T.C. Edge - An Echo of Titans

The host marched down the outer colonnade, armour clanking on the pristine white stone, banners fluttering splendidly in the breeze. They showed a blade thrust down before a mountain, silver on blue, their rich cloaks sewn with the same royal sigil in delicate silver thread. King Ayrin went afore them, resplendent in his royal raiment, his crown of miniature godsteel blades framing the curly black hair of his head. Behind came the finest knights of his fathers order, proud men of his blood, survivors of the war.

It went well, I thought, came a silvery voice behind her. The boy has much of his father in him, but not too much, I hasten to say. I feel confident he will keep the peace.

Queen Thala, founder of the realm of Rasalan, nodded as she watched from the balcony of her palace. Ayrin has a temperance his father did not. I loved Varin much as you did, Ilith, but he was always hot in the head. His son will rule well, I feel. He will lead his people through an age of expansion, and flourish where his forebears failed.

Ilith had a soft little smile on his face. Is this speculation, Thala, or foresight? he asked her. He wore the colours of his kingdom, umber brown and emerald green, his clothing wrought in leather and fur and modest for a king of such esteem. Of the Five Followers of the preeminent gods, Thala had always liked Ilith the most. How could she not? He had helped build her city, after all, as he had Varinar and Eldurath and Lumos too, and all before finishing his own.

She returned his smile. It does not take a prophet to see that Ayrin will make a fine king, Ilith. This world we built has been scarred and seared, and now is the time to heal. Ayrin knows this. He will rebuild, as we all must.

Ash is a good fertiliser, I hear, the blacksmith said.

Then the Black Coast should become particularly prosperous.

They shared a laugh. It had been time enough now since Drulgar the Dread had razed the southern coast of Vandar to the ground that they could jest about it, without feeling too heartless. Over a hundred years, in fact, since that fateful day. A century filled with death and destruction and the great suffocating shadow of war. But that was over now, she told herself uneasily. Overuntil the next time.

The Vandarian host were still making their way between the columns, toward the marble steps that would lead them down into the city. In the harbour of the Izzun, their great war galleons were moored, broad and bulky ships with three wide decks and four soaring masts and flapping sails of silver and blue. They had dominated the anchorage for a week, during which Thala and Ilith and Ayrin had held their royal conferences. Much had needed to be discussed. The War of Fire and Steel was over, but the dividing lines had been set. Thala had hoped Lumo would come, but alas no, the Moon Queen of Lumara had been beset by her own civil difficulties, chiefly led by her brother Sola and his belligerent warmongering ways. North and south were ostensibly at peace, but it would not last long, Thala knew. She had seen stirrings in the Eye of her master already, wars a hundred years distant, a thousand years off, wars that would unfold again and again between north and south for many millennia to come.

They will call them Renewals, she thought, sadly. And there will be a full score of them before this is done

She drew a breath of cool autumn air, and forced her face back into a smile. It was Thalas wont to get morose when she looked too far ahead. It had been a parting gift from the great god Rasalan to lend her a portion of his power, the Eye through which she saw so much, yet her curse was not to share it.

Instead she kept a diary, a book into which she wrote down what shed seen, to be passed down to her son and heir at her death and not before. Rasalan had decreed she use his Eye to watch and not interfere, yet Thala had understood the meaning behind his words. This book was to be her mouthpiece, through which she might communicate through time. And time is a concept they do not truly understand, she thought. Her master had, and he alone among the gods. And he passed that power to me.

How long do you intend to stay? she asked Ilith, as King Ayrin and his host disappeared down the steps. A chorus of cheers greeted them as they entered into the city square at the foot of the hill, echoing up toward the palace. Thala smiled. All the north had stood in awe of Varin, yet his youngest son was to be loved just as fiercely.

If you want rid of me, Thala, do feel free to say. Ilith grinned impishly. Hed always had a light and teasing way about him.

To the contrary, youre welcome to stay as long as you like. You might even send for some of your Forgeborn. I have statues Id like to raise, and this palace you built mewell, it could do with an upgrade, dont you think?

You wound me, cruel queen. I have always considered Thalan some of my greatest work.

Im sure you say that to all of them. She smiled back at him, the wind rustling through her long golden hair. Once it had been bright as starlight but now she was starting to find strands of grey amidst the tresses, and there were more wrinkles on her face than she would like. I hear youre building a fortress in the mountains. Far away to the north, near the coast. Black towers and impenetrable walls and magical protections, they tell me.

They tell you true, Ilith said, nodding. Forgiving as Ayrin is I am not so naive as to think that this peace will last forever. He will have sons one day, and whos to say who theyll take after, their father the peacemaker or their grandfather the warrior? He gave her a searching look. Or perhaps you already know?

She gave that no reaction, for not even Ilith could know of what shed seen. It would only keep you up at night, sweet king, she thought, for half of what she saw in the future was fire and blood and death.

You cannot say, I understand. Ilith turned his eyes beyond the balcony. The crowds gathered in the square below were chanting now for the new Vandarian king, praising him for bringing peace after a hundred years of war. All the north is weary of war, but that hunger will return, he intoned. When it does, the Vandarians will seek vengeance for Varins death. Its just a matter of time.

And thats why youre building this great black fortress of yours? As a haven to shelter your people?

I cant rely on the Vandarians and their Bladeborn forever, Thala. My people are stonemasons and smiths, not soldiers.

Just wait, she thought, but didnt say. One day the Bladeborn men of Varins blood would spread across all the north, founding houses and lands and castles of their own, and Tukor would be well stocked.

I would hope that Ayrin honours his fathers oath to protect my people should we come under siege, Ilith went on, but there is sense in taking matters into my own hands too. This fortressitll be well hidden, unreachable by dragonflight, protected from their molten fires. Just please dont ask me to build one for you, Thala. It has taken a great deal out of me. He sighed. Im starting to feel my age.