Chapter 1
Ildevar Wyyld, founding member of the Reth Alliance, gazed out the window of his study, his hands held studiously behind his back as he examined the grounds around his palace. Three of the twenty members of the Grand Alliance Council, those who'd helped him create the Alliance in the beginning, sat inside his study. They'd all brought news and the news wasn't good.
"So. Solar Red has been in hiding all along. Do you think they remember what forced them from our Alliance to begin with?" Ildevar moved away from the window and sat behind his desk with a sigh.
"My spies tell me that many among them are long-lived, if not immortal. Of course, they remember. We all know, too, that revenge is in their blood. Even if they'd been ousted three thousand years ago instead of three hundred, they'd still seek vengeance. My informants also tell me that Solar Red has created an offshoot of their religion, called The Red Hand. This is gaining a legitimate foothold on many worlds, some of them ours," Diedrick, First Grand Alliance Advisor, muttered angrily.
Farle, Nineteenth Grand Alliance Advisor, blinked at Diedrick. "You think they're torturing and killing already? Within the Alliance?"
"They can't help themselves. And the more pain they can create before their victim dies, the greater pleasure they derive from the death." Nevarr, Fourth Advisor for the Grand Alliance Council observed. "Brother, what are we to do?" He turned to Ildevar.
"We cannot reveal ourselves. We are the last of our race as it once was, and we will die if we are discovered," Ildevar shook his head. "I fear that these murderers have allied with our enemy and they will recognize our hand if we intervene. Others must wage this war for us. If we die, the Alliance dies with us and the peace we have worked so hard to create and maintain will cease to exist."
"Who will wage our war, brother?" Diedrick asked. "Who among our Alliance holds the strength to defeat them?"
"The one who defeated them before, brother," Ildevar replied. "She is stronger, now."
"You have not heard my news," Nevarr sighed.
"What news do you bring?" Ildevar lifted an eyebrow at his Fourth Advisor.
"That Black Mist is conspiring with Solar Red. Therefore, they are also conspiring with The Red Hand and any other criminal faction that can put two murderers together. If Solar Red is seeking vengeance against the one who defeated them before, then Black Mist is likely taking on their cause—for a fee, of course."
"Black Mist. Even we cannot find them, they are so cunning," Diedrick muttered angrily. "And they move about our Alliance at will. How many kings, queens and heads of state have they assassinated already?"
"Too many," Ildevar agreed. "Any death can be bought from Black Mist, including that of those who have paid them in the past. They have no care for any, it appears. They only care for the money that murdering brings."
"Is there anything we can do, then?" Farle asked. "We expect the Queen of Le-Ath Veronis to be our champion in this cause, but will we just sit on our hands while she protects us?"
"The Five-Year Conclave is swiftly approaching, too," Ildevar agreed. "This is the first she will attend, and that can offer an easy target for any would-be assassin."
"Find someone who can travel to Le-Ath Veronis soon. Someone who will be our eyes and ears there and report their findings to us. Admit it—even we do not know the full extent of her capabilities. We may be throwing an innocent before butchers if Black Mist is involved in this."
"Black Mist is involved, I swear it," Nevarr said. "Money has already changed hands. One of my trusted Warlock spies handed the information to me yesterday."
"They'll have difficulty reaching her on Le-Ath Veronis."
"Not as much as you might think, brother."
* * *
Tiearan Briar studied Corent River, who sat nearby, lost in melancholy. They'd chosen the riverbank beneath the willows for their meeting, and Corent was so immersed in thought he ignored the willow branch that brushed his shoulders as the wind stirred. Corent was half-Green Fae, one of the rare half-Green, half-humanoids that lived in a secluded area on the planet of Vionn. The small race called themselves Green Birth, and they'd existed on Vionn for more than a thousand years.
The Green Birth Fae had been ousted from one world to the next throughout millennia, until they'd become increasingly hemmed in. Their particular sect did not kill; they existed solely upon a plant-based diet and were restricted to living upon worlds that held the precious crystal—Indis-Banuu—holder of the sun.
"We came here for the crystal, rare as it is," Tiearan sighed. Corent lifted the transparent crystal drop that hung about his neck and stared at it.
All Green Fae knew the sun's light and power gave them additional strength to do their work. The crystal they employed held the sun's light and the Green Fae's power, often for days, enabling them to work in the evenings or on cloudy days when the sun did not shine through.
"The Red Hand religion is an evil, Father Tiearan," Corent muttered. "They spread superstition and murder in the name of their god. They whisper the word magic as if it is a curse. How is this a curse?" He swept his hand toward the fertile fields about them.
"When we first came, we took what none wanted—the most undesirable portion of Farus," Tiearan said. "Nothing grew here except stunted trees and weeds. None challenged when we paid what we could for the land and began to farm. Now that it is a rich and fertile garden, they desire it. They cannot buy it back from us now—we do not wish to sell and Farus' new King is too poor. His people are on the verge of revolt because he is taxing them too heavily. King Rindil, who has inherited a destitute country from his father, is now listening to the Pelipu in Ialus, who thinks of us as demons."
"They will not understand that it takes our power and Indis-Banuu to keep these fields, orchards and vineyards alive," Corent snorted. "Traders seek us out for the excess that we raise."
They wish to kill us anyway, because they have no understanding," Tiearan agreed. "We could leave—it is true—we have left many worlds for much the same reason. But no other world has given us the gift of children, as this one has," Tiearan sighed. "We did not know that mingling with the Vionnu who have come to live and work beside us would produce children. You and the others like you are a joy to us. Yes, we could Flash away from this world and start again elsewhere, but we would be forced to leave our half-Fae children behind. Your bodies will never survive the Flashing, my child. You would be left behind with the peaceful Vionnu and would become a target for a vengeful religion and a greedy King."