The Beginning After The End

SERIS VRITRA

I stood silently, surrounded by a collage of orange, purple, and aquamarine crystals sparkling with yellow and white. The Hall of Lords within Lodenhold was a surprisingly pretty place for the gruff dwarves to convene, but I’d always found the dwarven people to be a cautious alchemy of pragmatism and romanticism, even though they would certainly find the description insulting.

Around the long, ornate table at the geode’s heart were several dwarves representing multiple clans. Chief among them were the Earthborns and Silvershales. Also present were Virion Eralith, de facto leader of the remaining elven people, Kathyln Glayder, who represented the affairs of the human nation of Sapin, and Gideon Bastius, chief inventor and scientist behind the advent of the Beast Corps, Dicathen’s newest weapon.

Their conversation had gone on for quite some time with minimal input from me. This suited me just fine. The people of Dicathen were terrified. The dragons had retreated to their home of Epheotus with only a cursory notice to this world's leaders. Few beyond this chamber even knew that they’d captured Agrona Vritra.

Alacrya was free of him, even if it didn’t know it yet.

But his sudden absence created a host of new dangers for my people. Allowing Agrona and Kezess Indrath to further weaken each other had been essential to the continued safety of our world. I feared this was a mistake on Arthur’s part, although, I could not see all ends, and only time would tell. So much work undone in an instant… I caught myself and tamped down my frustration before it could leak out onto my face. No, perhaps not undone entirely. But, if Arthur isn’t able to dissuade them, the asuras of Epheotus are now potentially an even greater threat.

Near the far end of the table, Durgar Silvershale, heir apparent to his father, Daglun, Lord of Clan Silvershale, had been silently stewing on some thought for several minutes as the others discussed the situation in Vildorial. I’d watched the way he tossed his graying hair, scratched at his freshly trimmed beard, and kept shooting me dark looks, his slate-gray eyes full of fear and contempt.

Finally, he burst out. “Why do we not take the battle to Alacrya?”

The hall went silent as the other lords and their guests turned to him.

Cheeks turning ruddy at becoming the center of attention, Durgar nonetheless lifted his chin and met all eyes with a look of challenge. “We have many of their warriors imprisoned here in Vildorial. As you were just discussing, the number of prisoners is so great that we’ve had to dig out two additional fresh prisons just to hold them all. Their supreme leader is gone, many of their greatest powers defeated. For the first time in this whole damn war, we can attack from a place of strength!”

Although several of those present glanced at me as if awaiting a response, I was not invited to speak, and while that was not strictly a deterrent, it was in my benefit to adhere to their decorum for the moment. I’d seen this anger and frustration building within the people of Dicathen over the last couple of weeks, but I also saw their fatigue and war-wariness. Although some may push for more violence, now that, as Durgar had correctly suggested, the balance of power was perhaps tipped toward Dicathen, I did not think there was any danger.

Lance Mica Earthborn leaned back in her seat and kicked one leg up over the other. Her black gemstone eye reflected the many-colored crystals around us. “Arthur is in Epheotus. Lance Varay is recovering from her wounds in Etistin. Our own armies are haggard and depleted from half a decade of constant conflict. If Agrona really is defeated, then there is no reason to continue the war.”

There were a few mumbled agreements to her words, but others looked less sure, including her own father, Carnelian Earthborn, whose voice would be essential to any decision the council came to.

“We have these…machines,” Durgar answered, gesturing to Gideon. “The Beast Corps and…what did you call these things again?”

“Exoforms,” Gideon answered. Ink-stained fingertips brushed over patchy brows as he considered the table. His eyes only barely touched mine before focusing on Lord Earthborn. “Since Arthur isn’t here to speak—and it was on his orders and with his support that the Beast Corps was formed—I will risk speaking on his behalf. He would not agree to attack Alacrya.”

Daglun Silvershale, lord of his clan, tugged at his braided beard anxiously. “And is Arthur Leywin, a human boy less than half the age of my youngest son, the king of all Dicathen now? Perhaps I missed his coronation, but last I checked, he was a Lance in service of the elven empire and nothing more, regardless of his personal strength and his service to Dicathen.”

“Not to mention the lies of his whereabouts that got so many killed,” Lance Mica said under her breath. I made note of the comment and set it aside to consider more deeply later. This is a problem that Arthur will need to address before it can fester.

There was a glassy clatter as Lance Bairon Wykes shifted his stance, the steel of his boots ringing against the crystal slab on which we all stood. “Arthur is not our king, but he nonetheless represents both our continent and our world in communication with the asuras. If what we’ve learned is accurate, he is in their land right now, certainly treating with their lord. Can anyone else at this time claim to have done such a thing?”

I held back my smile, appreciating Bairon’s straightforward defense of Arthur, and all the more because his words were true.

Gideon cleared his throat. He pointedly met Virion’s eyes, then Kathyln’s, and finally Carnelian Earthborn’s. “No, but I do think Durgar is right on one point: the Alacryan presence in Vildorial is a burden the city can’t support. The cost of food alone, even prison gruel, is likely to bring the city to its knees in less than a month.” Finally, the old scientist turned his attention to me. “I propose, and I’m certain Arthur would agree, that the only way to move forward is to release the Alacryans and send them home.”

He had presented the argument, which we had developed together in the days leading up to this meeting, with more sarcasm than I’d have preferred, but given both his audience and his station among them, I had to admit it was effective. I let a smile show through. Not sharp or victorious, but soft and grateful, as if I were hearing his words for the first time.

It had been difficult to communicate properly, as I had only recently been allowed to leave the prisons that still held the rest of my people, even those who had fought alongside the Dicathians like Caera Denoir and Lyra Dreide. The dwarves had shown little interest in speaking with me, and, even after my release, I hadn’t been allowed to leave Vildorial to communicate with the human leaders.

Virion Eralith had been willing to meet with me, proving himself to be an understanding and patient man. The support of both Arthur and Lance Bairon gave his voice an outsized weight in comparison to the station he now held, but there was no longer an armed conflict to be commander of, and his people were decimated and scattered. I expected him to stick to his values, but he lacked the strength to fight for my people when his own needed so much of him.

It had been in Gideon that I had found the attentive ear I needed to bend. He saw the problems facing his people and my own clearly and without the haze of hatred or sorrow. For a man barely half my age, he was quite intelligent, but most of all, he was unburdened by an overdeveloped sense of propriety, meaning he could speak his mind openly even among the powerful.

These thoughts and others bounded swiftly through my mind in the beat of silence that followed Gideon’s proclamation.

“We’ve tried to live peacefully beside them already—”

“—turn right around and attack us—”

“—deserve justice for the crimes committed against them—”

“—eager to see them gone, but we can’t trust them!”

One of the lesser dwarven lords, a blister-cheeked woman with gray hair named Stoyya, said above the rest: “And who exactly gave you authority to make suggestions at this table?”

It was Virion’s rough, calm voice that answered. “Master Gideon has proven himself time and time again. Even if he lacks an official title after the dissolution of the Tri-Union Council, he has been integral to every stage of this war. Even now, he represents a significant military power in Dicathen. Should those he represents not have a voice if we’re to rely on their strength?” He gazed around the room levelly. When no one responded, we continued. “That said, I must ask: even if we wished to release the Alacryans, how could so many be sent back across the ocean? We lack ships capable of making the journey, and our capabilities for teleportation can’t match that which brought them to our shores.”

“We could send them all into the Relictombs,” Lance Mica suggested with a shrug of her small shoulders. “They’d come out in Alacrya eventually. Those that survived, anyway.”

Virion frowned. “Many would not, and we would have no say over who lived and who died, should we be considering justice.”

Lady Kathyln Glayder folded her hands together on the table in front of her. “Keep in mind that there are children imprisoned here as we speak, and more still living on the very border of the Beast Glades, left with only the protection of their non-mage caretakers. Any solution needs to ensure that we are not unjustly punishing those who have had no choice in this war.”

Seeing my opening, I took half a step forward. The small motion was enough to draw every eye to me. “Many of those who raised arms against you and your people might be said to have had no choice in fighting this war. Alacrya is not a nation where leaders earn the respect of their people. Rather, it is one where beings more ancient and powerful that we can fully appreciate control the people absolutely, even defining their very worth on the purity of their blood. It is a nation where any small disrespect—even unintentional—might mean death not only for you, but your entire family, even your friends and allies. There are those who refused to fight, and we all watched them die horribly. When a god-king tells you to go to war, you go.”

I let my head bow solemnly. “At Arthur’s urging, you allowed many Alacryans to live in Dicathen alongside you, as your neighbors. And the trust you placed in us through Arthur was betrayed. But when we marched alongside the invading force that entered Vildorial searching for Arthur, it was not because you were or are our enemies. I trusted to find here a way to save as many of my people as possible, while endangering your own as little.” I raised my chin and looked down at the seated lords and ladies defiantly. “Can any of you truthfully say you’d have done differently? That, upon watching the magic within your own people’s cores erupt and kill them, that you would simply let them die rather than comply? Because if you can tell me that, then perhaps you are a stronger leader than I. Or perhaps you are simply more ruthless with the lives of those who rely on you.”

Blinking faces regarded me with surprise. This surprise quickly turned to anger for some.

“A pathetic excuse!” Durgar roared.

“To be called ruthless by an Alacryan,” another of the dwarven lords spat, his thick mustache quivering and flecked with spittle.

“You should watch your tone, Scythe,” Lance Mica said, leaning forward in her chair, her one good eye narrowing.

Carnelian Earthborn, her father, raised a hand. “At ease, Mica. Lord Silvershale.” He shook out his mahogany hair and scratched at his matching beard. “After all, we’ve invited Lady Seris here to represent her people, and that is what she is trying to do. As for my part…” He gave a long, thoughtful look at his daughter and the other Earthborn present, Hornfels, his nephew. “I can’t say what I’d have done in your situation, but I’m not ready to condemn your entire people based on the orders of a corrupt lord. If we dwarves did that, few enough of us would have been left to fight this war at all.” He glared at Daglun and Durgar. “Or have you forgotten the Greysunders already?”

Daglun Silvershale sputtered. “Forgotten…? It was we who led the resistance, who fought and refused to submit, refused to take sides with…with…” His eyes narrowed at Carnelian, who only smiled back. “Yes, well…I concede your point, Lord Earthborn.”

Gideon cleared his throat. “Commander Virion, I believed you asked a rather important question before this meeting started to go off the rails. How could we hope to send so many people back to Alacrya at such a distance? Thanks to our asuran ally, Wren Kain IV, I already have an answer.” He raised his half-grown brows and looked smugly around the table. “The Alacryans’ last attack was accomplished with the use of a new teleportation technology. Well, I say new, but the reality is that it is as close to what the ancient mages accomplished as I’ve ever seen. Despite their efforts to prevent it, we have captured one of the devices. It was a relatively simple matter to then reverse engineer the working copy.”

Durgar slapped his palm against the table. “This is excellent! It puts us on even footing with their ability to strike at a moment's notice. With the speed and mobility of the Beast Corps, we can—”

“This council lacks the authority to send my exosuits and their pilots anywhere at all,” Gideon snapped.

Durgar’s face went red as a bloodberry, but his father spoke up before he could manage a response. “It is clear that the Council of Lords has little stomach for further fighting. It would be best to listen, Durgar, and gauge the temperament of our peers before demanding more blood and war.”

Durgar’s jaw clenched several times beneath his beard, and he looked down at the table, meeting no one’s eyes.

“So it seems,” Lady Kathyln said into the silence that follows, “that we have means if we also have desire. On behalf of Sapin, I would suggest we follow Master Gideon’s suggestion. Send these people home. Allow them to begin rebuilding their homes, so that we might do the same.”

Virion nodded his agreement. “Well said. On behalf of what remains of the elven nation of Elenoir, I agree.”

Among the dwarven lords, Silvershale and Earthborn were the most powerful. They exchanged a look, and then Carnelian answered for them all. “We agree to release the prisoners and allow them to return home.” There was a brief pause, and then, “On one condition.”

I eyed the dwarf expectantly; in armed conflict, no victor backed down with an incentive.

“Great harm has been done to the nation of Darv by Agrona, and on his behalf,” Carnelian said with a rehearsed air. “We expect recompense from Alacrya for its war crimes. Justice in material wealth, in the absence of justice in blood.”

“You have taken the words straight from my mind,” I said quickly, before anyone else could intervene. “Dicathen has suffered greatly under Agrona’s attacks. Perhaps not as much as Alacrya has suffered under his rule, but your point is nonetheless valid. Although I am no longer in a position of political power and can make no promises for the dominions of Alacrya, I’m certain you can make any future leaders see the sense of your demands, just as I do.

“In fact, I would offer more.” Now, my focus turned to Virion. “Although it was the asura and not Alacrya who did such horrible damage to Elenoir, a cowardly attack that took many Alacryan lives as well, we nonetheless would offer similar justice for the elves. Currently, the borders with the Beast Glades are defended only by the villages my people set up there. Should the elves seek to rebuild their homeland, they would become prey for the ranging monsters that have grown consistently more bold over these last months. I hope to leave some of my own people there, in the villages we have already established, to tend the border with the Beast Glades. Perhaps, in time, they might even become trading partners with the elves, as we’ve established hunting grounds and crops in the otherwise lifeless wasteland.”

Virion, his hands on the table, pushed back into his chair slightly. This and the slight widening of his eyes were all that gave away his surprise. Ideally, I’d have sought his agreement beforehand, as I’d done with Gideon, but I trusted his sense of fairness and equity to win out.

“Your offer of aid is…very welcome,” he said at length.

Carnelian was frowning deeply. “And yet the agreement was that all Alacryans be sent back to their homeland. This would allow some to stay on our shores, where they have already proven a danger once.”

“Elenoir and the Beast Glades are far from Darv,” Virion said easily. “The risk is firmly on the elves, and I’m willing to accept that risk in exchange for Lady Seris’s offer of support and protection for my people as we begin attempting to revive the Elshire Forest.”

Durgar muttered something about the softness of elves, drawing a cold look from Virion’s assistant, a middle-aged elven woman named Saria Triscan.

“There is yet more we might offer,” I continued. “The technology of Alacrya is advanced. We will share our knowledge. Agrona was only one asura. There is an entire nation of them out there still, any one of which could be just as dangerous to us. Alacrya will share our knowledge, because it is that, not Vritra blood, that makes us strong. Dicathen and Alacrya may assure continued peace between our two continents by equalizing our nations in power, but as our world grows stronger in total, we also help to safeguard ourselves against future asuran involvement.”

I withdrew a leatherbound sheaf of parchment. A dwarven attendant took it and carried it around the table to Lady Kathyln as I indicated. She took it with care, regarded it curiously, then turned searching eyes back on me.

“I start with a gift for Lance Varay Aurae, who I believe will benefit greatly from this knowledge, which was taken from Taegrin Caelum before we fled Alacrya, at the cost of many Alacryan lives.”

Kathyln’s expression hardened, and she gave a single sharp nod as she set the bound parchments on the table and rested her hands protectively atop it.

“Now, unless there is any further business, there is much to do to organize my people for travel. Master Gideon, please bring me the specifications of these portals so we can establish a timeline.” I let my gaze sweep across the room, staying respectful but businesslike. “Commander Virion. I must speak with my people to see who is willing to return to the border villages, and then I will provide you numbers.”

Turning away, I walked confidently toward the closed dwarves. The startled guards straightened, looking from me to someone behind me, then hurried to open the doors.

As I marched quickly through the palace, I felt Virion’s mana signature follow after, noting the silence of his footsteps as he hurried to walk at my side.

“That was well done in there,” he said quietly. “It seems you got exactly what you hoped for, unless I’ve read things incorrectly.”

“I did what all leaders do: sought allies to support my positions,” I answered in the same low tone. “I hope you don’t misunderstand. It wasn’t my intention to manipulate, but rather to ensure a strong bargaining position.”

He raised his hands and gave me a rough smile. “I’ve seen the game played for a long time, but seeing you in action makes it all the more clear that we should be on the same side of things to come.”

That is more true than you may realize, I thought, but out loud, I only bid him farewell for now.

The palace was soon behind me as I marched with a rapid surety toward the closest of the prison wards, which was not far down the curving highway. The outer guards barely twitched their beards at my approach, but the warden within hurried to retrieve the keys and allow me into the cells.

In the hours and days after the battle, my people had been commingled without thought into cells, many even held in the bunkers built in the base of the city to protect the civilians. Several fights had broken out between Agrona’s loyalists and those who had followed me out of Alacrya to begin with. It had only been with Lance Bairon’s assistance that I’d convinced our jailors to separate the loyalists and place them in one of the newly dug out prisons.

Now, the upper cell contained mostly those who were least a threat to the Dicathians, and those most in need of protection from potential reprisal.

I stopped to greet and check on members of the Ramseyer blood, which had suffered great losses during the battle, and then on the Arkwrights. Umberters and Frosts, Belleroses and Isenhaerts. I greeted young Seth Milview and Mayla Fairweather, interrupting their reading as they poured through a book together. Something one of the dwarven guards had given them. That look of awkwardness and surprise at being addressed by a Scythe—even if I no longer held that title—was barely a flicker on their faces now.

I felt eyes following me and turned to catch Corbett and Lenora Denoir watching me carefully. Caera turned away from some conversation with them and dipped respectfully. “Lady Seris. What news?”

I gestured for her to follow me, then continued deeper into the prison, searching for Lyra and Cylrit. Caera did not ask any more questions but followed me patiently.

I found them in one of the few cells that had solid walls to provide some privacy for conversations within. Normally it would be locked and warded, but like all the other cells, it was open into the central chamber, affording those imprisoned here some level of freedom to intermingle and move about the complex. Even if the lords of Vildorial had wanted to clap every Alacryan mage in mana suppression cuffs, they wouldn’t have had enough for even ten percent of the prisoners, but I had specifically convinced them to allow Lyra and Cylrit—among the strongest of those jailed after the battle—to go without such precautions.

Lyra was sitting cross legged on her bunk with her back against the wall. Her flame-red hair pooled around her head like a halo, bright against the stained, off-white stone. Cyrlit stood against the opposite wall, his thumbs hooked through his belt. His normally well-groomed appearance was slightly disheveled, his hair unkempt around his horns; imprisonment hadn’t agreed with him, and I knew he was eager to return to the fight, whatever that might look like now.

Both looked grave, as if they’d been discussing something quite serious. Although they looked at me in tandem, neither spoke to ask what had happened. Instead, they waited.

I gave them a soft smile, and their demeanors relaxed.

“It went well, then?” Cylrit said finally, pushing himself away from the wall with his elbows.

“More or less as expected, yes,” I confirmed. I closed the door behind Caera, then activated the muffling wards with a pulse of mana. “Their eagerness for a simple solution overwhelmed baser desires, and with Master Gideon there to provide solutions to their concerns, it was fairly straightforward.”

Lyra let out a slow breath between pursed lips. “Forgive me for saying so, but I wasn’t sure. If the tables were turned, who in Alacrya would have shown the same grace?”

“Something you should remember in the days to come,” I answered, my tone growing somber. “As we begin to rebuild our nation, there is much we can learn from how the Dicathians treat each other.”

“I can’t stop thinking about what must be happening back in Alacrya,” Caera said, half to herself.

I reached out and lifted her chin with a finger, meeting her eyes. “Right now, there is a vacuum of power. Already, those highbloods loyal to Agrona will be struggling to fill it. But there are still many who will be working for the betterment of our nation as well. Removing Agrona was only the first step.”

“And…” Cylrit hesitated. “What about our plans?”

“We’ll have to judge the state of our home continent.” I looked from Lyra to Cylrit to Caera, lingering on her the longest. “It is certain that the conflict isn’t over yet. The fight to come will be for the very soul of Alacrya.”

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