Finn, Deamon and Larien were at the Council Chambers and setting up for the upcoming meeting. The couriers had been dispatched to both King Sylvain and Zigaroth. While she had been at the tavern, Larien had spoken with both Susana and Caro to let them know of their possible presence at the council meeting. As Larien laid out her parchments, she thought of how she would approach the subject of the upcoming battle. She already knew that there might be friction between Zigaroth and Deamon, as each man barely tolerated the other. Ever since the banishment of Bone Face and Deamon666 to Freedomia, Deamon was barely civil to Zigaroth. She really couldn’t blame him. He felt betrayed by the battlemage when he cast his final vote in favor of the banishment of the twins. That was long before she was on the Angels’ Council. At the time of the Council’s decree, it comprised of King Sylvain; Zigaroth; Kelan, Duke of Morridin; King Farren Arcamenel; Egemen of the Dwarven Council; Kewel the Blacksmith; and Fëanáro Sáralondë. The vote had been split with those in favor of the twin’s exile being King Sylvain, Kelan, and Egemen and those against being King Farren, Kewel, and Fëanáro. The tie breaking vote was cast by Zigaroth and he voted in favor. Deamon never seemed to accept the verdict or the person who cast the deciding vote. He never questioned Zigaroth as to why he voted the way he did. To Deamon, it was just a slap in the face for his brothers and himself and gave him the feeling that they really didn’t belong to the Angels. That was one of the leading reasons that he became the Master of Whispers.
Larien looked up from what she was doing as Tuls walked into the chambers with King Sylvain. The men were talking quietly together as they entered. They stopped as they saw the others already there.
King Sylvain spoke first, saying, “Hello everyone. While I wish this meeting was under different circumstances, I am glad to see you all here. Finn, it has been a long time, my friend.” Sylvain held out his hand to Finn and slapped him on the back after the hand shake. “You remember Tuls, don’t you?”
Finn replied, “Hello King Sylvain. Yes, Tuls and I saw each other just last month in the woods.” Finn took Tuls extended arm as he continued, “How are you my friend?”
Tuls cleared his throat. “We are fine. However, I feel that is about to change after the news from the messenger you sent over, Finn.”
“Yes, well, I believe that Larien and Deamon have some interesting news to share with the Council. I think that we will be able to start as soon as Carl arrives from the tavern and Zigaroth gets here from wherever he has been hiding We had half expected him to be at the tavern tonight.” Finn folded his arms across his chest and continued, “I think I hear Carl coming now.”
Sure enough, Carl’s boots were soon heard on the stone steps as he approached the door. He nodded first to Sylvain and then to the others as he walked over to where the men stood. Larien was still at the front of the room and Deamon was leaning against the wall under the window closest to where she worked. As Carl was making his greetings with the King and Tuls, Zigaroth came striding into the room, his white hair a bit messed and his robes flaring out behind him from his haste to get to the chambers. His voice was loud and commanding. “Hello everyone. I am sorry I am so late. Let us all sit down so we can understand why this meeting was called.” His piercing eyes looked at each person in the room as all took their appointed seats around the oval table - all but Deamon who continued to stay where he was against the wall. Deamon preferred to be able to see each person’s face when Larien started talking.
There was a little niggling in his gut that gave him pause that someone in this very room could actually have a hand in the potential death of his queen. He tried to keep his thoughts sheltered so Finn would not be able to read him. He had a lot of practice with Larien over the years that he hoped might also work with her brother. He didn’t want to reveal more than he needed to and only when he was ready to do so!
Larien looked small as she stood in front of the Council members, her parchment papers strewn in front of her. She looked up and spoke quietly, “Gentlemen, thank you for coming here tonight. I have grave news to share and we will need to discuss our plans regarding our course of action. Please hear me out before you ask questions.”
She looked at each in turn and all seemed alright with her request. Larien continued, “Our Master of Whispers, Deamon, informed me earlier this evening that we have several armies advancing on our Castle. They are coming from the south, east and west. All three armies also have orcs amongst their soldiers.” Larien paused so that each man could absorb the impact that the news gave. “I had hoped that we would be able to meet them on the plains but that will not work. They are much too close. According to Deamon, they will be here in just a few short days. Therefore, this does not give us much time for planning; hence, the meeting tonight rather than on the morrow.”
King Sylvain spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully, “So, you are telling us that we will have to battle all three armies here on the castle grounds at the Angels’ Keep?”
Larien looked down at her trembling hands and then up at the men, “Yes, that is what I am saying.” She took a deep breath before continuing, “I have thought long and hard about this ever since Deamon brought it to my attention. I have been looking at the old plans of the castle and the areas around it. I do not think we can get away with any other course of action, Sire.”
The King sat with his fingertips touching and his chin resting on this thumbs. Larien saw him close his eyes. His body was still as he sat and thought about all she had said thus far. Zigaroth sat in his chair with his face raised to the gods, his hand absent-mindedly caressing the jewel at the top of his staff. Tuls was fingering his beard, pulling it and twisting it around his finger. It looked as if his thoughts were also twisting inside his mind in time with his fingers. Carl’s arms were crossed and Larien could see his fingers tapping his arm in keeping with whatever thoughts he might have had to her news. Finn just sat there, not moving his body, but Larien saw that his eyes moved from one man to another. She suspected that he was trying to read their thoughts. Larien glanced quickly over to where Deamon still stood. He had not moved since the meeting first started. Deamon seemed to be like her cat, Sapphire, who wanted to be a part of what was going on around her, but kept herself apart from everyone else. Larien also noticed Deamon’s eyes as they traveled from one man to the next, waiting and watching to see what transpired. He seemed ready to anticipate each man’s response to the news. His stance was loose but Larien knew that he was at the ready for anything that might happen. She just prayed that they could get through the meeting before anything regrettable was done or said.
Carl spoke up, “Larien, I take it that you have some ideas for this upcoming battle? I notice that you have the plans for the village and Keep lying on the table. What ideas have you brought us?”
Carl’s question jerked Larien’s thoughts back to the matter at hand. She picked up one of the drawings on the table. “We have not had to defend our walls in many, many decades. However, our forefathers prepared well for this day. I suggest that all of our women who are not fighters take the children and go into the underground chambers deep in the mountains. They have only to take the essentials with them – food, water, and clothing and then secure our cattle in the areas prepared for them. Tuls, maybe your people could look to make sure everything is safe in the mountain caves before we gather. All other items can stay in their homes. If they are damaged by the invaders, then we will just replace them as needed. There is plenty of room in the mountain caverns to accommodate both our people and our livestock for a long while quite comfortably.” Larien continued as she saw the nodding of heads around the table.
Larien placed the map in the middle of the table and secured the curling corners with heavy stones. Pointing to several locations on the map, she continued, “Next, I suggest that we inspect and prepare the pits. We have about two dozen placed between the Castle’s two outer-most walls. We need to inspect these pits and take inventory of their condition. Please Carl, if you and your men would do the inspection at first light and give me your recommendations immediately, which will give us an idea where we stand. I have already alerted Caro that she may need to make some additional spikes, especially since orcs will be among the invading armies. She said that she and Cat would be ready to fire the bellows as soon as word is given. Tuls and Finn, we may have need of your blacksmiths as well if the number is too large for Caro to handle alone and since we are up against a massive time constraint. Will that be alright?” Both men nodded their heads in agreement.
Carl questioned, “Do you want me to keep the pits open after we do our count?”
“Not unless the women and children are already safely away from the area. We do not want anyone accidentally falling into the pits. They are reserved for our incoming guests, not our own Angels.” Several smiled at Larien’s last comment and broke a bit of the tension that all were feeling. “I know that it will be extra work having to go back over them but it will be the safest. If you have several crews working together, it will cut your time down considerably. And, as you know, time is critical at the moment.” Larien finished her presentation with, “So, my friends, what do you think? Will this work along with our catapults and warriors?”
The men around the table stood to have a better look at Larien’s maps. They started talking amongst themselves, fingers pointing and comments made accordingly. Zigaroth moved away from those crowded around Larien, walking slowly, deep in thought. He stopped across the room from where Deamon stood resting against the wall. Deamon slowly drew away from the wall and, after looking over at the small group at the table, walked to the other side of the room. Zigaroth looked up from his contemplation.
Deamon acknowledged the old battlemage, “Zigaroth.”
“Deamon,” was his reply. “You want to speak with me?”
“Yes, old man, I do. I find myself needing your assistance. I have further knowledge about this battle than I shared with Larien. There is only one other that knows of this and that is Finn.”
“Finn knows of something more? Why have you not told Larien?” Zigaroth quizzed Deamon.
“I do not want her to be aware of this bit of news. And, I only come to you because I may have need of your eyes, ears and knowledge.” Zigaroth took out his pipe and lit it with a flick of his fingers. He took a few puffs waiting for Deamon to continue. “My informant also told me that there is a high commander in one of the advancing armies that is planning on killing Larien. That MUST not happen!! Furthermore, we do not have his name so I cannot send my assassins to take care of him.”
Zigaroth pointed the pipe at Deamon and asked, “You are sure of this?”
“Don't you think I would make sure of this detail? Yes. His orders have been given that no one but him will be allowed to ‘touch’ the Elf Queen. It will be his pleasure to kill her. Zigaroth, I know that we have not seen eye-to-eye over many things in the past several hundred years, but I take the Queen’s safety very personally and very seriously. My informant has always given me accurate information so I must treat this the same way.” Deamon’s voice became more intense as he continued talking. “Someone is going to try to kill her. I need to know either how someone could succeed or what form of protection she is under.”
Zigaroth leaned heavily against his mage stick, his fingers grasping the crystal in the top hard. Deamon noticed the whitened knuckles of his right hand. He also noticed that the battlemage’s shoulders hunched over ever so slightly. If Deamon didn’t know any better, Zigaroth looked like he had been hit in his stomach. Zigaroth’s furrowed brow brought his white bushy eyebrows closer together. He removed his pipe with his left hand before speaking to Deamon in a low and controlled voice. “I am sorry but I cannot tell you what you seek. As the protector of all the Angels, and especially regarding Larien herself, I cannot divulge that information to you. If she chooses to tell you, that is her choice. It cannot be mine.”
Deamon’s eyes blazed, flashing piercing ice blue danger warnings as he stepped menacingly closer towards the old man, “Are you saying that you will NOT help me protect her? Are you implying that I would put her in harm’s way should I know this information? That I would actually do that to Larien? That I would do that to someone I love? Maudit!!!! You are a fool!!”
Zigaroth held out his hand to the advancing man as if that slight gesture alone could stop him and help him see reason. “Mark, please stop and listen to me.”
Deamon’s raised voice brought the eyes of the others in the room to where he and Zigaroth were talking. “Do not ever call me that name again, old man." His voice continued in controlled fury, "You lost that right a long time ago when you sent my brothers away from here, away from the Angels, away from me! I am now the Master of Whispers and feared by many. Since you will not help me, mark my words, do NOT get in my way of what I will have to do. You know better than most what I am capable of doing!” As Deamon turned to walk away from Zigaroth, he looked contemptuously at the battlemage and spat at him. Deamon delivered his last remark with venom dripping from his words, “Remember, Battlemage, I will do whatever it takes!!”
As Deamon strode from the room, all eyes watched his departure; all wondered what had made him so angry and were totally shocked and surprised with his parting remark. Only Zigaroth was left with shadowed eyes and fear in his heart – for Larien, for the Angels, and yes, even for Deamon.
created originally 7 September 2011
