The Devil's Deuce (The Barrier War) (29 page)

Maran looked up from the long tear stains on his father’s
robe and gently pulled away from the aged elf.

“I am sorry, my son,” the king said.

“No, father, I…”

“
Shhh
,” his father silenced him.
“I am sorry for not being able to tell you the truth. All these years you have
been gone, and I felt I would never have the chance to apologize and try to
make you see why I did what I did. You may hate me after this, but I hope you
will understand and forgive me.”

“I
don’t
understand.”

“I cannot tell you myself, for it would violate certain
oaths,” the king said sadly. “Oaths which would mean my life to break, king
that I am. Someone else must say what I cannot.” He paused. “We may never have
the chance to speak again, my son, but please know that I have always loved and
been proud of you. Always.”

He turned away. Maran watched in silence as his father
stopped in the doorway. His father’s finger flared with a brilliant light,
which he held close to his robes where Maran’s tears had stained the fabric.
The wet streaks disappeared quickly, and his father straightened slowly as the
light disappeared.

“There is no one here who will speak with you,” the king
said, then walked away, leaving a ghostly “my son” floating in the air behind
him.

Maran stared after his father in confusion. A moment later,
he understood.

“Greetings,
to’vala
,” a velvety
voice said nearby.

“Master,” Maran replied reverently, inclining his head in
respect.

“Your master no more,
Do’n’El’Maran
,”
the voice replied. “Now I am no one.”

“But…”

“The king sometimes talks, but no one listens. He often
keeps only his own counsel, for no one advises him.”

Maran nodded in understanding.

“I do not exist. Except perhaps now to you.” And with that,
Maran was suddenly able to see his old teacher and master. “For you alone, I am
Do’Sedel
.”

Sedel
was almost twice Maran’s
age, but carried himself as a much more vibrant and healthy man. Maran had no
doubt his body was just as trim and superbly fit as when they had sparred
decades before. He was dressed in a black tunic and trousers designed to be
comfortably loose, but absolutely silent. His face was hidden behind a black
balaclava, leaving only a pair of slanted, radiant green eyes peering sternly
forth. It was the same clothing he’d always worn when Maran studied under him,
and despite their master-
to’vala
relationship, Maran
had never seen the other elf’s face. Just his eyes.

Sedel
was obviously not his real
name, either. In the elven tongue it meant “false,” but Maran was honored he
was given anything by which to call his former master, an elf he esteemed above
all others except the
Do’Valoren
and Maran’s own
father.
Sedel
was powerful; it took great skill with
Shadowweaving to make one’s self invisible even to other Do eyes when under a
Shadow Light.

“We have limited time,
to’vala
,”
Sedel
said in clipped tones. “You must listen before you
can understand, and you must understand before you will be permitted to act. If
you act without knowledge, you will lose what protection holds your life
intact, and your son may suffer your foolishness as well.”

Maran stared at him intently. The other elf studied him for
a moment, then nodded, pleased with what he saw.

“Good. Now then, here is what your father could not tell you
himself. You are bound by the oaths from your mastery, and the penalties for
violating those oaths remain firm.”

Maran nodded in understanding. If he revealed any knowledge
of what he was told here tonight without authorization, his life would be
immediately forfeit, no matter where he might try to hide in the world. They
would find him and slay him. Of course, Maran knew his life should have already
been forfeit several times over, and while he was unaware what sort of charm
had protected him this long, he knew there were some things for which no
protection would be granted.

Sedel
studied his former
apprentice with satisfaction.

“For centuries, the elven kings of your lineage have carried
not only the blood of the El, but of the Do as well,” he said. Maran’s eyes
widened, but he remained silent. “Not coincidentally, your family has always
possessed strong abilities in both Light
and
Shadowweaving. Your
dual-talent is not unique to your bloodline. You know full well that the gift
of Weaving is largely genetic, but even in strong family lines it frequently
misses children or skips a generation entirely. Such a case was your father and
his brother. Neither of them had the ability to Weave the Shadow, but each
possessed a strong ability in Lightweaving. Your great grandfather had no
talent with the Light whatsoever, but he was a decidedly strong Shadowweaver.”

Maran absorbed this knowledge reluctantly. How was it
possible that his family had hidden this secret for so long? What did it mean
that he had been cast out for the sin of living up to his family legacy?

“Our order, the
Do’Fidel
, was
founded by a member of the
El’Eleisha
family who was
cast out for Shadowweaving. He was unable to turn his back on his family and
the rest of elven society, and he gathered like-minded Do about him to serve in
secret. When your family ascended the throne, they set the first watchers to
train in secret any scions of the royal family who showed talent with Weaving
the Shadow.

“That is what your father could not tell you, and why he has
felt your absence so keenly,”
Sedel
said. “He wanted
nothing more than to renounce his vows and publicly support you by revealing
your family’s secret, but he realized he could not do so and retain the
stability of the nation. He had to pretend ignorance and support those who
discovered your secret training to preserve the nation. You would have
eventually been told the truth about your family’s heritage and its ties to our
order, but you were discovered before that time had come. The decision was made
to withhold the information in the immediate aftermath of your exile until we
were sure you had come to terms with your situation, a fact for which your
father still feels a tremendous amount of guilt. It is why he still cannot
acknowledge your presence. He holds to the oaths that have bound your family
for generations, even here in the privacy of the crypt. Your father loves you
and is proud of you.”

Maran remained silently wrapped in his own thoughts as
Sedel
continued.

“Your brother and sister are similar to your father, for
neither can Weave the Shadow. Your brother was nearly as strong as you with the
Light, but your sister can barely Weave well enough to light a room, much less
craft anything useful,”
Sedel
said derisively. “You,
however, possess strength in both areas, as you know,” he paused and stared
intently at Maran, “as does your son.”

“My son Weaves the Shadow?” Maran asked harshly. He felt an
intense surge of revulsion coupled intimately with a fierce pride in his son.
“You have someone training him?”

“No, not
someone
,”
Sedel
replied. “No one trains him.”

Maran stared.

“Just as I taught the father, I now teach the son, and he is
perhaps the only elf I have met with natural talents superior to your own. He
is now my
to’vala
, and I grow more proud of him with
every passing day, especially with the passing of your brother. He shows
intense promise not only with his Weaving, but also as a statesman and a true
leader of our people.”

“Our people,” Maran murmured.

“The elven nation will do well in his hands, despite his
youth.”

Maran looked at him sharply.

“You know something about my brother’s death,” he said in
sudden epiphany. “And my father. And my son.”

Maran thought he detected a brief flash of surprise in
Sedel’s
eyes, which made him think carefully. His former
master was adept at staying at least one step ahead of Maran at all times and
never revealing an instant of his own thoughts and feelings. For Maran to have
shocked him into even such a small admission of his inner thoughts meant that
whatever Maran had perceived was very important indeed.

“Tell me,” Maran said, and now his voice was dangerous.

Sedel’s
impassivity was firmly in
place as he looked coolly at his former pupil. He was confident of his own
abilities, but he knew Maran was one of the most dangerous elves alive, and
Sedel
had made him that way. Should Maran decide to attack
him,
Sedel
would likely not survive the encounter,
and the nation could collapse from Maran’s impulsive actions and lack of
understanding.

“Very well,”
Sedel
acceded. “You
are not to meet with the
Do’Valoren
this evening. No
one is permitted such an audience, even you.”

“I know that,” Maran replied quietly, losing none of his
intensity in his patience.

He has learned much in
his exile,
Sedel
thought quietly.
We made the right decision.

“This is the audience you were granted instead,”
Sedel
said, then continued in a straight-forward manner.
“Your brother was assassinated by factions within this very city who feel the
El’Eleisha
dynasty has ruled long enough. You are aware of
political dissension, I’m sure, for it has not changed since the days of your
own intended ascension to the throne. We believe whoever is responsible has
backing from exiled Do, but at the very least they are receiving aid of some
sort from the outside. We have been unable to discover the source of their
support, nor have we been able to track them inside the city, which is what has
led us to suspect the Do. Specifically, Shadowweavers. Only they would have the
skill to elude us, but even master Weavers cannot maintain the Mist of Shadows
indefinitely and would at some point pass through a shadow-lighted area, and we
would find them.”
Sedel
grimaced in frustration. “But
we have found nothing, and we believe their next move is likely to come soon.”

“What is their next move?”

“Can you not guess?”
Sedel
asked
harshly. “They will hunt your father and your sister and your son, and they
will slaughter them all. We think your father is next, and then your son and
sister will be easy pickings for them, or so they think. They cannot realize
the training your son has received. He is very near mastery already in both
Shadow and Light, and he is more than capable of defending himself.”

“But my father has no such protection.”

“You’re right, he doesn’t.”

Maran stared at him.

“You serpent. You fatherless son of a Shadow-spawned whore!”
Maran spat. “You’re using my father as bait.”

“There is a greater good served…”

“A greater good?” Maran practically shouted in a momentary
loss of composure. “What if something goes wrong?” Maran asked, only slightly
more calmly. “Are you going to just accept the loss of our nation’s monarch, my
father
, as a casualty of war? Acceptable losses?”

“Your son is more than ready – and in the predicted state of
war far more capable – to lead this nation than your father is,”
Sedel
said, then stared impassively at Maran.

Understanding dawned with horror in Maran’s mind.

“You
want
him to die,” Maran whispered. “You want my
son to take the throne, so you’re willing to sacrifice my father. How will it
happen?” he asked harshly. “Will you promise him invisible protection to lure
in the enemy and only offer a token resistance before allowing them to butcher
the king? Or will you just not show up? Will you betray him? You may as well
save them the trouble and stab him in the back yourself.”

Sedel’s
fist lashed out into
Maran’s head where his ear was missing and sent him reeling to the floor. Maran
staggered to his knees and received
Sedel’s
boot in
his ribs. Coughing, he stumbled back and found the other elf crouched over him
with a knife to his throat.

“I love your father as surely as I love both you and your
son,”
Sedel
said menacingly. “When the time comes, I
will lay down my own life before I allow them to take your father’s. I swear on
my soul’s hope of rebirth this is so. I loathe this necessity nearly as much as
you must, but I must look ahead to the future of our nation. You have had the
luxury of not watching a beloved monarch slip ever so slowly into twilight as
night descends upon him. You have not had to see his enemies slavering around
him like jackals, and you have not been burdened with the knowledge that to
save a nation, a man beloved of your heart must be willingly let to die. You
have been gone for too long and no longer see the truths that once made you so
promising. The nation must be served first, and individual lives must come
second.

“I will give my life in defense of your father, whom I love,
because I cannot do otherwise and live with myself in the new world that will
result from his death. There is a greater good served in his death, and you can
play a part in that. You
must
play a part, if your son is to survive.”

Maran’s blind anger faded, and he glared at
Sedel
.

“We do not know how the attack on your father will come, or
when it will come,”
Sedel
continued with less
ferocity, “and if there is a way to preserve the nation and avoid his death, I
will take that path without hesitation. But whether I succeed or fail, you must
be at your son’s side to ensure his survival. He has more natural talent, yes,
but you have the experience and skills necessary to see him through. His guards
can deal with most threats, but you are the only one strong enough to protect
him from the Do assassins who will doubtlessly come for him.”