The Elder Blood Chronicles Bk 1 In Shades of Grey (10 page)

“I believe the last guests have arrived,
Grandfather,” she said to Caspian in a low, rich voice.

Caspian looked up from his papers and raised
an eyebrow. Silently, he motioned Victory and Havoc to seats.
Victory gave a nod and quickly found a place at one of the smaller
tables. He watched Havoc take a place at the end of the table,
perched on the edge of it, and wondered for the hundredth time why
they had been summoned. They were not council members and had no
place here. As he scanned the room further, he noticed others along
the wall seeming to try to blend with the shadows there. They were
not council members, either. He could see Charm perched in the
rafters above. The wiry rogue seemed more at ease in the heights of
the cramped room than most seemed at the tables. Leaning against a
wall near the corner stood Solace and Hawk. Both of them wore their
woodland leathers of green and brown, and from the irritated look
on Solace’s face, they would have preferred to be in the woods now.
He looked past them, searching the last corners of the small stone
room. Empty tables sat pushed against the wall. Most of the torch
sconces sat empty. Only the few surrounding Caspian’s side of the
room were lit. There were no other people here, though. This was
not the entire Fionaveir council, but only the top three members.
At least four people were missing
and Victory frowned at the
thought. It seemed unlikely that four of the most powerful people
in the order were dead.

“Now you see that I’ve got you flanked,” he
heard Faramir say gently and looked back toward the two women,
grateful to have a distraction from his grim line of thought.
Faramir’s attention was fixed on Symphony, watching her closely for
any reaction. Her slight form held perfectly still with both hands
braced on the table in front of her. The two women shared a vague
resemblance, Victory noted as he watched them. Both were slight of
build and had dark hair with a bone structure so delicate it would
be easy to dismiss them. He, however, had seen them both on the
yard for practice and knew far better than to dismiss either of
them. Faramir was deadly accurate with a bow from ranges that
seemed absurd even to most rangers, while Symphony could wield a
sword with such speed that time seemed to stand still for her.
They could nearly pass as sisters,
Victory mused, his
attention fully devoted to the two women now. They were, after all,
a far more pleasant distraction than allowing himself to notice
Lutheron’s continued attention.

Symphony had a frown on her young face and
was staring hard at the table before her as if examining a puzzle.
She twisted a lock of her raven black hair around a pale finger as
she contemplated whatever was before her. “You do,” she agreed
after long consideration and made a gesture with one hand. “But
you’ve left yourself weak in the middle to do so.” She made another
quick gesture and looked up at Faramir with a triumphant smile.
“And now you are done.”

“Bold move, a costly one as well, but you are
correct, I am done. Are you sure troops would follow those orders,
though?” Faramir asked.

Victory watched the two of them in dawning
amazement. They were using a sand table for magic. He couldn’t see
the board from here, but he knew of the device. They used them in
the Academy for strategic training. From a side view, it would
resemble a normal table, but if one approached it and looked down,
they would find a deep recess set in the center of the table. The
sand within was enchanted and could be shaped to mimic any terrain.
Overall, they were invaluable when training a new field commander,
but to see one in the Fionahold was unheard of. Magic was all but
unused here for security reasons. The Fionaveir were outlaws and in
order to evade notice, Caspian had made the ruling. There were
simply too many people living within these walls. If everyone used
magic as readily as the rest of the world, the magical signature on
this area would be so big even a child could trace it.

“My main force is composed of Firym with
secondary forces of Shifters as well as a reserve force of
Delreavan. All three of those armies are fearless in battle. They
would take those orders and execute them without question,”
Symphony replied without hesitation.

Faramir gave her an approving nod. “The most
important part is to know your men and what they are willing or
capable of doing. A strategy is worthless if your army cannot, or
will not, follow it.”

Havoc leaned toward Victory and gave him a
charming smile. “Notice my Faydwer friend the good lady chose Firym
as her strength; no mention whatsoever of your pixie prancing
people,” he said, his tone dripping with sweetness.

“Obviously she is learning to deal with
multiple cultures. Were she to use the Faydwer people, that would
be a moot point. When my people take the field they need no
support,” Victory replied with the same sweetness.

Havoc made a scoffing noise and started to
speak, then noticed Caspian regarding them and left off.

“Many of you are wondering why you are here.”
Caspian began, and all fell silent. Caspian was a big man nearly
seven feet in height. When he was in his armor he seemed even
bigger. It was not his size, or the armor, or even the great sword
leaning against the wall behind him that granted the silence. The
Fionaveir did not follow Caspian out of fear. It was respect that
silenced them.

“There are things that must be done, and you
are here because you are about to do them,” Lutheron said in a
voice near a whisper. He was a much smaller man than Caspian, and
his voice never seemed to rise. But for all of that, he was quite
possibly the most frightening man Victory knew. The two men were
about as different as two could get, but their combined leadership
kept the Fionaveir running like clockwork.

“For the past two decades we have been
working toward a goal. That goal is nearly at hand,” Faramir added.
She moved from the table with Symphony and stood behind Caspian.
With casual ease, she leaned against her husband’s shoulder and
smiled at those assembled in the room. Her delicate build made her
seem a child next to Caspian.

“We started this order to uphold justice, but
over the years, we have found this to be a difficult task. We are
hunted as outlaws, and every day our home grows more dangerous,”
Caspian said, his deep voice seeming to fill the hall. “Over the
past twenty years, we have been maneuvering our people into
positions in Sanctuary. We have placed our people in offices of
Government. In short, we have been gathering power.”

“All for a day that is very near. As the High
Lords have shown us clearly, an equal council of lords does not
work. There must be a single pillar of power such as we have. Here
in Fionahold, all know that we have a council but Caspian has the
final word on everything,” Faramir said with obvious affection in
her voice.

Victory glanced over at Havoc and found a
bemused look on his partner’s face.

“Revolution!” Havoc whispered. He smiled and
nodded in approval.

“Correct, Havoc, it will be a revolution. But
not what you are thinking, I doubt.” It was Symphony that spoke
this time. She stepped away from the table where she stood and
moved to the center of the room. “This will not be a bloody
affair,” she began, her eyes searching out each individual in the
room and holding their gaze for no more than a mere moment. “Our
land has bled enough, we will not bring war.”

“How exactly do you plan to have a bloodless
revolution?” Solace asked, her voice filled with doubt. Hawk stood
silent beside her, but nodded in agreement.

“It does seem unlikely that the High Lords
will simply hand over their power,” Victory agreed.

Symphony gave them a nod and that same slight
smile. “We already have three High Lords on our side. And soon
enough we will have more,” she replied. “We must have a majority in
the vote of the High Lord’s council. If we muster enough power
behind us, no one will dare speak out against us. There are twelve
seats currently. We will need two thirds to support us before we
can move safely.”

Victory tried to ignore the building doubt.
If Caspian thought this was possible, he should consider it fairly
and not dismiss it outright. “They will want one of their own to be
in power, which High Lord can we trust that much?” He asked.
Honestly, he wasn’t even sure if he would trust his own uncle to
control so much. Though out of all of the High Lords, his uncle was
known to be one of the most honorable.

“We won’t be trusting any of them with that
power,” Caspian answered bluntly.

“We will be trusting me, because I have been
raised for this sole purpose. I have been trained on laws and
government as well as the strategy of war,” Symphony answered, her
smile returning at the expressions of those in the room. Victory
stared in disbelief and tried to keep it from showing on his face,
though he no doubt did a poor job of that. Too shocked by the
words, he glanced at Havoc and found his partner sitting with a
matched expression on his bronzed face. He could remember Symphony
as a small child running about the Fionahold, always underfoot. She
was young, no more than thirty at most. He couldn’t imagine any of
the High Lords following such a green child willingly.

“As well as her Bloodlines, by tracing
lineage, Symphony can show proof she has blood ties to six of the
High Houses. That is more than any can claim. Beyond that, she is
also neutral and will not show favoritism to any single house. None
of the High Lords can claim that,” Faramir said.

“We have three High Lords on our side now. We
will soon have more. That, however, is not why you are here. Leave
the politics to the council. Your missions are much simpler,”
Lutheron said, and the room once again grew hushed. Victory nodded
in understanding. It was clear now where the missing councilors
were, and he felt a knot of tension release inside at the knowledge
that they were not dead.

“Victory, Havoc, the two of you are to travel
to the Warrens and ensure that Graves and his mercenaries will
remain neutral. You will pay them to stay out of whatever may
come,” Caspian said, his eyes locked on the two of them.

Victory nodded his agreement and tried to
keep his stomach from rolling. The Warrens mercenaries had a rather
dark reputation and Graves was notoriously difficult to deal with.
It would not be an easy assignment by any means.

“Pay them to sit on their asses. That should
give them a good laugh,” Havoc said in a dry tone. Victory glanced
at his partner and wondered if the council had made the right
choice for this job. Havoc was Firym and Firym were proud militant
people. They had little use for anyone that fought for money. In
his homeland, you fought to prove yourself or to defend what was
yours, not to get paid.

“Solace, Hawk, you two will travel to
Kithvaryn and ensure that the good general keeps his people out of
the coming troubles,” Caspian continued.

Victory glanced at the rangers, and felt a
bit better about his own assignment. Theirs would be the harder of
the two. General Kithvaryn and his Ten Thousand were legendary even
before the barrier. He could not recall a single significant
conflict in which they had not had a part in all of the histories
he had been taught.

“Charm, you are here at my request,” Symphony
said, her gaze set on the rafters where the rogue looked down with
what appeared to be amusement on his face. “Before you joined the
Fionaveir you were legendary for your stealth. You were the scourge
of the powerful beyond the barrier, and it was rumored that you
were never caught, no matter what you stole.”

“All true,” Charm answered simply.

“I ask you to use that stealth now but not to
steal.” Symphony paused and glanced at Victory. She gave him a
smile. He nodded back to her a bit confused, unsure what Charm’s
stealth had to do with him.

“What would you have of me, Milady?” Charm
asked.

“There is a girl that will be traveling to
Sanctuary to attend the Academy there. She has been raised in a
Temple and is naïve to how dangerous the world is. I wish you to
keep her alive until she has come into her power. She will be very
important in days to come. Her name is Jala and even now she
journeys toward Sanctuary. Take whoever you deem appropriate and
keep her alive and well. Keep the High Lords from destroying her,”
Symphony answered.

Victory’s eyes widened at the request, and he
looked to Havoc, knowing the Firym would object. As he had
predicted, his partner was even now rising. He gave a sigh and
wondered what punishments would follow this. No doubt their next
few assignments would make the trip to the Warrens seem
pleasant.

“That should be our assignment. We found the
girl, and despite how many times we have asked about her fate,
you’ve kept us like mushrooms.” Havoc glared at Caspian. “I’m sick
of sitting in the dark and being fed shit, Milord.”

“Watch your tongue, Firym,” Lutheron warned
in a voice that was more promise than threat.

“I’m done with that Lutheron, if you want me
to shut up then come silence me,” Havoc shot back, his temper
rising. “I want answers, and I want them now. I’m done with this
‘in good time’ crap.”

Victory gave a slight groan. This would be
worse than usual. He had sworn to obey Caspian and yet he had also
sworn to protect his partner. He glanced at Havoc and then to
Caspian and then to Lutheron who seemed to be rising from his
chair, as deadly silent as the shadows that seemed to surround him.
He rose slowly from his own chair and placed a hand on the hilt of
his sword. This wasn’t a fight he wanted at all, but Havoc didn’t
seem inclined to give him a choice.

“Stop this at once and return to your seats!
You as well, Lutheron!” Symphony’s voice cut through the room like
a whip, and Victory found himself sitting once more without being
aware of even moving. To his amazement, Lutheron was seated, as
well. Havoc, as stubborn as always, remained standing his gaze
locked on Caspian.