Chapter Text
Eluas's Nightmare
Sidonie
Part One- Pursuits
Part Two- Phaing
Part Three- Merrin
Part Four- Reckoning
Never waste time,
Never take anyone for granted
Never leave something important unsaid…. you will never know it when you are speaking to someone for the last time.
Call me Sidonie, why should you be any different from everyone else in this story?
It makes me smile now, to imagine your reaction to my words, how at-odds they must be with my reputation. I myself would have been surprised to begin a story in such a fashion… had the story described here never occurred.
I had never thought that the telling of it would fall to me, yet Imriel and his foster-parents all decided that it would be best if I did. They agreed that my point of view was the one best able to describe all these events, our struggles within them, and of course the end results. Central, is how Phe’dre summed it up. Looking back, I enjoy the notion that I was not peripheral to the great doings of what you will call the Heroes of the Realm, on this occasion.
Yet, at the time, it was quite something else.
I make no apology for lacking Phedre’s brilliant insights or Imriel’s flare for self-depreciating witticisms, or the startling attention to detail they both possess. I am the Dauphine Sidonie de la’ Courcel, the first of my name in an unbroken line of succession stretching back centuries, and I have been privileged to have seen what a tiny thing all of that is in the great schemes of the Gods. So, I tell you now, that I am simply doing the best I can with what I have.
And you know, I’m still smiling when I think of you, dear reader.
You children of my children are reading this because the century of Peace and Promise, bought by our new friends at such cost, is coming to an end. As you unseal these tomes, know that there will be a time coming again for Heroes, they will be needed if our history is any guide. This tale begins in a red marbled Hall in a foreign court where we had taken up a brief residence, with the reading of what had been taken to be just another bit of routine correspondence between heads of state…
Part I;
Pursuits
A late wedding present to the Sun Princess and the Prince of tall trees.
“With all the fondest hopes that this finds you all well and happy, whole and at peace, it is my joy to inform you that Carthage has been liquidated.
Given your well-known proclivities, I will demand that you not blame yourselves, that would be intolerable to us. In this case, you D'Angelines have been simply too good for your own good, and so it fell to the rest of the world to take out the trash, as it were.
The threat of Carthage doing what they did to you again, to some other victim, was simply too great to ignore. And, as things developed, it was more than a threat. What has come to pass was in fact, inevitable. Rest assured, they are the ones to blame for their fate.
The instigator of your recent misfortunes, who’s name I will not utter even in print, had a few last words in Aragonia that did a thorough job of dishonoring himself. Even in Carthage it was realized that there was not, and never had been, anything Noble about him. He was a thug at heart, a jumped-up street punk with pretensions of empire. His clan was annihilated, for the affront of putting him forward as Princeps… and this triggered an internal struggle for power which coincided nicely with the arrival of the Army of Mercenaries that I had raised. Adventurous folk from the Chowat (as you call it), Skaldians, Illyrian Pirates, a few Caerdicci, and even an Expeditionary Corps from Mnekhet joined in, near 10,000 blades in all. As things turned out, it was more than enough.
I proudly report to you that the Carthaginian Language no longer exists in written form. Even the hardest stone has its limits. As far as it known, no literate native speakers exist either. The threat of that dire spell ever being repeated has been buried for all time.
We were very thorough. The Dragon must be appeased, after all.
So, you can stop your fluttering and thank us later.
All of the young folk taken as slaves by the Carthaginians have been liberated and are being repatriated to Aragonia as you read this.
I travel alone, or will be soon. So, should you good people come to think that I need to be taken to task, called on to explain myself or whatever it is that you do, simply send me a reply via the same courier service that brought you this gift. They seem to be reasonably efficient, if a painfully non-inquisitive lot.
Good luck, long life and happiness to you all!
-Phaing
1
I did not realize that I had reached out to hold my dear Husband’s hand until the reading of that whole incredible, grotesque message had been finished. It took some time, the syndicated messenger reading it for us hesitated many times and had to be encouraged to continue. At first by Phedre’s urgings, at the end it required Imriel’s impatiently tapping boot to make the poor man finish it. I dare say that he was sweating by the second to last line, and was barely able to stammer out the final line. At that point, Imriel leaped up and snatched the parchment from his hand, and thus by letting go of mine he brought me the realization that I had been clinging to him in a foreign court.
Yes, for a mercy, we were not in the Palace nor even our own Kingdom, my mother and father were not in attendance, and that maddening screed was not heard by the peers of our realm.… as the sender must have intended. The chaos that would have overtaken our court, the city, I had to stop thinking of that lest I grind my teeth so tightly that one of them might break.
No, it had been re-routed to follow us from the port of Marsilikos, where we had departed 6 days earlier to resolve a crisis. It was not the grim and Earth-shaking sort of crisis that had plagued Imriel, and more recently myself. Wed scarcely three months, we were making a visit to Kyrnos {Corsica} to help ease tensions in a dispute over who would Govern that place. Since it happens to be the fourth largest island in the Southern Ocean and at least one faction was wrongly claiming to have the support of our Crown, a state visit was in order. It did not merit a visit from the Queen herself, and so it fell to a Princess and her Prince to sort it things out.
A rather ordinary crisis, as things go, and a nice little exercise for we who were being groomed to rule. But you would not be reading these words at all if that is what it was destined to be. So, let us take this from where that message was read; the court of the Lord Protector of Ajaccio, on the isle of Kyrnos.
Lord Dumenici was not the leader of any faction that claimed our patronage, and his small army was busy to the north, demonstrating their strength against their strongest foes. No actual fighting had taken place, yet, and we meant to prevent things from escalating. By visiting this court in Ajaccio first, we aimed to prove that we wanted nothing to do with any other factions and their false claims. We would have been happiest if there were to be no fighting at all, and for the half-dozen City States of Kyrnos to continue ruling as usual. All had gone well, until now.
Imriel was so angry that his hands shook as he read that dreadful thing. He re-read several parts before nodding to me; it was as the messenger had read it, word for word.
Our anger was two-fold; the mockery was so blatant that it was ringing in my ears for hours. If it was true, all those lives lost… staggering to think of. Not millions, the population of Carthage was ever sparse, and more so since their attempted conquest of Aragonia, yet even hundreds of thousands was too much to think of with any clarity. The imprisoned Demon was rumored to have cut a swath through the countryside around the city itself, petty revenge on its way back to the desert fastness. I had not felt badly on hearing of that, but now I felt shame. Shame that I had not argued more forcefully for clemency in the aftermath of what had been done to us, to our very minds, for putting it all behind us. Was it my damnable reserve? Should I have said more, could it have been stopped if I had?
I had to shake my head to throw off such thoughts. I resolved to stay in the moment and concentrate on what was happening. Thank the Gods I did, and was able to hold to that. As the adventures of the Montreves go, this was to be far briefer, faster-paced and more intellectually demanding than what that had come before.
“This madman, this Fang person, has anyone ever heard of the bloody creature before?” Imriel demanded of the room at large. He clearly was not speaking to Phedre , he was handing the note to her as she walked slowly up behind him, without even looking at her. Ah, they knew each other so very well, her curiosity and eagerness to solve problems. Joscelin stood rooted to the spot where he had been standing from the start. His gaze was far away, calculating. I think it was he that first understood something of the nature of the writer of that message, and even before his dear Phedre. I think it may have frightened him.
The Sheriff of this province, who had followed the messenger in, spoke up; “Yes, Highness. Word just reached me of a new rabble-rouser, speaking out in favor of union with Terre D'Ange, and doing a hell of a job of it. Word is that Porto Valla has declared for these lot.” And he sent us, Imriel and myself, a frosty look that none would have dared to give us just an hour ago.
“But… they are Caerdicci to the core over there!” The Lord was grinding his teeth, and staring our way as well. I could understand why; we had arrived with nearly as many armed men on our ship as he had left to garrison his city, and had barely begun to serve as the calming influence we were intended to be. Now we must look to them as if we were working with agents to do just the opposite of what we had come to do.
The Sherriff continued; “Aye, but also very religious over there. This fellow had secret meetings with Yeshuites, Habiru and Eluan missionaries. They tolerate all sorts of cults there, make an industry of it if you ask me." He flinched at the look several of the people in the Hall shot him. "Ahem…. I refer to what a brisk business they do in producing icons of every sort there! As I was saying, all of those leaders were persuaded to speak to each other, and explore the notion that they are all the same religion in spirit, and that they should unite in a common cause. And that since Terre D’Ange is the only nation where one of them holds sway and the others are free to worship, then they ought naturally turn to that nation for patronage. It’s a bit of a mess down there, but it’s a mess that is running in a definite direction.” And his look our way left no doubt about what direction it was heading.
We were dismayed, all but dear Phedre. She could not be distracted from what she held in her hands. Her soft words cut the silence in just the right way to change the situation;
“This was written by a woman.”
She was no less fascinated by this fact than anyone else in the room. And yes, it was taken as fact by all present within moments. Her brilliance as a scholar is inescapable, as the very writer of that message later had to admit.
A woman. While much of the audience was trying to absorb this notion, it simply made me even more angry. I rose at last to go to Phedre's side. There must have been tell-tales that I could have seen and confirmed her judgment, but the very insolence and unwanted familiarity of the text made it impossible for me to concentrate on such details. I simply nodded, a theatrical gesture to show I supported her finding. The angry murmurs died down, but I would have to do more than that to assure our peaceful exit from Ajaccio, or even from this room. The four of us had brought just four guards and two scribes into this court. It has seemed more than enough in what was supposed to be a routine audience. So routine, and dry, that none of us had given a second thought to receiving a message in public.
“Lords and Ladies!” A calm, dignified manner had become second nature to me, to the point where letting emotion show sometimes required effort, I admit that. This was not one of those times. I was angry, every bit as much as my love. “An unspeakable atrocity has been claimed by this Phaing person, and that same person is spreading chaos in your own realm. Now, do any of you believe for an instant that we would sanction the wholesale destruction of a Nation granted clemency by us? Do you see anything in our faces that shows you aught but our shared horror at this… this, abomination?”
For a mercy, that was all that was required to soften the mood in the room. I turned to the messenger, a stalwart enough fellow. I name him so because he had not fled the room the moment our attention went elsewhere. “You! Instructions have been given you on how to deliver a reply to the sender of what you just delivered into our presence?”
He nodded, and opened his mouth to say something he’d rather not.
I spared him that. “Divulge no secrets to me, I care not but that this reply reach the intended ears. Now, for my reply... To the person using the name Phaing; You are to present yourself to me at the earliest possible instant, to explain yourself to my court. We await your reply in Ajaccio. Signed… the usual.” This last I said over my shoulder to one of my scribes, who was already jotting down my words on a fresh sheet of vellum. It is a fine thing to have a competent staff at one’s side.
Turning away from the messenger to spare him any more stammering in such a public place, I put my arm through Imriel’s and walked with him straight to the Lord of Ajaccio. I spoke in a low voice pitched to be heard only he and the adviser hovering at his shoulder.; “I ask you in all earnestness, do you have a few men that can follow that messenger without being seen or suspected?”
“Men you can trust implicitly, and who will be able to pass information back to us as we ride in pursuit?” Imriel added. It has been said that we can finish each others sentences, and there are times when it is a blessing. This was one of those times.
The Lord eyed us both and nodded wth an approving, predatory grin. “It will be my very great honor to help you rid this world of our mutual scourge.”
***
The messenger would be leaving in the morning, as it was late in the day and nobody felt safe traveling at night in Krynos at that time. We knew that he would be traveling by land, the messenger had gone straight to the company stables after leaving us, and not a soul connected with his company went near the docks. We had reason to be glad of the Lord’s network of informers that day.
That night we changed out of our formal wear and into a very different set of clothes. It would surprise nobody that by this point in all of our lives, we had all gained the habit of keeping things close at hand that would serve us in an emergency. For all of us, this included the sort of clothing that Favrielle would shudder to see. Wool with leather patches in strategic places was the main component of these clothes, Grey for Joscelin, faded black for Imriel. Subdued colors that would still allow us to tell each other apart at a glance, even at a distance. My own outfit was in a dull brown, which I had chosen because I had noticed how the leather belts and boots stood out against the clothing of the others. If we were to be less noticeable, these details seem to mater. It was not very flattering, another reason for choosing it. Phedre had a darker grey than her consort for her jacket, and a dull green skirts and leggings.
With the doors separating our suite of rooms thrown open so that we could converse back and forth, the 4 of us tested the fit and flexibility of our garb. We’d not wear it to bed, leastwise Imriel and I would not, yet after weeks spent packed away at the very bottom of our trunks it was good to be sure of the stuff. Krynos is a small island and we expected a short chase… but one can never be certain of such things.
Not ever.
“It itches something fierce.” I mentioned to my Husband.
“Well, you are supposed to be wearing your underwear with it!” And his smile was both charming and insolent at the same time, one that almost begged to be slapped from his face.
“Well, I know that fits!” And a grin of my own made Imri roll his eyes. I was posing, and having myself a little thrill with my pampered skin being roughly stroked by the new, almost raw wool. The fabric had been chosen because it would keep the wearer warm even when wet, not for comfort. The only comfortable things about these clothes were the meticulously made and tested boots, boots that has been treated to look worn and common to the casual observer.
Suddenly, I felt like a pretender, and Imriel caught the shift in my mood instantly. “What troubles you?”
I shook my head. “Nothing terribly important, I hope. But, the three of you, you are so experienced with this sort of thing. Gods, Imri, you walked to the far end of Vralia and back! The only thing that I have ever done that could be called ‘heroic’ by any stretch of the imagination, was being rescued by you and being transported in relative comfort back home!”
“As I recall, there was rather more to it than that.” He let his wry smile go more serious, and put his hands on my shoulders. “We talked about this, not being separated ever again.” And if he had said nothing more, I would still have been bound to go with him. Yet he added more, trying to be the logical one, the one worthy to be a Crown Price one day. “Yes, you were brought up for a different sort of battlefield than I or Joscelin have been trained for. But that does not mean that your sort of battle isn’t waiting right around the corner. In all likelihood, that is precisely what is waiting for us in Porto Valla.“ He stroked my chin as I looked up at him. “You will not be a burden to me, no more than Phe’dre ever was to Joscelin. You will not slow us down, you have a rather bad habit of not complaining even when you are suffering from blood poisoning. You, my fair Dauphine, may just be the saving of us all, as has been the case before.” He let his hands drop. “And you will not shame me or anyone else, if you decide here and now not to come! Our ship is right out there in the harbor. Come to think of it, it could be a handy thing, knowing that you were there, ready to make the hard decisions, or force the Captain to make the right ones.”
I admit, I had to think on that, for about three heartbeats. Dearest Imri, he was twenty-five then, and looked to be thirty. I had no illusions about what could happen to me, I might even come back scarred worse than I had been before, or missing fingers or toes. And even more worrisome, at Aragonia I had learned what it was to be stranded on a hostile shore without a ship for escape. I, and I alone, could make that Captain sail through fire if that was what was required to insure Imriel’s rescue.
I hugged him and gave Imriel the answer he yearned for. “Always and always. No bitch of a terrorist can make me leave your side, for even an instant!”
“Strong words to call someone we have not even met yet.” Joscelin said from the open doorway. Seeing we were fully dressed, he stepped in to check our fit, especially the belts and what hung from them. Weapons, too. There was a large dagger hanging from my left hip, a much smaller one was hidden, yet meant to be found by a search of my person, and an even smaller one that was not going to be found unless I was stripped bare. I had developed a certain amount of paranoia regarding blades being held to me, and was resolved to have some of my own to prevent any such indignity in the future. However, my training in the use of them was lacking at that time.
Once the Queen’s Champion was sure that we knew exactly what loop to use for every strap and buckle, I went to the doorway to see how Phedre was faring. She looked at home in her traveling attire, her never-pregnant body still trim and perfectly balanced. She was there with most of the lamps in the room on the wardrobe, where she was squinting at something that could only be that damnable message.
“Any new clues hidden there?” I asked as I walked to her side. Yes, there it was, fresh parchment never scraped, never used before.
“Many, Highness.” The addition of that last word was so unnecessary, and so very Phedre. “However, little that I can glean as yet.”
“Then please leave off that ugly thing. You should not read after sunset anyway, its no good for the eyes.” She winced, just slightly, and nodded. I had heard that her eyes were getting worse. Reading everything she could find, and working late hours were lifetime habits for her, and she was starting to pay the price. I took the parchment from her, as if to study it myself. “A few clues are better than none. What have you found thus far?”
Phedre smiled and closed her tired eyes. “Firstly, that name is almost certainly an alias. I think it has been used often. The platitudes… I am not entirely sure they are all mocking, and not in a way that should anger you so, dear. They were written quickly and smoothly, while the words used to describe Carthage are slow, deliberate, carefully chosen.” I looked again, and I could see it now. “And this line about ‘fluttering’, … please don’t grip the paper so hard dear, you may damage it. That’s better, it was calculated too.” I breathed easier knowing that, without being sure why. "Calculated, to give a false impression, perhaps."
Joscelin and Imriel had come up silently behind us, practicing walking quietly together. “Does that mean we are being goaded into this? Because, if it does, we should be heading home.”
The thought of not having an adventure with Imri, despite my earlier misgivings, made my head hurt. Ah, yes, I was wanting this, very badly indeed.
“It may, or...” Phedre hesitated.
“Or?” Imriel prompted. He knew his adopted mother so very well, but he had not the temperament to ever become a scholar himself. Patience, something he worked so very hard for, often seemed to be slipping from his grasp at moments like this.
“Or, I don’t know.” She shook her head at him. “Pieces are not fitting together yet. Once we have more, I can say more. But until then, I’d rather not hazard any more guesses, lest I lead us astray before we have even taken our first step.”
***
“She was admitting the limits of her knowledge. It takes some courage for someone of her stature to do that, why won’t you let it go?” Imriel held me later that night, after a frantic bout of love-making that we thought was likely to be our last for a while. Pleasantly sore and a little dizzy, I should have been able to drop off to sleep. Instead, I nearly caused us to have an argument.
“She knew something that she was holding back, you saw it too!”
Imriel shook his head. “She suspects something, and that is a very different thing.”
“Oh, you are certain of that? I fear she doubts herself, and that’s ….” I caught the look in his eye. He was sure. “Forgive me!” I knew right away that I was the one in the wrong, and grateful that only Imriel had seen it.
And I knew what he would say next;
“Done!” He smiled an made a nest of his body for me to curl into. “Now, I’m sure we will be seeing some interesting things soon. You cover a lot of ground when traveling light; I think you will enjoy it, and in the end it may all be a hoax after all. We’d not be paying it any attention were it not for what is happening in Porto Valla.” He yawned and went limp, utterly relaxed and entwined with me. “It could all merely be the work of some lunatic, after all.”