Back in the Horse's Saddle
“Those cowards…” Eylinn was furious, much more so than her words described, but her eyes did not lie.
“Now the Corpus is spreading in Hroniden. They cut their own feet off, and now, the mad horde is marching against the Golden City. Kvothe’s whole army stopped at Mirrorwater. They didn’t send a single man to the Dunes.” Alvon kept his calm expression, not showing a sign of his thoughts on the matter. It led Eylinn to believe her mentor wasn’t at all surprised with the development.
“Kamal raised me up when our party was crushed in their spirits. Araris was slain alongside heroes. What do you make of it?” Alvon shrugged, clearly not interested in offering any biased council, or theoretical judgment in advance. “It means we cannot trust them. Humans…” Her eyes darkened. “…cannot be trusted. They offer grain with the left hand, and slit your throat with the right.” She sat down in her fir-tree chair. “We should stay here.”
“You know that’s folly. Why consider the options we do not even have? How many will we bring?” She thought for a while, but it didn’t lead anywhere. The horrors of the mountain, still fresh in her memory, had firm control of her whole mind.
“Three and a half thousand.” She said with her teeth clenched. “Leave five hundred to keep the calm in the Chasm.”
“Yes, mistress.”
“And Alvon…” He turned around. “Any refugees from Highathar… Let them in, should they find their way here.” The general gave a nod, turned on his heel and left the chamber. It was night. But she dared not sleep. Her dreams would only serve to drive her mad.
At dawn, they took off. Green Chasm’s levies did not use horses, but they knew the terrain well. In only two days, they had crossed the border into Ecclestius on foot, bar the high ranking officers, Green Chasm’s vassals, and the ruler herself, who rode. They spotted a trail of trampled terrain. Clearly, more armies had marched this way, heading for the Golden City. It was a small reassurance for the army. Hopefully it would not end like the quarantine did. All rangers were in agreement. At least ten thousand men had walked this way before. This wasn’t much in itself, considering how many there ought to be in the Corpus horde by now.
Eylinn was still determined to not sleep, but not all her men were blessed with the Flame of Barumin in their hearts. They needed rest, and it was decided to raise camp once they reached the river. A most simple tent was raised for the Mistress. She had no intention of using it anyway.
The sun had long since been replaced by the moon when the young girl remained seated in the damp grass out of sight. She tried to figure out what she’d say at the assembly. She pictured herself standing three times taller than all others, shouting from the top of her lungs to end their preposterous ambitions and schemes. She would tell them how things ought to be, how they’re all wrong, and how the necromancer slayed a host of the world’s most skilled warriors without as much as an effort. How Elves have no business in saving Humans from their righteous fate, that she only were here because the mountains were riddled with the Plague.
“Why do you try so hard to lie to yourself?” She thought. “You want to say these things. You want them to be true. You just don’t believe it.” She sighed. “Why can’t your imagination just settle with that your mind already knows?” She was tired of her mind. She wished she was out of her mind. Life would had been more simple. “Here’s an idea! Just close your eyes, and I’ll take care of that for you. Let me do the thinking for a while.” She loved that idea.
“Don’t make a fool of yourself.” Elvander twisted his mouth. “I’m too obvious a suspect. I have everything to gain from him being dead. But why, in all plains of Hell, would I make such an obvious murder.” The councillor looked at the vassal with piercing eyes.
“That sounds more like a vague attempt to claim innocence from apparent guilt. The fact is, his death would default the regency to you. As Galimon’s oldest vassal...”
“Ah, I was wrong. You’re not trying to make yourself look like a fool, you think that I am the fool. If I even had planned for his death, wouldn’t it have been wiser to drown him in the river? Throwing him off the Lúrien? Why use such an obvious method as poison?” The councillor went silent. “I did not wish for the Master to die. Not before his time, anyway. If anything, his life ended too soon. The girl is old enough to bare children. My son is fourteen. He had only two daughters. Taking my influence within the court would have been much simpler with a simple betrothal.” He looked up at Eylinn on the throne. “I will take my own life if you only wish it. You will never have known me as anything but an honest man, living an honest life, with honest ambition. And at least, I wouldn’t be dying a liar’s death.”
“Enough!” She yelled. “These investigations will end now.”
“But mistress, your father...”
“Let me grief him. For I will. And I wish. It doesn’t matter who killed him anymore.” She rose from the chair. “I will not marry your son. I will not marry Coertha. You’re free from all suspicion. Just go!” Elvander initiated a bow. “And don’t bow.” He froze. “Noone bows in the Green Chasm from this day on. It’s disgusting.” He straightened his back. Confused on how to show respect without bowing, he pound his chest with his fist instead. Then he left.
It was sickening. Only an hour earlier, they had all poured herbs on her father’s pyre to send him to the air, and bury his ashes in the earth. And now, immediately after, the council called for a manhunt in such a degrading display. She would not have it. “Let him rest. Let me rest.” She said to herself.
“Mistress...” Alvon entered the throne room. “We must attend the assembly in your father’s stead. A necromancer right next to our borders with the dwarves is bad news for anyone.” She shivered. She was not too keen to revisit the Golden City.
“We will travel tomorrow. Send a thousand men to the quarantine in the Dunes.”
“Should I accompany them?”
“No. You will remain here, and act as my steward.” Alvon soured.
“You’re mad.” Eylinn let out a fake laugh.
“Am I now? I’m an orphan! An orphan with a fucking province on my shoulders! Not mad. I don’t want you with me! That is all!”
“Fair enough. Didn’t fancy going there anyway.” He said with his usual lack of emotions. The councillor was shocked by the display.
“Mistress! We can’t possibly let you go alone! We are fully capable of running the province in your absence. Please, take Alvon with you.” Eylinn’s cheeks blushed, and her eyebrows shot up her forehead.
“Can’t let me?” She went down the steps and approached him slowly. “My own vassals just proclaimed me in majority rule, something you counter-proposed. I’m your acting ruler, both by de facto and de jure. You...” She stared him down. “...do not
let me. You
do as I say.” She turned around. “And I do, as I say. I will go to the assembly. Alone.”
It didn’t take long to reach the Golden City with just a small escort. The town was even filthier than she remembered.
“I can see why Alvon didn’t fancy coming back here.” She lowered her hood, revealing her ears for anyone to see. It’s not safe to have them bare in the wilds outside Galadriel. You can never really be too careful in Human lands. “We’ll walk.” She told her courtiers. She wanted to take the shortest possible route, but the city is huge. Going north would be their best bet, trying to steer away from the market as best as they could. A cart filled with fresh slaves passed them as they went.
She was finally there. By the imperial palace. A plump Dwarf had guided her to the assembly doors. She was just about to grab the handles when her heart froze. “No...” She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She turned around. The hallway was empty. “Maybe I can just wait out here.” She thought. “All those people.” Indeed. They were yelling quite high in there. “Dammit! Just open the door!” She thought to herself. “No...” She backed away and stared at it. “To hell with them.” She left.
Hours passed as she waited outside. Finally, a male Elf in a well ornate tunic walked beside another Elf with a more rugged look about him. “They were at the assembly, I bet.” She hastened her steps to catch up with them, acting naturally. However, the second Elf stopped while the more prestigious one kept going.
“Hello there, fair lady.” She did not stop until she reached him. No turning back now!
“Good sir, was that Master Armas I saw walking with you?”
“Indeed. Master Armas Coamenel of Coamenel. And who might you be?”
“Mistress Eylinn Mindrilla of Green Chasm, here in my late father’s stead. The funeral ran late, and I just arrived only minutes ago.” She lied.
“My condolences. However, you have much to catch up with. I assume you heard about the quarantine and the necromancer?”
“Indeed I have. I already sent one thousand men to the quarantine to act as aid and support.”
“We also embark on a quest along our peers in the assembly, to capture the necromancer. If you could send someone with us, it would be highly appreciated.” Eylinn stood still for a while. What better way to get away from everyone and have a moment’s respite.
“No need. I’ll go myself.” The Elf raised his eyebrows.
“I see. Very well. We leave at dawn, besting the winter as good as we can.”
The Elf left, leaving Eylinn standing there. She smiled an honest smile for once. But the knocks were getting tiresome. Mist and haze clouded the hall. It was annoying.
“Wake up.”
“What?”
“The sun is up.” Alvon stood in front of her, looking down at her drooling, messy face.
“I slept. I think.”
“That is nice.” She sat up, letting out a yawn. Birds were chirping in the distance. Odd, considering there wasn’t a single tree in sight. “So, are you getting up?” Eylinn stared back at him.
“How do I look?” Alvon observed her.
“Terrible.” She narrowed her eyes. If a gaze could ever have killed a man, this one would be it. She offered her hand.
“Then we better change that, shall we?” Alvon drew her up on her feet.
“Alright.”
The journey had been long for the army, but it continued without any dramatic events. They’d set camp with the North and East Elves on the other side of the river. An air of uncertainty and fear reeked from the city. She brought Alvon with her up to the Imperial Palace, and she stared at the door from across the hall.
“I remember you.” She said to herself.
“I beg your pardon?” Alvon gave her a puzzled look.
“Nevermind. Let’s go in.” And so they went in. They sat and listened for a long while. Such a bunch of bickering fools and prideful folly. This was not her element. That much was clear. But she would make it so. She found her opportunity, and she rose from the chair. She would speak now.
))
