“I would never forget,” Kieran responded with a smile. “It is Kaltara that will aid me today. Without God, I have no talents.”
“You are a wise boy,” nodded the priest. “You do not have to go to the roof. There are many empty prayer rooms available. Would you like me to pray with you today?”
“No, thank you,” replied Kieran, “although you could offer a prayer for me if it pleases you. Besides, I prefer the roof. I feel as if it places me closer to God.”
The priest placed a hand on Kieran’s shoulder and nodded. “It would please me to pray for you,” he smiled. “Go to the roof. Do not keep Kaltara waiting.”
Kieran smiled and nodded and started up the stairs. He fought the urge to run up the stairs, and each step seemed to last forever. Finally, the elven boy reached to the top of the stairs. He moved out onto the roof and stared up at the sky with reverence. The sun was over the tops of the sevemore trees as he knelt in the center of the roof and began praying. Time lost all meaning for Kieran.
The first indication of trouble was the smell of smoke. Kieran pushed the distraction from his mind as he concentrated on his prayers. Suddenly, shouts ripped through the air and the elven boy found that he could no longer concentrate. He rose to his feet and felt a shock ripple through his body as his eyes took in the sight below him.
Twelve great ships sat off the coast of Alamanda. Fiery arrows rained from the ships towards the city and the sevemore forests surrounding it. Elves raced away from the water’s edge as magicians on the ships began casting fiery projectiles at the city. The reverberations of impacting force bolts echoed off the stone streets and buildings. Kieran watched in horror as stone buildings collapsed and great fires raced through the forest. His first thought was for the safety of his mother. He turned to race into the temple, but he found the friendly priest coming out onto the roof.
“Kieran,” the priest said seriously, “you must carry a message to the king.”
“I cannot,” protested Kieran. “I must get my mother to safety.”
“It is already too late for that,” frowned the priest as he pointed along the coast. “They struck that area on the way in. There is no hope for the families living there.”
“But I must try,” cried Kieran. “Send someone else to the king.”
The priest placed both hands on the boy’s shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “Hear me, Kieran,” the priest said sternly. “There is no time to waste. The humans are intent on destroying all of us. Already their smaller boats are bringing troops to shore. You have always had strong faith in Kaltara, but I doubt that you realize how strong Kaltara’s faith is in you. It is Kaltara that has commanded me to come up here and send you to the king. You are the only one who can make it there. Kaltara will guide you.”
“What am I to say to the king?” asked Kieran as tears flowed down his cheeks.
“Tell him that Angragar has attacked us,” instructed the priest. “Tell him that humans have betrayed us as was foretold. Remind him that he was told to never trust the humans. Make him swear revenge for this treachery.”
“I don’t understand,” Kieran shook his head. “Why would the humans do this?”
“The humans have turned away from Kaltara,” explained the priest. “Never again can the elves trust the humans. Go now. Run swiftly, and may Kaltara watch over you.”
Kieran raced into the temple and down the stairs. When he emerged from the temple, he faltered as his eyes took in the destruction of the city. Piles of stone rubble lined the streets where shops and trade stalls used to be. Everything that was flammable was burning, including the forest on both sides of the city. Elven bodies littered the streets, and small boats were ferrying humans to the quay. Several strong blasts struck the temple, sending showers of stone over the steps. Kieran reflexively ducked as slivers of stone rained down upon him. Suddenly, the priest stepped out of the door of the temple. His white robes were covered in blood and one of his eyes was swollen shut.
“Run, Kieran,” commanded the priest. “Run with every shred of your energy. Go now.”
Kieran stared with horror at the old priest. He immediately turned and raced down the steps of the temple and into the forest behind it.
Chapter 1
In the Land of Humans
The Balomar soldiers halted in front of the inn, which was several hours ride from the Khadoran city of Chantise. The cortain rose in his saddle and silently issued orders to his men. One squad of twenty soldiers rode past the inn and positioned themselves on the road to the east. Another squad turned and blocked the road to the west.
“Is this really necessary?” Lord Oktar questioned. “We have no right to block the road.”
“I promised Marshal Berman that I would take every precaution,” replied the cortain. “As soon as we determine that the inn is safe, our men will unblock the road. I will keep a few men posted on the road to make sure that no armies are approaching, but the rest will make camp behind the building.”
The lord of the Balomar clan nodded with resignation as the cortain issued orders to the third squad of soldiers under his command. Four soldiers dismounted and approached the inn. Two went around to the rear of the building while the other two opened the front door and entered. Within moments the soldiers returned with Marshal Berman in tow. The marshal paused outside the front door of the inn as his eyes swept the area to note the position of the Balomar troops. He nodded with approval as he approached Lord Oktar.
“Well done, Cortain,” the marshal said. “Have your men make camp out back. One squad at a time may enter the inn and dine while the rest keep watch.”
“What about blocking the road?” asked the Balomar lord. “That is uncalled for since the Emperor’s decree regarding attacks on neighboring clans.
“It is not neighboring clans that triggers my caution,” explained Marshal Berman. “There have been strange reports of murders recently. I will not allow the Lord of the Balomar clan to be assassinated under my watch. The road will be watched, but not blocked. Let’s get inside.”
Lord Oktar nodded, and the cortain ordered his men to dismount. Half of the squad preceded the Balomar lord into the inn, and the other half followed. The soldiers filled the benches on one side of the common room, reserving the far corner table for their lord and marshal. The other half of the common room was left open for travelers. The innkeeper’s eyes brightened as he watched the soldiers taking their seats. The three lone travelers already in the common room watched with curiosity, but soon returned their attention to their meals.
“Tell me about these murders,” prompted Lord Oktar after he had ordered meals from the innkeeper.
“There is little to tell,” frowned the Balomar marshal. “They are random attacks, and no one can see the reasons behind them.”
“They are not attempted robberies?” inquired the lord.
“No,” Marshal Berman shook his head. “They are just senseless murders. The assassins are unknown to the victims as best we can tell. People are afraid to stray from their estates.”
“Have any of the assassins been caught?” asked Lord Oktar.
“Not yet,” replied the marshal, “but I have spoken with the neighboring clans, and we have all agreed to try to capture one.”
“Well, I don’t think a lone murderer is going to take on an entire corte of troops,” shrugged the lord. “That would be suicide.”
“You are probably correct,” nodded the marshal, “but I will keep you protected regardless. Why are you not returning directly to the estate?”
“Emperor Marak is still having trouble convincing some of the clans to send their troops to Khadoratung for training,” explained Lord Oktar. “He asked me to visit some of the recalcitrant lords and convince them of the need to join together.”