Sword of Caledor

Chapter FOURTEEN



‘It seems like you have become a person of some importance,’ said Atharis. Tyrion looked at his old friend. They sat together in his office in the Emeraldsea palace. Physically, Atharis had not changed much from the young fighter Tyrion had met when he first came to the city all those years ago. His nose was still broken and he refused to have the healers use magic to set it properly. He was higher ranked in the House now and trusted with many secret duties.

‘While you have steadily been working your way down in the world,’ Tyrion said, smiling to take the sting out of his words. Atharis had made quite a name for himself among the brothels and stews of Lothern. He was also a very successful merchant, representing the family interests whenever their grandfather had chosen to send him.

‘We cannot all be blessed with the blood of Aenarion,’ said Atharis. ‘Some of us have to get by using only our natural intelligence and charm.’

‘That explains why you have been doing so badly then,’ said Tyrion. Atharis punched him on the arm playfully.

‘It is good to see you again,’ he said. He sounded sincere. Once, long ago, they might have been considered rivals but Atharis no longer seemed to see things that way. Tyrion was glad.

‘It’s good to see you too,’ said Tyrion. ‘I understand that we are to be travelling together.’

‘Your aunt could not allow you to travel to the court of the Everqueen unescorted. I am to be in charge of your retinue. I am responsible for seeing you don’t disgrace House Emeraldsea.’

And doubtless you are also responsible for reporting my actions to my aunt, Tyrion thought.

‘And how big is this retinue of mine going to be?’

‘Well Lady Emeraldsea feels you need at least fifty warriors to protect you from the marauding deer of Avelorn. You also need servants in order to make sure that your clothes look sufficiently impressive and that your hair is properly combed. So, you’re probably being accompanied by the crew of an entire fighting ship. Let’s hope that your participation in this tournament proves worth it.’

‘Let’s hope,’ Tyrion agreed sourly. ‘So am I getting a ship to go with the crew?’

‘Of course you are. Your aunt has rerouted one of our Inner Sea traders to make sure that you get there in time. We are even supposed to row you if the winds prove unfavourable.’

‘That’s good,’ said Tyrion. ‘Because you look like you could use the exercise.’

‘I’m still capable of giving you a good run for your money with the sword.’

Tyrion laughed. ‘I’m surprised my aunt isn’t sending you then. You could represent our House just as well as I can.’

‘Alas, Lady Malene does not see things that way. Otherwise I would gladly do so. Our new Everqueen is supposed to be quite the beauty.’

‘I have never heard of one who wasn’t,’ said Tyrion. ‘All of the poets always sing praises of their good looks and all of the books say how lovely they are.’

‘And, of course, no poet ever lied and no scholar ever propagated a falsehood,’ said Atharis. ‘You know this as well as I do.’

‘Is there anything else I should know?’

‘The protection of your sacred person is not the only reason that you’re being allocated so many fighters. You are bearing some coronation gifts for the new queen of the forest. Your aunt feels that she must be sufficiently impressed with the wealth and generosity of our House. Obviously the poor rustic girl is going to be swayed by our silks and gold and some pretty mirrors brought all the way from the dwarf lands.’

‘I imagine that we will not be the only ones bringing gifts,’ said Tyrion. ‘Every noble family in Ulthuan will be taking this chance to demonstrate its loyalty and generosity.’

‘Indeed. I often think it would be more profitable and sensible if we came to some arrangement with all of the other families not to do this sort of thing. Then we could keep the gold for ourselves.’

‘But gold is only a means to an end. How would we prove ourselves to be richer and more generous than all of our rivals if we did not give such gifts.’

‘Doubtless we would find a way. We are elves after all, famous for our ingenuity when it comes to proving our superiority.’

‘In the meantime,’ said Tyrion, ‘I suppose we shall have to go about doing so the old-fashioned way. After all, if it worked for our ancestors it should work for us.’

‘Indeed. We’re leaving with the tide. Let us head down to the docks and watch some other people working. I always find work very stimulating when I am not the one who has to do it.’



Tyrion watched as the crew loaded the ship. How often had he done this in the past, he wondered? There were times when he felt like half of his life had been spent aboard ships, going somewhere or returning to Lothern.

The vessel was anchored on the pier at Lothern’s northern docks. The Inner Sea was a different sea from the wild outer ocean. It was superficially calmer and safer, bounded on all sides by the landmass of Ulthuan, surrounded in its entirety by lands. There was less trade here, so the docks were smaller and less busy, but still bustling. Goods were shipped out to the rest of Ulthuan from here, and the produce of Saphery and Chrace and other places found its way to the great port, and from there to the rest of the world.

The ships here were smaller and more homely-looking than the great ocean-going clippers.

He saw his brother riding down to the harbour. As ever, no one paid too much attention to him. He was just another tall slender elf mounted on a fine steed. He was a terrible rider for an elf but still stood out less than usual. His limp made him noticeable when he walked. His twin rode right up to the pier and paused for a moment to study the ship. He waved and Tyrion waved back.

‘I see your brother has deigned to join us,’ said Atharis.

‘You don’t like him, do you?’ said Tyrion.

‘He never gives anyone much of a chance to like him. If he were less caustic, he might have more friends.’

Tyrion could not deny the truth of that. ‘His life has been hard. It is not easy to be less than perfect among elves.’

‘None of us are perfect,’ said Atharis. ‘Not even you. We don’t use it as an excuse to be rude to everyone else.’

‘I think he got into the habit of getting his retaliation in first when he was young. People were often rude to him because of who and what he was.’

‘I can tell you are going to go on making excuses for him,’ said Atharis. ‘He is no longer a sickly youth. He is a powerful mage and regarded as something of a hero among his kind.’

‘His kind?’

‘He is a wizard.’

‘He is an elf.’

‘It is possible to be both, my dear Tyrion.’

‘Mages are not a breed apart.’

‘You may want to explain that to them, my friend.’ Teclis limped up the gangplank, leaving his horse in the care of one of House Emeraldsea’s dockside factors. He saw Atharis and made a sour expression. Atharis responded in kind.

‘A pleasure to see you,’ said Teclis ironically.

‘I am as pleased to see you as you are to see me,’ Atharis responded. His smile was insincere, and obviously so.

Tyrion wondered at his brother’s talent for making enemies. Atharis was not the least amiable elf in the world. It would not take an enormous effort to keep on the right side of him. Instead Teclis seemed to take pleasure in being disliked.

‘You are ready to depart?’ Tyrion asked his brother, to forestall any further sniping. ‘You do not seem to have brought much gear with you.’

‘It is already on board. The servants brought it this morning. How about you? Are you ready to woo the Everqueen?’

‘If she is as beautiful as everyone says, yes. I am just not sure I am ready to be her champion.’

‘There are others who may have a say in that, your fellow competitors for the great honour of being in her service.’

‘You are in an unpleasant mood today, aren’t you?’ Tyrion wondered whether Teclis was being deliberately rude and abrasive because Atharis was present. He tended to adopt such a persona in public, even with his own brother. It was one of his less engaging habits.

‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘I have had a rather disturbing and sleepless night.’ He shot Tyrion a warning glance so that his twin would know for certain that he did not want to discuss this further in public. ‘Now if you will excuse me, I would like to go below. There is some reading I must catch up on.’

‘Don’t let us keep you from your books,’ said Atharis. ‘I am sure you have matters of earth-shattering importance to consider.’

‘Oddly enough, I do,’ said Teclis airily. ‘I am sure you will hear of them soon enough.’

‘I cannot wait,’ Atharis said softly to the wizard’s departing back. Once Teclis was gone, he said, ‘It is hard to believe you are twins. You seem to have got all the good looks and charm in your generation of your family.’

‘Possibly,’ said Tyrion. ‘But he got the brains and the magical talent.’

‘I think you got the best of the deal.’

‘That might be part of the problem,’ said Tyrion.

‘You are not as foolish as you look,’ said Atharis.

‘Why do you keep taunting Atharis?’ Tyrion asked. He stepped into the small cabin as soon as Teclis opened the door.

‘I don’t like him and he does not like me,’ his twin replied.

‘Perhaps if you were more pleasant to him, he would be more amiable.’

Teclis laughed bitterly. ‘Do you really think so?’

‘You do this to everybody. Most elves just ignore it but some of them respond very badly.’

‘And you think they might respond better if I was nicer to them?’ A note of mockery entered Teclis’s voice.

‘There is that possibility.’

‘There is no possibility,’ said Teclis with flat certainty. ‘Atharis does not like me because I make him uneasy. Most elves do not like me because I make them uneasy. I do not look right. I do not talk right. I am a cripple. I should have been exposed at birth. You know there is something to be said for the old ways.’ By the end of his speech, Teclis’s voice had become a high-pitched parody of the way most elves talked in polite conversation.

‘You are not a child anymore,’ Tyrion said. ‘No one talks to you that way and you do not have to talk to them as if they did.’

‘You really don’t understand anything, do you?’

‘Then make me,’ Tyrion said.

‘I am an outsider in my own country, Tyrion. I do not belong here and I never will. I am not beautiful. I am… flawed. I know it. Everyone else knows it. Elves do not like to be reminded they are less than perfect, that there is even the possibility of it.’

‘You exaggerate.’

‘Alas I do not. And you are in no position to tell me otherwise. They like you. You are what they think they themselves are. You are perfect.’

‘No I am not.’

‘Perhaps, but you look it, and this is a place where appearances are everything. You are a butterfly. I am a moth.’

‘Now I really don’t follow you.’

‘People like butterflies. They are bright, vivacious, good-looking. They are creatures of the day. People hate and fear moths. They are dark, night-going. They do not like to feel a moth’s wings on their face. Look closely at them and moths and butterflies are very similar creatures, but people feel very differently about them.’

Tyrion laughed. ‘I am trying to talk to you about the way you treat other elves and you start talking about moths and butterflies. Do you realise how strange that makes you sound?’

‘I am strange, Tyrion. I am an outsider. I am a magician.’

‘You are sure you are not a moth now?’

‘Don’t play the fool, brother. It does not suit you. You know what I am talking about. It’s cockroaches and ladybirds.’

‘Go on…’ Tyrion could not keep a certain amount of mockery from his voice.

‘They are both insects. People think one looks sweet. They are repulsed by the other. Look at them closely and they are the same except for colour. My basic point is that appearances matter. They colour what people believe. You look one way and I look another. You could be as rude as I am to any elf, and you would still get away with it. I could be polite as a courtier at the court of the Everqueen and they would still hate me.’

‘So you are using this as an excuse not to try?’

Teclis looked shocked. ‘Don’t you think I’ve tried? I tried so hard for so long that my face was frozen in a permanent grin. I might as well have had lockjaw. I tried as hard as I could and no one wanted to know. They still don’t. Keep that in mind before you judge me and come down on the side of your friends.’

‘I do not judge you and I never take anyone’s side against you. Surely you know that?’

‘I do not know that. You started this little conversation telling me not to be rude to your friend Atharis.’

‘I merely suggested that you might try being politer to him, and you might get on better. I am trying to help you.’

‘I will thank you not to.’

‘As you wish,’ Tyrion said. ‘But I think you will find that if you give other elves the chance, they will give you one.’

‘You never give up, do you?’

‘That is my nature.’ They looked at each other for a long moment, their expressions frozen in looks that were almost of hostility. Tyrion did not quite understand how, but his well-meant advice seemed to have pushed them to the brink of a serious disagreement. He realised that he had misjudged things and that he did not know his twin as well as he thought.

Another idea occurred to him. They had got on well enough when they were adventuring on their own. Since they had returned to Lothern, they were at odds.

It was the situation, not them. Now they had returned to the homeland of the elves, he was once again accepted and his brother was once again an outsider. The centre of power in their relationship had shifted and they were both responding to it.

He suddenly understood why Teclis was so much happier travelling and adventuring and why he spent so much time isolated. At least he partially understood. He doubted he could grasp all of the situation because he was not his brother.

Teclis smiled at him and the tension was broken. They both laughed, but both of them knew that things were different now that they had come back to Ulthuan. Tyrion knew that it was because he had returned home and Teclis never could.

‘Since you have asked me, I will try and be civil to Atharis,’ Teclis said. ‘Watch and see what happens.’

Tyrion said nothing. He felt that Teclis was right. Atharis would not be his friend. He would go on being an outsider. Whether by reason of his appearance or his manner, or because he now chose to be. It was his brother’s role in life.

He thought about what Korhien had said about destiny and he was more troubled by it than he ever had been before.



After days at sea, Tyrion was glad as the ship approached the harbour at Cairn Auriel. The sun beat down on the deck. It was not as warm as it had been in Lustria but it was still very warm. A cool breeze blowing in off the sea gave some relief from the heat. Tyrion stood in the shadow of the command deck and watched the shore come closer.

Cairn Auriel was not a large port by the standards of Lothern but it looked like a pleasant place, a natural harbour cut into the high cliffs on the western coast of Saphery. A silver lighthouse watched over it. Long marble piers protruded outwards from a beach of golden sand. The town itself was a place of graceful white towers tipped with golden domes. Dock workers helped moor the ship and get the gangplanks into place so that Teclis could get off.

Tyrion strode over to where he stood. He let his smile widen and said, ‘Once again, brother, we must say farewell.’

‘We shall see each other again,’ said Teclis. ‘All that remains is for me to wish you good luck in the upcoming tournament. See that you do not disgrace our family too badly.’

‘I shall do my best,’ said Tyrion.

‘Doubtless I shall hear how well you have done from passing minstrels and other travellers,’ said Teclis. ‘You might even consider sending a messenger to let me know how things go.’

‘I’m sure the wizards of the White Tower have ways of receiving news much more swiftly than letter,’ said Tyrion. ‘But I shall write.’

‘It always comes as a pleasant surprise to find that you’re capable of it,’ said Teclis. The ship was tied up now and the gangplank was firmly in place.

Teclis’s baggage had been carried down by sailors and lay on the white marble of the pier. The two brothers clasped hands. The wizard left the ship and strode off in search of horses.

Tyrion watched him go until he was out of sight. By that time, the crew had cast off the moorings and the ship was being washed back out to sea.

Tyrion was suddenly struck by the ominous foreboding that it might be a long time before he saw his brother again.



Morathi stood on the prow of the great wooden ship and watched as her followers raced ashore. Tens of thousands of the Chaos-worshipping barbarians leapt from their ships into the roaring surf and raced up the black sand beaches. Behind her, thousands more ships crowded the seas. Most of them carried humans and beastmen and less wholesome followers of the Dark Gods. Some of them were packed with her own followers, from the Cults of Khaine and the Cults of the Pleasure God. They were the druchii who would form her bodyguard amid the humans. Not that she needed one.

The chieftains of the great horde gazed upon her with worshipful eyes. They would do what she required of them in return for her approval and her caresses. They would fight with each other for her favours if she wanted. Perhaps she would have them do so at some point, but right now she needed them to co-operate.

There were elven fortresses nearby that needed to be taken, and elven cities that needed to be conquered and enslaved. Soon she would set this land ablaze from end to end and teach the people to fear and adore her as they had done in the past. In an odd way it felt good to be home.

Naked, she plunged into the sea and let the cool water flow over her. Like a goddess she emerged dripping from the surf, aware that all eyes were upon her. In the distance she could see a beacon fire had been lit. It looked as if the asur were aware of her presence.

And so it begins, she thought. She was curious as to how it would end.