Blood of Aenarion

chapter TWENTY-five



‘Oh no, another ship,’ said Teclis. The twins stood on the dock at Lothern’s northern harbour. It was neither as busy nor impressive as the Great Harbour. It lacked the variety too – the only ships in view were asur vessels. No others were allowed on the waters of the Inner Sea.

‘I sometimes doubt you are my sister’s son,’ said Lady Malene. ‘She was a true daughter of Lothern, as at home on the water as on land.’

Teclis looked oddly at her. He did not seem to know quite what to say or quite how to take this parting. Tyrion suspected that he had become accustomed to her company and that, unusually for his twin, Teclis trusted her. ‘I take after my father. He always preferred the mountains.’

‘I know,’ said Malene. There was a world of wistfulness in her voice. Tyrion suspected she was thinking of the distant place in which her sister had died.

Tyrion was surprised when his twin walked forward and with great awkwardness hugged her. She hugged him back.

‘We will come back,’ Teclis said.

‘Be sure that you do,’ said Lady Malene. ‘You still have a great deal to learn.’

‘When you come back we shall see about making a warrior out of you, not a duellist, doorkeeper.’ Korhien said. His manner was joking and jovial, a soldier who had said many goodbyes. Tyrion could see he was champing at the bit to get away as well though. He needed to bring a warning to their father.

‘What do you mean?’

‘There will be armies in the field this season. This business with the Cult of Pleasure has got everything stirred up. We will be sweeping the mountains of vermin. There will be raids on Naggaroth too.’

‘The world must be shown the might of Ulthuan,’ said Tyrion.

‘Your quickness of understanding is gratifying, doorkeeper,’ said Korhien.

‘That’s the first time anyone has ever told my brother that,’ said Teclis. Korhien looked at him and smiled. He understood Teclis’s joking manner.

‘Be grateful he is your brother, otherwise he might call you out for insulting him.’ There was an edge to the White Lion’s words. Korhien was unhappy about the duel with Larien or something it had revealed about Tyrion. It was a matter he would have to take up with Korhien on his return.

If he returned.

‘You had better get aboard,’ said Lady Malene. ‘You sail with the tide and the captain will want to get under way. Best not keep him waiting.’

‘Blessings of Isha upon you,’ said Korhien.

‘May you live a thousand years,’ the twins responded in unison.

Tyrion stood on the bowsprit of the ship, balancing there, watching the dolphins surge through the water alongside. They were keeping pace with the vessel, leaping high and landing in the water, frolicsome as children at play. The coast of the Inner Sea was visible in the distance, a soft-looking land in this light, rising away to the distant mountains.

‘Stop showing off,’ said Teclis. He sounded a little peevish. Perhaps he was more affected by their departure than he wanted to let on. Realising his harshness of tone, he made a joke, ‘I could do that if I wanted to.’

Tyrion performed an elaborate courtly bow to him, still balancing on the bowsprit, ignoring the rise and fall of the ship.

‘If you were not so seasick, of course,’ he said. He too felt odd. He missed the bustle of the Emeraldsea Palace, the feeling that he was standing at the centre of the world. He even missed Liselle a little.

It felt like he was alone with his brother now, among strangers. There was a time that would not have bothered him. He had been changed by his time in Lothern. Of course they both had other things on their mind – the upcoming test, being hunted by a daemon.

‘I don’t feel quite so bad,’ said Teclis. ‘Perhaps it’s the medicine Lady Malene gave me. Perhaps it’s the sea itself. It feels somehow different from the wild outer ocean.

‘They say the storms are not so bad here, and there are not the same ocean currents,’ said Tyrion. ‘Maybe that makes a difference.’

They were talking around something. His brother would get to it sooner or later given time. ‘Would you like to take my place here?’

‘No. You make a better figurehead for a ship,’ Teclis said. ‘After all, your head is made of wood.’

A dolphin erupted from the water. It came almost level with Tyrion. He could have reached out and touched it if he wanted to. Its skin was slick with sloughing water. Its eyes looked oddly merry.

‘The audience appreciates your jokes,’ said Tyrion. He bounced on the bowsprit a couple of times to build up momentum then used its springiness to propel him into the air. He backflipped onto the deck, landing beside Teclis.

‘It’s sad you’ve been reduced to competing with dolphins,’ said Teclis, but the pain in his eyes showed that he understood who Tyrion was really competing with. No amount of magic would ever allow him to do what Tyrion had just done, or enjoy the ease his brother had. As soon as he did it, Tyrion felt guilt mingle with a natural elven malignant satisfaction.

‘Would you like to tell me what is really bothering you?’ Tyrion asked.

‘I am worried about our father. What if the daemon has already found him?’

It was a disquieting thought, imagining their old home besieged by an army of daemons. Even more disquieting was the idea that it might already have happened and they would not know about it. ‘Me too,’ said Tyrion.

‘You have another idea in that thick skull of yours, I can tell. Spit it out!’

‘I think we are being used as bait.’

‘You think that we are being sent to one of the safest places in Ulthuan to tempt N’Kari to attack us.’

‘No, I think we are being sent there to tempt N’Kari to attack it.’

‘Go on.’

‘What would happen if N’Kari attacked the Shrine of Asuryan?’

‘He would be destroyed.’

‘What if he was not? What if he escaped to try again?’

‘He would be hunted down and destroyed.’

‘And how would that affect the population?’

‘I see where you are going with this – they would unite behind Finubar. They would be outraged and they would demand action. They already are. Congratulations brother, you have been using your head for something else other than to block blows.’

‘The princes will have to unite around Finubar. His position will become stronger. Theirs will be weaker. For a time.’

‘Lothern has made you cynical, brother.’

‘No. It has merely showed me how our rulers think. Now why don’t you tell me what is really bothering you?’

Teclis looked at him for a long time. It seemed like he was not going to answer then, eventually, he gulped and said, ‘We will be tested soon. What if I am cursed? What then?’

Tyrion could see that his brother was afraid and he could understand why. He wanted so badly to be a mage, to have a life, and that might well be denied him by the decision of the priests at the Shrine of Asuryan. They would not even have to put him to death. Interring him would be just as bad.

‘You are not cursed,’ Tyrion said.

‘Look at me. Who would believe that?’

‘Being the way you are means you were unlucky, not cursed.’

‘Let me tell you something, brother,’ Teclis’s voice dropped so that only Tyrion could hear. ‘I knew I was doing wrong when I took that spellbook from Malene’s library. I did it anyway. I would do it again. I want the power and I am drawn to it, no matter what the cost. If that is not a sign of the Curse, what is?’

Tyrion smiled coldly. ‘Then let me tell you something, brother. I was not horrified when I killed Larien. I enjoyed it. I enjoyed killing another elf. What does that say about me?’

They stared at each other in silence for a long time. Eventually Teclis said, ‘I would have enjoyed killing him too. If I was able.’

‘I am, brother, that is the difference. And I very much doubt Larien will be the last elf I kill.’

‘Being a killer is not such a bad thing. In the world we live in it counts as a useful talent.’

‘I think I enjoy it too much.’

The words hung in the air for a long time.

After three days and nights of sailing, a small island rose out of the Inner Sea ahead of the ship. It looked volcanic. Palm trees covered some of the slopes. Caves and terraces dotted its sides. On the highest point of the island was a large stepped pyramid. It must have been massive indeed, Tyrion thought, to be visible at such a distance.

In spite of everything, his worries and his fear for his father’s safety, Tyrion was glad that he had come here, and seen this. It was one of the most sacred sites in all elvendom.

This was the place where Aenarion had first passed through the Flame of Asuryan and became Phoenix King. This was the place where, ever since, every Phoenix King from Bel Shanaar to Finubar had made his own ascension to the throne. It was the place where Malekith had made his doomed attempt to wrest the power of the gods from its rightful wielder.

It could be said that elven history began in this place. Before Aenarion had shaped them into a warrior people, the elves had been peaceful farmers and herders. They had lived in harmony with their land in the eternal springtime of their devotion to the Everqueen.

After Aenarion had passed through the Flame everything was different.

Aenarion had taught the elves how to make war, to follow kings, to fight and to conquer. They had become a different people after that day. He had remade the elves in his own image, into what they needed to become in order to survive. Peaceful farmers could no longer survive in a world from which the old gods had fled and through which the evil powers of Chaos marched. Aenarion had made them into something that could.

The ship moved ever closer and the island loomed ever more massive until they entered a small harbour. Statues of the Phoenix Kings lined the entrance. Images of the gods looked down from the cliffs overhead. The crew brought the ship in and moored it and soon Tyrion found himself on dry land again.

An escort of Phoenix Guard, proud in their distinctive uniforms waited to greet them. The ship’s captain exchanged silent greetings with their leader in hand sign and soon the twins were walking up a long pathway on the side of the island towards the shrine, surrounded by twenty of its proud guardians.

Tyrion found his thoughts drawn inevitably back to one of the reasons why they were here.

N’Kari was looking for Teclis and himself. In a way it was like being told Aenarion himself had summoned them to an audience. A creature had stepped directly out of ancient myths and into the modern world and it was seeking to kill them. Tyrion had often dreamed of taking part in stories like the ones he and his twin had read as children. It seemed as if his dreams had come true.

He was not frightened exactly. It all seemed too strange. Walking here on the slopes of this ancient island, passing vineyards and flower gardens as the sun beamed down, the very idea that a daemon was looking for the two of them seemed a mad fantasy. Birds sang, huge butterflies almost as big as the songbirds moved from hedgerow to hedgerow and flower to flower. This was not a world in which things like daemons could possibly exist.

And yet his brain told him otherwise. Why else was he here? Why else were these heavily armed elves marching in regular pace beside him? Was not this island itself a place of legends and dreams? Was this not a place where the gods reached into the world and spoke to their chosen people? Even an elf as insensitive to most forms of magic as Tyrion could tell that this was a mystical place. Power charged the atmosphere all around them. He could feel it as he could feel the presence of a fine cool mist on his skin on a winter morning.

The Phoenix King himself had ordered them placed under guard here, which argued that he at least took the threat of the daemon seriously. And if Finubar did so, could he and his brother do anything less? No. The daemon was out there and soon it would come looking for them, and when it did he had better be ready, although he was not entirely sure how that was possible.

And tomorrow they would be tested. The Keeper of Secrets was not the only thing they had to worry about. It seemed that very suddenly his short life had become very dangerous.

The Temple of Asuryan rose above them. The stones were ancient and weathered, covered in an ochre moss. It was difficult to tell the real scale of the place. It seemed as if it was part of the cliffs, a mountain that had been partially sculpted by the ancient builders. It was as if the gods themselves had placed it there.

Even he could tell that there was a power contained within this place. He could sense the energy pulsing out through the very stone and he was sure that his brother, who was far more sensitive to these things than he was, was even more aware of it. Teclis stared as if he were looking at some natural marvel: a mountain landscape, a perfect beach, a glorious sunset. His face was transformed as if he were looking upon a wonder.

‘A god dwells in this place,’ he said.

‘What gave you the first clue?’ Tyrion asked. ‘Was it the fact that it is the Temple of Asuryan? Or was it something more subtle like the religious symbols carved into the cliffs? Perhaps it was the smoke rising from the Sacred Flame at the top of the temple.’

‘I can see the Flame burning through the cliff.’

‘You can see it through the rock?’

‘Perhaps see is the wrong word. I can perceive its energy. This is a place where a power from Outside touches our world. Something vast and slow and terribly ancient.’

There was a mixture of awe and something else in his brother’s voice. Tyrion could not tell what it was. He looked at the temple again.

‘It does not look like it was built by elves, does it?’ he said.

‘It is not in a typically elven architectural style, that’s true,’ said Teclis. ‘The ziggurat echoes the patterns of ancient cities of the slann. Some think it was they who first contacted Asuryan and taught his worship to the elves.’

‘Aenarion was in this place,’ said Tyrion. It was a strange thought – the first Phoenix King had not yet been touched by the power of Asuryan when he first looked upon the spot. He could have walked away and the whole course of history would have been different. There would never have been any Phoenix Kings. Perhaps the forces of Chaos would have engulfed the world and there would be no Tyrion standing here to look up at the temple with wonder and unease in his heart.

He noticed the Phoenix Guard seemed to be paying attention to them now. He was tempted to ask them what they thought but he knew he would get no answer. These warriors were sworn to silence and he did not know the hand signs they used to communicate. They guarded sacred mysteries and it was said they knew their own dooms.

‘Malekith was here too,’ said Teclis. ‘He tried to emulate his father. He tried to walk through the flame. He failed and was damned.’

How like his brother to concentrate on the dark side of things, Tyrion thought. But Teclis was correct. The Witch King of Naggaroth had once walked here too. He had gone forth from the spot, a wretched, scorched cripple, twisted by the experience. And yet, for all that, he had left. He had survived for far longer than his mighty father.

‘Every Phoenix King who was ever crowned has stood near where we are standing now. From this small island, a great deal of our history was shaped.’

‘Well, brother, now our history will be shaped. The course of our lives will be decided here,’ said Teclis.