of General one day.  Aleron and Gealton, of course, knew that he would never be a General, but it was good reinforcement to their story. 

His friends were more startled than most, with Geldun asking, “How did you meet her to begin with?”

Barathol asked, “How come you never told us that Hadaras was a nobleman?  Of course, that does explain you being rich as you are.”

Aleron explained what was known to a few in Arundell, that Hadaras and the Steward had served in the army together, so that was how he became introduced to Eilowyn.  He also claimed that Hadaras preferred those around Swaincot not to know of his noble birth, believing it would invite unwanted attention.  A simple army pensioner was an identity more conducive to maintaining his privacy.  The young men had since heard tales, verging on the legendary, implicating Hadaras to be one of the greatest fighters in recent history.  They had no idea that, under his myriad aliases, he was one of the greatest fighters and the greatest sorcerer in all of history.

Today, Aleron was a Sergeant and his two friends were Corporals.  Even now, Barathol and Geldun should have teams of their own and Aleron should be leading a squad, but the three were simply too effective as a team, for the command to break them up.  There was much talk of sending them back to the marine training camp as combat instructors, but that would have to wait until this “war that wasn’t a war” cooled down.  In the meantime, Kolixtlan and Adar were being increasingly troublesome, while wild men and other denizens of the Central Jungle increased attacks on their neighbors.  There were even reports of hobgoblins and half-trolls crossing Kolixtlan and making trouble in Castia.  After three years of intermittent skirmishing, it did not look like things would cool down anytime soon.