The Alterra Histories: The Fire King Read Online Free Page B

“Always your word has been unimpeachable, Lord Fire- heart. Would you deceive one who talks of making peace?”
    “I would trust no peace Wrothgar would offer,” said Aincor, meeting Kotos’ flinty gaze with one of his own. “Anyone who would take his word for anything is a fool. That’s why I suggest we listen to his peace- talk, but prepare to make war. The only lasting peace with the Shadowmancer will be made upon his dying day.”
    Léiras sighed. “Then go and parley with him, and prepare to make war. But rest assured that he will do the same. If thoughts of deception have entered your mind, you may be assured they have been in his from the beginning.”
    “That,”said Aincor, “is precisely my point.”
     
    ~~
     
    In the end, the Council agreed to hear Wrothgar’s proposal, knowing there was no way they could keep Aincor from it. Aincor and one hundred of his finest warriors would meet Wrothgar and his escort upon the Anvil of Fior at the next new moon. Wrothgar’s emissaries had assured Aincor that Wrothgar’s contingent would arrive in plenty of time for his scouts to assess them and the risk to his own people. They also assured him there would be no Bödvari. In return, they insisted that no Asari be present.
    Aincor took only his best warriors with him, including his elder son, Asgar. Vathan and his son, Aldamar, who was close in friendship with Asgar, also rode with the King. They waited until their scouts returned with the news that they had seen only savage men and Ulcas, but that Wrothgar himself was hidden from view. They had observed no dragons, trolls, or Bödvari. Satisfied that he could handle any threat awaiting him, Aincor and his party climbed the steep walls of the Anvil to stand before their enemies.
    Wrothgar did not care to meet beneath the sun, and so they waited until the first stars were visible in the purple evening sky; they would not raise Wrothgar’s suspicions by abandoning their diplomatic courtesy.
    A small fire burned in the center of the plateau, the Elves standing to the west of it and the dark contingent to the east, eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring with mistrust. The Elves were thankful for the west wind, which carried away the stench of their enemies, as they waited for Wrothgar to appear.
    The first sign of this was a brightening of the fire. It seemed to grow before their eyes, flaring up as though oil had been thrown upon it, whereupon a dark, shrouded figure appeared. It stepped forward even as every other being, except Aincor, took a step back. When it spoke, its voice called to mind the ghost of a dead, drowned man—cold and watery and threatening. That voice sent a chill even into the heart of the King.
    The figure bowed, throwing back its hood to display a flickering crown of fire. Its eyes glowed greenish-blue, like the vapors that danced in the fell marshes surrounding its domain. Yet for all this, Lord Wrothgar did not seem quite as threatening as Aincor had anticipated. He expected a warrior, armored and powerful, with booming voice and fiery gaze. This looked more like a rotting corpse disguised as a man. It reeked of stagnation and suffocating decay.
    “I have bowed before you, O King,” said Wrothgar in the same cold, murky tone. “Will you not show the same courtesy to the Lord of Black Flame?”
    Aincor inclined his head in a curt gesture, but he would never truly bow before Wrothgar no matter the demands of diplomacy. In response, the dreadful apparition laughed in a horrid, choking gurgle. Then it stood up tall. “I can see you are as proud as your reputation. Please, sit and be comfortable, for we have much to discuss.”
    Aincor had little patience for such things, but he forced himself to listen to Wrothgar’s proposal. He was offered both riches (which he had little need for) and knowledge (which Wrothgar knew would interest him), together with the promise not only of peace, but of cooperation. Wrothgar and his scholars had much to share,