The Crow King's Wife (14 page)

“I’d say most of those dots are half-breeds.
If the dragons have been expecting this day to come it’s likely
they have been preparing for it and raising their numbers
accordingly. Our side of the alliance was the ones that were caught
with their pants down. Just take a glimpse at Arovan and you can
see that clearly enough.” Neph said in a resigned voice.

Madren’s gaze shifted to Arovan and his
expression grew more dismal. A year ago Arovan had been one of the
strongest. Their military had been numerous and their land had been
thriving. Now only a few hundred dots remained and they were all
balanced in the north as Elijah prepared to take his southern lands
back with the limited forces he had remaining.

“Glis looks like a ghost land. Is there any
way to get your table to show the Blights?” Madren spoke quietly
and gave Neph a hopeful glance. He was dressed the part of a high
lord today, but it was the confidence he was showing that truly
gave him the look of a leader. Neph was still amazed at the changes
he had seen in Madren during the time he had been in Delvay. Anthe
had taken a broken insecure half-blood, and crafted a young High
Lord. There was a time that Madren would have sat in silence rather
than daring to ask Neph a question, but he seemed calm now, and
just as intent on solving their mutual problems as Neph was.

“The Blights resist magic I don’t think the
table can display them because of that. I could likely attune it to
find them, but I would need some blood from a Blight to do so.”
Neph explained.

“Ok so we go with what we have and try to
learn from this then.” Madren said with grudging acceptance.

Neph studied the table once more and sat down
in the high backed chair he had been ignoring for the past several
minutes. It stood high enough to still give him a clear vantage of
the table, but he felt like a vulture perched upon it staring down
at the bones of Sanctuary. “Arovan will go soon. I’m simply trying
to decide how they will do it. The Stormlord is still a formidable
force for them to deal with, and as far as I know Elijah hasn’t
taken the field in battle yet. They have to be wondering what
surprises he will hold for them. If his General is that devastating
they have to wonder what Elijah himself is capable of.” Neph began
slowly as he watched the fluctuating numbers of dots with narrowed
eyes.

“Valor is the current heir of Arovan. If they
eliminate Elijah and his wife that puts Valor in charge there, and
they know Valor. They know without Jala holding him back that he
can be provoked. Elijah is cool headed, Valor isn’t. Elijah will
let an insult slide, Valor won’t.” Madren observed calmly.

“And Valor would have High Lord Blackwolf
standing beside him like a rabid dog urging him to go for their
throats. There is also the advantage of separating Valor from
Jala’s side. That would weaken Merro.” Neph added with a faint
nod.

“Would Troyelle Hai’dia take orders from his
son without question?” Madren asked with a raised eyebrow. “He
could be the voice of reason that would keep Valor in check if he
did question Valor’s orders.”

“Troyelle would lead a full charge off a
cliff without hesitation if Elijah ordered it, but I’m not sure
what he would do for Valor.” Neph replied slowly. His gaze flicked
from country to country as he gauged the strengths of each. “Jala
would rally to Arovan for Elijah or Valor, so that puts Merro in
the vice as well.”

“Merro is hard pressed to hold what they have
with their numbers so few, and Jala is likely the single person
they want dead more than any other.” Madren shook his head and
settled back into his own chair. “What I don’t understand is why
hasn’t Rivasa moved on us yet? We are sitting ducks before them
with very few options and no allies beyond each other.”

“I’ve put thought into that and I’ve come up
with two answers though I don’t know if either is right. The first
theory is your witches. Your country was cursed for years because
of the measures the witches took when it looked as though they were
going to lose the war. Rivasa may be hesitant to prod them too far
knowing the lengths they will go to. The second theory is they fear
a trap. We are just too obvious of a victim right now, and with
this much temptation there has to be a down side. Perhaps they
think I have a few battalions of Flame Riders hidden in the
cupboard. The Firym are being curiously quiet these days. Normally
when wars are raging they are in the thick of it, but look at the
map. They are all staying home right now.” Neph shrugged and
propped one of his heavy boots on the edge of the table.

“Maybe they are just sick of fighting, and
don’t want to take more losses than they have already. The Final
stand was an embarrassment for Rivasa. What should have been a
clean sweep and an easy victory turned into a total rout.” Madren
offered with a shrug.

“Which is more reason for them to want to
fight right now. They have to regain their pride somewhere and I’m
afraid it’s going to be with us. They will have to move before the
council. I’m certain that Symphony will enforce peace, so that
means within the next month.” Neph objected mildly and let out a
harsh breath. “Or maybe they are puppets and their master hasn’t
given them the order yet. Look at Morcath. There is a scattering of
forces near the border with Firym. Just enough to give the
Flameriders something to watch, but otherwise Morcath is in a
holding position too.”

“So what do we do? It’s either going to be
Arovan or us if we just sit and wait.” Madren sighed and his
expression was one of pure disgust.

“We kick them so hard they are choking on
their own balls.” Neph declared quietly as he scanned the Rivasan
forces once more. Far too many of the Rivasan numbers were near his
border. He had to do something soon or he was going to lose his
lands again, and he wouldn’t get them back if he did. He knew that
with a certainty.

“How?” Madren choked and stared at Neph as if
he had gone mad.

Neph was silent for a long moment as he
contemplated what he was about to suggest. He was already in
trouble for his actions in Arovan, and he could no longer claim
shelter beneath Jala’s banner. If he followed through with the
shell of a plan he was now considering he would have hell to pay
from every other High Lord as well as the current Empress. “The
Forbidden magic is the only way I see to end this in our favor.
Given enough time I could unleash something on them that makes what
happened to Veir seem pleasant.” He said finally in a low voice
that wouldn’t carry beyond the room.

“And suffer twenty levels of hell and likely
be executed by our fellow High lords for it.” Madren argued.

“So I name an heir, send you home, and end
the threat from Rivasa. If I am the only one that can be found
guilty, I am the only one they can punish.” Neph said with a heavy
sigh and looked up from the map to lock eyes with Madren. “If I
take this measure it falls on your shoulders to awaken the heroes
in the crypt below. I haven’t decided if this is the path I will
follow, but for now it’s the only one I see available.”

“Even if you end the Rivasan threat we still
have the dragons to worry about.” Madren pressed.

“Do you think Lady Willameir will truly move
after she witnesses a nation as powerful as Rivasa fall?” Neph
asked dryly.

“Merro likely thought the same thing when
they sent the plague to Veir. They ended up dying from their
actions, don’t let history repeat itself Neph. The forbidden magic
may look like the easiest and best option here, but that kind of
magic comes with a very high price.” Madren cautioned.

“I consider myself priceless, and if I follow
this path it will mean my death. That is the cost of saving Delvay
as well as Goswin if I choose to use my magic.” Neph said softly.
His mind was already formulating what spells would need to be cast
if he was going to stop Rivasa fully. He didn’t have any doubts
that he could eliminate the country, or at least weaken it to the
point well past fighting, but it would take time. The process for
such a large working of magic was tedious and very time consuming.
He would need to decide by morning if he was going to act, they
were already too short on time.

* * *

Noise rose from the dining hall behind him,
and Neph smiled as he carried his plate of food to his own
quarters. The sound of laughter was welcome in his halls, and it
was something he hadn’t thought to hear again for a long while.
Every man and woman in the dining hall behind him had suffered in
the war, but they were moving on, and the sounds behind him were
proof of it. He probably should have stayed behind to dine with
them. If for nothing more than to reassure them that he was one of
them, his self-imposed exile had been a long one, and they were
still grudging with their acceptance of him as their leader. He
knew his absence would be noted because of that, but he had a lot
to think on, and it was best to do it without distractions.

His pace slowed as he neared his chambers and
he stared hard at the carved stone door before shifting his mug of
beer to one arm to push it open. These were his father’s old rooms,
and the sight of that door still awakened a buried feeling of dread
every time he approached it. RenDelvayon was dead, but he still
seemed to haunt Neph at every turn. With an irritated sigh he
shoved the door open, more annoyed with himself than anything else.
It was a stupid childish thing to dread a room, and the sooner he
moved passed his memories the better off Delvay was.

Dim candlelight greeted him as he stepped
into the room, and Neph frowned in response. He had purposefully
avoided the rooms all day, and he knew there had been no candles
burning when he had left that morning. His eyes swept over the
entry hall and froze at the sight of the woman seated against the
wall. His plate of food dropped from nerveless fingers to clatter
on the floor as he stared at her with a bewildered expression. Her
hair was a deep chestnut and artfully styled in loose curls that
framed her heart shaped face. Wide honey brown eyes stared back at
him as his gaze wandered over her silver robes and finally settled
on the gold amulet that dangled around her neck. It was a symbol he
was growing more and more familiar with as the days passed by.
Fortune had never been an Aspect he had favored highly, but it was
rapidly growing apparent that Fortune favored him for some reason.
Swallowing heavily Neph tried to pull his mind back in order as his
gaze rose from the woman to the painting that hung on the wall just
behind her. It was the only image of her remaining in Delvay, and
one of the few of his father’s possessions that he had chosen to
keep aside from the furniture and books that adorned the room.

“Hello Mother.” Neph said after a silence
that had seemed to stretch eternity. His voice was rough and barely
loud enough to be heard, but he was certain he had kept most of his
emotions from his voice. He still wasn’t sure which emotion was
going to win the day. Anger and elation were locked in a bitter
struggle for control of his scattered mind, but shock was ruling
for the time being.

“Neph.” She returned the greeting and he
could hear her own distress in the word. She hadn’t guarded her
voice as carefully as he had, and he could read the desperation
clearly. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she wanted to
come to him, that she wanted him to weep or show joy or give her
some sign that she would understand.

It was apparent by that expression on her
face that she had been gone from the halls of Delvay too long. She
had completely forgotten what it was to be Delvayon.
I suppose
it’s my duty to remind her
Neph mused. He squared his shoulders
and glanced down at the broken plate by his feet. With a sweep of
his hand he dismissed the mess with magic. Silently he closed the
door behind him as the last pieces of his mind settled into place.
Shock was banished without a second thought replaced by carefully
honed coldness. Anger and elation could wait. For now he needed
practicality without emotional attachment. His mother hadn’t simply
materialized out of nowhere to ease his mind, she wanted something,
and he had to keep his mind rational until he found out what it
was. He couldn’t allow himself to be ruled by emotions right now,
Delvay depended on him to be solid no matter what surprises were
thrown at him.

She faltered at his stern expression and
seemed to wilt back into her chair. With a glance down to the floor
she folded her hands in her lap and summoned a weak smile. “I
should have known to expect this reaction, and it’s far kinder than
I deserve. Thank you for controlling your anger Neph.” Her voice
was low and held a tremor as she spoke, but she hastily cleared her
throat in an attempt to banish her nerves.

“I’m holding it for now. I won’t make
promises that I’ll keep it in check. That decision is based solely
on whatever you are here for.” Neph explained firmly before taking
a deep pull from his beer. Fortunately he hadn’t dropped it as he
had his food. At the present beer was far more welcome than dinner.
He doubted he could keep food down with his stomach as tied in
knots as it was now. “So tell me Mother. What are you here for?” he
asked coldly as he crossed the room to his small table and sat the
mug down.

With calmness that he didn’t feel he settled
into one of the high backed wooden chairs that he hated so much.
Nothing in Delvay was designed for comfort, and these chairs were
the perfect example. Sturdy, well-constructed, and brutally painful
to tolerate for extended periods of time; they were a perfect
reflection of the people that crafted them.

“Several things have brought me here.” She
began cautiously and her hands fidgeted in her lap once more. She
glanced up at him with searching eyes and sighed heavily. “The
foremost reason was simply to see you.” She said in a voice so soft
it was as if she was afraid to speak the words.