Chapter 2
"I would ask you to reconsider." Fen had exhausted all his other arguments, and he knew that this final appeal to reason would be equally waved aside. Nevertheless if only by sheer dint of habit, he felt compelled to make it.
The air was sweet then in Arlathan particularly up here on the hill overlooking the city, it smelled of rosemary laurel and orange blossom from the nearby orchards. They were on the rooftop of her villa.
"I could order you to do this." She turned to face him, she looked tired in the morning sunlight, there was a greyness about her features and little lines around the corners of her eyes and mouth. Streaks of white had begun to appear in her hair. Her hands looked crabbed the veins very visible and bumpy under parchment thin skin. She was wearing a simple olive green robe with a dark copper overmesh. Her temper was obviously short, he well knew that this matter was personal but perhaps are also other things happening in the background, things of which he was not aware.
He made a mental note, time to stop playing Lord of the Manor. Perhaps he had grown somewhat complacent lately, overconfident, he would always be an outsider here, he needed to put out feelers again and find out what was going on behind the scenes.
"I am aware of that. But surely there are other approaches we could take. Slightly less, shall we say…? Confrontational?" Though really he knew that if at that moment she had challenged him on specifics, he would have been at a loss to put forward an alternative proposal.
"Your newfound subtlety grows tiresome, and I and Arlathan am lacking in both time and patience. My daughter brings danger to our door as she breathes by embarking on these mad quests of hers, and she is beyond persuasion."
He look towards the fragrant oak forests on the mountainside trying to absorb some of their balance and serenity. "It is not the principle or the timing I dispute, but the method… fighting fire with fire is never…"
"Enough!" She stood up straighter placed her hands on her hips, "she is a goddess of sacrifice and blood and force, she understands nothing BUT force, particularly now."
"She hates me…" This sounded weak even to his own ears.
The mother of Arlathan shrugged, "And we will use that against her, you should be happy, this is your chance to adjust the score…"
"I don't hate Andruil… Despise her? Perhaps. I have no wish to adjust any scores. For what? … What I feel towards her is more aversion… Almost pity."
"Whatever it is. Use it. We have discussed this, you have disagreed, I have overruled you, and nevertheless you will do as I say."
He hadn't even raised the issue of collateral damage it was long since their kind had shown any kind of consideration towards normal Elhven, towards those supposed to be their people, now they were of no more account than blades of grass, chattels or toys to be played with and then discarded at whim, and there would be nothing further to be gained by making that argument to Mythal, it might even make him look weak.
As of late he found himself fretting about this ever more frequently.
She shrieked, Fen had expected something more akin to a war cry something deeper from her chest but this was more like a screech, the screech of some animal in terrible pain. Nevertheless it was ear splitting to the extent that he found himself clutching his head. On and on it went, coursing up and down the sound scale the tone may have varied but the pitch seemed to remain constant for an unnaturally long period of time.
Eventually it ceased but any relief he might have obtained was short-lived, because Andruil, approaching him faster his eyes could follow and lashing out with her left arm, punched him in the jaw. It was more shocking than painful, though he was fairly certain there would be pain later on. Meanwhile Andruil stood over him her face screwed up, "you fucked Ghilly."
"Yes," he said "I did." He began to lever himself into a standing position, although his legs were shaking, "But you can have her back now, I'm finished with her…"
Andruil cursed and used her armoured forearm to pin him to the wall much like she had done Nenhera a few minutes earlier. His throat felt as though it was on fire, his eyes and nose were running, and he could feel his jaw begin to swell… "She wasn't very good, though…" He was choking to get the words through, "A bit… On the tame side…"
From over Andruil's shoulder he saw Ghilly, panic in her gentle eyes, mouth at him "Why are you doing this?" Oh, the most overlooked of their happy little clan.
Then Andruil pressed down still harder and cut off his breathing entirely.
And at that point, Fen did struggle, he did claw at her arm he did utter words of contrition and appeasement. And he regretted his cleverness and everything he had done wrong and much he had done right, and he promised whatever deity would come to his assistance lifelong fealty, devoted service, for a mouthful of air just a gulp, just a taste, just a thimbleful of air…
