29

The Visitor

Coriander found himself at the gates of the inner city, the way that led to the castle of Lone Peak. He was caught off guard by the message from the emperor, having thought his duties for the day were finished.

The sight that confronted him now only added to his confusion.

Lining the path to the large wooden gate that would allow him access to the high court were banners flying the colors of the Order of the Comet, interspersed with the emperor’s own banner. The elves of Enoth had not been in Lone Peak for more than a day, and yet here among the pride of his nation flew the colors Coriander had come to detest more than any he could remember.

Surely the emperor was unaware of this. The general marched forward; ready to confront his Excellency, even if it meant confronting the elf who was his ruler. This overreach of the order was madness.

Armed human guards stopped him at the gate. Coriander presented his invitation from the emperor, noting that it also bore the symbol of Darrion as well.

After a few moments in which the guards stared at him suspiciously, they signaled to have the gates opened.

With great effort, the wooden doors creaked open; allowing entrance into the light filled inner court. Delicate lamps surrounded by glass panels were lit every few feet. Some still milled about at the late hour and considered Coriander with suspicion.

He walked purposefully towards the largest building in the inner court: a castle with four great towers on each corner of its walls.

The banner of Darrion adorned the castle, no priesthood of the comet to be found there. That, at least, gave Coriander hope that the entire city hadn't already lost its mind to Cedric's bile.

Again he presented his note to the guards of castle, who admitted him into the castle by unlocking, opening, and then relocking the great doors that allowed him entrance. The sound of the echoing click did not sit well with him.

But he was a general of the greatest elven empire on Gilia. What did he have to fear of locked doors and the misgivings of men?

An attendant bowed to him and motioned for Coriander to follow him. The castle would have been impressive to most, he thought, as they walked underneath gilded banners and by suits of magnificent armor. But he had been in the halls of the emperor. Coriander's own house was comparable to the ruling castle of Darrion.

This gave the elf pride as the attendant stopped in front of large double doors and directed him inside.

As he crossed the threshold, he was surprised to see not only the emperor, but also many men of Darrion, all arranged in their finest clothes and seated around a great feast. Apparently, the meeting had been going on for some time.

All eyes turned to him as he bowed to his ruler and acknowledged the others.

“Ah!” Rophilborn exclaimed as soon as Coriander had come inside the hall. The room was lit with torches and great paintings of naval battles and stallions charging down the creatures he knew to be called Wrents adorned the walls. “The finest leader of elves in Enoth!”

These words caused him to feel a swell in his chest. This was high praise.

He strode over to his emperor and friend and bowed again.

“You summoned me, your Excellency?” he said.

Rophilborn stood and addressed the room at large.

“I did,” he said as he clicked his fingers and attendants brought food and drink for the general. It turned out he would be eating finer fare than he imagined tonight. He was just about to think about enjoying this food when the next words out of Rophilborn's mouth caught him by surprise.

“We were just discussing the threat of the Wood Walkers and how best to quell them before they burn down other cities of Darrion.”

Coriander trudged back to the ship from the noble castle; his feet and his heart were heavy. It had been a very long three hours.

The city, after having been awake far longer than it was used to, was finally sleeping.

The general wished he had been asleep hours ago. It was certainly the second watch by now. City guards and a few Enoth ones were the only ones who walked the streets at this late hour. Streets were empty save for the very late watch and the occasional small animal that stalked the paths for scraps. None of them held up Coriander's march back to the boat.

The events of the evening were heavy on his mind. Strange though the journey to Lone Peak had been, stranger still was the mood of his emperor and the agenda he had hidden from Coriander.

Why had he not briefed the general on the attack of Bestone by the Wood Walkers before they had embarked? Why had he not spoken of a combined alliance with Darrion, not for trade, but for the defense against and attack on the forest dwelling elves?

He racked his brain, trying to figure out how he might have missed Rophilborn bringing it up, whether offhandedly or in direct command.

Coriander knew this was futile. He remembered every word his emperor ever shared with him and he could not recall a single time the emperor had declared the Wood Walkers an enemy.

Not until tonight, that was.

From the way he spoke to the nobles of Darrion, he had been waging a constant war against them for several hundred years.

Coriander's own timeline with the empire exceed three hundred, and he could not remember more than a few small skirmishes with the Wood folk, most of which were misunderstandings on the elves of Enoth's part. They respected each other's boundaries. The Wood Walkers didn't journey south to the lands of the empire and the elves of Enoth did not harvest the plentiful trees that grew along the edge of the forest.

That was the agreement made after the long civil war many hundreds of years ago.

For generations, that had been enough.

Coriander arrived at the boat's dock just in time to hear the night watch changing throughout the city. Out of habit mostly, he listened for the elf call of all clear before heading inside the boat.

No alarms. All was quiet.

He walked up the ship's ramp to the deck and made his way to his room. A bed and a glass of strong drink were waiting for him. As soon as he pushed the door to his room open, however, drink and rest were pushed far from his mind.

A dagger flying at his temple drove those thoughts away quickly.

Perhaps the assassin shifted his footing when Coriander walked in. Maybe she took in a shallow breath in preparation to strike. Whatever the reason, in the split second before the dagger left the assassin's hand, Coriander was able to dodge the blade and his training took over.

Having no weapon on him, Coriander did what he knew to be the best thing to engage an attacker: he launched himself at her. The groan of pain was definitely female, as were the nails that raked into his neck. The general grabbed the assassin around her middle and threw her to the ground.

"Guards!" he shouted as he jumped on top of her.

He narrowly missed the blade she had procured from a hidden sheath on her calf. He wrestled her arms to the ground and pinned them there with his knees, before attempting to wrench the blade from her hand, which he held tightly just under her wrist with his own hand, he looked into the attacker's eyes.

There was no hatred. No spite. This was an assassin paid to do a job.

Her eyes were cool and calculating, as if attempting to measure up what her chances were of surviving the encounter.

"And who paid you to do this job?" Coriander managed, before getting a hold of the knife and throwing it aside.

Her eyes narrowed.

Then Coriander felt a stabbing pain in his back. He lurched forward on top of the would be killer and let his grip on her arms go as he recoiled in pain.

Agonizingly, he flipped onto his side to see what had caused him such fiery anguish. At the same time as he saw the small blade protruding from the knee of his assailant, two guards and a very distraught looking Finore stormed into the room, blades drawn and pointed at the assassin.

Coriander couldn't tell what happened next. The room was beginning to go black and his vision was blurring terribly.

"Coward" he heard Finore shout. But it couldn't be at him, could it?

He was his emperor's finest general.

There was a moment when he felt a hand on his shoulder, but then it passed.

And all things became nothing.