An Alliance of Mortals, page 4
part #6 of The New Earth Chronicles Series
“I'm not sure. As I said, he identified himself as a scryer. That is the term the elves use for those who can use ley energy to see over long distances.”
He pushed his mug idly around on the table as he spoke.
“I am aware that our world has a pool of such energy concentrated close to its core, but no one that I know of can use such energy, and that includes the humans. How Callius used it to reach me is a mystery. But he also told me that he was the one who opened the portal from Trillfarness to this world that allowed some of the elves to escape the destruction of their race.”
“Callius did that?” Shandon asked sharply.
Larin nodded and the king frowned in thought as he sipped his ale.
“I know about the scryers,” he said after a moment. “But they cannot open portals. Keepers are what they call the elves who can do that. They are a separate class from the scryers and have different talents. And you say that this Callius person can do both? Extraordinary.”
The king walked back to the table and sat down again. He glanced at Jergen and Pieter before staring at Larin again.
“The world has turned upside-down, apparently,” he said slowly. “And I don't like it. But that is irrelevant. The elves have returned and we would be fools to ignore them. The fight against the Darkness must include all three of the mortal races if we hope to survive. Larin, did the scryer say that he would contact you again?”
“He did. Callius told me that he would be in touch in a day or two, to give me the time needed to pass along his message to you. And the message is simple. The Council of Elders seeks an alliance with both our people and the humans, for the mutual benefit of all three races. Callius says that the leader of the Council, an elf named Amelda, would like to speak with you personally, my lord, if you are interested in such a meeting.”
Pieter rested his elbows on the table and stared at the king. Shandon smiled at his searching stare.
“Don't say it,” he told him. “I know that it would be wise to speak with her, and I intend to do just that. As I said, old grievances be damned. We're all fighting for our lives now, and I will not turn away from potential allies when we need them the most.”
With a relieved sigh, Pieter returned the king's smile.
“Good. I thought you would realize that. But I am more concerned with how our people will react to such an alliance. Old grudges are hard to get over, when such feelings have been so deeply ingrained into people's thoughts and beliefs. The elves were never our enemies, but they were our rivals, and many dwarves still remember that.”
“Then they had better put those feelings behind them,” Jergen said irritably. “Leave the past in the past and focus on the future, I say. Or there may be no future to look forward to.”
Larin looked at the king, his clean-shaven face making him look much younger than he was.
“Well, my lord, your acceptance of my people has allowed us to come out of the shadows and rejoin dwarven society,” he pointed out. “Perhaps a similar attitude toward the elves, strengthened by a formal statement that could be circulated to all of our cities and towns, might have the same effect?”
“Yes, perhaps it might,” Shandon agreed thoughtfully. “Obviously I can't change people's minds with an edict. But if we let it be known that the elves have been all but wiped out by the forces of Chaos and that they are now back on this world as refugees, that might garner them some sympathy with the populace. I think that our people will be much more likely to accept an alliance if it is seen as an act of mercy. Most dwarves are good at heart, after all. Of course there are those who will object, but if we can get the bulk of the people to support the idea, they will have to keep their thoughts to themselves. Yes, it could work.”
Jergen grinned crookedly at him.
“When did you turn into such a good politician?” he asked. “And what happened to the warrior that I used to know?”
Shandon barked a laugh and drained his mug.
“He was forced to take up the crown and try to lead his people,” he replied with a shake of his head. “But the warrior still remains, Jergen. Never doubt that. However, sometimes diplomacy takes precedence over conflict. And this is just such a time.”
“Aye, I know. And if it helps to strengthen our people, I'll support this alliance of yours. And I believe our people will as well.”
“We'll see. Larin, when Callius contacts you again, tell him that I would welcome a chance to meet with the Council. And tell him as well that I believe the humans should be included in any such meeting. We're all in this together now, right to the end.”
“Yes, my lord. I will pass along your message.”
Jergen stood up and smiled at the others.
“Good enough. And now, more ale. Diplomacy is thirsty work, don't you think?”
Chapter 3
Chao stared at Tamara blankly for a moment.
“The elves?” he finally said. “Here, on this world? All of them?”
“All that are left,” Sebastian said sadly. “Their race was almost completely wiped out, just as ours was. Trillfarness has fallen to the dark gods and only a few of the elves were able to escape. Now they're here. They are settling in New Zealand, of all places. How that happened is unknown to us at this time, but our contact told us that there are no more than a thousand or so of them left. Yet another tragedy to chalk up to the forces of the evil old gods. They've got a lot to answer for.”
“That they do,” Tamara said angrily. “And one day we'll make them pay in full measure.”
Chao looked skeptical at that statement, but let it pass.
“So the elves have come home,” he murmured. “How astonishing. As I understand it, they were the first of the mortal races created on this planet. But during the war between the gods, they were transported to a new world by the lords of Light. Is that correct?”
Tamara nodded.
“So we were told. I spoke to one of their leaders, a ranger named Chase, when they joined us to fight the goblins some time back. She passed along some of their history to me and that was the story she told.”
“And now that planet has been conquered,” Sebastian said, shaking his head. “And the tables have been turned on all of us. Instead of offering to help us, the elves now need our assistance. Ironic, I suppose.”
“Tragic is what I would call it,” Chao told him. “So what are we going to do?”
“That remains to be seen,” Tamara replied. “We were just talking about calling for a meeting when you arrived. With your news about the Fay, we will definitely have to do that. Things are changing rapidly and we'll have to make some important decisions.”
“Do you want me to get the word out?” Sebastian asked her.
“Would you? Thanks, Bastian. Find one of the staffers and ask them to round up the other leaders. We'll meet in the main hall in an hour or so.”
“Got it. I'll be back in a few minutes.”
He quickly left the room and Tamara and Chao watched him leave before continuing their discussion.
“So what do you think we should do about Ellas and her people?” Tamara asked him bluntly.
“I think we should ally with them, of course,” Chao replied with a gentle smile. “What else can we do? But the Fay are not like the mortal races and they have to be dealt with much differently. You know how mercurial Ellas is. Her people are much the same. They are often ruled by their emotions rather than by rational thought. And that can make them tricky to interact with.”
“And because they are magical beings, they are even more dangerous,” Tamara added with a tired sigh. “Wonderful. How can we trust such creatures? If someone accidentally makes one of them angry, they could be vaporized. Not the most trustworthy of allies, Chao.”
“I know. I know,” he said as he rubbed his eyes. “And I cannot fault others for their distrust, when you put it like that. But they are not evil. Some of them are mischievous by nature but, according to Ellas, they are simply being playful. Unfortunately that playfulness can have serious consequences for mortals. The one thing that might keep our people safe and keep the Fay under control is the fact that they obey Ellas. She is their queen and has been since the beginning. The Fay are as old as the elven race and, unlike them, they are truly immortal.”
He looked at Tamara in wonder.
“Can you imagine that? Ellas is so ancient that I cannot even wrap my mind around it. She has existed for uncounted eons as civilizations rose and fell and rose again. She was here when the gods walked the Earth and began their eternal struggle for dominance over the mortal realm. Even though there are risks involved, how can we not accept a being that powerful as an ally?”
Tamara shook her head.
“I hear you, Chao,” she replied doubtfully. “But her power, and the powers of her people, are unrestrained and often chaotic. You say that she is not evil, and I tend to agree with that. But she is unbound by any moral code and could turn on us at any time. Would you hand a loaded gun to a child to protect himself and hope that he would be able to use it safely? I wouldn't.”
“Guns don't work anymore,” Chao said softly.
He slipped his metal fan from his sash and opened it, staring thoughtfully at the ancient Chinese lettering etched into the blades.
“But I take your point. So what should we do?” he asked as he waved the fan gently back and forth.
“We'll discuss it with the others,” Tamara told him. “It's too big a decision for one person. We'll tell the other leaders about the elves and about Ellas' offer of an alliance and see what they think.”
“Fair enough. Let's just hope that they do the right thing.”
“Whatever the right thing might be,” Tamara said with a sigh. “I just wish I knew what that is.”
Outside of the towering walls of Nottinghill Castle, Malcolm Deschamps was putting some new recruits through their paces. The training field was a few dozen yards across and fifty feet long and its surface was covered with hard-packed dirt. A handful of young men and women were using wooden practice swords and shields and following Malcolm's measured strokes as he counted out each one. Several off-duty warriors were watching from the sidelines, assessing the trainees.
All of the recruits were wearing heavy, boiled-leather armor under the blazing mid-day sun. Malcolm wore only a light gray tunic and leather pants. His boots were covered with dust and his dark skin was shiny with sweat, but he looked fresh and alert compared to the trainees.
“Once again,” Malcolm told the sweating youngsters. “Focus. You have to burn these movements into your brains until they become second nature. In battle, there is no time to think about every stroke you make. If you do, you'll slow down and make mistakes. And that could be fatal.”
As he raised his blade, Malcolm saw a young woman trot through the open gates of the castle. She was wearing the livery of a member of the castle staff and, as she hurried toward the field, he recognized her as one of the many runners used to carry messages. She waved at him and Malcolm nodded back at her.
“Marcus,” he called to one of the watching veterans. “Take over for me, please.”
A blond man with a ragged scar on his right cheek quickly walked over from the edge of the field and accepted Malcolm's training sword. He was wearing light leather armor and he adjusted it as he grinned up at the towering warrior.
“How hard do you want me to work them?” he muttered. “The sun is cooking them inside of their armor.”
Malcolm glanced at the sweat-streaked faces watching him anxiously.
“Give them another fifteen minutes and then release them for the day,” he replied quietly. “We don't want to scare any of them off. Volunteers are getting harder and harder to come by.”
“Understood.”
As Marcus began to drill the recruits, Malcolm walked over to the young woman who was waiting patiently on the sidelines. She smiled up at him and tossed him a towel.
“Good day, Commander,” she said as Malcolm wiped the sweat from his face and neck. “How are the trainees coming along?”
“Slowly, but their hearts are in the right place,” he replied as he tossed the towel into a basket.
He dipped a wooden cup into a large bucket of water and drank deeply.
“Ah, that's better,” Malcolm said with a sigh. “And how are you doing, Anna?”
“I'm well, thank you. Tamara has called on all of the leaders to meet in the main hall as soon as possible. Can you come?”
“Of course. It will get me out of this blasted sunlight.”
Malcolm pushed his long braids out of his face.
“I feel sorry for making those youngsters work in this heat,” he told her as they began to walk toward the gates. “But they have to be prepared to do battle in all conditions, no matter the weather. I just hope that none of them collapse and change their minds about joining our ranks.”
“I doubt that any of them will do that,” Anna told him with a grin. “You are an excellent teacher, sir, and you lead by example. If they didn't want to follow you, they would not be here in the first place.”
“Well, we'll see.”
As they reached the gates, the guards on duty there came to attention and saluted.
Malcolm nodded at them and entered the bustling courtyard with Anna by his side.
“Did Tamara give you any reason for this meeting?” he asked her.
“None. All I know is that it's urgent. She wants every leader there, including the heads of the guilds. Must be important.”
Malcolm shook his head as he watched people crisscrossing the large courtyard, going into and out of the various buildings and shops. He smiled at the sight and began to make his way toward the main entrance of the castle.
“I love the feeling of energy that this place has now,” he said to Anna. “When Nottinghill was first rebuilt, there were so few of us here. I never expected it to grow and change so quickly.”
“It's home now, for all of us,” Anna observed as she ducked around two young children who raced past them, laughing with excitement. “People feel welcome here and protected. And all of us will fight to hold on to it. I suppose that generates a lot of energy.”
“You may be right.”
They reached the large front doors of the castle. The double-doors were made of heavy wood and reinforced with broad metal strapping. A pair of guards saluted Malcolm and moved quickly to open the doors.
“Commander, if you can find your own way, I have to visit the various guild leaders and invite them to the meeting,” Anna told Malcolm.
“Of course,” he replied with a smile. “I'll see you inside.”
“Yes sir. Thank you.”
The young woman trotted off and Malcolm entered the castle. As soon as the doors closed behind him, the coolness of the interior of the immense edifice swept over him and he sighed with pleasure.
“You may be too cold in the winter, old girl,” he whispered as he looked up at the high ceiling of the corridor. “But right now I'm grateful for your chilly shadows.”
The main hallway leading into the castle was a dozen feet wide. A thick red carpet ran down its entire length and lanterns were set in brackets on both walls every ten feet, illuminating the hallway.
Paintings created by several local artists hung on the walls; pictures of distant mountains, deep forests and iconic cities that no longer existed.
Malcolm stopped in front of a painting of Paris. The Eiffel Tower dominated the skyline and he smiled sadly as he admired the artist's skill.
“I never made it to Paris before the dragons destroyed it,” he muttered as he scanned the picture. “I promised Aiden that we'd get there one day, but that day never came.”
He shook his head as he turned away.
“Just another dream destroyed by darkness,” he said softly. “Well, we have new dreams now and I have to look forward, not back, if I want to help defend my people.”
He moved on and made his way through the castle. Inside of the massive building, people were moving about with purpose. Half of Nottinghill's population lived in the castle itself. The rest were housed in new homes built into the outer walls of the courtyard, which had been expanded thanks to the skills of many tradesmen. Nottinghill Castle now covered almost twice as much land as it once had and it was stronger and more solid than it had ever been.
As he reached the doors that led into the main meeting room, Malcolm stopped abruptly as someone called his name from behind him. He turned around to see two women, both wearing long flowing robes, walking briskly toward him.
He recognized the sister mages, Veronique and Sylvie. Both were tall and slim. Veronique, the older of the two, had dark blond hair that she wore swept back over her shoulders, while her sister's hair was brown and cut short. Both of them had gray eyes and moved with an unconscious grace.
“Ah, good day, ladies,” Malcolm said with a broad grin. “You were called to the meeting as well, I see.”
“We were,” Veronique answered, smiling warmly at him.
“Tamara must be worried about something important, to call all of us together at such short notice,” Sylvie added as the women joined Malcolm. “Any idea what it is?”
“Not a clue. I was drilling the new recruits when I got the summons,” he replied with a shrug. “But I agree. Something's happened. Something important enough that Tamara called us all together to discuss it. And that makes me nervous.”
“I didn't think that someone as big and strong as you are actually got nervous,” Sylvie teased him.
“Shh. Don't let that get out,” Malcolm said in a dramatic whisper. “It'll ruin my reputation.”
“Our lips are sealed,” Veronique assured him with a laugh. “Now, shall we go in?”
“After you,” the warrior told them as he opened one of the double doors.
The three of them entered the meeting hall and stopped just inside the room to get their bearings. The hall always reminded Malcolm of a cathedral, with its high, stained glass windows and its lofty arched roof. The stone walls were covered with gleaming wood paneling while the floor was tiled with simple black and white squares of buffed marble. At one end of the hall was an enormous fireplace where thick logs were burning brightly, fighting against the constant chill in the air.
