Sword of Caledor

Chapter THIRTEEN



‘Greetings, doorkeeper,’ Korhien Ironglaive said. ‘Welcome to my humble chamber.’

Tyrion presented Korhien with some wine from his father’s cellars and looked around. Korhien’s chambers were simple by the standards of the Phoenix King’s palace, which meant they were luxurious beyond belief even by the standards of Lothern. Carpets from Araby covered the floor. The hangings were ancient silk tapestries. Paintings from the golden age of art during the reign of Aethis hung on the walls. The crystal window had an astonishing view of the harbour.

Tyrion took a seat on a divan and looked across at his father’s oldest friend. Korhien looked almost the same as the time when they had first met over a century ago. He had a few more scars but the agelessness that the vast majority of elves possessed until extreme old age was still his. He was as tall, fit and muscular as a youth, and moved with the easy grace of the very highest echelon of warriors.

‘I hear your quest to the world’s far edges has been successful.’

‘We found it, Korhien. We found the sword Aenarion carried in his youth.’ For once Tyrion could allow all of his enthusiasm to show. He could not with his other friends, even Prince Iltharis.

Korhien raised an eyebrow.

‘What?’ Tyrion asked.

‘Nothing,’ Korhien said.

‘Spit it out. There’s never been any need for restraint between us, why start now?’

Korhien laughed. ‘Very well, since candour is what you demand. I was thinking that I am not sure whether it’s a good omen that you have found that sword.’

‘Why?’

‘Aenarion started with that blade. He moved on to another one.’

‘You are not seriously suggesting that I am interested in drawing the Sword of Khaine?’

‘What I am suggesting, doorkeeper, is that it would not matter whether you are or not. If it is your destiny to do those things you will, and you are very clearly someone marked by destiny.’

‘I would never have believed you were so superstitious, Korhien.’

‘Nor would I. But sometimes I look at you and I wonder into what pattern the stars are aligning behind your head. I wonder how much of it is deliberate, and how much of it is Fate, the gods, whatever you want to call it.’

He sounded unusually thoughtful. No, Tyrion thought. That was not fair. The White Lion had always been much more thoughtful than most elves ever gave him credit for being. It was just that his thoughts did not usually drift down such strange channels.

‘You are serious, aren’t you?’

Korhien nodded. ‘A god reached out and touched your life once, Tyrion. It intervened to save you. How many elves has that ever happened to? I can count it on the fingers of one foot and contrary to the opinion of some I am not a Chaos mutant.’

‘We were in the Shrine of Asuryan. The god was protecting his own.’

‘Asuryan did not save any of the warriors with you, or any of the priests guarding his shrine. He lent his power to you and your brother. I would respectfully submit that he most likely did it for his own reasons. Now you return from the blighted edges of the world carrying a blade that was forged by Caledor and borne by Aenarion himself. I can almost feel the forces of destiny lining up behind you.’

‘You are unusually full of forebodings this fine morning. And to think I only came over to offer you a cup of wine.’

‘You are of the blood of Aenarion, doorkeeper. That means something.’

‘It means I belong to a select group that has been prodded and tested and manipulated by its own people, hunted by daemons and secret cults, whispered about behind its back and accused of all manner of unspeakable crimes. I did not ask for any of this, Korhien.’

‘Ah, but you did. No one forced you to go seeking that blade. And yet you did.’

‘You think I have some ulterior motive?’

‘Don’t you?’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I think you are not without ambitions. I think you are interested in a career in politics and you, or the people behind you, are using your resemblance to Aenarion to build a legend around you.’

‘The people around me? You mean my grandfather in his time or my aunt now?’

‘And their faction, yes.’

‘Are you talking for Finubar here? Does he think I threaten him?’

‘No, doorkeeper. On both accounts. I am speaking for myself, based on my own observations. You are not a threat to Finubar, because he is the Phoenix King and only his death will change that. And you are not the sort to try your hand at assassination, nor is your aunt.’

Tyrion was annoyed but he did not let that show in his voice. ‘I am glad you think so.’

‘You asked me for honesty, doorkeeper. Would you prefer that I did not give it to you?’

Tyrion shook his head then smiled, seeing the absurdity of the situation. ‘No. I prefer you as you are, Korhien, and I prefer you to say what you think. I am just surprised that you have such a low opinion of me.’

‘That I do not. It is just that I sometimes look at you and wonder how it is all going to end. Your life is taking on a strange shape and so is that of your brother. I worry about you both.’

‘It would be best not to mention that to him. He likes to think he can take care of himself.’

‘You both can, but that does not stop me from worrying. Now tell me about your aunt. How is she these days?’

Korhien and Malene had been lovers once, but the decades and politics had pulled them apart. He still seemed interested in her though. Perhaps she was in him. They were still friends.

‘She seemed a little worried when I last talked to her,’ Tyrion began.

‘It is good to see you again, aunt,’ said Teclis with what he felt was a little too much formality. He was unsure of his reception so he had fallen back on good manners. It was unusual for him.

Teclis looked at Lady Malene. Physically she did not look any different from the beautiful elf woman he had first seen the day before his sixteenth birthday over a century ago. She was still beautiful in a severe way and as ageless as any other elf. She looked somehow older though.

There was something to the set of her shoulders and the way her lips compressed. A slight frown was always present on her forehead. Responsibility had changed her. Just the way she sat hunched over her father’s old desk made her look different.

Tyrion would have been able to tell him in exactly what ways and quite possibly explain why, but he had always lacked his brother’s gift for reading people.

She looked up and smiled with a genuine warmth that always surprised him. He never really expected anyone but his father and his brother to look at him like that.

‘Prince Teclis,’ she said. ‘This is a pleasure.’

‘Not entirely an unexpected one, I hope.’ Try as he might, he could not keep the hurt from his voice. He had always thought that she preferred him to Tyrion, the only person other than his father who had ever done so. It hurt him, more than he cared to admit, that she had summoned his brother first and in private.

‘I knew you had returned along with your brother. I saw him yesterday evening.’

‘I know.’

‘It was business of the House,’ she said, as if that explained everything, which he supposed it did. She took her duties as the new ruler of House Emeraldsea very seriously.

As she said it she rose from behind the desk, walked around it and hugged him. The intimacy of the gesture was startling. He was not used to any physical displays of affection. He returned the hug clumsily and backed away as quickly as he could, staring at her from arm’s length.

‘I understand you have become quite the adventurer,’ she said, returning to her place behind the desk as if she understood his embarrassment. ‘You have found the sword of Aenarion.’

‘Not the blade everyone thinks of as Aenarion’s sword,’ said Teclis. ‘But, yes, we found Sunfang.’

‘Many said it was impossible,’ she said. ‘I knew you would succeed. You and your brother always do at anything you truly put your minds to.’

‘I wish I shared your faith in my abilities. You are, of course, correct about Tyrion.’

‘You always sound so sour these days when you talk about him,’ she said. Teclis thought it certainly was so when he talked to her. He could not help himself. He did not wish to be displaced in her affections. He could never bring himself to say that openly though. He realised he was being unfair to Tyrion as well, which galled him, for he knew his brother would never behave so towards him. It was just one more way in which he was better.

‘I do not mean to, but it is hard sometimes,’ he admitted. ‘I live on his charity, me and father both.’

Malene studied him. ‘You do not live on his charity. He has given most of what he owns to you and your father. It is all yours now, not his. He told me to tell you that if the matter ever came up.’

‘Why would he do that?’

‘He knows your father needs the money and he was letting me know something as well.’

Somehow this did not make Teclis feel any better. ‘He earned that money with his raiding and his trading. He did it while I was studying at Hoeth. I think sometimes he does these things to make me feel bad.’

‘You think your brother gifts you with gold in order to make you feel bad?’ Malene’s smile was curious. ‘Explain!’ For a second, she was the old Malene, his tutor in magic and alchemy.

‘Even Tyrion’s generosity is a weapon. Or rather, a display of superiority. He is saying he is the one who is in a position of power. He is always the one who helps us, helps me. It is never the other way.’

Malene steepled her fingers. ‘I am surprised it has taken such an intelligent elf so long to realise this,’ she said.

Teclis smiled sourly. ‘I have never been good with people.’

‘Better than you think.’

‘You agree with me then?’

‘Of course. The question you really should ask yourself is why your brother behaves this way.’

‘Because he likes to feel superior.’

‘No. Because he still feels inferior.’

‘Why should he do that? Everyone always praises him. He is probably the best-loved elf in Lothern.’

‘It was not always so.’

‘I do not remember it any other way.’

‘I do.’

‘Your memory is better than mine then, lady.’

‘We both know it is not. But I can still remember a day that you seem to have forgotten.’

‘What day is that?’

‘The day I first saw the pair of you.’ Malene smiled fondly, as if recalling something that was special to her.

‘You saw a sickly child and a perfect elf boy.’

‘I saw a father who doted on the sick son who resembled him and who shared his interests. I saw another boy who was excluded because he had no interest in or talent for the Art, only for things his father despised or considered of no consequence. It was a small house and there was only one parent.’

‘You think Tyrion still remembers that?’

‘Probably not, but it does not matter. It set his feet on a certain path and he probably cannot even remember now why he still walks it. What matters is that he does.’

Teclis turned this thought over and over in his mind. He had been so lost in his own bitterness that he had never even thought that Tyrion might have some of his own. He always seemed so happy and secure. ‘I am not sure I believe that. He has never said anything to me.’

‘He is even more self-contained than you are, though you may not believe that. And he has said something to you. He says it by his actions.’

‘You are as wise as you are lovely, lady,’ Teclis said eventually.

‘And it is pleasant to discover you have acquired some elven graces over the years. Now I presume this is not purely a social call. You have something you wish to discuss with me.’ It had been a social call really. He had just wanted to see her and reassure himself, but he could not say that out loud.

‘Tyrion told me you were troubled about something before he went to visit Prince Iltharis today. He said you told him that the winds of magic have changed. He did not know what it meant, but he said it sounded ominous. My father has been saying similar things. And I had a message from Hoeth this morning. It seems the High Loremaster shares your fears.’

‘I am troubled, Teclis. More than I can say. There is something not right with the world, and not right with the flow of magic, although I cannot put my finger on exactly what.’

‘Then I have something that may disquiet you more. In Lustria I found a slann prophecy. I feel it may be of grave importance. If I am not mistaken, it concerns the return of Chaos to our world, and if I understand the slann dating system, it is due to happen soon.’ Teclis took out the drawings he had made and showed them to her.

‘It does not strike me as chance that this sort of thing would fall into your hands right now,’ said Malene. She looked thoughtful. ‘I know very little of slann pictoglyphs, otherwise I would offer to help.’

She sounded wistful, almost as if she were looking for an excuse to get involved in some magical research again.

‘I need to know who the best person to discuss the matter with would be,’ Teclis said.

‘High Loremaster Morelian is the greatest expert we have in the slann languages.’

‘I suspected as much but it is nice to have that confirmed. Do you think he would help me?’

‘He’ll probably tear your arm off trying to get those out of your grip. A new and authentic slann text – it’s the sort of thing he dreams about. I’ve known him since he was my tutor at the tower. The slann have always been an obsession with him.’

‘I am familiar with the type,’ said Teclis thinking of his father. Malene could obviously tell the way his thoughts were running.

‘Do not confuse Morelian with Prince Arathion. You do not get to be High Loremaster without being perceptive, ambitious and politically minded.’

‘I know him by sight, of course, but not that well.’

‘He will know you too, but, of course, I will write. It can’t do any harm.’

As the head of House Emeraldsea, his aunt was one of the richest and most influential women in Ulthuan, a personal friend of the Phoenix King. Since she was a mage, she was also a powerful ally of the White Tower at court. Again, almost as if she could read what he was thinking, she said, ‘I see you are becoming quite political yourself.’

‘I have a long way to go before I can match my brother.’

‘You’ll get there in the end.’

‘I am not sure I want to.’

‘You’ll be High Loremaster one of these days. I am sure of it.’

‘It is not an honour to which I aspire.’

‘Now you really do sound like your brother,’ Malene said. Teclis wondered what she meant by that.



The shores of Ulthuan glittered on the horizon. Malekith saw the shimmering haze in the air that he remembered so well. It was the glow of magic that hovered perpetually over the island continent and had done ever since the time of the Archmage Caledor. The whole mighty fleet cruised along the coast now, heading for their goal.

Beside him his generals looked grim or pleased or filled with anticipation according to their temperament. Some of them directed lustful bemused looks towards N’Kari, who now wore the form of a lustrously beautiful elf maiden. Her shackles in particular seemed to focus their attention. Malekith easily guessed which direction their thoughts were taking.

Slaves walked through the chamber bearing platters of food and drink, their eyes downcast submissively as they attempted to avoid drawing any attention to themselves. Today it worked. The assembled nobles paid them no more attention than they would any other piece of furniture.

There was a certain febrile festival atmosphere about the command chamber. All of those present knew that war was about to begin and that it was going to be hard, but all of them also believed they were going to win. None of them knew the full extent of his preparations but all of them knew him, and they knew he would not have launched this attack unless he was utterly certain of victory.

They sipped drugged wine and smiled and calculated spoils. A few of them discussed reclaiming ancestral estates that had been lost millennia ago.

Malekith deliberately said nothing to damp down the conversations about reward. He wanted to foster this atmosphere of feverish competition and greed. His lack of intervention was duly noted by those who had spent a lifetime watching him for the slightest clues as to his whims. He knew that eventually the message would spread to all present in the fleet.

Sometimes he noticed the sorcerers present turn their gazes on N’Kari for a moment. The most powerful present blanched and fell silent and that too was noted by the audience he had assembled. And that too was good. He was giving them all a demonstration, making a statement of how powerful he truly was. Word of that would get out too.

And in the inevitable druchii fashion it would filter its way down to every rank of the army. All of them would know that their lord and master had bound a greater daemon of Chaos to his will. They would wonder about what other allies he could command.

He felt something like happiness at this moment. His plans were under way and he was confident of eventual victory. So far everything had gone as anticipated. He was not foolish enough to think there would be no setbacks or that everything would go according to plan, but he had amassed a sufficient concentration of resources and power to counter any threat that might arise. It was only a matter of time before Ulthuan fell, and after that he would deal with his remaining enemies.

Not a few of those present were his mother’s lovers and secretly sworn to her service. They thought him unaware of that fact and the time had not yet come to apprise them of their error. That day would dawn soon enough and Malekith was looking forward to it with relish.

One of the things he abhorred most was disloyalty.