‘I am afraid Peteor is right,’ said Elrion. He seemed to slap Peteor on the back. The old elf coughed and lurched forwards. Red stuff emerged from his nose and lips, and something bubbled in his chest, causing him to have trouble breathing.
‘Are you sick, Peteor?’ Fayelle asked. Peteor struggled to say something. He reached up and tried to grab Elrion who leaned against him and moved his arm again. Peteor bent double and more red erupted from his chest. Fayelle ran over to him ‘What is wrong?’ she asked, reaching out to touch him. She was shocked at how wet he was and how red her hand came away, then suddenly in a rush, she realised what was happening. ‘You are bleeding,’ she said. Frothy red bubbles erupted from Peteor’s mouth as he tried to speak. His eyes opened wide and he slumped forward.
‘He’s dead,’ said Elrion.
Fayelle felt sick and panicky and she did not quite understand what was going on even when she saw the red knife in Elrion’s hand.
‘And I am afraid everyone else here soon will be. Come now, there is someone I must introduce you to.’ He twisted her arm painfully up her back and pushed her towards the gateway, seemingly not caring any more that her screams were rousing the house. Lights were coming on everywhere and she could hear retainers moving within.
From out of the shadows, a massive and sinisterly beautiful humanoid figure emerged. It was the most handsome-looking elf she had ever seen, except for the fact that its feet ended in hooves, one arm ended in a crab-like pincer and small curling goat horns emerged from its forehead. She opened her mouth to scream and took in a lungful of oddly calming, musky perfume. She was suddenly filled with the urge to reach out and stroke the goat-horned elf’s naked flesh. He seemed to understand this and smiled back. It was a most winning smile.
‘Greetings, Blood of Aenarion,’ he said in the most thrilling voice imaginable. ‘You should be pleased. You will be the first to know my vengeance. And you will be the first whose soul I offer screaming to my god.’
The next morning, when he awoke, Tyrion found a pile of new clothes on the table in his room. Under the table was a complete set of new footwear. In a sandalwood box was a necklace, a torque and a pair of sunstone rings. He donned all the apparel including a very fine green cloak trimmed with cloth of gold and studied himself in the mirror. He looked every inch the asur prince, he thought, but he did not look like himself.
As he studied himself, a servant entered, without knocking. ‘Korhien Ironglaive requests your presence in the courtyard, Prince Tyrion. It appears he would like to give you a lesson in swordplay.’
‘Please tell Korhien I will be right down.’ He began to change out of his new clothes into the old ones he had used on the journey. He did not want such beautiful things ruined in weapons practice. The servant watched him uncomprehendingly for a few moments, lifted a shirt and a pair of britches and said, ‘I think you will find these were intended for you to wear at practice. I was told to take away all of your old clothes and burn them.’
Tyrion laughed. ‘I shall wear what you suggest but don’t burn my old clothes. Have them washed and mended and brought back to me. I may have some use for them yet.’
‘As you wish, sir.’ The servant looked confused. He could not imagine what Tyrion wanted these rags for. Tyrion decided it was better that way. He had an idea of doing something for which they might be useful. He was not sure he wanted his relatives to find that out yet.
chapter twelve
‘Good of you to join us,’ said Korhien Ironglaive. The big elf was stripped to his tunic and looked as if he had just finished some hard sparring with wooden swords. A group of younger-looking elves stood nearby with their weapons in the guard positions.
Korhien tossed him a wooden practice blade. Tyrion caught it easily by the hilt as it tumbled through the air. ‘If you would be so kind as to demonstrate your technique in the practice circle.’
Tyrion saw that a chalk circle had been marked in the centre of the courtyard. He strode into it, sword held ready. Korhien coughed. The other students laughed. Tyrion looked at