—<TEN>—

A Loyal Traitor

 

 

Alith arrived in the corridors outside Yrianath’s chambers just in time to see Caenthras and an escort of Naggarothi entering the prince’s rooms. Alith ducked down a servants’ stairwell as the group emerged, Yrianath in the midst of the imposing warriors, looking much distressed. There was nothing Alith could do, even if he had been armed. He slipped away down the stairs to the floor below, where Lirian lived.

As he emerged from the stairway, a group of Naggarothi, four of them, rounded the corner. Alith turned to run but the closest leapt forwards and grabbed his arm, hauling him back into the passageway.

“Please,” Alith begged, falling to his knees. “I’m just a poor servant!”

The warrior sneered as he hauled Alith to his feet.

“Then you can serve us, wretch,” he snarled.

Alith smashed the heel of his hand into the soldier’s chin and as the warrior fell, snatched free the sword at his waist. The blade cut the throat of the next before the Naggarothi could react. The remaining pair split, coming at Alith from both sides.

Alith parried the first blow and leapt backwards as the point of a sword stabbed towards his chest. His return attack crashed against the shield of the warrior to his left and his arm jarred from the impact. Alith’s heart was in his throat as he dived beneath another swinging blade, rolling on his shoulder to come up to a guard position a moment before the other warrior launched a furious assault. Blow after blow rang from Alith’s sword as he backed down the corridor, heading towards Lilian’s chambers.

In a momentary respite from his assailant, Alith used his free hand to tear down a tapestry upon the wall, hurling it at the warrior. He followed up with a jumping kick, the ball of his foot smashing into the swathed figure, sending him toppling to the carpeted floor.

The other leapt over his fallen comrade, but Alith had expected this and lunged, chopping at his foe’s leg. Blade bit into armour and rings of mail scattered across the corridor in a spurt of blood. The Naggarothi fell to the ground, a cry of pain torn from his lips. Alith drove the point of his sword into the warrior’s exposed neck.

The remaining soldier disentangled himself from the tapestry but lost his sword and shield in the process. As he bent to retrieve his weapon, Alith brought his blade down hard on the back of his head, splitting the warrior’s helm and biting into his skull.

Panting, Alith straightened and assured himself that his foes were dead. He leant the sword against the wall and hurriedly unfastened the belt of one of the soldiers, wrapping it around his own waist. Sheathing his stolen blade, he ran down the passageway to the royal chambers.

 

The twin doors were open and there was no sign of anyone within. Alith stepped cautiously inside, ears alert for any sound, but there was none. A quick glance through the doors and archways leading from the antechamber confirmed that the Naggarothi had already taken Lirian and her son.

Alith could spare no further thought for the missing heir to the Tiranoc throne. The Naggarothi would be searching the whole palace and sooner or later he would run across opposition he could not avoid or overcome. It was inevitable that he would be recognised by someone. He needed to get out of Tor Anroc.

Alith assumed that the Naggarothi had entered by the main gateway, and so headed through the palace towards the north towers, hopefully ahead of any search parties. He kept to the side corridors and hidden stairwells used by the servants to move about the palace unseen by their masters. As he came closer to the servants’ quarters he could hear yells and cries from ahead.

He changed route, cutting eastwards across the lawn of a night garden, skimming from column to column, through moonlight and shadow, along the edge of the cloister. Beyond were the outer parts of the eastern wing and from there he would be able to reach the formal gardens at the back of the palaces.

Several of the ground-floor windows were unshuttered and open, and Alith jumped through the closest. He heard tramping feet echoing from bare stone to his right and so turned left at a run. His headlong sprint brought him out into one of the smaller gateyards that led out of the palace into the grounds. He was about to haul open one of the solid wooden gates when he heard footsteps behind him.

Turning, Alith saw more than a dozen spearmen entering the paved square. He saw a flash of white amongst them: Lirian carrying Anataris. The nearest warriors levelled their weapons and advanced slowly. Alith drew his sword and put his back to the closed gate.

“Wait!” the officer at the back of the group called out. Alith recognised the voice.

The small troop parted and the captain strode forwards. Though much of his face was concealed by his helmet, Alith could see that it was Yeasir.

The commander of Nagarythe stopped suddenly on seeing Alith. For his part, Alith was unsure what to do. If he turned his back to open the gate they would be upon him, and if he tried to fight, he would have no chance of victory.

“Put down your weapon, Alith,” Yeasir ordered.

Alith hesitated, flexing his fingers on the grip of his sword. He glanced at Lirian, who seemed oddly calm. She nodded reassuringly. Alith reluctantly let go of the sword, the clatter of its fall like a mournful knell as it echoed around the gateyard. Alith slumped back against the gate, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.

Yeasir handed his spear to one of his soldiers and approached, his gauntleted hands held up in front of him, palms upwards.

“Do not be afraid, Alith,” said the captain. “I do not know how you come to be here, but I am not your enemy. I mean you no harm.”

Yeasir’s words did not relax Alith in the slightest and the young Anar’s eyes darted around the yard seeking some other avenue of escape. There was none. He was trapped.

“Come, quickly,” said Yeasir, waving a hand over his shoulder.

Lirian, her baby in her arms, trotted forwards. As she did so, Yeasir gestured to one of his warriors.

“You, give me your bow and arrows,” snapped the commander. The soldier complied, slinging his quiver from his shoulder and passing it to Yeasir. To Alith’s surprise, the Naggarothi captain handed them on to him and then stooped to pick up the discarded sword.

“There is little time to explain,” said Yeasir as he slipped the weapon into the sheath at Alith’s waist. “This is a most fortunate encounter for both of us. Now you can take the heir of Tiranoc to safety.”

A handful of the soldiers stepped forwards and opened the gate, letting in the moonlight from the gardens beyond. Lirian hurried through.

Alith could say nothing and stood shaking his head.

“Morathi has returned to Anlec and not all are pleased,” Yeasir said hurriedly. “She wishes to punish Tiranoc for what happened to Malekith—it is not safe to be here. There is a haven to the east; I have told Princess Lirian its location. I will do whatever I can to delay pursuit, and will join you there in a few days’ time. My wife and daughter are hidden there also, and together we will head east to sanctuary in Ellyrion.”

“What?” was all that Alith could muster.

“Just go,” snarled Yeasir. “I must report the escape of the princess to the others and a search will soon follow. I will come to you and explain all.”

With that Yeasir shoved Alith unceremoniously through the gate, which closed soundlessly behind him. Lirian was already hurrying along a paved path ahead and Alith ran to catch up. Sounds of fighting echoed from the towers of the palace as the three of them headed into the night.

 

Yeasir led his troops into the great hall, where other parties of Naggarothi had brought the various members of the court, as directed by Palthrain. The chamberlain stood beside the Phoenix Throne with Prince Yrianath and Caenthras. The last of these frowned when he saw Yeasir.

“You are unaccompanied,” said the Naggarothi prince.

“It seems our prey has eluded us for the moment,” replied Yeasir lightly. “She will not get far, not with a child to care for.”

“That is unfortunate,” growled Caenthras.

“You believe she is still in the palace?” asked Palthrain.

“It is unlikely that she will quit Tor Anroc,” said Yeasir. “Where else would she go? We are upon the brink of winter and the princess is no expert of the wilds. Tomorrow we will begin a search of the city.”

“I expected more of you,” Caenthras hissed quietly as Yeasir took his place beside the others.

“Though I may not be a prince, I am still Commander of Nagarythe,” Yeasir replied, keeping his tone level. “Do not forget that.”

Caenthras remained sullenly silent as Palthrain called for the attention of the fearful Tiranocii nobles.

“There is no cause to be afraid!” the chamberlain announced. “These warriors are present at the request of Prince Yrianath. In these uncertain times, it is important that we all remain vigilant for the corrupt amongst us, and our Naggarothi allies are here to help.”

“You invited them here?” said Tirnandir, his voice dripping with scorn.

“Well, I…” began Yrianath, but Palthrain cut across him.

“It is imperative that we choose a new prince to succeed Bel Shanaar, who might treat with our allies with authority,” said the chamberlain. “Prince Yrianath has declared himself fit to be regent. Are there any present that oppose his claim?”

Tirnandir opened his mouth and then shut it again. Like all the other assembled courtiers, his eyes strayed to the Naggarothi warriors lining the hall, their swords bared and spears in hand. Palthrain waited for a moment and then nodded.

“As there is no objection raised, I declare that Prince Yrianath shall be our new regent, until such time as Prince Anataris comes of age to assume his rightful position. Hail Yrianath!”

The Naggarothi shout was far louder than that of the Tiranocii, who mumbled their praise and exchanged fearful looks.

“These are unprecedented times,” continued Palthrain. “When faced with usurpers and traitors, we must act swiftly to ensure the safety of all loyal elves and prosecute those that would undermine the true rulers of Ulthuan. To that end, Prince Yrianath will enact the following laws.”

Palthrain then produced a rolled-up parchment from the sleeve of his robe and handed it to Yrianath. The prince took the scroll uncertainly and, prompted by a stare from Palthrain, unrolled it. His eyes scanned the runes upon it, widening with shock. A fierce glance from Caenthras quelled any protest and Yrianath began to read aloud, his voice wavering and quiet.

“As ruling prince of Tiranoc I decree that all soldiers, citizens and other subjects give their utmost cooperation to our Naggarothi allies. They are to be extended every courtesy and freedom whilst they aid in the protection of our realm. You are to obey the commands of such officers and princes of the Naggarothi as if they were mine. Failure to comply will be considered an act against my power and punished by death.”

Yrianath’s voice broke at this point and he swayed as if about to faint. Eyes closed, he steadied himself and then continued reading.

“Due to the uncertain loyalties exhibited by some within the army of Tiranoc, I also decree that every soldier, captain or commander is to surrender his weapons to our Naggarothi allies. Those who secure our faith will be allowed to return to their positions as soon as practical. Failure to comply will be considered an act against my power and punished by death.”

A profound silence had fallen upon the hall as Yrianath’s words settled in the minds of the Tiranocii. The prince’s eyes glimmered wet as he continued, casting plaintive glances at those he had unwittingly betrayed.

“My last decree of this accession is to temporarily disband the court of Tiranoc until such investigations surrounding the demise of Bel Shanaar clear those present of involvement in this unspeakably vile act. I hereby take all authority to rule as regent and my word is law. Such commands as issued by former members of the court have no validity and should be disregarded until confirmed by myself or our Naggarothi allies. Failure to comply will be considered an act against my power and punished by death…”

There was open discontent, a ripple of whispers, shortlived as Caenthras stepped forwards and took the scroll from Yrianath. The Naggarothi’s expression was stern.

“In order to comply with the wishes of your new prince, you will all be escorted back to your homes and placed under house arrest. You will be called for in the following days to account for your actions.”

With a gesture from Yeasir, the Naggarothi soldiers ushered the assembled nobles towards the open doors. When the Tiranocii had been escorted out, Palthrain turned to Caenthras.

“That went better than I expected,” said the chamberlain. “Now our work can begin.”

 

Dawn had yet to creep above the mountains when Lirian led Alith to a stretch of wooded hills north and east of Tor Anroc. The pair had spoken little on the journey, much to Alith’s relief. He had no words of comfort and though he had known about the conspiracy between Caenthras and Yrianath, he had suspected nothing of what was to unfold from that partnership. As they silently followed road and path, and finally cut across the meadows of outlying farms, Alith had tried to make sense of what had happened.

They walked steadily uphill through the darkness of the trees, Lirian clutching Anataris to her chest. Alith studied the princess out of the corner of his eye, seeing strain on her face. She was dressed in a light robe, utterly unsuitable to cross-country travel and very much stained and ragged. Her usually perfectly arranged hair fell in blonde disarray and her eyes were red from suppressed tears. There was bleakness about her expression that echoed the emptiness in his heart.

Alith tried to think of words of comfort that he might say but he could find none. Every turn of phrase seemed trite or nonsensical. He could offer no reassurance for he felt none himself. Everything had fallen apart, and as far as Alith could work out, it all pointed back towards Nagarythe. He found that he had far more questions than answers and wished that he had been able to find out more from Yeasir.

Lirian stopped and wordlessly pointed to the left. In the gloom Alith could just about make out the darker shape of a cave opening. Drawing his sword, he signalled for the princess to hide behind a tree. Stalking ahead, Alith heard whispered voices. Both were female.

Coming to the cave he found a small group huddled around a shuttered lantern, the dim light barely reaching the cave walls. There were three elves, two female and a child wrapped in a bundle of blue cloth. Both of the adults were clad in heavy robes of deep blue and embroidered shawls of the same colour. The older of the two, perhaps seven or eight hundred years of age, jumped to her feet, a dagger in her hand. She stepped protectively in front of her younger companion and the baby.

“Friend,” said Alith, swinging his sword to one side. The terrified elves remained unconvinced and he tossed the blade out of the cave. “I am here to help, Yeasir sent me.”

His protestation was met with fearful looks and Alith returned outside, calling for Lirian. The princess walked warily through the trees and would not enter the cave until Alith stepped inside. The two groups of elves looked suspiciously at each other for a moment.

“Who are you?” asked the younger elf. “What do you want?”

“I am Alith Anar, friend of Yeasir,” Alith replied. “I am escorting Princess Lirian and her son.”

“What is happening, where is my husband?” demanded the elder of the pair. “Where is Yeasir?”

“He is in Tor Anroc, misdirecting the pursuit,” replied Alith. “What is your name?”

“Saphistia,” she told him, placing the knife back in her belt. “This is my sister, Heileth, and my son, Durinithill. When will Yeasir come?”

“I do not know,” said Alith, leading Lirian by the arm. He gestured for her to sit beside Heileth. “He instructed me to wait here but promised he will join us soon. Have you any food or drink?”

“Of course,” said Heileth.

She stood and carefully handed the child to his mother and then turned to a row of packs laid against the rock wall. She brought out a waterskin and several small cups and passed them to Alith. Wrapped packets of cured meats followed.

“Anar is not a trusted name in Nagarythe these days,” said Saphistia as Alith poured water for each of them.

“Lies,” snarled Alith. “We have been victims of a campaign to discredit our house. Yeasir trusts me, and so should you.”

Alith did not wait for any further comment and left the cave to retrieve his sword from the fallen leaves outside. He stayed there a while, scanning the woods for any sign of pursuit. There was none. Ducking back inside, he grabbed a cup and some food.

“I’ll keep watch,” he told the others before swiftly retreating again.

He had no desire for company and sat with his back against a tree. He barely tasted the spiced meat, his thoughts far away in Nagarythe. When Yeasir returned Alith would leave and go north. Yeasir could run to Ellyrion if he wished—he had his family with him. Alith would return to Elanardris to discover what had befallen his kin.

Dawn brought no sign of any other elf, friend or foe. Alith looked into the cave and found all within were asleep. Taking his bow in hand, he set off to find some fresh food.

 

“So it seems that your assumptions were wrong,” said Palthrain. “The princess has escaped the city.”

Yeasir did not reply, but simply hung his head, feigning shame. He was alone in the great hall with the chamberlain and he longed to strangle the traitorous noble, but knew that he needed to keep his own loyalties concealed if he was to rejoin his family.

“Two days have been wasted,” continued Palthrain. “Two days ahead of your forces.”

“I believe they are on foot. Our riders will swiftly catch them,” said Yeasir.

“They?”

“Yes, it is also my belief that the princess has help,” Yeasir said quickly, keeping his expression bland whilst inwardly he cursed his slip of the tongue. “A soldier perhaps, or a servant. I cannot imagine that Lirian has the wit to contrive such an escape on her own. She is a spoilt Tiranocii bitch.”

“And when were you going to appraise me and Caenthras of this conclusion?”

Now Yeasir allowed his anger to show.

“While you may take some credit in creating this situation, remember that I am commander here! You are not even Naggarothi, so be mindful of your accusations. Morathi might be mildly distressed should anything happen to you, but we are a long way from Anlec. Bad things, unseen events, happen in war. If you were a Naggarothi, you would know that.”

Palthrain seemed unconcerned by Yeasir’s threats.

“So what is your plan to continue the search?” asked the chamberlain.

“She will not go north, that takes her closer to the Naganath,” said Yeasir.

“But much of Tiranoc’s army is camped in that direction. The princess might seek sanctuary with them.”

“Possible but unlikely,” said Yeasir. “I very much doubt that she trusts anybody in Tiranoc at the moment. I think she will go west, heading for the coast. There she will be able to take ship to any other realm in Ulthuan.”

“Why would she trust other kingdoms when she does not trust her own?”

“She might not, but the sea is the greatest obstacle to recapturing her. If she has headed south or east, we will be able to catch her before she reaches Caledor or Ellyrion. If Lirian reaches a ship, we have no means of pursuing her.”

“I can see there is reason in your argument,” Palthrain said, leaning upon the arm of the Phoenix Throne.

“I was not asking your permission,” said Yeasir.

“Of course not,” Palthrain replied smoothly. “Still, it might be better that you inform Caenthras of your plan so that you can… coordinate your forces.”

“What of Yrianath?” said Yeasir, keen to steer the topic of conversation away from the question of who had authority amongst the occupying soldiers. Morathi had charged the commander to lead the warriors, but many of those troops were direct subjects of Caenthras and owed their loyalty to the prince. “He is little use as a regent until we have the heir in our possession.”

“Trianath gives us a veil of legitimacy for the time being,” said Palthrain. “He understands his position very well, as do the other members of the court. Once we have Lirian and her brat, Yrianath will be able to conduct affairs with the other kingdoms as we desire.”

Yeasir nodded and turned towards the door. Palthrain’s words reached him at the end of the hall.

“That is, of course, assuming you actually find Lirian.”

Yeasir stopped but did not turn.

“When this is done, there will be a reckoning,” he whispered to himself before striding away.

 

Four days had passed since the flight from Tor Anroc and there had been no sign of Yeasir. Saphistia was becoming distraught and repeatedly urged Alith to head back to the city to find out any news concerning her husband. Alith flatly refused to do so, saying that he would not leave the group unprotected.

“How long must we stay here?” asked Lirian as the fourth day turned to the fourth night. The princess had regained little life, and spent most of her time listlessly wandering around the cave, whispering to her son.

“We wait until Yeasir arrives,” replied Saphistia.

“What if he doesn’t come?” the princess said with a long sigh. “He could be dead already.”

“Don’t say such a thing!” snapped Heileth.

Saphistia merely directed a venomous gaze at Lirian and retired to the back of the cave where the two children were laid upon beds Alith had made from leaves and a cloak. There was another opening beyond, which led into a network of water-carved tunnels that ran through the hills. This was to be their escape route if they were discovered, and Alith had spent some time exploring them at night while Heileth had kept watch. If the worst occurred, there was a small tunnel they could use to head north, and Alith had assembled a small trap made of branches and rocks that could be used to block the route to delay any pursuit.

“It was a grand procession,” Lirian said idly. “All of those banners and chariots.”

“What was grand?” asked Heileth.

“Elodhir’s funeral,” the princess replied, her voice distant, her gaze directed at nothing in particular.

“Stop talking about funerals,” hissed Saphistia. “Yeasir is alive. I would feel it if he were dead.”

“Elodhir died so very far away,” said Lirian. She turned her empty eyes to Saphistia. “I didn’t feel a thing.”

Alith quit the cave with a shake of his head. He offered praise to any gods listening, asking if they would deliver Yeasir soon so that he could leave the bickering group behind. Even as he formed these thoughts, a movement amongst the trees caught his attention. In a moment Alith had his bow in hand and an arrow to the string.

Listening, Alith could hear the muffled hoof-beats of several steeds and soon he saw a figure leading half a dozen horses across the leaf mould. Alith slipped behind a nearby tree, arrow aimed at the new arrival. A few heartbeats later and Yeasir came into view. Alith stepped out and lowered his bow.

“You do not know how pleased I am to see you,” Alith called as he walked down the hill.

“Your celebration may be short-lived,” replied the commander. “I cannot stay long.”

“How so?” Alith asked as Yeasir joined him. The pair walked towards the cave, the horses trailing obediently after them.

“Caenthras’ forces are close by,” said Yeasir. “It is not yet safe to leave and I must return before my absence is noted.”

When they came to the cave, Saphistia ran to the cavern entrance and embraced her husband tightly.

“Thank the gods that you are safe,” she gasped. “I feared the worst with every passing moment.”

Yeasir calmed his wife, kissing her on the cheeks, before turning his attention to his son. He picked up the babe from where he lay swaddled in a blue blanket, and held him close to his chest, his eyes lingering lovingly on Durinithill’s small face.

“He has been so brave,” said Saphistia, clasping her arm around Yeasir’s. “Not a whimper or a tear the whole time.”

As if emerging from a sleep, Yeasir then straightened and handed the child to Heileth.

“I have brought steeds and more supplies,” he said. “I must divert the pursuit further south today, and tonight I will return. Then we can leave before the search begins afresh in the morning.”

Lirian stirred at the back of the cave.

“What of Yrianath?” she asked. “Perhaps you could rescue him also?”

Yeasir shook his head sadly.

“Yrianath is caught in his own folly,” said the commander. “Palthrain and Caenthras watch him every moment. It is you and your son that must be kept safe. Without the true heir their claim to any legitimate rule is weak.”

Yeasir then shared another long embrace with his wife, and as they parted his face betrayed his pain. For a brief moment, Alith thought that Yeasir would not go, and he wondered what it was like to share such love.

His expression full of stern resignation, Yeasir tore his eyes away from his loved ones and left the cave. Alith followed him out.

“There is something I wish to speak to you about,” said Alith.

“Be quick,” said Yeasir.

“I am returning to Nagarythe,” Alith told him. “I cannot go with you to Ellyrion. I must go to my family.”

“Of course,” said Yeasir, his eyes straying for a heartbeat towards the cave. “Keep them safe until tonight, and then you may follow whichever path you need.”

Alith nodded. He watched Yeasir head off through the woods, heading to the west, until the commander had disappeared from sight. He sat down on a rock and began his melancholy watch.

 

Not far from the cave a figure swathed in magical shadow watched Yeasir leaving. He swung into the saddle of his black horse, his raven-feathered cloak swirling behind him. Silently, he steered his steed south, riding swiftly.

 

A sense of foreboding filled Yeasir as he crossed the plaza towards the palace. As he came to the gatehouse, he saw Palthrain standing with a small company of warriors. Yeasir’s heart began to pound. Something was wrong.

“How fares the search?” the chamberlain asked, his manner off-hand.

“No success today,” said Yeasir as he stepped past.

“Perhaps you would have more luck if you did not waste your time visiting secret caves,” said Palthrain.

Yeasir whirled around to confront the chamberlain. A sly smile crossed Palthrain’s lips.

“Did you think you could betray us?” he said.

Yeasir ripped his sword free and lunged before the guards could react. The blade punched through Palthrain’s robes, sliding effortlessly into his gut.

“I’ll see you in Mirai,” hissed Yeasir, dragging his sword from the blood-bubbling wound.

He cut the arm from the first warrior that approached and drove its point through the throat of the second. Yeasir dodged aside from the spear of a third and broke into a run, sprinting through the gateway.

Running to the corral that had been made where the market had once stood, Yeasir jumped onto the back of a horse and urged it into a gallop. Three Naggarothi attempted to bar his path but he rode straight through them, snatching the spear from the grasp of one of them as he passed. With the echo of thundering hooves resounding from the walls, he passed into the tunnel-street that wound down through the mount of Tor Anroc.

There were shouts of alarm from behind Yeasir but he paid them no heed, growling at his mount to run as fast as possible. Elves threw themselves from his path as he raced through the city. His heart was pounding with the hooves of his steed and he was gripped by a breathless panic. Everything in the world seemed to disappear around him. All that existed was the thought of his wife and son.

 

Dusk was settling on the fields of Tiranoc as Yeasir’s headlong rush across the countryside continued. He spared no thought for his steed falling foul, his every intent upon the wooded hills ahead. In the ruddy light Yeasir could see armed figures marching into the woodland.

Steering left, he sought to overtake the warriors. He ducked as he came to the edge of the trees, branches whipping at his face and shoulders. A glance to his right confirmed that several hundred Naggarothi were converging on the cave.

His horse stumbled on a root and Yeasir almost fell. With a ragged gasp, he righted himself and urged the horse onwards. The glint of armour and weapons could be seen in the gloom ahead.

With a last effort, Yeasir forced his mount up the hillside that led to the cave, cries from the warriors around him sounding through the trees.

“Alith!” he shouted as the cave came into view. The young Anar leapt up from where he was sat, his bow suddenly in hand.

Yeasir reined his mount to a skidding stop, sending a cloud of leaves swirling in the air. He swung himself down to the ground and ran for the cave.

“We are undone!” said the commander.

Saphistia and Heileth dashed from the cave. Yeasir waved away the attentions of his wife.

“Take the children and flee!” he rasped. “The enemy are at hand.”

Even as he spoke these words, the first of the Naggarothi could be seen advancing through the woods. They pointed up the hill towards the cave and hastened their attack.

“Flee!” cried Yeasir, grabbing Saphistia and shoving her towards the cave. She fought back, slapping away his arm.

“You are coming with us!” she said, tears streaming down her face.

Yeasir relented for a moment, pulling her close, his arms tight around her. He caught the scent of her hair and felt the warmth of her against his cheek. Then hollowness gripped him, welling up from the pit of his stomach, and he pushed Saphistia away.

“Take Durinithill and go,” he said hoarsely. “Protect our son, and tell him that his father loved him more than anything else in the world.”

Saphistia looked as if she would stay, but Heileth grabbed her arm and dragged her towards the cave. With a wordless cry, Yeasir bounded after them and threw his arms around Saphistia for a last time.

“I love you,” he whispered and then pulled away.

Yeasir looked at the Naggarothi stalking through the woods and his sorrow was burned away by a bright anger. His body was aflame with rage, his hands trembling with the emotion. He had known little peace in his long life.

He thought he had found it, but there were those who would rob him even of this small contentment.

“I will fight beside you,” said Alith.

“No!” Yeasir told him. “You must keep them safe.”

The Naggarothi were barely a hundred paces away. Yeasir could hear the echoes of his wife and companions’ shrill voices from the cave.

“Get them away from here,” he hissed. “There is a darkness claiming Ulthuan. You must fight it.”

Alith hesitated, his eyes flicking between the cave and the closing Naggarothi. With a resigned sigh, he nodded.

“It has been my honour,” said Alith, grasping Yeasir’s shoulder. “I have met no truer son of Nagarythe and I swear that if need be I will give my life to protect your family.”

 

Alith was not sure if his words had been heard, for all of Yeasir’s focus was on the approaching warriors. Alith ran to the cave mouth and turned back. The black-clad Naggarothi were advancing more cautiously, in a line a dozen wide, shields raised and spears lowered.

Yeasir faced the dark mass coming through the trees; sword in his right hand, spear in his left. He appeared relaxed, already accepting of his fate. One might have thought the commander was simply taking in the fresh evening air. Yeasir spared not one glance back, his stare fixed upon those that would slay or enslave his family. Alith had never seen such courage, and though he knew what he must do, he felt a great shame that he was being forced to run.

Yeasir raised the spear defiantly above his head and his voice rang out, the cry of a commander who had bellowed orders over the din of a hundred battles.

“Know who you face, cowards!” he shouted. “I am Yeasir, son of Lanadriath. I am Commander of Nagarythe. I fought at Athel Toralien and the Battle of Silvermere. I marched with Prince Malekith into the north and faced the creatures and daemons of the dark gods. I was the first into Anlec when Morathi was overthrown. Ten times ten thousand foes have felt my wrath! Come and taste the vengeance of my spear and the ire of my sword. Come to me, brave soldiers, and face a true warrior!”

Yeasir lifted up his sword also and his next cry caused the advancing soldiers to halt, sharing fearful glances with each other.

“I am Naggarothi!”

Yeasir broke into a run, heading down the slope at full speed. As he came to the line of shields, he leapt into the air, his spear flashing downwards. With a crash of metal, he plunged into the soldiers. Screams of pain and dread resounded over the hillside as a swathe of warriors fell before the commander’s assault. In moments a dozen bodies littered the ground and the dead leaves were spattered with blood. Yeasir’s sword and spear tip were a silvered whirlwind, cutting down everything within reach.

Then Yeasir was lost from view as the soldiers swarmed forwards and surrounded him.

Alith was choked with despair but his heart burned with pride as he turned into the cave. He followed the others and plunged into the darkness.