Blood of Aenarion

chapter two



The sitting room was damp and fusty and cold, and Tyrion could tell that the Lady Malene was less than impressed. For the first time he felt ashamed of his father and his home.

Looking at her raiment woven from silks and magical cloths he could not even name, Tyrion saw for the first time how very shabbily he and his father were dressed. For so long he’d had nothing to compare his family to other than the local villagers who were, he now realised, simple mountain folk.

It was obvious that Korhien and Malene belonged to a very different order of people, and one to which he felt he and his father did not. Perhaps his father once had, but, if so, no longer.

Lady Malene sniffed the air and looked at the chipped wooden armchairs. They were not padded or cushioned and he guessed that was something else she was not used to. Korhien laughed. ‘I have been in army camps that were more prepossessing, Arathion. Not much chance of you going soft out here.’

‘Be seated, I will soon have the fire lit,’ said Father, and he was good as his word. He exited the chamber and returned with some of their precious supply of winter logs. He tossed them into the fireplace any old way and lit them with a word of power.

Each log erupted simultaneously into blue mystical flame when he spoke. Sparks flickered and faint popping sounds filled the air as the sap within ignited. Tyrion looked at his father in amazement. It was the most, and the most obvious, magic he had seen him use in years. He wanted to run and tell Teclis but was kept frozen to the spot by curiosity, a desire to see what extraordinary thing might happen next.

Thornberry brought in a clay bottle of wine and three goblets on an ancient-looking bronze tray. She seemed uncomfortable but tried not to show it, keeping her face stone-like in its lack of expression. She placed the wine on the low table and retreated from the room as quickly as she could.

His father gestured for the guests to be seated. ‘There will be food soon.’

Tyrion wondered at this as well. His father must have given instructions for the food to be prepared which was something of a wonder in and of itself. Often he forgot to eat for days at a time, and, when Thornberry was not there, Tyrion had to cook for himself and Teclis.

Korhien and Malene sat while his father poured the wine. Tyrion went over to the fire and stood with his back to it, luxuriating in the unaccustomed heat.

‘To what do we owe the honour of this visit?’ his father asked eventually.

‘It is time,’ said Korhien. ‘The twins are almost of the age to be presented at the court of the Phoenix King.’

‘It is their right,’ said Lady Malene. ‘And their duty. They are of the Blood of Aenarion.’

‘Yes, they are,’ said his father. He sounded oddly sharp and looked more combative than Tyrion had ever seen him. His father was never aggressive to anyone. ‘I am wondering why House Emeraldsea has chosen to send its fairest daughter and its greatest ally at court to collect them.’

Tyrion felt another shock. Collect them. What did his father mean? He could tell from Malene’s expression she had not expected this response either. She had the look of a woman who people did not talk to in that tone. Korhien too was looking at Tyrion’s father oddly but not without admiration.

‘What do you mean?’ Malene asked eventually.

‘I mean for the past fifteen years or so, House Emeraldsea has shown little enough interest in my sons. And yet today, here you are, reminding me of my paternal duty to have them presented before the Phoenix Throne in the company of a troop of armoured warriors. I am curious as to why.’

‘They must be presented,’ said Korhien. ‘You know the law as well as I do, Arathion. They are of the Blood.’

‘And if they are to be presented at court, I must see that they do not disgrace our family,’ said Malene.

His father let out a soft laugh. ‘I thought it must be that.’

‘Why must we be presented at court, father?’ Tyrion burst out, unable to contain his curiosity.

His father looked at him, as if noticing for the first time that he was there. ‘Leave us, Tyrion, your aunt and I have much to discuss. I will tell you what you need to be told later.’

His father sounded stern, and what he was saying was unfair, but there was such a look of pain in his eyes when he spoke that Tyrion did not have the heart to argue with him or question him. He stalked to the door and closed it behind him, resisting the urge to slam it although the temptation was very great.

‘Think,’ said Teclis. His voice sounded even more husky and rasping than usual. His cough was worse, but there was a feverish interest in his eyes now. He sat upright in his bed, a blanket draped round his shoulders like a cloak. ‘Try and remember, what else did they say?’

Tyrion shook his head. ‘I have told you all of it.’

He drew his cloak tighter around him. After the warmth of the sitting room downstairs, Teclis’s room seemed colder than ever. Perhaps he should carry Teclis down and let him sit by the fire for a while. He knew better than to suggest it though. His brother would never agree. He did not like his weakness to be exposed before strangers.

‘You are sure she said we are to be presented to the Phoenix King?’

‘Yes.’

‘I suppose it makes sense. We are potential inheritors of the Curse, after all.’

Tyrion laughed. ‘The Curse? The Curse of Aenarion? Be serious!’

‘The Archmage Caledor claimed that all of those of the Blood of Aenarion could inherit his curse and be touched by Khaine, god of murder.’

‘Surely that only applies to those like Malekith, born after Aenarion picked up the Godslayer and was tainted by its power.’

‘You would think, wouldn’t you? But such were not Caledor’s words. And if you think about it, it would make no sense. Malekith has been sterile since he passed through the Flame. He has never had any children.’

‘Why? I do not believe you are cursed by Khaine nor I, for that matter.’

Teclis gestured at his wasted form and raised one eyebrow. ‘I think it is possible.’

‘I don’t think you are cursed.’

‘How many elves ever get sick, Tyrion? How many are as feeble as I am?’

Tyrion tried to laugh the matter off. ‘I hardly think that qualifies you as a threat to the Realm.’

‘It does not matter what we think, Tyrion. It matters what the Phoenix King and his court think.’

‘We are being presented there so they can inspect us for the taint of Khaine?’

‘I believe so.’

‘That does not seem fair.’

‘They may be right.’

‘You cannot mean that, brother!’

‘Aenarion was unique. He did things no elf ever did before and very few even attempted afterwards. He passed through the Flame of Asuryan unaided and unprotected. He drew the Godslayer from the Altar of Khaine. There was something different about him, something that allowed him to wield the power of the gods, and for them to act through him. Who is to say that difference is not passed on through his blood. Caledor Dragontamer certainly thought so, and he was the greatest mage this world has ever known.’

‘How do you know all this?’ Tyrion asked. He knew the answer already but as usual the full extent of his brother’s learning astonished him.

‘Because while you roam abroad, I have nothing better to do than read, when I have the energy.’

‘Yes, but what you read, you always remember. I wish I could do that. With me it always slips in one ear and slides out the other.’

‘Unless it’s to do with war or heroes,’ said Teclis. ‘Anyway, don’t you think it unusual that Lady Malene and Lord Korhien came to visit us this way?’

‘What do you mean?’ Teclis gave him a warning look.

A draft of air hitting his back told him that someone had just opened the door to Teclis’s room. Tyrion turned and saw the Lady Malene standing there. She did not look embarrassed to be intruding. She matched their stares and then marched right into the chamber without waiting to be invited.

‘You would be Teclis,’ she said. ‘The cripple.’

‘And you would be Malene, the rude.’ Teclis replied.

She laughed. ‘Well said, boy.’

‘You may address me as prince. It is my title.’

‘That has yet to be determined. I will know what to call you after you have stood before the Phoenix Throne.’

‘Why don’t you start practising now?’ Teclis said. ‘We can pretend that we are all well-bred elven nobles together.’

Malene stared at him for a long moment, obviously taking in the difference between his haughty manner and his wasted form and being forced to reassess the situation. ‘Indeed, Prince Teclis, why don’t we do that,’ she said at last.

‘Very good, Lady Malene. And further let us make an agreement that I won’t enter your chamber without knocking if you don’t enter mine.’

Tyrion thought his brother might be pushing things a little too far but Malene laughed and nodded in agreement. For some reason she seemed pleased with Teclis’s insouciance. ‘I am pleased to make your acquaintance and will bid you good day then, Prince Tyrion, Prince Teclis.’

As the door closed behind her, Teclis gestured for Tyrion to lean closer.

‘She has come here to kill us,’ he whispered.

‘Kill us?’ Tyrion asked.

‘Or have us killed, by the redoubtable Korhien.’

‘No.’ Tyrion was quite certain this was not the case.

‘Be assured of it. If she thinks we may prove to be tainted by Khaine, we will have an accident on the road to Lothern. Why else did they come?’

‘You are being over-dramatic,’ said Tyrion. He simply did not want to believe what Teclis was saying. ‘Why would they want to do that?’

‘Perhaps because House Emeraldsea has ambitions to seat its own candidate on the Phoenix Throne and it does not want the embarrassment of being associated with two tainted princes.’

‘We are not princes yet,’ said Tyrion. ‘You heard what Lady Malene said.’

Teclis laughed sourly till his mirth ended in a fit of coughing that brought tears to his eyes. ‘I must sleep now,’ he said. ‘Good night to you, brother.’

‘Isha smile on you, Teclis,’ said Tyrion hating the irony of the words even as he gave the traditional farewell. His brother was one of those that the goddess had most definitely not smiled upon. ‘May you live a thousand years.’

Disturbed by Teclis’s suspicions, Tyrion padded through the house. He reached the head of the stairs. From his vantage point he saw his father and Korhien sitting by the fire, a chessboard between them. Looking at the big warrior, Tyrion found it impossible to imagine him being involved in stealthy murder, in anything dishonourable at all. Such would not be Korhien’s way, Tyrion felt certain. If there was killing to be done, he would do it face to face, weapon to weapon.

Korhien leaned forward and moved a silver Gryphon. His father stroked his chin and contemplated his response. Tyrion padded down the stairs, luxuriating in the unaccustomed warmth of the sitting room, and moved quietly over to the board so as not to disturb the concentration of the players. He took in the position at a glance.

His father was playing gold with his usual cautious, reasoned approach. He was already on the defensive, despite having the advantage of the first move. Playing silver, Korhien had a formation of Archers massed on the right flank, and was mounting a strong attack on Father’s Everqueen with his Everqueen’s Dragon supported by his Gryphon riders and a Loremaster attacking down the long diagonal. His father’s hand hovered over his King’s Gryphon which would be a mistake.

‘Your doorkeeper disapproves of your strategy,’ said Korhien with a booming laugh when he noticed Tyrion’s expression.

‘Then I had better pay attention,’ said Father. ‘Tyrion is the best player in this house.’

Korhien raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that so? Better than you? Better than this brilliant but sickly brother I have yet to meet?’

‘Better than you,’ Tyrion said, nettled by the way Korhien’s words seemed to disparage Teclis.

‘Are you challenging me, doorkeeper?’ Korhien asked.

‘I could beat you from my father’s position.’

‘Oh ho, you are a cocky one. I would say I have your father well beaten.’

‘It looks that way now perhaps, but there are some glaring weaknesses in your tactics.’

‘I don’t see them,’ said Korhien.

‘Tyrion, if you please.’ Father rose from his seat and gestured for Tyrion to sit down. ‘If you are going to make such outrageous claims, you should be able to provide us with proof.’ His father was smiling though. Tyrion guessed he was not enjoying being beaten even by his friend. Few elves enjoyed defeat in anything.

Tyrion sat down and confidently moved an Archer two squares forwards, on his Phoenix King’s flank.

‘What?’ said Korhien obviously amused. He picked up his Gryphon and skipped it over Tyrion’s Archer into a position where it threatened a Loremaster. Tyrion contemplated the board. As always, he played quickly, by instinct, seeming to feel the strengths and weaknesses of the pieces and the complex web of forces woven by their placement and interaction.

He moved another Archer forwards, clearing space to bring his own Loremaster and Phoenix King into play, building a flanking position of his own. The exchange of pieces Korhien planned occurred and by the end of it he had gained an Archer, but was looking at the board thoughtfully. He clearly sensed that the balance of power was changing. He was a good enough player to understand what Tyrion was doing but he had not quite grasped the young prince’s plan yet.

He maintained his own attack, but Tyrion blocked it, with a cunning combination of Loremaster and Archers used to block the long diagonal that was Korhien’s main line of attack. A few moves later, Tyrion began his own attack. By the end of it, Korhien was laying his Everqueen on her side to show that he had resigned. He laughed loudly, seemingly delighted.

‘Are you always this good, doorkeeper?’

‘Yes, he is,’ said Father, with a pride which surprised Tyrion. ‘Better actually, since he would not have made the mistakes I did in the opening.’

‘I must see if this was a fluke,’ said Korhien. He picked up one gold Archer and one silver Archer in his huge hands, placed them behind his back and asked Tyrion to choose one. Tyrion chose silver this time and the game began. He won this game in forty-two moves and a third, in which he started as gold, in thirty. He could see that Korhien was impressed.

‘Your father is an excellent chess player and I am considered one of the best at court, and yet you have bested us without much trouble. You are not at all what I expected, doorkeeper.’

‘What did you expect?’

‘Not you,’ said Korhien clearly not wanting to say any more.

‘Another game,’ Tyrion suggested.

‘No, I have had quite enough defeats for one day.’ He said it with a smile though. There was no sourness in this Korhien. Tyrion liked him.

Tyrion shrugged and, well pleased, made his way outside. He was surprised to find that there was still some daylight left. It was the first time he could ever recall there being a fire in the grate before nightfall, no matter how cold it got in the mountains. He drew his cloak around him and thought about his chess games against the older warrior. Korhien was a better player than both his father and Teclis, which was not what he would have expected at all.

He felt flushed with his small victory and filled with restless energy, so he went out through the small postern in the main gate and began to run, slowly at first, just to warm himself up, and then faster and faster, vaulting over the rocks and bounding down the treacherous trail with careless disregard for life and limb.

It was dark by the time he returned, and he still was not tired, not even breathing heavily. The huge greater moon was in the sky. The lesser moon was a small green spark in a different quadrant. It seemed like a good omen. He was even more surprised to find Teclis warming himself in front of the fire in the sitting room, talking with Korhien. The chessboard was in front of them. Tyrion took in the board at a glance. Korhien was winning. Teclis saw him noticing this and gave a sour grimace. He did not like being beaten, which was why he did not often get the chance to play with his brother.

Teclis looked up sardonically as Tyrion entered. ‘Where is father?’ Tyrion asked.

‘He is closeted with the Lady Malene,’ said Teclis. ‘Apparently they have much to discuss.’

There was a warning note to his voice. Teclis suspected that something was going on and he wanted Tyrion to know this too.

‘I hear you have been winning again at chess, brother,’ Teclis said, changing the subject. He, at least, did not sound at all surprised when he said it. ‘It is not something I seem to be able to manage against Lord Korhien here. How do you do it? Win, I mean.’

Tyrion studied the board. ‘You could win from this position.’

‘Pray explain to me how?’

Tyrion looked at Korhien. ‘May I?’

The warrior laughed. ‘I am not sure I am going to enjoy this, but go ahead.’

‘Get used to being beaten by my brother; he does not like to lose,’ Teclis said.

‘That is a useful trait in a warrior,’ said Korhien. Tyrion proceeded to demonstrate how Teclis could win.

‘How do you do that?’ Teclis asked again.

‘How can you not? It just seems very obvious to me.’ It was true too. Tyrion really could not understand why his cleverer brother could not see what was so clear to him.

‘In what way?’ Korhien asked. There was a sharpness to his tone that Tyrion could not quite understand. He gave more thought to his response than he normally would.

‘Certain squares are more important than others, most of the time. Certain combinations of moves fit together. There are always weaknesses in every position and always strengths. You play to minimise the weaknesses and maximise the strengths.’

‘Those are sound general principles,’ said Korhien, ‘but they do not really explain anything.’

Tyrion felt frustrated. He understood how Teclis must feel when his twin tried to explain the principles of working magic to him. ‘It’s like I can see the way the patterns will work out. I see the ways all of the pieces potentially interlock. It’s like when I look at the maps of battlefields in old books...’

‘What?’ Korhien asked even more sharply.

‘There are certain obvious lines of attack on every battlefield. Places where troops should be placed. Places where they should not be. Hills with clear fields of fire for archers out over the rest of the field. Flat areas where cavalry can advance quickly. Woods and swamps that can guard flanks. You can see these things when you look at the maps.’

‘You can,’ said Teclis, stifling a yawn.

‘Blood of Aenarion,’ muttered Korhien. It was Tyrion’s turn to stare hard at him.

‘What do you mean by that?’ he asked.

‘They say Aenarion could do the same thing. See the patterns on a battlefield.’

‘Anybody can, if they take the trouble to think about these things,’ Tyrion said.

Teclis laughed again.

‘It is not often I hear my brother laud the virtues of thinking,’ he said, by way of explanation. ‘You should be applauding.’

‘Anyone can look at a map and say something. The trick is to be correct,’ said Korhien. Tyrion shrugged. He went over to the book shelf and picked up a copy of The Campaigns of Caledor the Conqueror. He opened it to a well-thumbed page and then walked over to where the warrior sat.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘Here is an example of what I mean. Here are Caledor’s dispositions against the druchii General Izodar. See the way he has placed his war machines to cover the approaches to Drakon Hill. Notice also the way the main strength of his cavalry is placed out of sight here behind this range of hills but with easy access to the defile that will allow them to emerge onto the field of battle at his signal.’

‘Yes, everyone knows about this, though. It was a fine trap, one of Caledor’s greatest victories.’

‘Yes,’ said Tyrion. ‘But he made mistakes.’

‘Oh ho, you do not lack for confidence, do you doorkeeper? The Conqueror was the greatest general of his age. His record is one of more or less unbroken victories. You look at a map of one of his greatest triumphs and claim he got it wrong.’

‘No. I do not. He won. No one can fault that. I said he made mistakes.’

‘An important distinction,’ admitted Korhien. ‘So, by all means, explain to me the mistakes he made, doorkeeper.’

‘Look where he placed the bulk of his cavalry. In full view, close to the enemy, and when the battle started, they closed too quickly with the druchii right flank. It could easily have spoiled the trap.’

Korhien smiled. ‘Your analysis is flawless, but you have failed to consider one thing.’

Tyrion was not offended to hear his theory so casually dismissed. He sensed that here was a chance to learn something about a subject that intrigued him from one who possessed some expertise in it.

‘What have I missed?’ he asked.

‘I doubt Caledor wanted to place his cavalry there, or that he gave the order for that early charge.’

‘Then why did it happen?’

‘Because Prince Moradrim and Prince Lelik were rivals, and they both wanted the glory of breaking the enemy. They insisted on being where they were. Then one of them charged and the other, not being able to endure the possibility of his rival grabbing all the glory, followed suit.’

‘Why did Caledor allow that? He was the Phoenix King, he was in charge. Why would they disobey him?’

Korhien’s mighty laugh gusted around the sitting room.

‘Once you have spent some time around our glorious aristocracy, you will not have to ask me that, doorkeeper.’

‘Indulge my curiosity and answer me now.’

‘Because our princes are a law unto themselves and their warriors swear service to those princes, not direct to the Phoenix King. They follow the leaders from their homeland, not some distant king.’

‘That is not what our laws say,’ said Teclis.

‘I am sure you have read enough, Prince Teclis, to know that what the laws say should happen and what actually does are not always the same. In the heat of battle, when sword rings on sword, and the battle-shout echoes over the field, warriors follow their usual loyalties and instincts, not the law. And princes often crave glory more than the common good. It is not unknown for them to think they know better than their commanding general. Sometimes it is even the case, for the warrior on the spot often sees things invisible to the general on the hill.’

Tyrion nodded. He could see the sense in what Korhien was saying. It was something he had suspected himself when reading the descriptions of these old battles. It was nice to have it confirmed by one who knew what he was talking about.

‘Why don’t our historians mention this?’ Teclis asked.

‘Because they dwell at the courts of princes, and their pens and paper are paid for by the treasuries of those princes. Have you ever read a chronicle in which one historian blames one ruler for defeat and praises another for almost snatching victory from the jaws of defeat? Then gone to another scroll and had a different historian say exactly the opposite? It happened to me so often when I was young my head hurt.’

‘I’ve had that experience,’ said Tyrion.

‘My brother’s head often hurts when he tries to read,’ said Teclis.

‘I meant I have read two conflicting views,’ said Tyrion. This was serious and he was in no mood for Teclis’s flippancy.

‘I suggest that when it happens next, you check where the historians were living when they wrote their tomes, or who their patron was. A bronze bracer will get you a golden torque that they have some connection with the court of the prince they are praising and there is some enmity between them and the ruler they are disparaging.’

‘You are a very cynical elf, Lord Korhien,’ said Teclis. He sounded more admiring than condemnatory. He was a very cynical elf himself.

‘There are honest historians,’ said Tyrion.

‘Yes,’ said Korhien. ‘And those who believe themselves to be honest, and those who are in the pay of no prince because they are sponsored by the White Tower or dwell at the court of the Everqueen, and those who have their own estates. But it’s odd how often those who dwell in Avelorn praise the wisdom of the Everqueen, and those who live at Hoeth dwell on the excellence of the Loremasters – except the ones they have a personal feud with, of course. And those who are independently wealthy tend to find previously unsuspected virtues among their ancestors and relatives.’

‘I see you are corrupting my sons with your cynicism, Korhien, and undermining their simple faith in scholarship.’ The twins’ father had entered the chamber unnoticed while the brothers listened to the White Lion.

‘I am simply pointing out that all scholars bring their own biases to their work. It is inevitable, part of elven nature. You know this better than I do, my friend.’

‘To my cost,’ said their father with some bitterness.

‘How goes the great work anyway?’ Korhien asked.

‘Slowly as always, but I am making progress.’

‘May I see it?’

‘You may.’ Father gestured for Korhien to follow him. Tyrion helped Teclis up and supporting his brother on his shoulder, they made their way to their father’s chambers. By the time they made it up the stairs, Teclis was breathing heavier than Tyrion had after running for hours. Tactfully Korhien pretended to ignore his eel-like walk, the way his body twisted first one way and then the other as he moved.

‘Where is Lady Malene?’ Korhien asked.

‘She has retired to her chamber for the moment. She has many letters to write.’

‘Have you finished the business she came to discuss with you?’

‘I have told her I will consider it,’ Father responded. There was an undercurrent of tension to the words that Tyrion caught but did not understand.

‘I suggest that you do,’ said Korhien. Again, there was that note of warning in his voice.