Chapter 20
Chapter
Twenty
Thorn
The metallic stench of blood clung to my nostrils as we approached the ornate doors of the throne room. Lifeless elven bodies littered the corridor behind us, their vacant eyes a stark reminder of the carnage we'd left in our wake. I glanced over at Senara's limp form, her head lolling against Zhan’s shoulder.
"We're almost there," I murmured, more to myself than to her unconscious form. The fact that she hadn't stirred since I'd found her gnawed at my insides, a constant worry that threatened to overwhelm me.
Kaelia, the wolf woman, growled low in her throat. "This place reeks of death and deceit."
I nodded grimly. "Stay alert. We can’t know for sure what awaits us beyond these doors."
The rabbit woman, Lyra, twitched her ears nervously as she whispered, "Do you think Echo kept his word?"
"We'll find out soon enough," I replied, steeling myself for whatever lay ahead. I had briefed them on what had happened without getting into too many specifics while we were on the way to the throne room. It seemed only fair for them to know who and what they were fighting for.
As we approached the massive doors, I couldn't help but marvel at their intricate carvings, depicting scenes of elven glory. Somehow I hadn’t noticed the first time we’d been escorted to the throne room. Looking at them now it seemed a cruel irony, given the trail of destruction we'd carved through their ranks.
“Zhan, stay at the back, away from the doors and protect Senara,” I said, reaching over and brushing a dirty lock of hair away from Senara’s face.
Zhan nodded, the pointy black legs that sprouted from her back clutched Senara a little closer while her fangs, or whatever they were called, twitched with anticipation.
"Ready?" I asked, glancing at my companions.
They nodded, determination etched on their faces. With a deep breath, I shook myself and stepped forward, kiching open the doors, the wood creaking ominously, echoing through the cavernous space beyond.
As we entered, my eyes darted around, taking in the opulent throne room once more. The high, vaulted ceilings and gleaming marble floors still gave that same feeling of wealth and power, but it was the figures at the far end that held my attention.
My heart raced as I scanned the room for potential threats, all too aware of Senara's vulnerability in Zhan’s arms. Why hasn't she woken? The thought plagued me, a constant undercurrent of fear beneath the adrenaline surging through my veins.
As we drew closer to the throne, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were walking into the dragon's den. But there was no turning back now. For Senara, for our people, we had to see this through to the bitter end.
The High Lord's eyes narrowed as we approached, his lip curling in disgust. "Guards!" he barked, his voice reverberating off the polished walls. "Execute them all, except the unconscious girl."
My muscles tensed, ready for battle, but the expected onslaught never came. The guards remained motionless, their expressions unreadable beneath their gleaming helmets.
"I said execute them!" the High Lord roared, his face flushing with rage.
The silence stretched, thick and heavy. I glanced at Echo, noting the slight smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. What game was he playing?
"I'm afraid that won't be happening, father," Echo said, his voice smooth as silk. "You see, the guards are loyal to me now. They no longer answer to you...or should I say, they no longer answer to this High Lord." He approached the throne, but stood beside it, waiting.
My mind reeled at the implication. Had Echo been plotting this all along? I pushed the thought aside, focusing on the matter at hand.
"It's simple," I growled, locking eyes with the High Lord. "The elves can either help the fae, or die. The choice is yours."
The High Lord's laughter rang out, sharp and mocking. "You dare threaten me in my own throne room? You insolent-"
His words cut off abruptly, replaced by a wet, choking sound. My eyes widened as I saw the tip of a blade protruding from his chest. Echo had moved with such speed that I hadn’t even seen it. It was only his hand gripping the hilt of the dagger buried in his father's chest that told me what had happened.
"The choice," Echo said calmly, "has already been made."
I stood frozen, unable to process what I'd just witnessed. Echo had killed his own father without hesitation. The ruthlessness of the act sent a chill down my spine.
The guards, their faces still blank under their helmets, dropped to one knee in unison. "We pledge our loyalty to the new High Lord," they intoned, their voices a solemn chorus.
My gaze darted to the interrogator, the elf who had tormented Senara. He too knelt, but there was something off about his posture. I watched as he inched backward, edging away from Echo and towards the door. My muscles tensed, instinct telling me he was about to bolt.
Sure enough, the moment everyone rose to their feet, the interrogator spun on his heel and made a dash for the exit. Without thinking, I thrust out my hand, calling upon my power. A ring of fire erupted from the floor, encircling the fleeing elf.
The interrogator's scream pierced the air as he attempted to leap through the flames. But my fire was relentless, following his every move. After a few fruitless attempts, he seemed to realize the futility of his situation. He turned to face me, his eyes wide with fear and hatred.
I glanced around the room, noting the shocked expressions on everyone's faces. Everyone except Echo. His features remained impassive, giving nothing away. Was he truly unmoved by what was happening, or was he simply better at masking his emotions? Or perhaps the reality of killing his father hadn't sunk in yet?
"I want his life," I growled, gesturing towards the trapped interrogator. "His, and the other one who tortured Senara."
Echo nodded, his voice cool and detached. "Agreed. Their particular skill sets are no longer required in our new regime."
With grim satisfaction, I intensified the flames. The interrogator's screams reached a fever pitch before abruptly cutting off. In moments, there was nothing left but ash.
As the fire died away, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. One of the elves responsible for Senara's suffering was gone. It wasn't enough, but it was a start.
Echo stepped forward, seeming to examine the slumped form of his father's lifeless body in the throne before he gripped the front of his father’s tunic and pulled, sending his body sprawling unceremoniously before the throne. I watched, transfixed, as he unceremoniously shoved the corpse aside with his foot.
"A new era begins," Echo murmured, more to himself than anyone else.
As he turned and sat, settling onto the throne that was now his, I couldn't help but marvel at the surreal turn of events. Just moments ago, we'd been fighting for our lives. Now, Echo sat upon the very seat of power he'd helped us overthrow.
With practiced ease, Echo produced a small, ornate dagger from within his robes. The blade glinted in the light as he drew it across his palm, barely flinching as blood welled up from the cut. Leaning forward, he smeared his blood along the arms of the throne, his face a mask of concentration.
"What's he doing?" I wondered aloud, my voice barely above a whisper.
Before anyone could respond, the massive doors to the throne room burst open with a thunderous crash. A flood of elves poured in—nobles, advisors, and other important-looking figures, their faces a mix of confusion and alarm.
"By the ancestors, what's happening here?" one of them shouted above the din.
"Is that... the High Lord's son?" another gasped, pointing at Echo.
The cacophony of voices grew, each demanding answers, explanations, reassurances. I tensed, ready for anything, my hand instinctively moving to my weapon.
Amidst the chaos, I noticed an older elf making his way purposefully towards the throne. Unlike the others, his face was calm, almost expectant. In his hands, he clutched a scroll.
"Silence!" Echo's voice rang out, cutting through the noise like a knife. The room fell quiet, all eyes turning to him.
The older elf approached, bowing deeply before offering the scroll to Echo. "My Lord," he said, his voice carrying clearly in the hushed room. "It is time."
Echo inclined his head. "Thank you, Advisor Thelian."
As Echo unfurled the scroll, I found myself holding my breath. What was this? Some kind of elvish ritual? A transfer of power?
Echo placed his bloodied hand in the center of the parchment. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a brilliant light erupted from the scroll, bathing the entire room in an otherworldly glow.
To my amazement, every elf in the room—save for Echo—dropped to one knee. Even more astonishing was the crown of pure light that materialized and hovered above Echo's head.
"What in the name of..." I muttered, awestruck by the display.
As the light faded slightly, Echo stood, his posture regal and commanding. The crown remained, now solidifying into an almost tangible form upon his brow.
"Rise," he commanded, his voice resonating with newfound authority. "Behold your new High Lord."
Echo's eyes swept across the room, landing on me for a brief moment before addressing the crowd.
"My people," he began, his voice carrying a weight that hadn’t been there when the two of us spoke earlier, "we stand at a crossroads. For too long, we have isolated ourselves, ignoring the growing threat beyond our borders. No more."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. I tensed, my hand instinctively tightening on my weapon.
"We will forge an alliance with the fae," Echo declared, "to fight the blight that threatens us all."
The whispers grew louder, a mix of shock and disbelief. I caught fragments of conversation: "The fae?" "Impossible!" "Has he gone mad?"
Echo raised a hand, silencing the room once more. "Advisor Thelian," he called.
The older elf stepped forward again, producing another scroll from his robes. Echo took it, then turned his gaze to me.
"Thorn," he said, "step forward."
My heart pounded as I approached the throne, acutely aware of every eye in the room upon me. The elves parted, creating a path, their faces a mixture of curiosity and thinly veiled hostility.
As I reached Echo, he held out the scroll. "This is a blood pact," he explained, his voice low but clear. "If the terms are acceptable, place a drop of your blood on the seal at the bottom. This will make our alliance official."
I took the scroll, my mind racing. This was it—the moment that could change everything. But could I trust Echo? Could I trust any of them?
With a respectful bow, I retreated to the back of the room, eager to examine the scroll's contents. As I moved, Echo's voice rang out once more.
"Send for healers immediately," he ordered. "See to the wounded fae and their companions."
I glanced back at Echo in surprise and he just gave me a nod. When I turned back I could see Senara and our demihuman allies huddled against the wall, looking wary and exhausted. My heart ached at the sight of Senara, still unconscious.
Echo wasn't finished. "I want any information about the blight," he continued. "Rumors, sightings—anything about corrupted fae or other beings in our territories. Bring it to me at once."
As the room erupted into activity, I turned my attention to the scroll, my mind filled with a mix of hope and apprehension. This could be our salvation—or our doom.