Chapter One
Lord High Baron Verice leaned against the cool stone of the window sill and fought the cold inner rage that burned in his heart. He stared down into the gardens below as the men in the room behind him spoke of war.
“You’re certain?” Captain Narthing asked in hushed tones.
“Yes,” Pernard’s voice quavered. “The Barony of Farentell has fallen.” Verice heard the weariness in his friend’s voice; he shared his pain and grief.
Someone in the garden below was humming a tune that Verice didn’t recognize. A faella’s voice, someone with a lighter heart than his at the moment. He wished them well of it, for it would not last long.
The breeze caught a strand of his silver hair, and pulled it out of the window. Verice tucked it back behind his pointed ear and took in the scent of flowers and green growing things. Hard to think on death and war when such beauty lay just outside these walls.
But that was his duty and the reason for his visit to Pernard’s manor.
Verice turned his head back toward the room. “What of King Everard and his family? Any word?”
Pernard, Captain Narthing and the others stood around the map table. They all shook their heads in the negative.
“None,” Pernard whispered.
“All these months,” Verice sighed, looking back over the garden. “If they’d escaped, they’d have gotten word to me somehow.” Deep within, pain welled. A short life, made even shorter by violent death. Verice took a slow breath and closed his eyes.
“Life isfleeting, life is pain,
What need then to dance in the rain?”
The verse floated up from the garden on the gentle breeze. Verice frowned, trying to spot the singer. Odd, such bitter words sung to such a joyous tune.
Rather like life itself.
He straightened, shoulders back, his hand on his sword hilt and turned to face his people. All of his men, including himself, were armored in black leather and chain with weapons ready to serve. Pernard and his people were garbed in everyday attire, robes over tunics and trous. Verice wondered how long they would have the luxury of regular clothing. “Review the situation for us, Captain.”
“Lord High Baron Verice of Tassinic, Lord Mayor Pernard of Anera,” Captain Narthing tended to use full titles in meetings such as this. He stood at the head of the map table as Pernard’s elven and half-elven warriors crowded around. “It’s been confirmed by sources within Edenrich, and by the reports of our scouts that have penetrated the border. The Barony of Farentell has fallen to the forces of the Usurper and the Baroness of the Black Hills.”
Dark mutters followed that statement.
“They have laid waste to the land, burning towns and villages,” Narthing said. “The people have been killed, taken as slaves, or—” Narthing paused, then continued. “There are rumors that the Baroness is creating odium.”
“Ancestors,” one of the warriors breathed. “Undead?”
“We’ve only rumors,” Narthing said firmly.
“That would explain the small number of refugees,” another mentioned.
“And what refugees crossed over our border are for the most part hardened scum, or very desperate humans. They are causing difficulties all over Tassinic, stretching our City Watches,” Narthing said. “But the worst of that tide is probably past,” he added.
“There are exceptions,” Pernard protested.
Narthing’s voice didn’t hold much apology. “We will deal with the humans fairly, until they prove otherwise. Interestingly enough, some of those fleeing are speaking of a prophecy of a Chosen One, that will restore Palins.”
Verice snorted. Ancestors spare him that.
Narthing continued, “But for right now, with so many maels in the regular army, the watches are spread thin. Lord Pernard, your lands share borders with Farentell and Summerford. Let’s see to the placement of your forces to the best advantage, eh?”
Verice stayed silent. Narthing excelled at this; Verice’s services weren’t needed at the moment. He already knew the ugliness of the reports that he was sharing.
“The Kingdom of Palins seems intent on tearing itself to ribbons,” Pernard spoke. “What do we know of the other baronies?”
“Lord Mayor,” Narthing said. “Of the eight High Baronies of Palins, six remain intact. To the best of our knowledge, Athelbryght has also fallen. If I may,” Narthing pulled out a large map of Tassinic, and spread it out over the table. “So far,” he said. “There have been skirmishes along our border, but nothing more than that. And they’ve usually withdrawn as soon as we arrive to confront them.” Narthing made no gesture toward Tassinic’s other border, the one with the Elven Kingdom of Valltera. Verice approved. These people had enough worries for the moment.
