In “Lorelle of the Dark,” a contentious meeting about impending war

Prologue

Elegathe

Elegathe entered her study and waited just inside the door like some servant girl. The floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined every wall, filled with the wisdom of Noksonon. She had read every word on every page of every book in this room. She had used that knowledge to elevate herself, to secure her place as the High Master of the Readers of Noksonon. This was her sanctum and her general’s tent, all in one. Just the smell of polished mahogany and old tomes filled her with serenity and confidence.

And Darjhen had wasted no time in making it his own again.

He and the tall stranger had cleared her quills, her missives box, and her box of ready scrolls from her mahogany desk. They stood on either side of it, pointing at a huge map, talking in low tones.

And of course, they’d already begun without her, though she was here precisely at the stroke of six o’clock. He’d given her the wrong time.

No. He’d given her the time he’d wanted her to arrive.

Senji’s Fist, she hated everything about this. Darjhen had also told her to join the meeting but remain silent unless he or his guest talked to her. The old man was making her feel like a little girl again—the fresh apprentice—and it scraped her pride like a jagged piece of granite. This was the room of the High Master of the Readers of Noksonon—her room. Yet here she was, invited late to the meeting and standing like a servant by the door, quiet and unseen.

She pushed her glasses higher on her nose, drew a deep breath and let it out. Darjhen had gone through the reasons with her. The stranger was important, a traveler of the Thuroi who had visited places Elegathe could only imagine, knew things even Darjhen seemed to hold in awe.

Darjhen believed the mythical Giants were surfacing again, bent on war. Somehow this tall stranger was involved. He knew about the upcoming war and was apparently a key resource. Darjhen’s brief conversation with her earlier today had indicated the man was either oddly skittish or ridiculously arrogant.

“Don’t speak, unless he speaks to you,” he had said. “Then make your answers short. Don’t show off.”

“If you don’t want me to speak,” she had said. “Perhaps you should have your secret meeting elsewhere and cut me out entirely.”

Darjhen either hadn’t noticed, or chose to ignore, her scathing sarcasm. “No. I want you there.”

“Either include me in your plans or don’t. I don’t care,” she had lied. “I’m not your apprentice.”

“And your attire,” Darjhen had said as though she hadn’t spoken. “Conservative, please. I understand the reasons for your usual appearance, the allure of beauty can make some opponents predictable. Not this time. You do not want to draw attention to yourself, especially—”

“Through sex appeal?”

“You do not want to draw attention to yourself,” he had repeated and left it at that.

So, she had donned her most conservative dress and robes, the front open only to just below her collarbones.

The tall stranger looked up when she entered. His dark eyes shone gold for a moment, but so quickly she wasn’t sure she’d even seen it. Was the man a mage? Or had it been a trick of the golden light shining through her study’s window?

The stranger was one of the largest men she’d ever seen, six and a half feet tall, but he was far younger than she’d anticipated. When Darjhen had told her about their visitor, coached her, she’d thought he was talking about someone as old as Darjhen, but the stranger was Elegathe’s age.

“She is of the blood,” the stranger said, still looking at Elegathe. “You didn’t mention that.”

“Two lesser lines,” Darjhen said casually, still focused on the map as though the stranger’s statement wasn’t particularly important.

“It’s an opportunity, Darjhen. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“She is positioned where she will be most effective when the war comes.”

The stranger kept his unsettling gaze on Elegathe, and she found herself compelled to look down, focusing somewhere on the man’s chest.

That was unacceptable. She forced herself to look upward, but found that holding the man’s gaze was like putting her eyes close to a hot stove and trying to keep them open. Senji, what was that about?

“She will fight in her own way.” Darjhen looked up from the map, still trying to make it sound like this topic was far from important. He was a consummate actor when he had to be, but she knew him as well as anyone and she caught a glimpse of his true emotions. Worry.

You do not want to draw attention to yourself…

This was what he’d warned her about. The stranger had not only noticed her but taken an interest.

“You favor her,” the stranger said.

“She is well trained. I need her is all.”

“Sentiment will not win this war.”

“Humans are bound together by sentiment, Nhevaz, by how we feel for one another. That is what will win the war.”

So, the stranger’s name was Nhevaz. She felt she knew that name from somewhere, but she couldn’t place it. That was frustrating. Elegathe was meticulous about remembering important events and names. Why did that name sound familiar?

Nhevaz’s gaze bored into her, and the gold sheen flashed over his eyes again, flickering and vanishing. So, he was a mage.

His eyes returned to their depthless black, and Nhevaz looked down at the map again.

“Khyven should be our focus,” Darjhen said.

Khyven the Unkillable. That name she knew. Elegathe took reports from all over Noksonon, from every Reader on the continent, and she was well aware of the coup in Usara. The daughter of the previous king, Rhennaria Laochodon, had unseated the usurper Vamreth, the man who’d killed all the Laochodons ten years ago—or so it had been believed. Queen Rhennaria had been assisted by a handful of Usaran nobility, a Luminent, a Shadowvar, a Line Mage, and a renowned Ringer named Khyven the Unkillable.

If Khyven was the topic in this room, he was important to the Giant war somehow. The lion in Elegathe’s mind tore into the information, putting pieces together. The renowned Ringer was in his early twenties. Ten years ago, he would have been ten or eleven.

… just like the boy she and Darjhen had found when she had been his apprentice.

Senji’s Spear, was that boy Khyven the Unkillable?

Ten years ago, Darjhen had pulled her—a newly indoctrinated Reader—to the first major crossroads in her life. She hadn’t been ready. She’d been a girl, but her fate as a Reader had been decided that night. Darjhen had performed the most powerful Lore Magic she’d ever witnessed—before or since—and it had pointed to a ten-year-old boy who had just leapt from the burning manor of Duke Chandrille.

The line of Chandrille died that day. No one had survived.

None save the boy…

Coincidentally, the usurper Vamreth had risen to power that same year. Except there was no coincidence when it came to Darjhen. The boy’s survival and the usurper’s rise had almost certainly been spun by the old man.

Maybe both of these men. Who was this Nhevaz?

And why was Khyven important? Why not Queen Rhennaria instead? That seemed far more likely. That woman was going to change Usara, perhaps even the entire face of the Human lands of Noksonon.

Elegathe’s internal lion wrestled with a half dozen other questions, but she turned her focus to the men at the map. She didn’t want to miss anything.

Yes, she was dancing to Darjhen’s tune again. Yes, it stung her pride. But she had to admit, if reluctantly, that the last time she’d followed at his sleeve it had led her to this place, to being the High Master.

“You risk much,” Darjhen said. “Khyven could have easily died in that confrontation. He almost did.”

“He survived,” Nhevaz said. “The battle for Usara was nothing compared to what is coming. He came through the fire; that makes him our primary.”

“And the others? Are they ready?” Darjhen asked.

Nhevaz said nothing, like a man used to keeping his own counsel.

“Never mind,” Darjhen said, and she saw his hope for an answer wither, uncontested, on his face. That stunned her. Darjhen behaved like a supplicant for the information this stranger possessed. She’d never seen that before, not once in all the time she’d known him.

“He wielded the Helm of Darkness,” Nhevaz said. “Neither of us saw that. Rauvelos sometimes has… an uncanny intuition.”

Rauvelos… Another name Elegathe felt she should know. She was certain it wasn’t any of the top three tiers of nobility in Usara, Imprevar, or Triada. Damn it! She hated feeling like an apprentice again.

“He survived because his blood was pure enough?” Darjhen asked.

“The Luminent bonded with him.”

Darjhen’s eyebrows went up. “Did she?”

“Your Human sentiment at work. Khyven is on the path now, and I took steps to ensure Tovos is looking elsewhere.”

“Rhennaria?” Darjhen guessed.

“I removed her from the board.”

“You took her?”

Nhevaz nodded once.

Took the queen? Elegathe had had no reports that Queen Rhennaria was missing.

“Is she safe?” Darjhen asked.

“As safe as anyone in this time.”

“It’s still a long road,” Darjhen said.

“The Luminent is now the problem,” Nhevaz said. “I’ve read the kairoi. She will interfere. There are… many possibilities that spring forth from her. She is too much of a risk.”

“Must we separate her from Khyven?”

“No. Not us. If we play our part Tovos will do the job for us. He has taken the bait.”

Tovos! She knew that name. Tovos had been a Giant, long ago. Could they actually be talking about that Tovos?

“Tovos wants the queen.”

“I took her to engage his interest, to keep his eye off Khyven. He can’t reach her, so I predict he’ll grab for the next best thing.”

“Rhenn’s best friend.”

Nhevaz nodded.

Darjhen hesitated.

“Tovos will kill her,” he said at length.

“Eventually,” Nhevaz said without a scrap of remorse, his dark eyes cold. “When the Luminent is removed, the threat is removed, and Khyven will move toward his destiny.”

“Nhevaz…” Darjhen swallowed. “That will have an effect on him.”

“Yes.”

“A poor effect,” Darjhen clarified.

“She will serve him far better as a martyr than as a living distraction. We trained him to cleave to a singular purpose. When he realizes Tovos is behind her death, she will become an icon in his mind. He will fight the war with the memory of her driving him. Forever.”

“He can still do that without her death,” Darjhen said.

“Being bound to the Luminent divides his loyalties.”

“She didn’t know that when she bonded with him. She did it to save his life.”

“Of course.”

“She is the reason you still have him at all.”

“She is.”

“Letting her die seems a poor repayment for that,” Darjhen said.

“We are not here to repay anyone. We play the board as it is set. Wishing we had different pieces wastes time. She sealed her fate when she bonded with him; she accepted that.”

“She didn’t accept this. She doesn’t know the larger picture.”

“She’s already dying. Luminents who fail in their soul bonds do not last.”

“He might bond back with her, Nhevaz.”

“No.”

“There is a chance. He loves her—”

“This is the path, Darjhen,” Nhevaz cut him off. “I have read the kairoi. If she falls to Tovos, she will be of use to us.”

“If you remove Khyven’s attachment to his friends, you could lose more.”

For the first time, Nhevaz’s brow wrinkled, showing a glimpse of annoyance. “You’ve lost your perspective. You’re thinking like a Human.”

“That’s why you need me.”

“I need you because you are a Reader, because you prize foresight and judgment over emotion. Right now, you’re sacrificing that judgment for the imagined happiness of one man. Happiness is not a factor. Tovos and the others will destroy your kind if we let them. When the war is won, bask in all the happiness you want.”

Elegathe watched the exchange with dumbfounded surprise. Darjhen was deferring to Nhevaz like a boy deferring to a teacher. Who was this man?

“I think you’re missing a vital piece.”

“I am not,” Nhevaz said. “We trained him. Then we threw him to the wolves and he made pelts of them. That is the man we need.”

Darjhen let out a breath. “I will read the kairoi. There may be—”

“Waste your magic on sentiment and you may be removed from the board as well,” Nhevaz said.

Elegathe bristled. That sounded like a threat! She’d had about enough of this.

“You’d do well to listen to him,” she interjected. “He knows more than you do.”

Nhevaz raised his head, the black eyes cold as he glanced at her, this time not simply with cool appraisal, but with a cold, inevitable hunger.

It stole her breath.

Men had looked at her with hungry gazes before. She had built her teasing appearance upon that very thing, but this was different. There was no passion in Nhevaz’s gaze. No fantasies lurked behind his eyes that could unbalance him and give her the edge. He looked at her like he already owned her, like she was a stringed doll beneath his hand, and he would move her when and where he wished.

“No, Elegathe,” Darjhen said.

“You talk of reading the kairoi…” She ignored Darjhen and took a step toward the stranger, forcing herself to look him in the eye, trying to throw off the pounding intensity of his gaze. “Darjhen has walked those paths. He’s sacrificed for those paths. I don’t know who you are, but when you speak to him, you speak with respect and understand that he—”

“Elegathe, shut your mouth!” Darjhen barked.

The force of his words startled her and she glanced at him. His eyes blazed with emotion, but she couldn’t tell if it was anger or fear.

She swallowed, longing to finish what she had to say to this irreverent stranger, to put him in his place, but she hesitated, suddenly feeling like she’d completely misread the room.

Darjhen held her gaze until she stepped back. Each footstep seemed a betrayal, but she made them one at a time.

“Is this what you meant by Human sentiment making us stronger?” Nhevaz asked softly, as though Elegathe’s outburst had just proven some point. Heat rose in her cheeks.

“She is young,” Darjhen said. “She is learning.”

“She doesn’t have time to learn. The moment is upon us. She will be more use as a—”

Darjhen slammed his hand flat on the table, making a thunderclap in the room. “She stays here, or you find another ally!”

Darjhen’s explosion made Elegathe jump, but Nhevaz didn’t even twitch. He continued looking at Darjhen with that cold gaze.

“The board is scattered with stones,” he said softly. “Do not trip, Reader.”

Muscles stood out in Darjhen’s jaw. His internal struggle played over his face, but he mastered himself. “We keep our eyes on what is vital,” he said, his voice barely a breath.

“Yes,” Nhevaz agreed, drawing the word out as though he doubted Darjhen’s sincerity.

“Khyven is vital. We focus on Khyven.”

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