the motives of the Elenes. It was obviously through ‘Zalasta’s
efforts that the Thousand were persuaded to pledge their aid,
despite the long-standing and, many feel, fully justified suspicions
all Styrics have of Elene motives.
The Elenes then moved on to Atan, where Queen Ehlana once
again charmed the king and queen. It is clearly evident that the
personality of this winsome girl is a force to be reckoned with.
Although Foreign Minister Oscagne’s report of the encounter
with the supposed Cyrgai is open to serious question, there can
be no doubt about the veracity of the report of what happened
after our visitors left Atana. That report came from Zalasta himself,
and no sane man in the government could ever question
the veracity of the first citizen of Styricum. It was in the mountains
lying to the west of the border of Tamul proper that the
party was set upon again, and Zalasta has confirmed the fact
that the attackers were non-human.
There have been sightings of fearsome monsters in the Atan
mountains in the past year, although many skeptics have dismissed
these reports as being yet more of the illusory manifestations
of the power of those bent on bringing down his Imperial
Majesty’s government. These clever illusions of Ogres, vampires,
werewolves and Shining Ones have been terrorizing the
simple folk of Tamuli for several years, and the mountain monsters
had been assumed to be no more than another of these
illusions. Zalasta assures us, however, that these huge, shaggy
beasts are Trolls, who until recently were indigenous to the
Thalesian peninsula in Eosia, and who had migrated to the north
coast of Atan across the polar ice, presumably at the behest of
the enemies of the Empire. Sir Sparhawk, once again reinforcing
Zalasta’s opinion of him, quickly devised tactics which routed
the brutes.
Queen Ehlana’s party then crossed the border into Tamul
proper, and shortly thereafter reached the imperial capital at
fire-domed Matherion, where they were graciously welcomed
by Emperor Sarabian. Despite the protests of Prime Minister
Subat, the Elene visitors were given almost unimpeded access
to his Majesty. The Queen of Elenia soon charmed the Emperor
even as she had the lesser monarchs to the west, and they
quickly became fast friends. Candor compels us to admit that
Emperor Sarabian’s character is afflicted with a regrettably
meddlesome and independent streak. He has shown of late a
lamentable tendency to interfere with the government, and to
override the counsel of those far better equipped than he to deal
with the day-to-day details of governing his vast realm.
The Prime Minister, acting on the advice of Interior Minister
Kolata, had decided to place Prince Sparhawk under the command
of the Ministry of the Interior. As Kolata correctly pointed
out, Sir Sparhawk, an Eosian Elene, could not be expected to
understand the myriad cultures of Tamuli, and therefore would
need guidance and direction in his efforts to counter the schemes
Of our enemies. Emperor Sarabian, however, rejected this highly
sensible approach and granted this foreigner almost total discretion
in approaching such problems as arose.
Despite our reservations about Prince Sparhawk, his queen
and his companions, however, we must reluctantly concede that
their presence in Matherion averted a disaster of the first order.
Among the other structures in the imperial compound there is
a perfect replica of an Elene castle, which was specifically
designed to make Elene dignitaries feel at home. Queen Ehlana
and her entourage were housed in that castle, and the relevance
of that fact will soon become clear.
In some as yet to be determined fashion, Sir Sparhawk and
his cohorts unearthed a plot here in Matherion to overthrow the
government. Rather than report their findings to the Ministry
of the Interior, however, the Elenes chose to keep their discovery
to themselves and to permit the conspirators to pursue their plot
to its final conclusion. When an armed mob approached the
imperial compound on that fateful night, Prince Sparhawk and
his companions simply withdrew into their Elene castle, taking
the Emperor and the government inside with them.
We Tamuls had not fully understood the fact that architecture
can be a weapon. Unbeknownst to his Majesty’s government,
Sparhawk’s Elenes had modified the castle to some degree and
had quietly brought in stores, all the while secretly constructing
the brutal implements with which Elenes do war.
The mob, bent on the overthrow of the government, swept
unimpeded into the imperial compound, and after a brief orgy
of looting, it found itself confronted by an impregnable castle
filled with ruthless Elene warriors who’ routinely utilize boiling
pitch and fire to defend their strongholds. The horrors of that
night will remain forever etched on the memories of civilized
men. As has long been the practise in Tamuli, many of the
younger sons of the great houses of Tamul proper had joined
with the rebels, more as a lark than out of any serious criminal
intent. Always in the past these youthful offenders have been
separated from the true criminals, severely reprimanded and
then returned to their parents. Protected by rank and family,
they have had little to fear from the authorities. Boiling pitch,
however, is no respecter of rank, and a high-spirited young
aristocrat soaked in naphtha will burn as quickly as the foulest
knave from the gutter. Moreover, once the mob had entered the
compound, the Elenes closed the main gates, effectively sealing
all inside, the innocent as well as the guilty, and further horrors
were inflicted on the unfortunates by rampaging Peloi horsemen.
The brutal suppression of the uprising was completed
when the compound gates were opened once again to admit
Fully twenty legions of Atans, savages from the mountains who
had received no instruction whatsoever in the customary civilities.
The Atans systematically butchered all in their paths.
Many young nobles, dearly loved students at this very university,
were cut down even as they displayed their badges of rank,
which should have guaranteed them total immunity.
Although decent men the world around must view this
unbridled savagery with horror, we must reluctantly congratulate
Sir Sparhawk and his companions. The uprising was
crushed, nay, annihilated, by these Elene savages and the unrestrained
Atans.
His Imperial Majesty’s government, however, made few
friends on that dreadful night. Although the atrocities were
clearly of Elene origin, the fact that Sir Sparhawk was here in
Matherion at the Emperor’s express invitation has not been lost
on the great houses of Tamul proper.
To further exacerbate the situation, the Elenes have seized
upon the uprising as an excuse to send Patriarch Emban, a highranking
member of the Elene clergy and ostensibly the spiritual
advisor of Queen Ehlana, back to Chyrellos to urge the Archprel
%
Pondia Subat, the Prime Minister, has privately confessed that
he is growing more and more powerless, able only to watch
helplessly as events move at an increasingly quickening pace. He
has personally told this writer of his concerns. Foreign Minister
Oscagne is clearly using his influence over the Emperor to
manipulate the situation. The invitation to Sir Sparhawk to come
to Tamuli was obviously but the first step in some wider and
more deadly scheme. Utilizing the present turmoil in Tamuli,
the Foreign Minister has manipulated the Emperor into providing
the very opening Dolmant needed to justify an incursion in
force on to the Daresian Continent.
This writer is fully convinced that the Empire faces the gravest
threat in her long and glorious history. The willing cooperation
of the Atans in the massacre within the imperial compound is
clear evidence that not even their loyalty can be depended upon.
To whom can we turn for aid? Where in all this world can we
find a force sufficient to repel the savage minions of Dolmant
of Chyrellos? Must the Empire in all her glory fall before the
onslaught of the Elene zealots? I weep, my brothers, for the
glory that must die. Fire-domed Matherion, the city of light, the
home of truth and beauty, the center of the world, is doomed.
The darkness descends, and there is little hope that morning
will ever come again.
PART ONE
Cynesga
CHAPTER 1
The seasons were turning, and the long summer was winding
down toward autumn. A tenuous mist hung in the streets of
fire-domed Matherion. The moon had risen late, and its pale
light starkly etched the opalescent towers and domes and
imparted a soft glow to the fog lying in the streets. Matherion,
all aglow, stood with her feet bathed in shining mist and her
pale face lifted to the night sky.
Sparhawk was tired. The tensions of the past week and the
climactic events which had resolved them had drained him, but
he could not sleep. Wrapped in his black Pandion cloak, he
stood on the parapet looking pensively out over the glowing
city. He was tired, but his need to evaluate, to assess, to understand,
was far too great to permit him to seek his bed and let
his mind sink into the soft well of sleep until everything had