Samual (43 page)

No doubt there would be a celebration then. When the priests would be out in force. They were already everywhere anyway. It was another of the differences between the realm of Fair Fields and Shavarra. Everything in Shavarra had to be blessed in the name of the Goddess. The very tree Sam had just finished working on had been blessed before he had begun working on it. It would be blessed again shortly before the artisans began building. And then it would be blessed for the third time when it was finally ready for people.

“Elder! Fire Angel! The Council asks to see you.”

The call came from the ground and Sam looked down to see one of the Council guards calling out to him and Master Bela. The two looked at each other wordlessly. They didn't need to ask to know what was so important that his training should be interrupted. They knew. Somewhere, the enemy had struck again. They'd been waiting for the news for so long.

Like a well-trained team they staggered to their feet, not an easy thing for Sam who had been sitting for several hours on the tip of a branch in full armour, and made their way toward the trunk where a set of wide spiral stairs had already been installed, complete with a rope hand rail.

For a man raised among the human cities the trip was a strange one at best, and somewhat frightening. To be walking along a wide flat branch forty or fifty feet in the air with no hand rail was more than a little disturbing. The more so when he watched all the elves literally running and jumping along the other branches, even swinging from ropes like acrobats. But he was slowly adjusting, his elven blood granting him a much better sense of balance than he'd ever realised he had. He missed the solid stone walls of the keep more than he could say. He missed solid floors and hand rails too. But the elves would soon have this tree converted into a dozen homes, several shops and storehouses and an inn according to the plan, complete with solid wooden platforms and proper timber hand rails. He just had to survive until then. Of course by the time that happened he'd be working on other trees.

The work came with its compensations though, as he daily saw sights he'd never imagined possible. On the last tree he'd finished working on, he could see one of the wind wizards at work, and not for the first time he envied them their magic. To be able to fly, or at least to be able to raise yourself on a spinning column of air – it was surely a miracle. And a very useful one as the wind mages were used to lift the vast piles of lumber and rope into position for the builders to work with. Without them the elves would have had to carry the materials up the stairs by hand, and that would have slowed them down considerably.

Several of the nature mages too were able to fly, but for them it was simply because they could transform themselves into giant birds, eagles and hawks with truly terrifying wingspans and the ability to speak. They were also much in demand, carrying small items such as ropes between trees. Sometimes they also acted as scouts flying out over the land, just in case the enemy did come back.

Already more than thirteen dozen great trees had been finished and at least as many were in their final stages, while four thousand or more elves were settled into their new homes. They were mainly the families with the youngest children, although Sam and the elders had all been offered homes from the first batch. They had all refused saying that the homes should go to the most needy first, and that the children needed to be properly housed and have a school to attend. Though in truth the children didn't mind the hardship. Nor he suspected, the lack of a school.

For them this had all become one great adventure, and this was simply its latest stage. As the healers kept reminding them, children were tougher than they seemed. Moving them into their new homes had been and still was a joyous duty as the children explored their new home as only children could; getting into trouble and causing much mischief and consternation to their parents. But nobody begrudged them their fun. The sound of children's laughter was probably the greatest blessing the elves had known since arriving in this new land. It had been a long time missing, and now they heard it daily.

Reaching the ground they found their horses waiting for them. They too were enjoying their new home, and were putting on weight as they grazed the lush pastures, and enjoyed the freedom of not being ridden night and day. Yet they were loyal – more so than Sam would have ever realised until he'd started practising with his nature magic – and they immediately came to them. In fact they were so loyal that it never occurred to them to disobey. Obedience, work and the simple companionship of people were part of their lives. It was all part of being a member of a herd.

It wasn't far to the Council. Nor were there yet any street corners or obstacles between them as there would be in a city. No walkways to take. Though the builders and artisans were numerous and the work was progressing at an incredible pace, little of the new city had yet been built. So they were at their destination in only a few minutes, ready to hear the news.

As usual the elders were standing around on the grass underneath what they one day hoped would become the Fiore Elle – the Gathering People or the new Council chambers. But that day would be a very long way off. First came the homes and the schools. Then the businesses and common areas. And at some point all the finishing work had to be done. The netting under the walkways. The rope restraints around them and the platforms. The polishing and sanding. Building the Council chambers wouldn't even begin until then. It simply wasn't a priority. Until then the elders had to be happy meeting out in the open.

For the moment what the elders had was grass, a few wagons, some long fallen trees to sit on, and time. Endless time. Time enough to hear petitions, settle disputes, and receive visitors. It was the last that they were doing as the two of them approached.

A party of soldiers in armour had arrived, most of them still mounted on their horses while their leader spoke to the elders. A shorter man who had his back to Sam as he rode up. But strangely he cut a somewhat familiar figure in his ermine court robes. A disturbing one. Even as he rode toward them Sam knew there was something wrong. He felt it like a chill wind across his back. And he didn't like the fact that Ryshal and her parents were standing to one side of the group, presumably having also been summoned by the elders. But what he most disliked was the look on Ry's face. Her face was filled with horror. And the priests who were always in attendance, hid their horror better – but he could see it in their eyes.

Then the man turned as he heard them approach and all of Sam's worst fears were proven correct.

“By the All Father!” Though it was improper here, the words were ripped out of Sam's mouth as he saw who was waiting for them.

“Heri!” Sam was shocked to see his half-brother standing there in what would eventually become the Fiore Elle. More than shocked. It was something that simply shouldn't have happened. Something as nasty as his half-brother should never be allowed in a town full of good people. But more than that he was worried. The calculating smile on his Heri's face was almost an admission of guilt. Except that he knew nothing of such emotions. Where others might know shame or guilt for what they'd done, Heri would know only joy and victory.

He had soldiers with him too. A dozen mounted knights dressed from head to foot in full plate, far too heavy to be useful against elves with longbows and steel headed arrows that could pierce the steel. It would just slow them down. But he supposed they looked quite intimidating in their armour, though it had to be uncomfortably hot with their visors down. Maybe that was what he wanted. Heri was often more concerned with looking the part of the king then actually being him, in his opinion. Like his mother before him.

“Brother.”

If anything Heri's cold smile grew broader, and Sam felt more threatened.

“Why are you here? What have you done?”

“Me big brother?” Heri smiled with all the warmth of a venomous serpent about to strike. “What have I done? When it was you who destroyed my keep, and then took my throne and my hand? I think the question should be the other way around.” He sounded like a courtier, his words far too smooth and well practised for most.

Sam knew it was a trap of some sort – that evil smirk on his brother's face proudly proclaimed it as such – but he couldn't work out how it would spring shut on him. And until he did show his teeth, Sam knew he couldn't strike him down. The elders would be upset if he did. He had to let Heri speak to find out instead of just striking him down on the spot as he deserved.

“I didn't destroy the keep, only knocked down a few walls.” Sam had to defend himself, until the other part of what he'd said suddenly hit him. “Did you say you've lost your throne?”

If he had why was he dressed as a king? Why was he attended to by these knights in full armour? Why did he have advisers in their formal court robes with him? Why was he meeting with the elders at all? And why was he even alive? In Fair Fields the loss of a throne was normally associated with death. The king either died, leaving the throne available to his successor, or someone took it and killed the king. It was a simple, somewhat bloody and barbaric system. But what else could you expect in a land where the noble houses were constantly at war with one another?

“As you well know. Tell me brother, do these good elves know of your crimes?”

“What crimes?”

Even as he said it Sam knew he was falling straight into Heri's trap. He had expected his response. And all the time he was wondering how Heri had lost his throne, and why he thought it was his fault.

“Murder, of my soldiers and subjects. The destruction of Fall Keep, levelled by your fire magic, killing who knows how many. Insurrection and treason, as you overthrew your rightful king. The list of your crimes is endless.”

“I have done none of those things.” He had to deny it, and of course Heri knew that. He'd planned on it.

“The guilty always deny their deeds.” Heri abruptly looked up and started speaking to all those around him. “But the truth always finds a way to be heard.”

“Behold, my witnesses.” With a flourish he waved at his soldiers, and they bowed to him, rather too easily for Sam's liking. There was something wrong with them, something in the way they moved he thought. But they were still just soldiers, and Heri was the one on the ground closest to him. He had a dagger in his belt and in all likelihood murder in his heart.

“I'm sure they will say whatever lies you have told them to say, and no elven court will count their words any more truthful than those from your lying tongue. So why have you come for me little brother? Did you doubt my word when I said what I would do to you if you ever bothered me again?” And the one thing Sam was certain of was that he'd heard him.

Heri should be frightened. But he wasn't. In fact if anything he looked like a man who thought he was winning. And while Sam couldn't see how he could possibly think to defeat him, that troubled him. Fortunately more and more soldiers were taking up positions around the clearing, just in case. No doubt they too understood there was some sort of threat.

“I did not come for you brother.”

That caught Sam completely by surprise and for a moment he didn't quite know what to say.

“Is that what you really think? That I would hate you so greatly that I would risk my own life to have you condemned for the traitorous piece of spit that you are.” Heri continued, his face a mask of sorrow that everyone could see was false.

“No. You are a criminal, but all the heavens know you are beyond the reach of my law to judge. Here in this elven land, my word as a mere king carries no weight. But the word of the faithful still does, and as evil as you are, there is one more who must be judged first. She who made you do these terrible things. Ryshal Hanor.”

There was a gasp, and it took Sam a moment to realise it was his. And then his anger cut loose.

“How dare you –.”

“– How dare I? How dare I brother?” Heri pretended outrage as he spoke over the top of him. But there was a smirk in his eyes and Sam knew that he was closing his trap.

“I suppose that you do not know that she has consorted with demons! I suppose you do not know that she is a summoner! I suppose you do not know that she was kept under lock and key because of her evil! Kept alive only because of my concern for your heart should she die!”

It was insane, vile and utterly mad, and yet as a story it made sense, in a most twisted fashion. His brother knew how to weave the facts into a convincing lie. He always had.