A War of Silver and Gold Page 2

  The marmoreal throne donned a welcoming stiffness to her back, reminding her where she was and of the crows that glared at her from the back of the chamber. Her hands gripped the marble armrests. The silver, curved talons on her fingertips gouged onto the red velvet coating. She crossed her legs, the white, scarred skin shone underneath the zibeline, red gown.

  The green and blue mismatched petrifying shade of her eyes snapped at the elves, irritated that the meeting had still not started. No one spoke.

  For many years, she fought with claws and talons to beat the Stewards into submission to her crown. She was a female and back until the King gave her the city, she-elves had no position in court. She thrust the talons on her fingertips against the velvet, tearing the fabric apart. A few Stewards winced at the sound.

  She was the Lady there. She had been for over two hundred years, she had slain creatures in the woods, and she had more blood spluttered around her soul than they had all together. She knew death, she knew what it felt like to be imprisoned, and she knew what it felt like to be the prey of other creatures. No one could belittle her. No one would dare.

  Cassia eyed the blond elf –Lord Devon- at the front row of Stewards around her, his eyes intent on devouring the sight of her legs. She said, her voice was cold, but it burned deep like incandescent iron, “When you are done looking at my legs, Lord Devon, you can speak.”

  That old lecher. Cassia was almost certain he had taken more mistresses in his bed than lives with his sword. He flinched at her voice and shook his head. “I didn’t stare, Lady.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him and gripped the throne’s armrests tighter in her hands. “Let’s believe you this time, Devon. Just this time.”

  He nodded curtly, his head bowed low; his pointed ears peaked under the golden circlet on his head. “My Lady Cassia, apart from a few lycans there had been nothing else to report.”

  “No Adanei, or human crossed our borders?”

  “No, not that I know of.”

  “I hope you do,” she tilted her head, her lips pursed and raised a stubborn eyebrow. “And the lycan that I slaughtered today?” She shook her head and pursed her lips. “No one knows apparently of these creatures, no matter how many times I inquire about them.”

  “Lady Cassia,”

  She raised her hand, and glanced away from him, silencing Devon. Cassia had no need to quarrel with the insolent elf, but she would prove that she was there to control them, not bed them and compliment them. They were subordinates and she wouldn’t hesitate to leash them all.

  “Tell me, Devon, what does your new mistress likes to wear in your bed, because apparently, that is the only thing you seem to know the last ten weeks the lycans became more,” she paused, pressing her hands firmer onto the armrest, and stood from her throne. “Arrogant of their strength.”

  “My Lady, I did not-”

  “Of course, you did.” She snapped back. “I have known you for twenty years, Devon. Twenty years is a long time for someone like you to wear a crown upon his head.” He made no sound and for a moment Cassia thought he stopped breathing. It was necessary, she reminded herself. “Devon,” she said narrowing her eyes at him again. “Throw that girl out of your bedroom, marry a female and abandon that foolish thought of finding your mate. Grow up. Mates are stories of the past, a past we fought hard to destroy.”

  “Lady Cassia.” He bowed his head and returned to sit on his chair somewhere at the back of the dark room.

  She took a glared about the room, instilling more fear in the minds of the Stewards before she sat upon her throne. A glimpse of black and silver caught her gaze. He stood at the back of the room, away from the lot of male frauds that paraded here and there about the chamber trying to talk. He was tall, intimidating with sharp cheekbones and a dominating air about him, but there was something sad in his still expression.

  Cassia’s voice was sonorous as she tipped her chin high and glanced strongly towards the back of the room. “Stand before me, Lord of Sonorow.”

  There was a fuss for a moment in the room, a few words spoken here and there before the dark haired, elven male walked to the front of the room, bowed and remained with his back straightened, his hand securely placed over the handle of his blade.

  “There is no enemy here unless you provoke one, Lord Nadaon.”

  “Lady Cassia,”

  “Speak forth and tell me about your Town.”

  Lord Nadaon bent to his one knee before the throne. His head bowed low as Cassia eyed him strangely, knowing full well from the posture of his shoulders that he was unnerved.

  “There is a darkness spreading in the lands. Darkness beyond anything that I have seen.”

  Cassia tsked and let a grin of annoyance took over her face. “Nadaon, how old are you?”

  His head shot up for a moment, his glance seemed far off as if he was calculating his answer, as if he was thinking of the aftermath of his response. Then he must have been young, possibly younger than I was by elven standards, she thought.

  “Eighteen and hundred, my Lady.”

  “Then you mustn’t have met many varieties of darkness. How many wars have you fought in?”

  “None, Lady.” He shook his head. “But that doesn’t mean that I can’t know what darkness and disease look like.”

  “Are there casualties?”

  “Fifty-six, my mother died yesterday.”

  Cassia cursed under her breath before her eyes looked at his hands. They were marked with the flowers of the Elders, a sign of death. She should have known better or should have held her snakelike, forked tongue. She had judged poorly the Elf. Nadaon deserved better. She knew it, but it wasn’t in her character to offer condolences to him.

  He had to learn that in Cassia’s city, in the city of utter darkness and absolute hate, there was nothing else, but careful parchment holding knowledge of how to survive.

  He was young and all this power had fallen on his shoulders, a burden full of a past so atrocious. Cassia could do nothing to spare him from those toils, from the terrors. It was his duty, not hers. She was merely an overseer.

  The wild winds of winter whooshed outside, the old stones of the castle whistled an age old song. Frostbite clang onto the ancient stones like a vice, the blazes in the fireplaces around the room licked onto the wood, feeding, drinking with malice.

  Cassia listened tentatively on the burning of the logs, she listened to the breathing of the elves around the room and at the mad slapping of winds against the stones. Nature was not serene, Nature was angry and Cassia took that as an omen for Nadaon’s speech.

  She turned her eyes towards the kneeling elf. Young, he was young, elves reached maturity at age of fifty. Nadaon was considered a mere adolescent by elven standards. And yet, he held himself with pride and honour, but also with humility. She tapped her talons onto the ruined armrests and said, “Have you searched the problem further?”

  Nadaon harrumphed and shifted from his place in anxiety. “Lady, there is something lurking in the woods. I don’t know what it is; none of my men and councillors seemed to know. Alas, it would consume my town. Something must be done.”

  “Is it a creature?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “A ghost?” Her lips twitched for a moment in amusement.

  “I can’t know.”

  “Have you searched the waters?”

  He stopped for a moment and glanced at her in confusion. “All the towns are supplied water from the main fountain under the city, but the disease is spread only among my own.”

  “Nadaon, be careful then. Search every corner of the town, close the gates if necessary, don’t let anything come out, or get in. I’ll send the temple’s healers and visit soon. If it’s a creature, don’t kill it; don’t even dare to trap it. I will come for its head.”

  The doors of the chamber flew open with a loud thud, the breeze from outside passed into the room; the Stewards trembled sensing that something ill had happened.

  Ca
ssia winced and stood from her throne. An arrow, a proud white arrow, hung from the flinching elf’s chest. White Adanei feathers stood from the edge of the shaft. The monsters, Cassia’s enemies, the killers of her ideas and the submissive beasts of the gods had entered their lands. The probability of another devastating war terrified Cassia. The pain, the loss and hollowness. She couldn’t bear them again, not again, not now. Not after all those years of peace.

  She rushed besides the elf. He took a step forward, lost its balance and fell to the ground. Cassia knelt and grabbed him across the shoulders, his skin growing hot. She was certain that fever had grasped on him long before he reached the Walls. She placed her palm against the elf’s forehead careful not to nudge the arrow.

  Adanei arrows were coated in a special blood bane that had no known cure.

  The elf opened his brown eyes and glanced at Cassia, a smile of contentedness appeared on his face. His brow twitched as he coughed, blood dripped from his mouth.

  “Lady Cassia,” he took in a harsh breath, he reached inside his jacket and pulled a bloodied envelope. “The King...”

  It took her a moment to regard the elf. She flickered back at the elf, her face; a marble mask. She felt his breath leaving his lungs. She felt his muscles atrophying and giving away. His eyes rolled back and she knew. She had seen it before. She had seen death and felt death and tasted death better than anyone in that room. The Elf died in her arms, pierced by the Adanei arrow across his chest. She took the envelope between her fingers. The black paper with the golden crest had been the cause of the elf’s death.

  A letter from the King.

  “Guards,” she shouted and stood from the floor, letting the creature lie upon the cold marble gently. Her glance fixed on his milky eyes. She felt them staring at her. She felt it, cold and terrified prickling on her skin. “Take him to the temple; let him have an honourable burial. He is a hero of the city.” Cassia turned to the silent Stewards behind her and hoped never to see them again. “Leave this chamber, all of you.”

  The Stewards walked in front of her, bowed and left the chamber one by one. Cassia’s mind too far away to concern herself about them, or what they did. Their heads hung low, mostly paying their respects to the dead Elf that had been on the floor a few moments ago. When Nadaon took a step away from Cassia, she straightened her spine and hardened her features, suppressing a wince.

  “Not you, Nadaon.” She gritted her teeth attempting to remain nonchalant before him.

  He stopped and looked at her. She waited until the room had been cleaned from the stench of Stewards and the doors were closed. She listened carefully to the sounds of footsteps going down the corridors.

  Cassia knew there was no way she could freely talk to Nadaon with the Stewards around them, those double-faced bastards. They lurked at every corner of her court and tried to dig her grave early enough so they could thrust their sons on the throne. If she could choke each one of them without needing permission from the King, she would have done so gladly.

  She raised her eyes from the floor and looked at Nadaon. He avoided her glance as he frequently turned his eyes about the room.

  Terrified of her or not, Nadaon had been bestowed with a bloodied heritage and he had to work with her somehow, he had to understand that even though he was a Steward, she was his commander and she had to know every single detail of the darkness that had fallen on her lands.

  “You have my condolences for the death of your parents, Nadaon.”

  He seemed surprised somehow. Cassia justified his reaction though, she was never perceived as someone with a heart. Her own life had turned that particular muscle into marble. It wasn’t her fault, she simply didn’t allow herself to fall onto the tracks of self-pity and misery, and instead, she fought beside the King and killed. Killed until that was the only thing she knew how to do best, she killed until her own soul was fragments of those beings she had slain.

  “Thank you.”

  Cassia shook her head. “I need you to tell me about what is happening to your town. I need to know, Nadaon.”

  The hand on the handle of his sword twitched, fingers clasping it tighter. “I suspected that it must have been the Adanei, but...” He stopped and shook his head.

  “But, what?” Her voice must have come out harsher than she thought because he flinched and took a step backwards.

  “I lied, Lady and forgive me for it. My town is the only one that has its own fountain at the catacombs beneath.”

  “Have you searched them?”

  “I have, but my guards didn’t dare venture further than a few meters underneath.” He shook his head. “You are the only one that can save us.”

  “Have you seen it?” He didn’t answer so the second time she asked her voice came out sharper. “Have you seen it, Nadaon?”

  He shivered for a moment as he closed his eyes and frowned. “I have felt it. There is a...darkness about it that consumes the mind. I almost butchered myself with my sword. It felt as if I had to obey its commands.”

  “Was the voice soft and melodic, female even?”

  He nodded. “I tell you, Lady Cassia, there had never been a creature like this in these lands, and none of the books describe it.”

  “That’s because it is not of these lands. Was there a glow, a white glow in your vision when it had you hypnotised?”

  “I can’t remember much, but I can remember the glow.”

  She shook her head. She knew sooner or later the time to slaughter and behead would come again, but she long hoped that it would be after her death, after her passing to the immortal lands. Nadaon shivered.

  Cassia had fought these creatures back in the Dark Times, but she knew they had nothing to do with the disease. The lams were master deceivers, not killers, at least they didn’t kill with their hands, but they forced their victims to cut pieces of themselves slowly.

  “They are called lams and are allies with the Adanei. The gift of the gods to Lord Azybleth about seven hundred years ago, feral creatures.”

  “They must be responsible for the disease then.”

  Cassia shook her head. “If you think that they are, then you are highly mistaken.”

  “What do you mean, my Lady?”

  “How long since the first one died?”

  “Five weeks.”

  “Tell me, did it laugh when you tried to butcher yourself?” He nodded, his eyes turned wider and his fingers tightened onto his sword’s handle. “Then the water is poisoned with Greenrock.”

  “But Greenrock grows in the mountains of Feremony deep in Adanei territory.”

  Cassia sighed and pulled the crown off her head. She walked to the circular table and placed the jewel on the onyx. She combed her fingertips through her hair, easing the itching where the crown had been. The skin of her scalp relaxed without the pressure of the heavy crown. “You have your answers, Nadaon.” Cassia clamped her lips together for a moment thinking. “And I have my suspicions confirmed. Do you know why we hate the lycans so much?” She turned around and glanced at him, surveying him from head to feet.

  “I don’t think that’s common knowledge.”

  She tilted her head to the side and pursed her lips. “The first lycan was the lover of Agantha, the Goddess of Darkness. Our Nevdor ancestors stole from her, her necklace, a necklace given to her by her lover. She morphed the man into a lycan by nightfall so when our strength was minimised he could bring it back to her. You know well how much we hate those gods, Nadaon.” She shook her head and approached the elf.

  “The lycan never found the necklace, but instead he created a whole new species. Every Nevdor must despise the lycans, every honourable Dark Elf must know the casualties those pathetic creatures caused us.” She pulled away from him, a few steps back. “Lycans are all that I have hunted the last five weeks and now that elf died in here with an Adanei’s arrow through his heart. Word must reach the King. We must prepare for war, maybe a war greater and more terrifying than the last one.”

&nbs
p; Nadaon’s eyes darkened, a frown had taken over his features and his breathing had become quicker. He shook his head. “Do you know what the letter is about?”

  “You can read it.” She passed him the letter.

  He shook his head as he read, the dark locks of his head fell on his face as he passed a hand through them, pulling them away from his eyes. If Nadaon was the most honourable of the Stewards she had left, then she had to make use of him.

  “The King summons you to the Citadel in a month’s time.”

  Cassia raised an eyebrow and folded her hands over the low-cut décolletage of the dress. “It is a matter of fate I am afraid. Take precautions before more death will follow. I will visit your town in a few days.” She shook her head and returned back to the table, grasping the crown tightly between her nimble fingers. “Until then, don’t let anyone know about what occurred in this room today. I have to trust you, Nadaon.”

  4

  The horse's hooves clattered softly against the cobblestones.

  Cassia crossed the one side of the road and galloped to the top, to the centre of the city. Rage filled her as her eyes reached to the circular, marble altar. There were no bones rotting on it, no lycan’s carcass, no foul smell of decomposing flesh. The white marble had remained white as if not a drop of blood had been dripped on it.

  She gripped the reins tighter in her fists, the leather gloves wrinkling. Her nails bit into the skin of her palm. She moved in front of the temple's stairs. Nadeer had disobeyed her command.

  She dismounted from the horse, her feet clattering with the ground. Cassia climbed the stairs in quick steps and pushed the gates of the temple open. The shadows going about the tall chamber forced a shiver down her spine. It was indication enough to grab onto the dagger strapped elegantly onto her belt. It was enough to make her hair stand on edge.

  Cassia’s hand came steadily against the dagger. She never left her bedchamber without it.

  Her breath was silent, inaudible to the keenest pair of ears. She took her steps with feline grace. If the lycan lurked in there –gods know how he survived the fatal blow she had given him- then she should be prepared for a bloodied assault.