Dawn of Swords (31 page)

“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.”