19. The Truth You Believe
Chapter Nineteen
The Truth You Believe
“What are these, Eltoar?” Alvira lifted her head from the fan of letters arrayed on the desk before her, narrowing her eyes in confusion.
Eltoar looked down at her, folding his arms as his hands shook.
In all his years he didn’t think he had ever experienced true fear off the field of battle.
But as he stared down at the woman he respected, at the woman he loved even if that love was buried beneath a thousand layers of complications – the cold fingers of fear wrapped around his heart. “They are letters Alvira.”
“Of that I am aware.” She sifted through them, looking at each in turn.
“But why have you brought them to me? These are over a hundred years old.” She placed her palm on the desk and lifted her gaze to him.
“What’s wrong? I can see it in you.” She let out a long sigh, the weight of everything clear in dark circles beneath her eyes. “Tell me, Eltoar. I’m here.”
Eltoar ignored her question. “They are letters that detail threats made by Councillor Loik Hass to the Queen of Vastillion. As well as Loik’s communications with the king of Antiloch, orchestrating the attack on the city all those years ago.”
“What?” Alvira looked at him as though he were mad. She lifted the first letter from Loik Hass to Queen Valhira. “This letter was delivered by your own hand. It says so in Valhira’s first letter. Are you saying you were involved?”
“No.” Eltoar bit at his lip. “I did not know I was carrying it. That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point, Eltoar?” Alvira lifted her palms, then dragged her fingers down her face and exhaled through her nostrils. “Apologies. I’m tired and it’s late. Explain this to me and I will do what I can, I promise.”
“You’re tired?” Eltoar laughed, harsh and raw.
“I’m tired, Alvira. So tired. Of everything, of all of this.
” He rubbed his fingers into his eyes. “I bring you letters showing you that the attack on Vastillion, where our kin died, where Maquil and Carasín died – was orchestrated by the council, and all you can say is that you’re tired? ”
Alvira stared at him open mouthed for a second, then pushed back her chair and rounded the desk to stand before him. “Eltoar, these letters could have been written by anyone. They could be forgeries, they could mean anything at all. I will stand with you Eltoar but I need more than this.”
“What?” He looked at her in disbelief. “What of the letter from Loik Hass to King Mallas?”
Alvira turned and picked up the letter, reading it aloud. “It doesn’t even name a city, Eltoar. These…” She paused, holding up a finger as she placed the letter back on the desk. “The threads upon which you grasp are loose.”
Eltoar couldn’t believe his ears, and that fear in his heart blended with rage and betrayal.
He held himself together. “Does this mean nothing to you? I walk in here and I hand you letters from the council to both the queen of Vastillion and the king of Antiloch, showing you that there was both animosity and manipulation applied. Showing you that Loik Hass sent letters to King Mallas with enough dark intent that he felt the need to encrypt it… and you look at me like I’ve gone mad.
Maquil died at Vastillion, Alvira. He died in a battle orchestrated by The Order itself. ”
“I don’t think you’re mad, Eltoar. I just…
This is a lot to throw upon me in a single moment.
You have spent decades at odds with the council.
I need more than this to act.” Alvira looked over the letters, tapping her finger on the desk.
She straightened, letting out a puff of air.
“All right.” She picked up the letter from Loik Hass to King Mallas. “Where did you get the letters?”
Eltoar knew what the answer to that question would do. “That doesn’t matter right now. They are real, Alvira.”
“They came from Fane.” He could see the shift in her, knew that simple fact alone could destroy all hope.
He nodded and she threw her hands in the air.
“Why must you do this to me?” She ran her fingers through her hair, grasping at her scalp.
“Of all the people in Ilnaen, of all the people across the length and breadth of Epheria, you choose to align yourself with him.” She turned back to him.
“He undermines me at every turn, Eltoar. You know the lies he spreads. He wants me gone… dead, more likely. And the council along with me. He does not say it outright, but it is known. For years I have tolerated this, I have stood back and watched you walk at his side and let him whisper in your ear. I did it because I love you, because you were the first Draleid I ever looked up to. Because we have fought and bled for each other… Because I trust your heart and because I could not face pushing you away. But now you come to me with this?”
“I need you to listen to me.” Eltoar kept his voice calm and level, holding out his open palms. “Will you do that for me?”
In that moment, the blue of Alvira’s eyes looked like the swirling fire of Vyldrar, but she gave him a short nod. “I will always listen.”
Eltoar went over and over every piece in his mind.
What he could say, what he should say, and what would make Alvira strike him down then and there.
“Fane does not want you gone. He respects you. He showed me these letters because he knows how I feel about the council – and he shares those beliefs. Over the years, he has gathered thousands of missives documenting even more of this type of activity. Those letters from Vastillion are real. The prince had each of them copied by an Exucendi, keeping the originals for himself before arranging the delivery of the copies. They are real, Alvira. The Order was behind the attack on Vastillion that day. That was why we were commanded to wait. Not for reinforcements, but because they did not want us to foil the attack.”
Eltoar’s words did nothing to still the fire in Alvira’s eyes. Her breaths were long and heavy as she stared into his eyes. “Thalumas gave those orders, Eltoar. Our Archon. Not the council.”
“I know.”
Alvira eyes grew wide. “What are you saying?”
“Thalumas was a part of it, Alvira. The Exucendi who made the copies of the letter saw him meeting with King Mallas alongside Loik.”
“Thalumas and Loik were no strangers. That could mean anything. ”
“Search yourself. You know what it means.”
“Where is the Exucendi? Take me to them. Now.” Alvira swept around the desk and grabbed her cloak from atop the hook on the wall.
“I will listen to your words, Eltoar. I will not shake them off, I promise you.” She grabbed his shoulders.
“I am with you. If Thalumas or anyone on that council had anything to do with Maquil’s death or the battle at Vastillion, I will bring them fire and fury the likes of which they have never known. Take me to the Exucendi.”
Eltoar looked down at his Archon, his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach.
Only days after Fane had unchained Parcica, the Exucendi had slit one of the mage’s throats and attempted to make an escape.
Fane had no choice. “She… She died. Bloodburn Fever… some of it lingered from the Karvosi incursion… I…”
Eltoar closed his eyes and shook his head. He should have planned for that.
“If she is dead… Eltoar how am I to verify any of this?”
“Believe me, Alvira. Just believe me!”
“Eltoar, that will not stand up to the council.”
“Fuck the gods damned council!” The rage jolted into Eltoar like a bolt of lightning, his fists tensing, his blood thrashing in his ears, Helios roaring in his mind.
He latched his hand onto the back of his head, trying to calm the anger within him.
“Can you not see that the council is the problem?”
“What do you want from me, Eltoar? I am the Archon of the Draleid. My purpose is to serve the people of Epheria, and part of that is listening to the council, listening to the voices of those same people that we are to protect. Again, and again, and again, year after year we have had this same argument, and again the answer remains – we cannot just force our will on the world. We must listen as well as act. I cannot just accuse the council of treachery because you say so, because of letters from a century ago when all but one member of that council are either dead or no longer upon it. Letters which we cannot verify as truth. Eltoar, I cannot burn everything to the ground on so little.” She clenched her jaw, cupping her face in her hands.
“We sit on this wheel, and we spin, and we spin, and nothing ever changes.” She turned away from him, her head shaking.
“You told Farda that we knew of Orinhale before it happened – why did you do that? He hasn’t spoken to me since that day. ”
“Because we did!”
“We didn’t know Hana and Valyianne were there, Eltoar. We didn’t know.”
“Can you not see that doesn’t matter?” Eltoar narrowed his gaze, searching Alvira’s eyes.
“But what good did it do, Eltoar? What solace did it bring anyone but yourself to tell Farda we knew? You didn’t tell him for his sake, you told him to free yourself of the weight of it.
I would have told him of the council and Orinhale when he had returned…
but then Hana and Valyianne…” Alvira twisted that ring she had taken to wearing, turning it like a screw around her finger.
“Perhaps I was wrong to still hold it. But it would have brought him nothing but more darkness.”