Dawn of Swords

CHAPTER 15

“So is it everything you hoped it would be?” asked Kindren.

Aullienna nodded, her heart skipping a beat as she stared at the massive cavern before her. It was a breathtaking sight, both beautiful and macabre.

Hundreds of jeweled sarcophagi filled the cavern, surrounded by caches of gold, silver, and bronze. Each sarcophagus was covered in images depicting the owner buried within; some of the art was skillfully rendered; some less so. The burial boxes were arranged in groups according to family, and in the center of each assemblage was a giant statue of stone.

“These are so old,” Aully said.

“They are,” her betrothed answered.

“But why didn’t they build the crypts in the old lands? Why here?”

He laughed. “Because the first generation of elves decided that the land above the crypts should be unsettled, that it would be an insult to live right on top of them. So they chose a swath of forest just outside Kal’droth and dug beneath the earth. But when Celestia changed the world, this is where my father decided we would live. Hence, Dezerea.”

“You don’t seem so upset by that.”

“I never saw Kal’droth. I’m happy here. There’s so much beauty up above, and down here there’s so much to learn.”

“Like what?”

“Do you see those statues?” Kindren asked her, pointing.

Aullienna nodded. They were frightening-stone faces forever expressionless, their khandars, staffs, and bows looking ready to strike dead anyone who dared enter this sacred place. Somewhere down here would be her own legacy, she knew, her own family heritage. She thought about asking him to take her there, but she decided there would be plenty of time later. Dezerea was her new home. Time for her was a plentiful commodity.

“Those statues represent the founders of each particular family,” Kindren said. “They stand vigil over the remains of their children, grandchildren, and so on.”

Aullienna was overwhelmed by the sheer number of sarcophagi and statues, and all the more so because according to Kindren, the crypt before her was just one of hundreds beneath Dezerea.

“It would take a thousand trips to see them all,” Aullienna murmured as she slowly made her way through the statues, taking in the various names and images.

“Two hundred and seventeen actually,” Kindren replied, and he smiled at her when she narrowed her eyes at him. “Trust me. I’ve seen every single one. And you will too, if you wish.”

She gazed up at Kindren with adoration. The last few weeks had been without a doubt the best of her short life, though they hadn’t been without their own special sort of irritation. After breakfast with Noni, her nursemaid, her mornings were spent with the Thyne handmaidens, doing everything from trying on clothing and learning the intricacies of court etiquette, to mind-numbing studies that included learning the names and physical attributes of all the elves in the courts of both Dezerea and Quellassar. Why she had to know that a two-hundred-and-twelve-year-old lesser minister named Q’leetho Coresan had a nose bent slightly to the left was beyond her. Yet she suffered through the lessons, dutifully listening as the handmaidens laid open dusty book after dusty book, because she knew lunchtime came next, when she would be awarded with smoked bacon sandwiches and delectable plum pies, washing it all down with the tastiest lemon sour she’d ever drunk.

Of course, lunchtime also meant she was only a single short hour away from spending the rest of her day with her betrothed. Ever since the tournament, the two youths had become inseparable. Aullienna was enthralled by Kindren’s sense of humor and chivalry-never was there a puddle he wouldn’t carry her across, a time she slipped when he didn’t catch her before she fell. Of course, Kindren would always poke fun at her for it afterward, telling her if she watched the ground as carefully as she did him, she’d stumble less. They were always wandering about the streets of Dezerea, exploring the palace grounds and the tree huts of the surrounding forest. They chatted with anyone who was willing to give them the time of day, and it seemed as though much of the city was taken with them.

Some of the Dezren began calling them The Common Royalty, a nickname Aullienna, who came from Stonewood, where people were on equal footing regardless of their station, much appreciated.

Aullienna and her parents were staying in the East Garrison, an elegant structure that looked like a miniature version of Palace Thyne. Aully’s window overlooked the forest and the hilltops bordering the Rigon River, and on many a morning she sat at that window in rapt attention, watching as the sun slowly rose over the rounded, grassy peaks. The consulate from Quellassar was also staying in the East Garrison, which meant she spent several hours in the same space as Ceredon Sinistel. They often passed each other in the Garrison’s jade halls, and over the span of a few days they had taken to conversing lightly. Despite the irritability and general unfriendliness Ceredon had displayed on the day of the tournament, Aully began to see a different side of him. Although he was a bit uptight and full of himself, he seemed to mean well. As they began to warm to each other, she decided that his heart rang nearly as true as Kindren’s. Aully excused his previous behavior as that of an uncertain son who felt pressure to live up to his demanding father’s reputation. Besides, he was beautiful, his features as flawless as the rest of his family’s, which made him agreeable to look upon.

The sound of something rapping on hollow metal wrested her from her daydream. Kindren gazed at her with excitement in his eyes, the tips of his fingers brushing the bare portion of her upper arm, and Aullienna’s insides melted.

“Aully, look at this,” he said, pointing to a giant, round brass shield that stood as tall as she did. The words Ambar e Fuin were engraved on it, The Fate of Darkness. Aully felt another of Kindren’s stories coming on, and she leaned her elbows on the pedestal nearest her, cradling her chin in her palms. “This shield belonged to Jimel Horlyne,” he said, “the honorable warrior who, legend has it, fought the demon kings that laid siege to Kal’droth a thousand years ago. He was the tallest elf ever born, towering over his brothers and sisters by at least a head. That’s him right there.”

Kindren pointed up and Aully followed his finger, gasping in horror at the behemoth that seemed to be bursting out of the cavern roof. Its enormous head contained a mouth that was opened in an eternal scream, bellowing down at her in pained silence. Unlike the rest of the statuary, this one was just a face and a sword arm. That face was appalling, cheeks lined with creases, nose withered away, teeth chipped and broken. It was beyond her why anyone had decided to embed the partial statue up there, nestled among the stalactites.

As if sensing her question, Kindren said, “According to the tombs, Jimel is the elf who banished Sluggoth the Slithering Famine from this world. During a great battle, he allowed himself to be swallowed by the beast, which stood a hundred feet high. He slowly hacked away at the demons inside with his sword, slicing through its underbelly. He slayed it so that Celestia could banish its poisonous presence from the realm.” Kindren’s expression appeared reflective, almost sad. “The statue reflects the last any saw of him: Jimel, the great warrior, appearing through a rain of blood and entrails, sword leading, his face shriveled, his body rife with infection. He made the ultimate sacrifice for his people so that many more could live.”

“You respect him.”

Kindren bowed. “I more than respect him, Aully. Of all the stories, his is the greatest. When I was younger I dreamed of being him, of giving my own life to protect my sisters and parents. Then it would be me memorialized like Jimel up there-it would be me about whom the stories are told.”

“When you were younger,” Aully snickered. “As if you are old now. But why would you want to be him? That’s stupid.”

Kindren looked over at her suddenly, seemingly shocked by her words. “It is? But why?”

She pointed at the carved figure. “Because he probably had a wife and children, and when he was gone, they were left alone. But you’re alive, and you’re mine. You’d do me no good as a stone statue, Kindren, remembered in fairy tales. I want you by my side, now and forever.”

“But the glory.…”

“Glory? There hasn’t been a war in this land for centuries. All we have are fancy stories, and it’s one thing to play pretend, swinging a branch like it’s a sword. ‘In the mind there are heroes,’ my father once told me. ‘But in the world there is only life and the struggle to keep it.’ Those might be simple words, but they’re true. I’m beginning to like you a lot, Kindren. The last thing I would want is for you to run off and play champion while I’m at home with young babes. It wouldn’t be fair.”

She crossed her arms and huffed.

“And if you did, the least you could do is bring me with you,” she added.

Kindren laughed.

“What’s so funny?” asked Aully, squinting.

“You’re only twelve, huh?” he said.

“Yeah. What of it?”

“Only that you speak with more wisdom than those twenty times your age. You truly are an extraordinary girl.”

Aully felt her cheeks flush. “Thank you,” she replied.

“I mean it. You’re wonderful.”

She slipped her elbows off the podium and snaked her hand through the crook of his arm. “So are you,” she said. “But I’m serious. If something bad happens, we fight together. Understood?”

“Understood,” laughed Kindren.

They continued their exploration, wandering through cavern after cavern. Aully marveled at the craftsmanship of the sarcophagi and the untold riches that had been buried with the deceased. In a couple of the chambers torches still burned, remnants of the last mourners to visit their particular ancestral burial nooks, but mostly they had only Kindren’s oil-soaked bundle of twig and twine to light the way. Kindren told her the crypts were rarely visited any more. Given the lifespan of elves, he said, many regarded death as the last stopover on the way to returning to Celestia’s bosom. With the great length of their lives, the end, by the time it came, was greeted openly by both the dying and those left behind. The only tombs called on with any sort of regularity were those containing the unfortunate who had been taken before their time or those of the great heroes of old.

Aully didn’t really understand that line of thinking, as the thought of losing her own parents, who themselves had lived long lives, paralyzed her with fear, but she kept her objections to herself.

As the floor sloped further downward, there came a constant plink-plink of dripping water. Though the passageways grew narrower and more claustrophobic, the chambers they opened up into became grander and grander in terms of both size and the amount of treasure they contained. Here they found no lit torches, no signs of visitation.

“The ghosts of the dead murmur here,” Kindren whispered softly, yet down here his voice still carried. “These caverns have been here since time immemorial. The deeper we go, the older the crypts. We’ll soon come on the most ancient of the burial sites, those of the earliest elves, Celestia’s first creations, before the dawn of language. The spirits are restless in these chambers, so far away from the light of their creator, and if you hold your breath and listen, you’ll hear them lamenting their loss.”

Kindren said that last bit with a sly smile on his face. Aullienna knew he was only trying to scare her, but she felt an ethereal chill that had nothing to do with the moisture or coldness of the deeper tunnels.

They stayed silent after that, the only sounds the sloshing of their footsteps over the damp stone floor, the crackle of the torch, and their own repetitive breathing. Aully gazed up at the stone figures and sarcophagi surrounding her, which were much more crudely constructed than those they had passed earlier. The faces were barely recognizable as elven, and the figures’ poses were twisted by the artists’ misunderstanding of body structure. Here there were no jewels or gold, no treasure of any sort save for piles of domestic items-cups, bowls, utensils-all primitive and carved from wood. She thought of Noni’s words when the nursemaid told her of the age of her people. Elves had existed for a little over two thousand years. Aully did the math in her head. Given their average lifespan and slower rate of reproduction, that meant they were in the fifteenth generation, twentieth at most. All considered, elves weren’t all that much older than humans as a species. The thought made her head spin.

“This world is so young,” she whispered. “I’m a babe in a land of babes.”

“What?” asked Kindren.

“Nothing.”

The path continued onward. Kindren had led her in a straight line, bypassing many side chambers. Finally they reached the end of the line, a sparsely filled hollow devoid of any carvings or even caskets. Here the corpses were laid out on the ground side by side, their moldy bones green with fungal growth. The light of Kindren’s torch illuminated a hundred lifeless, empty eye sockets staring at the darkened ceiling.

Aully shuddered in the middle of them all. She knelt down and scooped up a stone from the damp ground. It was glossy and black, polished by time and sediment. She flipped it between her fingers, feeling the stone’s perfect smoothness. She uttered a silent prayer to Celestia, infusing the stone with her words of love, before placing it down as tribute on the breastbone of a small pile of skeletal remains. Kindren remained silent behind her, but she felt his curious gaze. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back.

And then, just barely over the trickle of distant water, she heard the whispers.

“It’s them!” she exclaimed, keeping her voice as low as she could. “They’ve awoken!”

Kindren’s mouth twisted into a half-frown. He stared back at her, one eyebrow raised and his nostrils flaring. Under different circumstances, Aully might have found the expression adorable.

“They?” he asked.

“Listen,” said Aully. She stood and placed a hand on his arm, hoping his touch would help keep her calm. “You can hear them.”

Kindren closed his eyes and held his breath. His pointed ears twitched ever so slightly as he struggled to hear what she did. Eventually his eyes snapped open, and that funny-looking frown reversed.

“That’s not the ghosts,” he said, grinning now. He was careful to keep his voice pitched low. “There are others here with us. They’ve probably been down here the whole time.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I recognize that voice.”

He grabbed her hand and began to pull her along behind him.

“What are you doing?” Aully protested.

“Come on now,” he said, his grin mischievous. “Whoever they are, they scared my betrothed. It only seems fair for us to put a bit of that same fright in them.’

That grin won her over. This was something Brienna would do. And if Brienna would do it, so would she.

They tiptoed through the inner sanctums until they caught sight of a gentle glow emanating from a passage on the right. Kindren led her toward it, snuffing out his torch once they reached the entrance. They passed through the adjacent tunnel cautiously, their footfalls soundless-a remarkable feat given the exhilaration that made Aully’s entire body shiver.

When the chamber opened up before them, they found themselves enshrouded by darkness save for the faintly glowing light at the far end of the hollow. Kindren steered a narrow path through the stacks of caskets, moving slowly, not wanting to spoil their surprise by tripping over some unseen artifact or toppling over a burial mound. Aullienna followed, doing everything she could to not give away Kindren’s game.

The voices grew louder and the light clearer, until Aullienna could plainly make out four male figures standing around a single, elegantly carved sarcophagus. One held a burning torch that illuminated their faces as they spoke. Two of them she identified right away. One was Joseph Crestwell, the human; the other was Conall Sinistel, Neyvar Ruven’s cousin, who had won the fencing competition at the tournament. The other two she vaguely recognized, but judging from how similar to Conall they appeared, with straight hair the color of darkened wheat and slender, haughty facial features, she guessed that they were more relations of the Sinistel family tree.

Aully turned to Kindren and opened her mouth, but her betrothed shushed her with a finger to the lips. “Not yet,” he mouthed, his lips moving darkly.

They inched in closer, and finally Aully could make out the words that were being spoken. The tones all four used were hushed and secretive, and she noticed their hardened expressions, their eyes scanning to and fro as if they were suspicious of who might be about. From the fear in her heart, and Kindren’s tense posture, she knew they no longer had any intention of scaring these four, and she feared the reason why they crept closer by silent agreement, listening, watching.

“Enough, Aeson,” Conall said. “There’s no one there.”

“I thought I heard something,” the elf named Aeson said.

“It’s just your mind playing tricks,” said the other, whose name she didn’t know. “These catacombs have that effect on you.”

“I don’t know, I thought I heard something too,” said Joseph, glancing behind him.

“Ignore it,” demanded Conall, looking annoyed.

“Yes,” said the unknown elf. “Let us get back to business. I don’t like being down here any longer than necessary.”

“Of course you don’t, Iolas,” said Aeson. “Do you have anything to add?”

Iolas jabbed his fists into his hips and glared at the human Crestwell.

“We want assurances,” he said. “Our cousin the Neyvar is not one to follow blindly.”

“What sort of assurances are you looking for?” asked Crestwell.

“The land we’ll receive for our assistance. We want it named now.”

Crestwell shook his head. “I am sorry, friend, but that’s not possible.”

“Why?”

“We don’t know which lands will be livable come the end. What happens if we promised you, say, the hill country around Lake Cor, and yet that area is razed of all living things?”

Conall shook his head. “These details don’t matter. Who cares for the razing of the land? A simple sacred word and a sprinkling of seed is all that’s required to fertilize the soil. We are not slaves to nature as you are.”

Joseph Crestwell cocked his head and eyed the elf with skepticism. “It is not nature that worries me. Your old home…if that is all it would take to heal it, why haven’t you done so?”

Conall crossed his arms and looked away.

“You know why.”

“Exactly. We play in the lands of gods, and nothing can be certain. It was the power of a god, your goddess, as a matter of fact, that made your home uninhabitable, and now we risk squabbling between two more gods. Karak is righteous, but his brother is not, and I fear the damage he may bring upon our lands.”

“Well,” said Iolas, “we would still like a specific land named. If that area is devastated, you can simply name another one later.”

Joseph sighed. “You people need to understand that this is not going to happen. You are arguing with the word of a god here. If Karak promises that you will be rewarded, you will be rewarded. To think he could lie is blasphemy.”

“He is not our god,” Aeson said. “And I do not hear these words from his mouth, but a human’s.”

“I speak for Karak.”

“So you say,” muttered Conall. “A human’s word. A liar’s word.”

Iolas stepped between them, his hands spread in entreaty. “There is no need for fighting,” he said. He turned to Joseph. “As the eldest present, I promise you our cooperation.”

“I would prefer if the Neyvar were here to confirm this,” Joseph said.

“And my cousins of the Triad wish Karak was here to confirm your promises,” replied Iolas.

“So are we agreed then?” asked Conall, voice tinged with defeat.

The human reached out and shook his hand. “We are.”

“Very well,” said Iolas. “We will inform the Neyvar that we are moving forward. Shen and the Ekreissar will sail across the river a fortnight from now and guard the Rigon passage from then on. We will use Thyne ships to prevent flight into the west or the delta. Fear not.”

“But you haven’t answered my greatest concern,” said Joseph Crestwell.

“Which was?”

“Will Lord and Lady Thyne agree to this?”

In answer to that question, Conall smiled menacingly, the sight of which sent a shiver up Aully’s spine.

“They will,” he said. “The Dezren are a languid race, too agreeable for their own good, and they have been since their first creation. They’ll agree to the terms we give them, and if they don’t, the days ahead will not bode well for their future generations. If there is one thing cousin Ruven is not, it is indecisive. The Thynes know this. They’ll obey.”

“There is one further condition.”

Conall frowned. “What is that?”

“No matter how you plan to execute your plan, I have been told to instruct you that the delegation from Stonewood shall remain untouched. No member of the Meln contingent is to be harmed.”

“Consider it done,” answered Iolas, cutting off his cousin. “That can be arranged.”

“Very well then,” said the human, offering a bow. “I must return to Veldaren to inform the Highest that our strategy is in place. My only other concern is the giant Gorgoros and his people. My father says they are the largest threat to our victory. They cannot be allowed to interfere as events unfold.”

“Fear not,” said Iolas. “We have reached out to the Dezren in Stonewood who are sympathetic to our cause. I am certain they will deal with Bardiya swiftly and brutally.”

“Excellent. And if I may speak frankly, let it be said that my respect for your race only grows. It is unfortunate that your goddess destroyed your lands. I understand your decision, but I wish that you had been the wardens for our young race rather than the ones we received. If that is any consolation at all.”

With that, Joseph reached out, lit a small torch from the larger one, and turned on his heel. He marched out of the chamber, passing within a few short feet of Aully and Kindren. The youths scurried behind a leaning sarcophagus to stay out of sight of the elves, who had much stronger eyesight. Some grumbling between the three elves came next, and then they too exited the chamber, carrying the burning torch with them and leaving the two youngsters trembling in complete darkness.

It took more than a few minutes for Aullienna to gather her courage. She slid across the wet ground and touched Kindren’s thigh. He was breathing heavily and lightly sobbing.

“They’re gone, I think,” she said.

Kindren muttered an unintelligible response. She heard him rummaging about behind him, and then he spoke a few words of magic. A sudden flare of brightness blinded her. She held her hand in front of her face until her vision adjusted to the newfound light, and then peered through her fingers into Kindren’s mournful face. He seemed to have aged a hundred years in the short time they had listened to the four conspirators. The heavy bags under his eyes drooped, and the corners of his mouth were set in a frown. He didn’t say a word, only stared at her.

“What were they talking about?” Aully asked, nudging him with her knee.

“I don’t know,” her betrothed replied, his voice shaking. “I’ve heard Conall poking fun at Father when he visits the palace…and Father just sits and takes it. I never knew why, but now…now.…”

“Now what?”

“He has no respect for us,” he replied, sounding defeated.

“And he threatened your life,” Aully said. “What’s going on? I mean, what kind of help are they giving the humans? Why would anyone harm my family? What’s going on between the brother gods? Why are the Ekreissar coming here?”

“I don’t know,” whispered Kindren. “I don’t know at all.”

Seeing the boy she had grown so close to crumbling before her caused Aully’s dread to subside. A sort of infantile fury followed in its wake, a sensation she had never felt before. She wished she were a male, wished she were tall and mighty like Jimel Horlyne. Then she could hunt down the Quellans and pound the deceit out of them. For the first time, she began to understand a tiny bit of Kindren’s curiosity about heroism, for she felt it too.

Yet she didn’t want to do this without her future husband by her side.

“Come,” she said, tugging on Kindren’s shirt and breaking him from his despondency. “We have to leave-now. We can flee to Stonewood and never come back. We’ll be safe there, I promise.”

Kindren stood, then shook the fear from his body with a mighty shudder before turning to look at her. The face that gazed back at her was that of young Kindren Thyne again, only a queer sort of despair lurked just behind his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“No, we can’t just run away,” he said. “I need to go to my parents. They have to know what’s happening. They’re good, Aully. They would never allow anyone to be hurt, not knowingly.”

Aullienna bit her lip. “Can I stay by your side?”

Kindren grabbed her hand and together they weaved their way out of the chamber and back into the main passage, through the Crypts of Dezerea.

“Always, Aullienna,” he said. “From life until death, we will be together. This I promise you with all my heart.”

Aully clutched his hand tightly as the dreadfulness of what she’d heard in the crypt sunk in. From life until death. She believed him. Every word. She only wished she could know the length of such a life, know it would end with happiness and joy instead of the hints of war whispered about by men in crypts.