CHAPTER XV: The Rise of Cui-Baili

It has been said that the wise and steadfast rule of Cui-Ealain ushered in the last great flowering of civilization in Tsin-Quinqan, and set the stage for the glorious reign of his son, Cui-Baili. But Cui-Ealain was gentle of disposition, and concerned for the welfare of his people; therefore, he did not venture forth into open war against the rising tide of Balchoth aggression, rather, he strengthened his borders and sought alliances to stem Khamul's ambition for empire. In this Cui-Ealain was only partially successful. Although the empire of Tsin-Quinqan and the realms of the north spent many years in relative peace, Khamul and the Balchoth horde soon occupied all the lands of wide Hildorien, from the Orocarnis to the Eastern Ocean, and the barbarity by which the Lord of the Balchoth conquered this great expanse has become legendary in the extent of the bloodshed and the bestial cruelty visited upon those enslaved. Ever after, Khamul would be known as 'The Butcher' for his ruthless slaughter of those who opposed him, and for the innocents whom he killed whenever the grim whims of maniacal madness took him. Whole regions were laid to waste in retribution for any act of defiance, and such was the depravity of Khamul's reign that countless cairns of piled skulls were used as milestones to demarcate the roads throughout the Butcher of Balchoth's bloody empire.

But Cui-Ealain was not untouched by the tumult that threatened to engulf even his great kingdom. As befell his grandsire, Cui-Chullain, Cui-Ealain was stricken with a baffling wasting sickness that many of the wise deem was an act of vengeance on the part of Sauron himself: a slow poison that paralyzed not only the victim by degree, but his empire as well. With the Emperor in the throes of agonizing pain, he was unable to administer his vast holdings, and as he lingered bed-ridden for many months, the rule of Tsin-Quinqan was left to ambitious and cunning men who factionalized the government, sent the emperor's most loyal advisors into exile, reduced the effectiveness of the empire's defense in lieu of their lavish greed, and sought to influence and bully Cui-Ealain's young son, Baili. As his father hovered at the doors of death, Baili, then only sixteen, suffered the patronization and outright threats of those who intended to control him with feigned humility and meekness. But beneath the mild exterior and seeming inexperience of youth, there beat the heart of a lion, and a wisdom that belied the prince's tender years.

In concert with the exiles and the marshals of the imperial army, who maintained a dogged loyalty to his House, Baili secretly plotted the overthrow of the grandees who threatened the stability of Tsin-Quinqan. On long watches in the night, Baili spoke in desperate whispers with his dying father, who well understood the turmoil surrounding his deathbed, but was unable to lift his head, let alone overcome the forces of sedition and disloyalty that teemed around the untried prince. Yet, for a time, Cui-Ealain overcame the pains that wracked his body; and in hushed tones, with his teeth gritting as spasms whelmed him, the emperor patiently taught the art of wise governance to his beloved son. When the great emperor finally expired, Baili was full ready to seize the reign of Tsin-Quinqan back from the hands of those who would destroy his empire.

After the requisite period of mourning for the death of Cui-Ealain, the peace-loving and farsighted emperor beloved by his grateful people, the coronation of his son, Baili, was announced throughout the land. Yet it was in the minds of those of the opposition party, stirred, no doubt, by the coming of the aged Baolach, who had returned again as envoy for the Balchoth seemingly in the very hour when Cui-Ealain first fell victim to the mysterious malady which eventually caused his painful death, that a child-emperor would sit uneasily upon the throne, given the matters of grave import that stirred the Eastern World. Baolach's intentions were two-fold: first, that Tsin-Quinqan should become a vassal-state of the ever-expanding empire of the Balchoth; second, who better to lead this peaceful transition than the House of Baothan, headed, of course, by the venerable Baolach himself, and his son Baolard? Thus, Baolach would fulfill the wishes of his master, Khamul, who sought to dominate the East in its entirety, and in the process visit his revenge upon the House of Cui-Chullain, who had usurped the throne from his father so many decades earlier. This overarching goal the bitter old man instilled with unswerving severity in his pliant and vicious son, Baolard, who had become a great warlord in the service of Khamul. But despite the secret machinations of Baolach, in tandem with the ambitions of those avaricious lords of Tsin-Quinqan who also sought to overthrow the present regime, they did not take into account the fortitude of young Baili.

At his coronation, surrounded as he was by his enemies, Cui-Baili ascended the throne of his father like a lamb in the midst of a pack of plotting wolves. But before the long-knives could be drawn, Cui-Baili unleashed a counterattack that both dismayed and overwhelmed his oppressors. For Cui-Baili had moved his army in secret to surround his capitol, and a phalanx of guards, led by the trusted servants of Cui-Ealain who had surreptitiously returned from exile, burst into the palace and laid hands upon the would-be assassins of the newly crowned emperor. The youthful Cui-Baili drew the great-sword of his grandfather, Timur the Lame, and strode forcefully down from his imperial dais.

'Sad it is that the beginning of our reign should be overshadowed by deceit and treachery and threat of assassination,' Cui-Baili boomed angrily above the pandemonium that filled his court. And it has been said of that moment that Cui-Baili's voice was fell and his mien grim: not the childish bearing of a coddled princeling, but that of a fierce warrior king. 'But if it must be that the day of our crowning should be one covered in the blood of strife, let it be shed by the traitors of Tsin-Quinqan!'

Ignoring the pitiful pleas of mercy from the cowardly rebels, the wrathful Cui-Baili himself struck down ten of the Lords who were the chief instigators of insurrection, and when at last his angry retribution was slaked somewhat by the deaths of the plotters, he sheathed his bloody sword and stood menacingly before the elderly Baolach, who could not withhold his contempt for Cui-Baili, even though his aged body involuntarily quaked with fear.

'You may not lay hands on me!' the wizened Baolach spat with eyes averted. 'I represent the Lord of the Balchoth in all matters here; to harm me you attack Khamul himself!'

Cui-Baili glared coldly at the insolent old man. 'If what you say is true, Baolach,' Cui-Baili growled, 'then it is Khamul, lackey of Sauron the Great, who is responsible for the poisoning of my dear father! If that is the case, then you bear the burden of your master's sins. As you have stated quite plainly, you represent your Lord in all matters here.'

Baothan sputtered and digressed in a vain attempt to escape his own haughty words, but he had sealed his fate. In sudden fury, Cui-Baili violently grabbed Baolach by the throat and throttled him even as he cowered. As the limp body of the ancient enemy of his forefathers slumped to the floor, Cui-Baili named Khamul as the chief enemy of his House and of Tsin-Quinqan, and he declared open war against the Balchoth horde and all of their deluded allies.

And thus, it was that Tsin-Quinqan strove at last against the armed might of the Balchoth, and the gangrel forces unleashed by Sauron himself to aid Khamul in conquering the East. For the Dark Lord had sent legions of Orc from Mordor to do battle at the call of Khamul, so that the armies of darkness swelled to such immense proportions in that time that not even the disciplined cavalry and naval power of Cui-Baili could oppose them alone. For five years Cui-Baili endeavored mightily in seeming isolation to combat the monstrous threat of the Balchoth, and the young emperor's legendary battle prowess grew with every victory; but it became plain to Cui-Baili and his veteran advisors that each succeeding triumph was more dearly purchased, and that the enemy had an inexhaustible supply of mindless fodder to throw to the slaughter. Khamul's methods were crude compared to the wily stratagems of Cui-Baili, but in the end, limitless manpower would overawe even the most dauntless and cunning of foes.

As the noose grew tighter, Cui-Baili sent embassies to the four corners of the East, entreating the Free Peoples of the world who still remained unconquered to stand with Tsin-Quinqan, lest they all be overwhelmed individually. The envoys journeyed to the deep deserts and over the great seas to the south, and even to the hidden enclaves of Dark Elves and Dwarves who made their homes in the Orocarnis. The delegations of the emperor found many a sympathetic ear with their earnest pleas for unity where perhaps none may be found at other, less dire times; for even in the folly of prejudice and pride, self-preservation might motivate rulers who otherwise seek their own limited interests.

The King of the Blacklock Dwarves was just such a ruler. Seeing his trade slashed and markets destroyed by the ruthless hand of Khamul, the Dwarf King felt the tug at his purse strings most dearly, and no love had he for the pillaging Orcs who multiplied outside his mountain gates (the Blacklocks had not yet entered into trade with Mordor). So too, the Hetman of the Rus despised the Orc, who preyed upon his herds and ate the flesh of his prized horses. The Rus tribes had been driven further and further north from their ancestral southern ranges by the heavy hand of the invading Balchoth and marauding Orc, until they were forced to eke out an embattled existence on the marges of the Roaring Waste. There they came into conflict with the fierce desert tribes over the oases that were the life's blood of that sere and inhospitable region. Alone of the free peoples whom Cui-Baili's delegations sought out, the Dark Elves proved the most elusive.

MorThoiriol, Lord of the Dark Elves, welcomed the envoy of Tsin-Quinqan most hospitably -- a rare thing in itself, as the Dark Elves were long estranged from the world of Men -- and he listened gravely to the ambassador's request for aid. But the immortal Dark Elf, though courteous, was unmoved by the strident warnings of Cui-Baili's servant. MorThoiriol's woodland realm remained untouched by the mayhem of the Balchoth, and the Elves had ever weathered the ebb and flow of the fleeting ambitions of Men. In a brief span of time -- a single season to the deathless Elves -- the danger would fade as the present generation of Men, and then the ones after, grew old and died. When the ambassador reminded the Dark Elf that Sauron, he who it was that drove Khamul and the Balchoth forward into madness, was immortal as well, MorThoiriol was troubled, but had no answer. The Lord of the Dark Elves promised to give thought to Cui-Baili's proposal, but the envoy of the emperor left the northern realm of the Elves empty-handed, and disappointedly returned to Tsin-Quinqan with naught but well-wishes for Cui-Baili.

And so the stage was set for Cui-Baili's final gambit -- a strategy fraught with peril, perhaps, but a calculated maneuver done without desperation. The Emperor of Tsin-Quinqan played upon Khamul's thirst for a quick and decisive triumph, driving the unwitting Balchoth inland and away from the coasts with continuous harrying actions by his imperial navy, aided by an unlikely flotilla of Southron corsairs. Then by a series of feints and sudden retreats, Cui-Baili's army drew the greedy Khamul from his power base in Hildorien, northwestward, ever closer to the barren lands of the Desert of the Roaring Waste.

Early on in his reign, Cui-Baili, with the foresight accorded to those of his House, had made accommodations with the desert folk, taking them under his protection and annexing a great area of land east of the Roaring Waste, building trading posts adjacent to each oasis so that the desert tribes might get access to foodstuffs and utensils that were unavailable to them previously. The greatest of these trading posts, Bajazet, quickly became a city unto itself, walled and manned with a garrison. In a matter of few, short years Bajazet rose to the status of provincial capitol, flourishing with trade to and from Tsin-Quinqan. It was at Bajazet where Cui-Baili would turn to fight with his back to the desert, but with huge stores of water available to his troops and allies; whereas the Balchoth and their Orkish mercenaries would have chased shadows down the long, dusty miles, finding themselves at the last in a land devoid of forage and lacking water under a searing desert sun.

But Cui-Baili had not counted on the evil influence of Sauron, and the ring by which he wielded power through his servant, Khamul. Vast were the armies of the enemy that merged upon Bajazet, and the innumerable and hardy Orcs, used to living with deprivations, attacked mercilessly at night, whilst the Balchoth continued the offensive during the day. If it were not for the stubborn and hard-bitten defense raised by the Blacklock dwarves, Cui-Baili's positions would have been overrun within the first few days of action. Cui-Baili's men fought valiantly as well, and every inch of ground Khamul bought was done so at the cost of ten or twenty of the Balchoth and Orc to every one of the free peoples. But Khamul spent freely the lives he so casually threw at Cui-Baili, as he had reserves to spare, and the death of so many was an incidental expense for ultimate victory. Cui-Baili's cavalry became severely depleted after issuing forth on countless sorties, and the concerned emperor asked a chieftain of the Rus why the Hetman of all the Rus tribes had only sent a mere handful of horsemen to aid in the battle.

'Hetman shall come,' the Rus replied with an enigmatic smile, 'he shall come in his own time.'

And the Hetman did come, but in a manner which dramatically turned the tide of battle. For the great Hetman, lifelong enemy of the Dark Elves, his tribe's bitterest foe, swallowed his pride and hatred and came before the Lord MorThoiriol, and made a plea for aid on bended knee. This the Hetman did, he said, not for himself or his people, but for the herds of horses that both the Rus and the Dark Elves deemed precious, those noble creatures that were now being indiscriminately slaughtered by Orc for meat. Thus the Lord of the Dark Elves, concerned for the plight of Men, but unwilling to commit the lives of his subjects to their defense, became wrathful and rose in anger from his throne.

'No need have thee to kneel before us, Hetman,' MorThoiriol seethed. 'Enemies we have been, and mayhap shall remain; but I shall go with thee now and fight for that which we both hold dear. None shall say of the Elves that they sat silently by while the splendid scions of Naihaer Gan Athair, the fatherless stallion of Araugh, fell senselessly to Orkish rabble. It is the spawn of Mordor who shall die!'

On the fifth day of battle, with the brutal sun at last beginning its slow descent into the realms of night, the combatants beheld great clouds of dust engulfing the western horizon like the onset of a violent desert storm. There was a sound of rumbling thunder, and flashes of heat lightning seemed to spark up from the ground in the distance. But no storm of nature was this, for the earth quaked from the pounding of hooves in their thousands, and the glint of lightning was of cold steel: the swords of the armies of the Dark Elves and the Rus, raised together in defiant anger. And there, on the parched plain before Bajazet, the greatest riders of the Eastern World, both Men and Elves, fell upon the western flank of the Balchoth horde with such fury that Khamul's army crumbled, the left collapsing in chaos and fear into the center. Orcs gibbered and Men wailed as great stallions ran them down and the relentless blades of the Dark Elves flashed like scythes through a bloody harvest. The Dwarves then rose from behind their fortifications, bellowing their Khuzdul war cries attacked the floundering enemy center with mattock and axe, and the imperial warriors of Tsin-Quinqan did the same on the right, using the name of their emperor, Cui-Baili, as their rallying cry. And Cui-Baili did meet his House's sworn enemy, mighty Baolard, son of Baolach, son of Baothan, in mortal combat and slew the last of the line of traitors to Tsin-Quinqan.

Khamul's grand army, the horrible horde of the Balchoth, was in complete rout. Despairing of the battle, Khamul turned to flee, but he was unhorsed by a sudden, jarring collision. Dazed, the Chieftain of the Balchoth glared indignantly up at the one who dared unseat him, and beheld MorThoiriol, Lord of the Dark Elves, astride his black stallion. The Dark Elf perceived the Ring of Power Khamul wore, and by its hidden malice, knew full well from whence it came.

'The Master of Corruption has forsaken thee, mortal,' the Dark Elf intoned as if leveling a curse. 'Rid thyself of that evil ring and perhaps thou shalt receive a measure of redemption before a death beyond death takes thee!'

At the mention of the ring, a strange light burned in Khamul's eyes, shining red as if coruscated by some preternatural flame. The fallen Balchothard spat and brandished his sword in defiance. 'Speak not of that which you fail to understand, Elfling Prince!' Khamul howled. 'I have paid dearly for this ring, more so than the likes of a petty Dark Elf shall ever know. It is mine, and I would die a thousand deaths rather than be parted from it!'

'And die you shall,' MorThoiriol replied as he leaped from his horse, 'whether here on this field by my hand, or in some other desolate place.' And with the prescience of the Firstborn he added, 'Even though you shall breathe the rarified air at the pinnacles of power, you shall again be abandoned by your fickle master in the very hour of triumph; yet in my heart I feel it shall be accounted a blessing for the world and for you, yourself, if I kill you now. Naught will come of your living but death!'

And they crossed swords with such a fury that the mayhem of the battlefield died away, and it seemed that the only two combatants were the Balchothard and the Dark Elf. The two proved to be an even match, for Khamul was buoyed by the Ring of Power, and countered MorThoiriol's millennia of martial skill with the full malevolence of Mordor. They hacked and hewed with ripostes and parries until their mail was rent and notches pitted their blades; still they fought on, wounded but unwavering. But Khamul was a mere mortal, and could not match the limitless stamina of the Firstborn. With his endurance flagging, Khamul could not deflect a wicked slash to the throat by the Dark Elf's dagger -- as MorThoiriol wielded two blades in the style of his kindred -- and wounded sorely, the Balchothard staggered backward, gasping as he reeled. Yet a capricious whim of fate stole victory from the hands of the Dark Elf on that day.

Scattered bands of Balchoth, fleeing this way and that in blind retreat, interrupted the exchange between Khamul and MorThoiriol. The Ring of Power still proved a potent weapon in that Khamul, through force of will, managed to regain control of his retreating men, training them like puppets against the Dark Elf. The followers of Khamul attacked the Lord of the Dark Elves with abandon, mindless of their own doom, while Khamul stood and gloated.

'We shall meet again, Dark Elf. O yes, we shall meet again!' Khamul rasped as the remnants of the Balchoth fell upon MorThoiriol. 'Your vaunted skills shall not avail you when my Lord Sauron comes to hunt you down like a dog!'

With no further care for the outcome of the battle, Khamul turned his back on his men, mounted a stray horse, and disappeared, bloodied and alone, into the desert. MorThoiriol watched in vain as his prey escaped, even though he and Elves of his House, who had come up to support him, made relatively short work of the band of Balchoth who hindered the Dark Elf's pursuit. But thought of the chase left MorThoiriol then, although he would later rue the decision, and he returned to the main engagement, which was in the final, brutal stages of defeat for the once mighty Balchoth horde. And some say the justice meted out by the armies of the Free Peoples was, on that day, as cruel as that of the Balchoth during their conquests: many there were of the Rus and the desert tribes who had lost family to the Horde as their lands were invaded, and they were merciless in their exaction of vengeance; and of the Orc, the Dwarves and Elves gave them no quarter, as they expected none themselves. Needless to say, no Orc survived the onslaught, and very few of the Balchoth escaped to their great camps in Southern Hildorien. Thus decimated and leaderless, the Balchoth again became a nomadic race like their forefathers. Driven like vermin from their ancestral homelands by vengeful neighbors, the remaining tribes of the Balchoth passed south and west of the Orocarni Mountains, eventually settling in the sparse regions of Rhun and Khand. Ever after they were an unsettled and grim people, recounting their former glories and extolling visions of a new empire from one generation to the next.

The Battle of Bajazet proved to be the high-water mark for grand alliances in the East. Soon after, ancient animosities and prejudices reared their ugly heads, and either drove many of the races into isolation, or back onto a war-like footing against their former comrades-in-arms. Never again would such group of august princes field such a diverse and formidable army as the one gathered before the gates of Bajazet. In this sundering of the Free Peoples Sauron certainly had a hand, but the inherent greed or mistrust one race had for another cast a pall on the kingdoms of the East, and the divisions remain to this very day.

But Cui-Baili returned to Tsin-Quinqan in triumph after the battle, and was acclaimed a hero throughout his empire. Not content to rest on his laurels, Cui-Baili continued the reforms his father, Cui-Ealain, had begun. So wise were the emperor's pronouncements that he was accorded the title 'Law-giver', and the disparate peoples that made up his vast empire -- whether wholeheartedly or begrudgingly -- chose to abide peacefully under his rule, so that prosperity and learning grew apace in every region of the realm. It was in that time -- truly the golden years of Tsin-Quinqan -- that Cui-Baili at last laid down his sword and considered the need for an heir to continue the legacy of his great House. So he took to wife Banrion, of the House of the former king of Noor, and grandniece of Baolach. In this union Cui-Baili wished to bind further the still-potent noble families of his far-flung empire to his rule, and mitigate any factionalization of the sort that caused mayhem during the waning years of his father's reign.

Banrion was a great beauty, dark and fiery, and an unlikely love sprang from this arranged marriage, the likes of which is rare with such dynastic contracts. Of Cui-Baili it is said that he indulged his willful young empress overmuch, acquiescing to her whims as a doting father might to a spoiled child. But the headstrong Banrion pleased Cui-Baili immensely with her humor and high spirits, easing the tedious and grueling days of administration to an empire. For Tsin-Quinqan had grown to encompass all the lands south down the coast of the Eastern Ocean to the Strait of Enegaer, west to the Desert of Roaring Waste, and north to the desolate moors and rocky highlands along the frozen Outer Sea. And the imperial couple grew even closer when it was announced that Banrion was with child.

Greagoir broke off from Leannan's tale abruptly. He stared off blindly as one caught in a daydream, and he shed a single tear. Tatya was so engrossed in transcription that at first he failed to notice his master's bitter reverie.

'Master?" Tatya beckoned with growing concern, as Greagoir had grown strange these last few days while recounting this memoir.

Greagoir glanced in his apprentice's direction and nodded a melancholy acknowledgment. "But Leannan's tale went unfinished;" he at last mused, "for the palace guards again marched sternly into the grove, and above the protestations of Princess Leannan, took me prisoner. Behind the retinue of soldiers who had bound me fast there followed an ornate litter carried by ten large eunuchs, straining as if under an immense weight, and lounging atop the litter, redolent in silk, was the grossly obscene figure of Mharu-muc. He glared at me with his pig-eyes blazing, but then fell back into the hooded languor and singsong ease with which I had been accustomed.

" 'Ah, the Southron diplomat and…novelty,' he sighed mellifluously, 'scarcely two days ago I personally intimated a foreboding for your…safety. 'Tis a pity I had not warned you more…stridently…about the danger. But now our glorious Khan sees you as an…impediment…to his royal will, and as the Khan's most…loyal…subject, I must…humbly…accede to his command.'

" 'You have no power here, eunuch!' Leannan shouted indignantly, but she, too, was restrained by the guards. Trying to pull away, but finding herself still held fast, she glared icily at Mharu-muc and continued, 'What means this? A princess of the line held by her own men? Traitors and blackguards! Eunuch, you go too far, my father shall hear of this!'

"The porcine eunuch frowned sadly at the outraged princess, and replied in a sympathetic tone that barely cloaked his contempt, 'Forgive me, your Highness, but perhaps you have not heard: this whole…unseemly affair…has taxed the Khan overmuch. He has been taken abed with…fever. I am merely following his final orders before he…fell into unconsciousness.'

" 'You lie!' Leannan shrieked in dismay, 'Ever have you sought to undermine my father and usurp his power! You are no man, but an impotent creature of the dark. You are naught but a mule who aspires to run with the stallions. I shall see you thrown down!'

"Mharu-muc smiled sardonically. 'I am…what the Khan has made me,' he drawled with a hint of malice. 'I am merely…repaying him…for his efforts. But you, your Highness, must make ready. You are to be wed to the son of the Khan of Talamh in three days time. The Khan of the Talmhai shall brook no delays, for he has paid…dearly…to win your favor.'

"Mharu-muc snapped his fat fingers and a portion of the guards marched off with the Princess Leannan, who could only glance forlornly at me, her soulful eyes veiled with tears. With the princess forcibly returned to the palace, Mharu-muc trained the full weight of his derision on me. 'And so comes the final act of the…drama…and the curtain is drawn shut,' he spoke with languid cheerfulness, well pleased with himself. 'But as for you, my naive friend, the…tragedy…has just commenced. Our guards shall find you…suitable accommodations…for the night, and on the morrow some…acquaintances of mine… shall take you to a new stage…in the slave bazaar of Bajazet. Farewell, young fool! Let this be a lesson in…statecraft…you shan't forget in what remains of your miserably short life.'

"I was shackled and dragged from the hallowed grounds of the Sepulchre, yet my thoughts were not for my dire situation; rather, they remained on the lovely, sad Leannan, and the ache in my heart proved greater than the biting of my bonds. It was still early in the afternoon when I was thrown into the dank dungeon below the palace to await my sentence, and the slavers from Bajazet, preparing for their journey the following morning, came to my cell to appraise their acquisition. At first I cared not to look at their gloating, greedy faces, but there was something familiar in their guttural whispers. I lifted my head and turned towards the shadowy figures, barely illumined in the torch-lit hall.

" 'You think you smart, eh, scribe?' one of the men said with a scornful snarl. 'You judge me, you send me to die with smile on your face! It is I who judge you now, scribe!'

"There was no mistaking the voice and the fierce, amber-yellow eyes which glared wolfishly at me from the flickering semi-light of the corridor. Marfach-suil, the treacherous caravan-master, had somehow escaped justice and death, and by a bitter twist of fate our paths had crossed once again."