The Black Hawk stands stolidly outside the door of the personal quarters. His ornately carved helm, symbol of the elite guard of Lady Blackbird, blocks the nervousness reflected in his visage. Newly appointed in the last couple of weeks as the guard expanded under Captain Kozar, he had not yet even been introduced officially to Dame Adelaide Shard, and he was standing his first solo guard, albeit at a low risk time during the evening meal outside of the elf lord Elyrienne’s quarters instead of the lady’s chambers. He had been stunned to see the Council member stalk through the halls nearly half an hour earlier, covered in blood and gore, smelling of smoke and death.
He had seen the elf in the distance of course, and by all reports no one ever complained about his lack of manners or attention to detail, but he didn’t even deign to glance at Adoras as he saluted and opened the door, slamming it behind him. The flurry of activity as healers carried Lady Adelaide to her chambers distracted Adoras for a few moments, but the rising tumult from Lord Malethlal’s quarters was becoming difficult to ignore. Finally, after a massive crash of glass, he opened the door to perform his duty. “Lord Elyrienne,” he began, and the glowing dagger hit the door frame, halting anything he might have been about to say.
“Leave.” The statement was a harsh whisper from a ruined throat.
“Shall I call…” began Adoras again before being interrupted by one final word and a glare. “Now!” He had quickly shut the door, obeying the command. That had been an hour ago, and finally the crashing and ranting had quieted down. Relief would not come too early as he listened to the arguments coming from within, all in a different language but in the same voice.
Inside the shattered bedchamber, Elyrienne knelt amongst the wreckage of furniture and laboratory equipment and ingredients, facing out the open balcony doors into the wintry moonlit night. His pose had not changed after dropping down into it, at least after the darkest rage had left with the destruction, but his voice still held the notes of anger mixed with sorrow and helplessness. “I know you can hear me Lorien. Do not play these games with me any longer, if you are truly there, and this is not some sickness of the mind, you sent me here. Your dreams and visions guided me to this land, to these people. In service to our people, who may not even exist anymore if the hate Dre’thius spouted was true. Give me honest answers instead of blocking the reverie from me. I demand to know the truth….is Shinelian alive? WHAT HAVE I DONE! ANSWER ME!” he screams into the darkness.
A form began to shimmer, taking ghostly shape upon the balcony, flowing purple robes, ghostly silver hair and pale blue skin. “The mind can only bear so much pain, Elyrienne, blocking the reverie allows yours time to heal from the damage done to it. Betrayal can break the strongest will. Yet you demand answers reaching into the darkness to peel back the fruits of our labor, our hopes for you to heal. Your people need to restore their vitality, and thus we attempted to give you hope.”
“Lies are not hope. You expect me to restore our people by finding the Everlight, but instead you allow me to walk into traps because of limited knowledge. Instead of rescuing my wife, you would have me kill her. How is that hope?”
“Do not confuse personal desires and needs with the hopes of a people in danger, Elyrienne. Even we cannot see all, and individual choice offers many paths. If you refuse to continue without some knowledge of the past, know this first. Once seen, we cannot take it away again. If you break from the pain, if you return to the habits of old, damnation will only be the first of the tortures you will suffer. Your new friends will turn on you, and you will condemn all of the people to an eternal rule under Esmarom. His power grows, thanks in many ways to the incarnations of Belekai and Baletuaxchl. Do not make this choice in haste, as you made a choice so long ago.”
“Do not lecture me any longer Lorien. I will not go on as I am. Show me the truth. I demand it.”
“Then we shall start at the path of divergence. Know that not all choices are wrong, but the effects are not always the outcome for which you hoped.”
The rarely used formal chambers were filled with the ruling princes and princesses, most of the ruler’s heirs and primary advisors. Rarely did all attend, but on this most grave of matters, the chambers had been filled for days as the debates wore on. Tempers often flared, the scent of fear underlay several of those colorful robes. The leading guilds had also sent representatives, and each order of the Valar provided their own advice. While High Priest and Prince O’ian Elunore commanded the most respect, the nation of Calethria had survived for millennia with open discussion.
Prince Darthoradan spoke, “If we are to agree to this offer of peace, foul as it is, we must be unified. Disunity among the leadership will allow gaps, opportunity for the treaty to be broken. We know that it will be broken in the future by him, we must take the time to solidify our forces and borders, driving the dark ones back deep underground so that they do not come spewing forth during a time of weakness.”
“If we are to be unified, where are the rest of the heirs,” interrupted guild leader Anradathoth Lekora. “Where is your son, Darthoradan? Where is your new son-in-law? Where is your daughter, Princess Faunalyn? Where is Grand Master Geledriel Kor’ticand? Do not pretend that even the ruling households are aligned in this matter.”
“Of course we are not unified, my friend. This is why we are meeting, to insure that if we make this decision, all will follow…..” As he continued into yet another discussion of the course of action, Shinelian focused her mind inward. She too wondered what her newly acknowledged husband was up to. He and Lerellian had heatedly discussed the matter with her father last evening, and Elyrienne remained tense even upon their return to their own chambers. He had been gone in the morning when she awoke, a rarity since the formal announcement a few months ago. She worried constantly. He had re-donned the uniform of the Royal Guard at her father’s insistence a few weeks ago, even though he had recently finished training as a megilinder. Darthoradan had argued that with this new threat, he needed those he could trust implicitly in positions of command, and, as much as Elyrienne had resisted, he had reluctantly acquiesced to her father’s princely wishes. Appointed to command for the Princes’ guard, he was normally in attendance at these conferences. He had been constant in his support for the faction who believed battle better served the nation than a decidedly awkward peace. His opposition had been muted in conference as Darthoradan’s own position had begun to shift in concert with those advocating peace for the foreseeable future.
A minor commotion brought her mind back to the conversation, where continued discussion regarding details of acquiescence had shifted to the need to send an envoy to the lesser nations of the continent. A messenger in the garb of the Gold Knights bent, whispering into her father’s ear. With a slight humming chant, she enhanced her hearing, catching the tail of the message, “with Captain Malethlal’s regards, my prince.” A brief look of pride combined with frustration flashed across the prince’s face, before he nodded quickly. “Send for my armor,” and the knight left the conference hurriedly.
After a few moments, Darthoradan stood as the speakers slowly quieted. “Whatever decision we may have wished to make, the matter is now settled. We have been attacked along the northern perimeter by an army of undead led by foul revenants. Obviously, a demon as foul as Esmarom offered peace as a way to distract us from the horror he was amassing upon our borders. The militias in the other provinces will have to maintain alertness for what may very well be a combined attack from the evil below. The contingents of Royal Guard have been summoned home to assist in repelling the threat we now face.”
“Who will respond to the immediate attack?” asked one of the High Priest’s advisors.
“Prince Lerellian has command of a small contingent of megilindir. He is accompanied by Prince Consort Elyrienne in command of the available forces of the Princes’ Guard to fight a delaying action to allow our people time to withdraw. Princess Gaelira has led half a dozen acolytes of the Valar to assist in resisting the evil and healing our citizens. Available forces of the Royal Guard will march in the morning. Let us make sure our children’s sacrifice is not in vain.”
Sweet Valar, thought Shinelian. What have you done my beloved?
Last Dreams 