—<SEVEN>—

A Bitter Parting

 

 

Conversation and laughter spilled across the lawns of the Anars’ manse in harmony with the pattering of fountains, against a low backdrop of flutes and harps. Three pavilions of red and white, hung with golden chains studded with precious gems, dominated the gardens. Within and without these huge tents, the guests of the Anars strolled and talked, enjoying the midsummer sun.

Nearly twenty years of relative peace had seen the fortunes of the Anars wax again and many of the wealthiest and most powerful nobles of Nagarythe attended Alith’s ascension gala. It was his coming-of-age, an occasion of great celebration for the family and their allies. Even Prince Malekith had sent his warmest regards, though his business in the court of Anlec had prevented him from attending, a distraction he professed to regret deeply.

Eoloran had not been surprised by the prince’s absence, and Alith also knew well that while Malekith had restored his rule, the problems of the Naggarothi were not yet wholly behind them. Many of the cultists’ leaders had escaped capture and hidden, in Nagarythe and other realms of Ulthuan. There was an occasional murmur of uprising, though such demonstrations as happened were local and easily curbed by Malekith’s warriors.

The threat of Morathi had receded but not disappeared. Malekith had promised mercy for his mother and the former queen was a prisoner of the Phoenix King in Tiranoc. Though Bel Shanaar forbade her visitors save for her son, and she was kept guarded in chambers lined with magical wards, there were some that believed Morathi still orchestrated the actions of the cults from afar.

Such worries and suspicions were far from Alith’s mind on this momentous day. Not only was he a true lord of Elanardris and a prince of Nagarythe, he was also about to make a declaration that he had longed to make for many years.

As the afternoon sun sank towards the horizon, the attendants of the manse marshalled the guests into the main marquee. Censers puffed wisps of fragrant smoke into the air, filling the space with the fresh perfume of mountain flowers. Bunches of white-petalled hill roses and ruby-bloomed caelentha decorated the poles that held up the high roof. Servants swayed effortlessly through the throng with platters of silver, laden with the most exquisite delicacies of Ulthuan and her distant colonies.

A stage of white wood had been erected at one end, gilded with the griffon’s wing crest of the Anars. Upon a high-backed chair, Eoloran looked out upon the sea of guests that filled the tent and spilled out onto the grass beyond. His visitors were dressed in their finest clothes, with feathery hats and glittering crowns, bejewelled armlets and necklaces, gowns embroidered with silver thread and hemmed with gilded stars.

Eothlir stood to his father’s right hand and Alith to the left. Caenthras stood beside Eothlir while Alith was flanked by Ashniel. She looked resplendent in a gown of soft yellow, which was gathered up in silken billowing clouds about her arms. Golden chains bound her hair in a complex of braids and a single oval diamond hung on a golden necklace around her alabaster neck. She exuded serenity amongst the hubbub of the elves, maintaining an air of cool and noble poise. Alith continually glanced sideways at his love, feeling her beauty lap upon him like the gently cooling waves of a lake’s shore.

When all the guests were assembled, Eoloran stood and raised his hands in greeting.

“My most noble friends, welcome to Elanardris,” he declared with a smile. “It is my honour to have such fine company to witness the ascension of my grandson to adulthood. Many times he has proven his worth, and it is right that we now give praise to his achievements.”

There was a whisper of assent and a forest of hands rose in the air holding crystal goblets and golden cups filled with dark wine. Eoloran took a chalice from a low table set before his throne and raised it in both hands above his head.

“I am Prince Eoloran Anar, lord of Elanardris,” he intoned, his voice quiet and assured. “My blood hath passed into my son Eothlir, and from he into his son, Alith. My grandson hath come of age this day and upon him now fall the duties of a lord and prince of Ulthuan.”

He took a sip of the wine and lowered the chalice.

“As we gave blood to defend our people alongside great Aenarion, now we take of this wine in remembrance of the sacrifice he made,” Eoloran said solemnly. He drank once more. “Blood we have shed again to restore peace to these lands, and Alith gave of himself in that conflict. Though we all wish it that such brave deeds are never needed again, my grandson has shown he has the mettle and the spirit to prevail against the darkness that would threaten our homes and our society.”

The mood in the marquee had become sombre as the crowd of elves nodded sincerely, while a few wept silently at the memory of what had befallen Nagarythe. Eoloran allowed his audience to hold their thoughts and memories for a while, his head bowed in meditation as he also contemplated the dark acts he had committed in his life. Straightening he smiled again.

“Yet it is not for the past that we mark this day, but for the future. Alith is, as are all our children, our legacy to each other and the world. As I pass over this chalice, so I pass my hopes and dreams to the generations to come, and wish them the peace and happiness we have also enjoyed. Into their stewardship we place our great civilisation, from Elanardris to Anlec, Tiranoc to Yvresse, Ulthuan to the far colonies. Into their guardianship we entrust the prosperity of our people, from farmer to prince, servant to king.”

Eoloran turned and proffered the chalice to Alith, who took the goblet with slow ceremony.

“Upon this day of my passing from childhood to adulthood, I accept the duties that fall to me,” Alith said. “As I have enjoyed the privilege and harmony to learn and grow beneath the boughs of my father and grandfather, I now extend the protection and wisdom of my position to those that will come after.”

Alith then lifted the cup to his lips and took a mouthful of wine. He savoured the deep, rich taste before swallowing, taking in the import of the ceremony just as he imbibed the liquid. No more a child, he was a true lord of House Anar. Pride filled him. Pride that he was Anar, and pride that already he had shown himself worthy of the tide of prince.

Alith realised he had closed his eyes. Opening them, he saw expectation in the faces before him: his father and grandfather, Caenthras and Ashniel, and the dozens of elves who had come from across Nagarythe to witness this. Lowering the goblet, Alith smiled and applause filled the tent, with no few shouts of happiness and encouragement.

Caenthras stepped up, hands raised for silence. As quiet descended eventually, the elven lord looked at Alith, his expression thoughtful.

“Let me congratulate Alith on his ascension,” said Caenthras, crossing the stage to embrace the newest prince of the Anars. “And also let me invite him to say to you all that which we have spoken about between ourselves for many years.”

Suddenly self-conscious, Alith stepped away from Caenthras and turned to Ashniel. He took her left hand in his, still holding the wine in his other.

“On this day of my ascension, it is now time for me to declare to the world that which has been plain for all to see,” said Alith. He looked out towards the audience, joy washing away his nervousness. “A year hence from this day, House Anar and House Moranin will be joined not just by alliance and friendship, but also by marriage. It is my intent to marry Ashniel and she will become a princess of the Anars as I become a prince of the Moranins. A more profound love I cannot imagine, nor a more fitting dedication to the future than to pave the way for the new heir of the Anars and many more generations to follow.”

“I bless this union between our houses,” said Eoloran.

“I am proud to call Alith a future son,” added Caenthras.

Alith took another sip of wine and held the goblet to Ashniel’s pale lips. Her eyes glittered as she looked at him. Her fingers curled around his hand, cool to the touch, and tipped the cup so that the wine wetted her lips and no more. Lifting the chalice away, Ashniel kissed Alith on the forehead, leaving the lightest smudge of red on his brow. She turned with delicate precision, kissed her father upon the cheek and then addressed the crowd.

“There are not the words yet created to express my feelings at this moment, though poets have bent their skills to such labour for a lifetime to fashion them,” she said. “In the Anars there is great strength, and in my house also. The blood of princes runs deep in Nagarythe, in our bodies and in the land. The generations to come from this lineage will be fair and noble, brave and strong, compassionate and wise. All that is great in the Naggarothi will be made greater yet.”

Alith hooked Ashniel’s arm under his and they walked down the short steps from the stage, to be surrounded by the surging elves, who pushed forwards to congratulate the couple and shower them with embraces and kisses. The sides of the marquee were thrown back and the gentle summer breeze stirred the perfumed mists and cast the petals of the flowers into the air above them.

 

Alith was awake immediately. He did not know what had woken him, but a moment’s listening brought sounds of a commotion from the main part of the manse. Evening sun streamed through the unshuttered window; a last defiance against the swiftly approaching Season of Frost. Alith did not remember falling asleep, though upon the table beside his bed lay half-open a lengthy tome by Analdiris of Saphery, analysing the warrior-poetry of Elynuris the Accepter.

Pushing aside the grogginess from his unplanned nap, Alith pulled himself from the bed and straightened his clothes. He heard his father call his name. As he opened the door, Alith found two servants bustling down the corridor, lanterns in their hands.

“What is it?” demanded Alith, grabbing the arm of Cirothir as he jogged past.

“Warriors are marching along the road, prince,” said the servant. “Your father awaits you at the front of the manse.”

Alith hesitated, deciding whether to fetch his bow. He decided against it, twenty years of peace having eased the paranoia that had once gripped the Anar household. In all likelihood, the soldiers were merely a guard of honour for an important guest. Grabbing a cloak from the chest at the foot of his bed, Alith hurried to the foyer and out onto the courtyard.

Eothlir was there with several other retainers. Eoloran was currently away from the manse, signing a treaty with one of the other noble houses, while Maieth was with Ashniel at the manse of the Moranins making arrangements for the wedding. Father glanced at son with raised eyebrows.

“I have had no word of any important visitor,” said Eothlir. Alith noted that his father had a short sword strapped to his belt. It seemed Eothlir was less willing to forget the troubles of the past.

The clatter of hooves echoed into the courtyard and riders came to a stop just beyond the gateway. Alith could see a column of a few dozen knights, with black pennants on their silver lances. Their leader swung down to the road and crossed quickly to the side of the gate, where Gerithon was standing. There was a short exchange between the two and Gerithon bowed and turned towards the manse with an outstretched arm.

The figure strode purposefully along the pavement, his black-enamelled armour glistening like oil, his dark cloak swirling in his wake. Alith relaxed as the figure came nearer and removed his helm: it was Yeasir, Malekith’s captain and commander of Nagarythe. Eothlir seemed set at ease as well, and stepped forwards to meet the Anlec officer.

“You should have sent word, we would have arranged a more suitable welcome,” said Eothlir with a smile, extending his hand. Yeasir’s face showed no joy at the encounter and he shook Eothlir’s hand only briefly.

“I am sorry,” the lieutenant said, his eyes alternating between Eothlir and Alith. “I do not bear good news.”

“Come inside and we will hear you,” said Eothlir. “Your soldiers are welcome to make their camp in our grounds.”

“I fear you will not be so hospitable when you hear what I have to say,” said Yeasir, clearly uneasy. “I am here to place you under house parole, on the order of Prince Malekith, ruler of Nagarythe.”

“What?” snarled Alith, stepping forwards, stopped only by the outstretched arm of his father.

“Explain yourself,” demanded Eothlir, forcing Alith back. “Malekith counts House Anar amongst his allies, even his friends. For what reason does he command this arrest?”

Yeasir’s expression was pained, and he sent a longing glance back towards his knights.

“I assure you that Malekith has no ill intent towards House Anar,” said the captain. “If your offer still stands, I would gratefully accept the welcome of your manse.”

Alith was about to tell Yeasir that he had already overstayed such welcome as he deserved, but Eothlir caught his eye and shook his head.

“Of course,” said Eothlir with a nod. “Your knights may stable their horses and take rooms in the servants’ wing. Gerithon!”

The steward came trotting down the path, casting worried looks over his shoulder at the fearsome riders outside the gate.

“Our visitors are to be extended every hospitality as guests,” said Eothlir. “Please inform the kitchens and make ready such spare bedding as we have available. Commander Yeasir will be accommodated in the main house.”

“Of course, my lord,” said Gerithon, bowing. He hesitated before continuing. “And how long might your guests be staying?”

Eothlir looked at Yeasir, who sighed.

“Probably for the winter, I’m afraid,” he said, avoiding Eothlir’s stare.

“Is it me, or has the weather turned chill quickly this year?” said Alith, wrapping his cloak tight around his body. “Or perhaps it is something else in the air that makes me shiver.”

Alith stalked back towards the house but a shout from his father caused him to stop and turn.

“Wait for us in my chambers,” Eothlir called out. “Once everything has been attended to, we will join you there.”

Alith gave no nod or word of assent and merely strode away, his mind full of turbulent thoughts.

 

While Alith was seething with anger, Eothlir was the picture of patience and understanding. The pair were on the balcony outside Eothlir’s chambers with Yeasir, looking at the mountains rising up wild and sharp beyond the ordered nature of the garden. Eothlir and Yeasir were sat on divans, a low table laden with decanter and goblets between them, though nobody had taken a drink. Alith stood staring at the Annulii, his hands fiercely gripping the balcony rail.

“I understand that this must come as something of a shock,” Yeasir was saying. “No doubt it is some ploy to embarrass or discredit House Anar, and we will be able to put the matter aside in a short time.”

“Who would accuse the Anars of being cultists?” said Eothlir. “What evidence did they present?”

“I cannot say, for I do not know,” replied Yeasir. “Prince Malekith vowed before the Phoenix King himself to hunt down the cults, and even his own mother languishes in imprisonment because of that oath. Accusations have been made against the Anars and he is bound by his honour to treat them as equal with any other. You understand that to display any favour or prejudice in this matter would undermine the prince’s rule?”

Eothlir acceded grudgingly to this logic with a shallow nod of the head.

“This is a deliberate attack on the Anars,” growled Alith, gazing out towards the mountains. He turned and directed his glare towards Yeasir. “It is plain that this is some move by the cults to avert the prince’s gaze away from them. They seek to divide those that would see them destroyed. Whoever made these accusations is a traitor, performing the deeds of a master other than Malekith.”

“Though I have no name to give you, Prince Malekith assured me that his source is being investigated no less than your family,” said Yeasir.

“What can we do to make this pass away swiftly?” asked Eothlir as Alith turned away again.

“I must conduct a thorough search of the manse and grounds,” said Yeasir. “As we all know, there is nothing of an incriminating nature to be found, but that must be proved to the prince and his court. Without further evidence, this baseless allegation can be disregarded just as many others have been since the cults scattered on Malekith’s return. Many have used such false accusations to settle old scores.”

“I cannot give permission for this,” said Eothlir, and raised a hand to quell Yeasir’s argument. “My father is still lord of the Anars and you must await his return before any search is made.”

“I understand,” said Yeasir. “Thank you for seeing the difficult position in which I find myself.”

“Gerithon will convey you to your quarters shortly and you are welcome to join us for dinner,” said Eothlir, standing up.

“I think I will go hunting,” muttered Alith, pushing past Yeasir and storming out of his father’s chambers.

 

Eoloran was most unhappy by the turn of events he encountered when he returned to Elanardris, though he realised he had no option but to acquiesce to Yeasir’s search. The knights were exceptionally thorough, examining every room and corridor and alcove in the manse, searching for amulets and idols that would betray the Anars as worshippers of the cytharai. They scoured the wine cellar and the library, and pulled up the carpets from the halls to seek hidden trapdoors.

Yeasir busied himself with measuring the dimensions of the manse and its rooms, to locate any dead spaces or voids that might conceal a shrine to the lower gods. Despite his personal dislike for events, Alith was impressed and intrigued by Yeasir’s diligence. Several days after the search had begun, as he was setting out through the gardens to go hunting, Alith saw the captain on the southern lawn, pacing up and down the rose beds that bordered it. He held parchment in one hand on which he scribbled measurements with a piece of charcoal.

“What do you expect to find out here?” said Alith, crossing over the grass. Yeasir stopped suddenly, surprised.

“I, well, I am looking for concealed entrances,” he said.

“You think we have some grotto beneath the garden, festooned with the bones and entrails of our victims?”

Yeasir shrugged.

“If I cannot conclusively say that you do not, the doubt remains. I am convinced of the innocence of your family, but Malekith needs proof not assurances. The Anars are not the only noble family to have come under suspicion, and some of the things we have found I would spare you description. Complacency now, when so much has been achieved, would only strengthen those that would undermine the true authorities of Ulthuan.”

“The prince has placed a great deal of trust in you,” said Alith, sitting cross-legged on the grass.

“A trust that has been earned over hundreds of years,” said Yeasir, rolling up the parchment. “He named me commander of Nagarythe in return for the loyalty I have shown him. I was with the prince when he saved Athel Toralien from the orcs. I marched with him across Elthin Arvan and have commanded armies in his name, both in the colonies and here in Nagarythe.”

“I hear that you went with Malekith into the north, as well,” said Alith lightly. Yeasir frowned and looked away.

“That is true, but none of us that came back speak of what happened there,” said the captain. He looked northwards and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, Alith saw fear unlike any he had witnessed before in a Naggarothi. “There are things on the edge of the Realm of Chaos best left forgotten there.”

Alith considered this with pursed lips.

“I have heard it said that the northlands changed Malekith,” he said after a while. “He is more serious now, less inclined for adventure and battle.”

“Some adventures and some battles make us realise what it is we want from life,” said Yeasir, fiddling with the charcoal, staining his fingertips. “Prince Malekith came to the conclusion that his place was here, on Ulthuan, as ruler of Nagarythe. It seems he was right to return when he did.”

“If only he had returned to us sooner,” Alith said with a sigh. “Perhaps we might have avoided much bloodshed and anguish.”

“The prince was not ready to return earlier, and would not have been able to do what he needed to do,” said Yeasir. “I am thankful that I was not in Nagarythe to suffer under the rule of Morathi, but that darkness has passed.”

“Has it? What of the cult leaders that escaped justice? What of those depraved worshippers who fled Anlec and Nagarythe?”

“They will be hunted down and brought before Malekith. It is his decree, and I have never seen him fail in something he has set his mind to, even when others thought it impossible.”

Yeasir was about to say something else but stopped.

“What is it?”

“Thank you for talking with me, Alith,” said the captain. “I know the business that brings me here is unpleasant, but I would have you bear me no ill will for following the orders of our prince.”

Alith considered this for a moment and saw the earnest expression of Yeasir. He remembered the commander’s profuse gratitude on the walls of Anlec and realised that Yeasir believed he owed his life to the Anars. He was an elf of much honour, Alith decided, and if he trusted the judgement of Malekith then he would have to trust Yeasir as well.

Alith stood and extended a hand to the captain, who took it gratefully.

“We are both Naggarothi, and we are not enemies,” said Alith. He glanced towards the clouds gathering overhead. “I must go hunting before the weather turns against me. When you are done with our gardens, I will take you up to our hunting lodges so that you might see that we have nothing to hide there either.”

“And perhaps catch myself one of the famed Elanardris deer?”

“Perhaps, if your eye is as good for shooting as it is for prying!” laughed Alith.

 

The last days of the short autumn were drawing to a close, and dark clouds settled around the peaks of the Anullii, pregnant with snow. Yeasir had concluded his exhaustive searches and had not found any evidence of cult activity by the family or their followers. The commander sent word to Anlec along with a complete list of his findings, or lack of them. As Yeasir apologetically explained to his hosts, until he received fresh orders from Malekith he was still bound by the command to keep the Anars under watch. Alith had become almost unaware of the silent knights stationed around the manse and grounds, and they interfered little in his daily life.

The wind was veering to the north with each day, and soon the snow would come again. In the mid-morning just a few days before winter’s arrival, Alith was in the side room of his chambers reading Thalduir of Saphery’s account of birds in the Saraeluii, the huge mountain realm of the dwarfs that marked the eastern bounds of the colonies in Elthin Arvan. He studied the intricate watercolour paintings, marvelling at the diversity of birds of prey. He hoped that one day he would travel to Elthin Arvan and hunt beneath the wide woods and across the towering mountains of the colonies.

The rattle of carriage wheels in the courtyard broke his thoughts and he placed the delicate silk-bound book upon the table beside him. He stood and went to the high window that overlooked the front gardens of the manse. Several carriages marked with the crest of House Moranin had drawn through the gateway. Excited that Ashniel might be among the passengers, Alith quickly changed from his hunting leathers, which he dressed in when at leisure to do so, and threw on a more formal robe of soft black wool and a wide belt of whitened leather. He tied back his long hair with a thong of woven silver thread and headed downstairs.

On coming out of the main foyer, Alith saw Ashniel gazing from the window of one of the coaches, and he waved. She saw him but her look was blank and a grave doubt began to fill Alith’s heart. She drew the curtain closed.

Alith made to walk over to her, but Caenthras stepped down from the lead coach and intercepted him.

“Go fetch your father,” the elven lord said gruffly. “Bring him here.”

“A lord of House Anar receives guests in the proper manner, he does not hold his councils on the porch,” Alith replied. “If you would wait a moment, I will have a servant inform my father of your arrival.”

“Your petulance is unbecoming,” said Caenthras. “Take me to your father.”

Alith still fumed inside at Ashniel’s indifference, but acquiesced to Caenthras’ demand and led the prince into the house. He knew his father was in the library.

Caenthras followed Alith in silence as they mounted the winding stairs that led up to the second storey of the manse. Alith seethed, wanting to demand what was happening, but he held his tongue, fearing to anger Caenthras even further. Perhaps, a small part of him said, he had misread the situation. His head knew this to be foolish, that something grim was afoot, but Alith said nothing.

Eothlir was sat at a broad desk of white-stained wood, which was littered with maps held down with goblets, plates and other assorted items. The library was not large, barely a dozen paces across, but every wall was lined floor to ceiling with shelves holding scrolls and bound tomes of varying age and subject.

Alith had spent little time here as a youth, no more than required by his tutors, for his passion lay under the open skies and not with written lore. He had preferred his lessons to be practical not theoretical, and had constantly taxed the patience of his teachers with his disdain for poetry, politics and geography. These days he found a little more comfort indoors and the library had a great many maps and diaries from travellers to the colonies. He fondly imagined that at some time he would go to those strange lands with Ashniel by his side.

Eothlir’s expression was welcoming as he looked up at the disturbance, but this changed to one of concern when he saw the stern look of Caenthras.

“I fear I am not going to like what you are about to tell me,” said Eothlir, picking up a ewer of water and proffering it towards the lord of the Moranin family. Caenthras declined the drink with a shake of his hand.

“You are not,” Caenthras said. “You know that I hold no house in higher regard than yours, save for that of Prince Malekith.”

“That is nice to hear, but I think that you are about to demonstrate otherwise,” said Eothlir.

“I am,” said Caenthras. “My loyalty lies with Nagarythe and my family above all others, and so when I am faced with a decision it is that loyalty which steers my thoughts.”

“Enough, my friend,” said Eothlir. “Say what it is you have to say.”

Caenthras still hesitated, his eyes fixed on Eothlir, giving not even the slightest glance to Alith who was stood beside his father.

“Ashniel has been invited to attend at the court of Anlec, and I have accepted on her behalf,” said Caenthras.

“What?” snapped Alith. Eothlir did not reply, but shook his head in confusion.

“There have been many wounds between Anlec and the east of Nagarythe, and this is a great opportunity to heal those injuries,” continued Caenthras. “Think of what good can come to the eastern princes with our voice heard in Malekith’s court.”

“And what of the wedding?” said Alith.

Only now did Caenthras look at Alith. His expression was stern.

“Ashniel travels to Anlec before the winter comes,” said the elven lord. “You are free to join her there in the spring if you wish. Not before then, for she has many duties that need attending to upon her arrival, and I fear she has much to learn about court life in the capital. She does not need the distraction of your presence for the moment.”

“That is unacceptable!” snapped Alith. “She is to be my wife and yet you have made this decision without consultation with me.”

“She is my daughter,” replied Caenthras, his voice quiet and dangerous. “Even when you are wed she is my responsibility. I would not have Ashniel waste her life in the woods and mountains when she could achieve so much more in Anlec.”

“One day I will be lord of those woods and mountains,” said Eothlir. “So will my son. Have you such disdain for us that you prefer the company of the fashionable elite of Anlec? Those who not twenty years ago were all too ready to bend their knee to Morathi and her cults?”

“Times have changed, Eothlir,” said Caenthras, calming his voice. “Malekith is the new power in Nagarythe, and perhaps one day across Ulthuan.”

“You would see him made Phoenix King also?” asked Eothlir.

“It is the only natural conclusion to events that I can see,” continued Caenthras. “If you back his claim as heir of Aenarion, then you must feel, as do others, that it is his right not to rule just Nagarythe, but all of Ulthuan.”

“I feel your logic is flawed, Caenthras,” said Eothlir. “I have no concern who wears the Phoenix Crown and the feather cloak. It is stability and prosperity in Nagarythe that I fought for, not some wider goal.”

“Then it is you who has been deluded,” said Caenthras. “Or perhaps your father, from whom you have taken all your misguided counsel. Maybe there is more to the accusations of treachery than I first gave credit. What loyal son of Nagarythe would not see Malekith crowned as Phoenix King? Would the Anars see themselves as successors, perhaps?”

“Be careful what you next say,” said Eothlir, standing. “It seems House Anar has few enough friends at the moment, but House Moranin would do well not to be added to the list of our enemies.”

“And so the ploys of Morathi come full circle, and innuendo and threats have become your weapons, is that right?” spat Caenthras.

“Morathi was correct in one thing,” said Eothlir with a sneer. “The time to fight was upon us, and those battles have not yet all been fought. There can be no bystanders. I tell you that House Anar has nothing to do with the cults and if you turn from us, you only fan the fires of falsehood that have smouldered in Nagarythe since Malekith’s return.”

“I have come out of courtesy for your family, and for you, whom I once named friend,” said Caenthras, controlling his anger with considerable effort. “I thought you would offer me the same respect. I will not speak against you, Eothlir, but I cannot aid you. I hope that one day, in not too many years, we can meet again and put this behind us and be companions once more. I wish you no ill, Eothlir, but I cannot countenance moving against the will of Anlec.”

With no further word, Caenthras spun on his heel and stalked from the room. Eothlir’s face was a mask of anguish, torn between ire and woe. Alith stared out of the doorway at Caenthras’ retreating back, his teeth grinding.

“See that they leave without incident,” Eothlir said, before waving Alith away and sitting down to bury his head in his hands.

Alith hurried after Caenthras, who returned to his caravan and gave the signal for them to depart. The young Anar watched the coach of Ashniel, hoping to see her draw back the curtain and give him some indication of her feelings, but it was not to be. The coach rattled from the courtyard without the slightest glimpse of her.

Alith silently cursed House Moranin, and he cursed the cowardly Caenthras even more. With a snarl he strode towards the house, the servants and soldiers in the courtyard fleeing before his foul mood like sheep from a stalking wolf.

 

As when he was a child, Alith sought sanctuary in the wilds of Elanardris, despite the misgivings of his father and the bitter weather. He would walk out into the cold peaks sometimes to hunt, on other occasions simply to be away from any other soul.

On this day he was sat on a rock at the bank of a thin stream, skinning and cleaning a mountain hare he had shot. As he stooped forwards to clean his blade in the almost-frozen water, he caught the reflection of a black shape in the sky: a crow.

“It has been a long while,” said Alith, straightening.

“Yes it has,” replied Elthyrior, sitting down beside Alith. As before, the raven herald was draped in his cloak of shadowy feathers, his face hidden in the depths of his hood. Only his green eyes showed. “And you know that my appearance is not a glad tiding.”

Alith sighed and finished cleaning his knife, slipping it into his belt as he turned towards Elthyrior.

“And what new threat arises?” he said. “Perhaps the dwarfs have built a fleet of ships made from rock and cross the ocean to sack Ulthuan? Or maybe the Sapherian mages have turned themselves all into rampaging goats?”

“Your attitude is unbecoming for a prince of Ulthuan,” snapped Elthyrior. “Allow the grace of your bloodline to show through.”

Alith sighed again.

“I am sorry, but I have much in my mind of late. I suppose you warn me not to go to Anlec?”

Elthyrior sat back in surprise. “How could you know this?”

“Nothing else has changed recently that would warrant your return after twenty years,” explained Alith. “Always you come when there is a decision to be made, to warn against one course of action or the other. It is the way of Morai-heg to lay these dilemmas before us and laugh as we try to navigate our way through the tangled web she has woven.”

“Do you know why you cannot go to Anlec?”

“Bad things will happen, though of an enigmatic nature I am sure.”

Alith stood and looked down at Elthyrior.

“What can I say to you? I cannot promise that I will not go to Anlec. Ashniel is there now, and if you tell me it is unsafe for me there, I cannot believe that it is safe for my betrothed. Your words make me more inclined to go to her, not less.”

“Ashniel is lost to you, Alith,” Elthyrior said sorrowfully, standing and placing a hand on Alith’s shoulder. “Anlec is not the place you think it is.”

Alith laughed and cast aside Elthyrior’s gesture of sympathy.

“You expect me to believe you? You think a few rumours would break the bond that lies between us?”

“Soon there will be more than rumours,” said Elthyrior. “Since Malekith’s return I and others of my order who are loyal to Nagarythe have followed the spoor of those cultists that escaped. They have not been idle, in Nagarythe and elsewhere. Though they are more hidden than ever before, there are ways to find them and learn their secrets. The accusation of the Anars is part of a grander scheme, though what its aim is remains unknown to me. Though word has not yet reached Elanardris, there have been attacks and uprisings in several parts of Nagarythe. The cultists have returned, but this time they declare not for Morathi but for Eoloran of House Anar!”

“That cannot be! You know that we are free of any taint.”

“And yet they protest at the arrest of your family, and so give truth to the lie. Anlec is not safe for the Anars, and I fear that Elanardris will be a haven for little longer.”

“Yeasir…”

“Perhaps,” said Elthyrior. “He should be watched closely. I do not think he knows truly his part in this, he is but a piece on a game board for a more powerful player.”

“Who is this player? Morathi?” Alith waved away his own concern. “She is held captive in Tor Anroc, I cannot believe that she still wields the power over the cults that she once had.”

“You know of the saying, ‘As the parent, so too the child’?”

“You cannot surely suspect Malekith of being the architect of this deception?”

“I cannot surely know anything,” laughed Elthyrior, a bitter sound. “This is a game played with deceit and misdirection. It is played in shadows and with the minds of elves. Yet, I am not a player, I can only follow the moves as they are made and report them to others.”

“So do you know who any of the players are?”

“Morathi, for certain, though at a distance,” said Elthyrior. “Malekith certainly moves some pieces, though for his own ends or those of some other cause I cannot say. Others in his court are also tied to the strings of their puppets, though it is hard to follow the threads back to the hand that controls them. As I have warned before, you cannot afford to trust anyone save yourself.”

“So what am I to do? It seems as though there is little we can do to defend ourselves against accusation if the cults treat us as their own. It seems we are pieces being played, and have no control over the game or its rules.”

“Then you must find a player on your behalf, and change the board in your favour.”

Alith turned away and gazed at his rippling reflection in the icy water.

“The Phoenix King,” he said. “There is no greater player in Ulthuan.”

Elthyrior gave no reply and when Alith turned he saw that the raven herald had, as usual, disappeared without warning. A long caw echoed from the mountainsides and then Alith was left alone with the wind and the babbling of the stream.

 

Alith brooded on Elthyrior’s words for several days, weighing up the courses of action he could take. Each day brought the risk that news would come of the cults’ uprisings in defence of the Anars, and Alith feared that such tidings would stir Yeasir to firmer security. As midwinter approached, he also knew that travel from the mountains would be all but impossible and, stirred by this vague deadline, called his family together to discuss with them his thoughts.

Unobserved by Yeasir, his soldiers or any of the servants, Alith gathered his family in the chambers of his grandfather. Eoloran was sat beside the crackling fire, while Eothlir and Maieth stood hand-in-hand gazing out of the ice-freckled window.

“I am leaving Elanardris,” Alith announced as he closed the white-panelled door to the chamber.

“For where?” asked Maieth, crossing the room to stand in front of her son. “Surely you do not think to travel to Anlec in such harsh weather.”

“It is not for Anlec that I am bound,” Alith told them. “The Anars are being used, and we do not have the means to reveal this deception. I will go to Bel Shanaar and ask for his intervention.”

“That would not be wise,” said Eoloran. “It is not the business of the Phoenix King to involve himself in matters internal to Nagarythe. Other princes and nobles will not take kindly to interference from Tor Anroc. He knows little of what happens here, and is an uncertain ally.”

“An uncertain ally is better than no ally at all,” said Eothlir. “House Moranin has all but deserted us, no doubt for the benefit of Caenthras’ reputation. Our friends have been few for many years. I think Alith is right that we need to seek strength as times turn against us.”

“Some will say such a move is in defiance of Malekith’s rule,” said Eoloran. “Should we not have the confidence of our prince, then we have nothing.”

“We do not know the counsels Malekith receives,” said Alith, moving to sit in the chair opposite his grandfather. He leant forwards earnestly. “While we can keep our faith with Malekith, are you so sure that what he is told is the truth? Do not his own oaths of honour make him susceptible to lies told by others? If Bel Shanaar is an uncertain ally, Malekith has not yet proven himself a certain master.”

“What of Ashniel and the wedding?” said Maieth. “Caenthras has not ruled out the union between the houses. If he were so turned against us, he would not allow Ashniel to be married. There is hope there, Alith. It is my fear that you would risk that alliance by involving the Phoenix King. Caenthras is a strong advocate of Nagarythe’s independence from the Phoenix Throne.”

Alith shook his head sadly, and gave voice to a conclusion that had troubled him since Ashniel’s departure.

“There will be no wedding,” said Alith. “Though he says one thing to us, I believe that he has turned Ashniel against me. He treads upon the line between friend and foe, not wishing to associate openly with the Anars but willing to keep alive what connection he has should he find the need for us again. In Anlec, I would be the fly trapped in the web. I cannot go there, and in refusing I snub House Moranin and give Caenthras greater excuse to be displeased with us. I wonder how long it is that his goals and ours have been at odds, and it seems that he has positioned himself to benefit whatever the outcome.”

“I am so sorry, Alith,” said Maieth. She crouched beside her son with a tear on her cheek, and stroked his hair. Alith leaned forwards and kissed her on the head and pulled her up.

“I feel as though I had been blinded but now I see the light,” he said. “Though I loved Ashniel, I realise that my feelings were never returned. This was ever a match of politics, made by Caenthras and dutifully carried out by Ashniel. I saw her when she left and there was not a sign that she was sad at our parting. What I saw as calm nobility was no more than cool aloofness.”

Alith found his embarrassment rising and became angry, standing up and balling his fists.

“How much she must have thought herself clever, seeing the ignorant Anar come at her slightest call, like the hawk to its master,” he snarled. “She has played me for a fool, and I filled my part all too well for her. I have read again those letters that she sent me, and think on the conversations we have had, and ever the affection was from me to her, while her own love was but an imagining I had conjured for myself! I am sure she amuses her maids in Anlec with tales of her tame prince, telling them how I will come running to her in the spring with the gentlest flick of my reins!”

Maieth embraced Alith, running her hand down his back. He allowed himself to enjoy the comfort of her love for a while and then gently pushed her away.

“Though I have been wronged, it is not out of spite that I turn to the Phoenix King,” said Alith. “I believe that there is genuine danger for the Anars, and it will come soon.”

“What sort of danger?” asked Eothlir. “How do you know this?”

“First I must tell you that I cannot say from where I gained this information,” said Alith. He held up his hand when Eothlir opened his mouth to object. “I have given my word, but if you trust me then have faith that what I am to tell you is true.”

“Always we will believe you, Alith,” said Eoloran with a concerned look. “Tell us what it is that you know.”

“There have been demonstrations against Malekith’s house arrest of the Anars,” said Alith.

“So there are those who we can count upon as allies,” said Eothlir. “I do not see—”

“By cult leaders,” Alith interrupted sharply. “The cultists make a pretence that we are of their ilk, and thus we will be condemned alongside them. For whatever reasons further their cause, the cults speak openly in praise of the Anars and there is no defence we can make that will stop the accusations that will surely follow.”

“I do not see how Bel Shanaar can help us,” said Maieth. “Why will he not believe our enemies as well?”

“There is no guarantee that he will not,” said Alith. “That is why it is I that must go to him. Better that we put some case before the Phoenix Throne than no case at all.”

Alith waved for his mother to be seated and when she had done so, he stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders.

“I have given this my deepest consideration,” he told his family. “It is not wise that all three lords of the Anars, present and future, are trapped in Elanardris. One of us must leave here so that whatever happens, the cause of the family can be championed beyond these walls. We cannot send a servant to do this, no matter how trusted, for whoever entreats the Phoenix King to help must carry the full authority of the house. I am the most free to leave without question, for Yeasir and his guards are content to allow me to go hunting without escort. They will not expect a swift return and so I can gain a day, perhaps two, ahead of any pursuit that might be sent after me. No one else enjoys that freedom from scrutiny. When my absence is noted, it can be said that I have perhaps fled for Anlec, unwilling to wait until the spring to see Ashniel.”

Alith paused and gave a meaningful look to his father and grandfather. “I am also the most expendable, should things go ill in one way or another.”

“You are not expendable to me!” said Maieth. “You are my son and I would see you safe before all other considerations.”

“None of us are safe, Mother,” replied Alith sternly. “It is not in me to hide here and await the inevitable. The last time we were pressed by the power of Anlec, it was only through the strength of our alliances that we were able to resist our foes. This time the Anars will be forced to stand alone unless we can find help from another source.”

Eoloran and Eothlir exchanged a long look with each other, reading each other’s thoughts from their expressions. It was Eoloran who spoke first, standing and gripping Alith’s arm.

“It is pointless to express regret on things that we cannot change, and I cannot fault your reasoning. I will write letters of introduction to produce for Bel Shanaar. We know each other of old though many hundreds of years have passed since we last spoke. I believe that the Phoenix King will give you fair hearing, though I cannot guess his response.”

“Do not go openly,” warned Eothlir. “Morathi dwells in Tor Anroc and though imprisoned I am sure she has her spies at hand. If the Phoenix King is to aid us, then it must be kept secret as long as possible. I understand why Malekith returned to us without announcement, as the element of surprise is one of the greatest weapons we can yet rely upon.”

“When do you plan to leave?” asked Maieth. “Tell me you will not be going immediately.”

“A day or two at the most,” said Alith. “Though Yeasir has not yet heard of the cultists’ support for us, he will soon and then we cannot say how he will react.”

“Yeasir and his few dozen knights are little threat to us,” said Eothlir. “Should we need to be rid of his scrutiny it is easily accomplished.”

“No!” said Eoloran. “We must be beyond reproach, even when no one will believe us. Yeasir is here under lawful authority and we have accepted as such. We must do nothing that adds further fuel to the fires of suspicion.”

“How will we hear from you, or contact you?” asked Maieth. “Is there a messenger we can trust?”

“There is one who I may be able to use, but I cannot name him now,” said Alith. He directed his gaze to Eoloran. “If he does come, you will know him and you must trust him, as I do. I cannot say any more.”

Maieth threw her arms around Alith once more, stifling a sob.

“I will write that letter,” said Eoloran, bowing before leaving the room. Eothlir laid his arms about the shoulders of his wife and son, and the three of them stood sharing the silence for a while longer.

 

It was three days before Alith was ready to set off for Tor Anroc. His hunting trips roused no suspicion in the warriors from Anlec, and under the cover of these excursions Alith was able to stockpile a small amount of food and clothes in one of the watch-caves in the mountains. On the seventh morning after meeting Elthyrior he was set to go.

He said no goodbyes to his family as they had already said their farewells several times. Alith was eager to leave now that his mind was set—for practical reason of the deteriorating weather and also driven by the urge to act against the forces aligning in opposition to House Anar. He did not depart early, keeping to his usual routine of heading into the mountains mid-morning. Grey clouds swathed the sky though the snow had lightened in the past few days. As he left the manse, Alith saw Yeasir with his knights drawn up for inspection in the courtyard. Alith waved cheerfully and cut eastwards through the gardens, leaving by the gate in the high hedge that bordered the lawn.

 

Free from the eyes of Yeasir and his warriors, Alith turned south-east and made directly for the cave where he had stashed his provisions. It was past midday by the time he had climbed up to the empty watch post and the snow was falling heavily. The air was filled with flurries of white and Alith was unable to see more than a dozen paces ahead. The wind tugged at his grey hood and cloak and swept his long hair across his face as snowflakes settled on his fur-lined hunting coat. His boots were crusted with ice as he strode purposefully across the snow drifts towards the south. Glancing back, Alith saw the falling snow obscuring the faint footprints his light tread had left. Smiling at being free once more, Alith hiked his pack higher onto his shoulders and pressed on.

The snow continued relentlessly for the whole day and into the night. Alith spared himself only short breaks from his walking, taking shelter beneath overhangs and in craggy defiles to drink spice-seasoned water from his flask and eat a little of the carefully wrapped rabbit and bird meat he had cooked over the previous days. As twilight fought through the thick clouds he looked for somewhere to stay for the night.

After much searching Alith located a small knot of trees further down the mountainside. He climbed into one of the larger pines and quickly wove a rudimentary roof from the branches above. With the worst of the snow kept away, he sat with his back to the trunk, his legs along the branch, and fell into a light sleep.

 

Alith woke before dawn and was suddenly aware that he was being watched. Opening his eyes just a fraction, he saw a large crow perched on the end of the branch. With a wry smile, he opened his eyes fully and looked around for Elthyrior.

The raven herald was squatting in the snow a little way off, rousing a small fire into life. A thin wisp of smoke drifted up through the branches. Elthyrior looked up as Alith stood.

“I am happy to see that my warnings do not fall upon deaf ears,” he said.

“I am sorry if I was harsh when we last met,” said Alith, dropping down from the tree. “Often one knows that something is amiss but refuses to look upon the truth. I knew that all was not well with Ashniel, but would not believe myself. One should not shoot the messenger if the tidings are bad.”

Elthyrior waved Alith closer.

“I wish that I could bring better news on occasion, but it is not the task of the raven heralds to be bearers of happiness,” he said. “In war and hardship our order was founded, and so our eyes and ears are ready for that which brings misery not joy.”

“It must be lonely,” said Alith, crouching beside the fire. A thought occurred to him. “Is it safe to have a flame? The smoke might be seen.”

“There is nobody to see it, not here,” said Elthyrior. “You chose your path well, keeping high up the mountains. Where do you intend to go from here?”

“I thought to head south for another two days until I come to the Naganath. Then follow the river west before turning south towards Tor Anroc.”

“I would counsel against that,” said Elthyrior, shaking his head. “Bel Shanaar has his army stationed on the Naganath, watching the border. There is little chance your journey to Tor Anroc will be unobserved. Should you be found crossing from Nagarythe you will be taken into custody and brought before Bel Shanaar in full view.”

Alith swore gently.

“I do not know Tiranoc,” he said. “Now that we speak of it, it seems foolish that I could reach the Phoenix King without suspicion. Even if I make it to the city, how do I contact Bel Shanaar?”

“I have no answers for your second question, but for the first I would say to keep on the southern path until you come to the Pass of the Eagle. Turn westwards and head to Tor Anroc from there. Only a few days to the south the weather is more welcoming and some travellers still pass between Ellyrion and Tiranoc at this time of the year. I am not saying you will go without being noticed, but coming from the east will attract less attention than the north.”

“Thank you,” said Alith. “I do not know how I would ever survive without you to guide me.”

“Then you must learn, for I cannot be relied upon,” Elthyrior replied. His voice was quiet but stern. “You are not my only concern, and you are an adult. I am your ally but I cannot be your guardian and guide forever. You know the right paths to take, but you argue with yourself constantly. Trust your instincts, Alith. Morai-heg speaks to all of us in our dreams and feelings. If you do not trust her, and many are wise not to, then find another in whose light you are happy to follow.”

Alith considered this for a moment, warming his hands at the fire.

“You did not answer my first point,” said Alith. “Are you lonely?”

As if in reply, the crow cawed and flapped down to land upon Elthyrior’s shoulder, nestling into the raven feathers that made up his cloak.

“Loneliness is an indulgence for those with the time to spare for it,” said Elthyrior. “Some fill the emptiness with the meaningless chatter of those around them. Some of us fill it with a greater purpose, more comforting than any mortal company.”

“Then tell me one other thing,” said Alith, seizing the moment of companionship he felt with the raven herald. “Have you ever loved?”

Elthyrior’s face was a mask as he replied.

“Love was taken from my family in the time of Aenarion. Perhaps it may return before I die, but I think it unlikely. There will be little love for any of us in the years ahead.”

“Why? What have you seen?”

“I dream of black flames,” said Elthyrior, gazing deep into the fire. When he turned his attention to Alith, the Anar prince flinched from the icy stare of those emerald eyes. “It is not a good omen.”

 

Elthyrior travelled south with Alith for the best part of the next day, leaving him just before dusk.

“I cannot be found within the borders of Tiranoc,” the raven herald told Alith. “They will think me a cultist, and my pledge is to the protection of Nagarythe and it is here that my powers are strongest. From here you can easily find your way to Eagle Pass.”

The snow stopped at about the same time and Alith pressed southwards into the night while the going was fair. His path took him across several streams and a broad river—the headwaters of the Naganath that marked the border between Tiranoc and Nagarythe. Crossing the water, he moved from the realm of Prince Malekith into the kingdom of Bel Shanaar. He truly was on foreign soil.

Looking westwards the sky was clearing and out on the plains many miles away he saw the dim flickers of camp fires. There the armies of the Phoenix King watched their neighbour. It seemed that Bel Shanaar was not yet convinced by the twenty years of peace that had followed Malekith’s return. Alith was beginning to share his doubts.