The Timeline of Tauber - Nightshade - 683

Silence reigned within the Great Hall of Moonreach. Beyond its walls, the familiar sounds of an army doing all of the things armies do during lulls in conflict blended in a dull harmony. The shouts of orders. Tramping boots. The clank of weaponry and armour. That was beyond the hall’s walls. Within them was the cloying, oppressive silence of anticipation.

And, within this silence, two beings waited. Chernitt was tall and lithe, bedecked in fine clothes and even finer jewellery. His footfalls barely disturbed the peace as he paced restlessly about the hall, taking in the tapestries and artwork and statues with which it was decorated to occupy his idling mind.

“What’s taking so long?”

Chernitt turned at the bark of impatience to regard the speaker. Queen Diana was practically bursting with the need to take action. The faerie monarch’s short but powerful frame was briefly clad in strips of silk. Massive wings, like those of a colossal butterfly, fluttered in agitation at her back. Wild eyes stared from the sockets of a half skull mask, which itself was framed by the even wilder braids of her hair.

“Patience,” Chernitt advised, his silky smooth tone only serving to further frustrate his unlikely ally, “these things take time.”

“Too much time,” Diana complained. “Why is this even necessary?”

“My brother wishes to talk.”

“Talk,” Diana scoffed. “What is there to talk about? We let our armies do the talking.”

“And it is getting us nowhere,” Chernitt pointed out.

“So he seeks an end to the conflict?”

“Possibly.”

“Because he is weak!”

“Not necessarily.” Chernitt held up a warning hand. “He does have us surrounded.”

“He wants to talk because he knows he will lose.”

Chernitt nodded. “It is a possibility,” he conceded. “Of course, another is that he might win. Either way, at what cost?”

“He should have considered that before he attacked Moonreach.”

Chernitt smiled. “I’m sure he did. I don’t think that he imagined we would put up such resistance. You have your new allies to thank for that.”

Diana merely grunted. Chernitt’s smile broadened. The goblin alliance had been his idea. The strategy had been strongly objected to by the faerie queen but its value was undeniable now. Without them, Moonreach would have long ago fallen.

“What if he seeks betrayal?” Diana asked.

Chernitt shrugged. “What is he does? He will come alone into our territory.” Chernitt noted the flash of annoyance that fleeted across Diana’s features at his claim to any stake in her city. The monarch was so easy to annoy. It had almost become a sport; a minor diversion during their short alliance.

When their relationship was in its infancy, Chernitt had been wary of Diana’s wrath. She had power, that much was clear. But as their alliance had progressed, he had taken great satisfaction in seeing how far he could push the faerie queen. The sense of danger it brought was addictive.

“Are you really so scared of a lone human that you need guards about you for this meeting?” he continued.

“I fear nothing,” Diana insisted.

“So your concern over your lack of guards is…?”

Diana snarled in response and stalked across the hall but paused as a side door squeaked open to reveal a gaunt figure.

“You have him, Igor?” Chernitt asked.

The manservant nodded and stepped aside to permit another to enter the Great Hall. The figure was hooded and cloaked, though the donning such garb to hide their identity had the ironic effect of also rendering them more suspicious to any who happened upon them.

“Thank you, Igor,” said Chernitt. “Please wait just beyond the door and be ready should I call.”

“Of course, sire,” replied the manservant, and bowed himself out of the chamber, silently closing the door behind him.

Chernitt turned his gaze to the newcomer. “Prince Stormguard.”

The man’s hands reached for his hood and he pushed it back to reveal features that were oddly opposed to Chernitt’s own despite their shared bloodline.

“Prince Stormguard?” the man challenged, and his voice had a harsh, straight-forward quality that clashed with Chernitt’s own liquid tones. “Are we no longer on first name terms, brother?”

“I think even “brother” might be stretching it.”

The older prince laughed. “You’ll always be my brother.”

Chernitt paused for a moment, choosing his words with care. “We shall see.”

Prince Stormguard’s frown was fleeting. “I suppose I should thank you for agreeing to see me?”

Chernitt shrugged. “You placed yourself at my mercy coming here.”

“Threats?” the prince asked. “Really? With an army outside your gates you think I should fear capture? I come here under a banner of peace.” He looked around the room and waved his arms about vaguely. “Metaphorically speaking.”

“I know,” said Chernitt. “Such a thing would be terribly foolish.”

There was an awkward pause.

“Why have you come?” Diana’s direct demand broke the tension with ease.

Prince Stormguard shifted his gaze to her, as if seeing her for the first time, and sketched an elaborate bow.

“Queen Diana,” he said. “It pains me that we should meet in these circumstances.”

Diana’s eyes narrowed. “Why have you come?” she repeated.

The prince’s smile faltered. “Not one for small talk? Very well. I come seeking peace.”

“You brought an army to seek peace?”

“A regrettable error,” the prince conceded. “It is true that we had sought to take the city by force. You have proven quite resourceful.”

“Why?” asked Chernitt.

The question brought a frown to the prince’s brow. “Why else, brother? For the throne.”

“Which makes sense if you were fighting the eldest,” said Diana, “but as far as I understand your laws of succession, it is now you who are first in line.”

Prince Stormguard frowned, as if not quite sure of the logic of his actions himself. He shook his head, as if to clear it of some befuddlement.

“I have advisors,” he managed.

And that was that. No further statement. No clarification. Clearly he felt that those three words had explained it all.

“And these advisors now suggest peace?” Chernitt prompted.

The prince nodded. “They do.”

“And the terms?”

The prince smiled, as if glad to find himself on firmer footing. “A cessation of all hostilities. We will leave Moonreach but it becomes a part of the Stormguard empire.”

“Done,” said Chernitt.

“No!” snapped Diana simultaneously.

The allies turned to one another.

“I will not give away my kingdom so cheaply,” Diana raged.

“The lives of your race are too low a price?” Chernitt countered.

“This is our home.”

“And you get to keep it,” Prince Stormguard assured her.

“Subservient to your new empire!”

“Queen Diana,” said Chernitt, sliding swiftly between the monarch and the prince, “might I have a word?”

Diana glared at him, her wings opening and closing in clear agitation. Chernitt matched her rage with his own tranquility, refusing to give her anything to react to. Then, when he judged he had absorbed enough without any form of escalation, he raised his eyebrows questioningly and inclined his head to a space away from where the three of them now stood.

Offered a way out of the prolonged impasse, Diana allowed herself to be led and Chernitt stopped only when he judged himself able to speak without being overheard, a tall ask in a room so devoid of any other sound.

“We should take the offer,” he insisted.

“I cannot agree to the terms.”

“What we’re agreeing to is him leaving.”

“And ruling Moonreach. Ruling my people.”

Chernitt shook his head. “What we’re agreeing to today is the Stormguard army leaving. No more faerie deaths. What happens tomorrow, or the day after, is as yet unwritten.”

Diana frowned. “You would go back on your word?”

Chernitt laughed. “This is politics,” he explained. “Things change. He knows that.”

“He makes this offer knowing you’ll go back on it?”

“Of course,” said Chernitt, laughing gently.

“Treachery everywhere.”

“Is it treachery if no-one makes a secret of it?” Chernitt asked. “Look at it this way; don’t you want the war to be over?”

“Of course.”

“Then agree to the terms. He is looking for a way to bring an end to this without losing face. His terms reflect that. He knows he won’t necessarily get what he’s demanding once the army retreats.”

Diana regarded Chernitt for a long time.

“Trust me,” Chernitt insisted.

“Never.”

“Just this once, then.”

Diana’s lips tightened. Then she shook her head in resignation. “Don’t make me regret it.”

“Excellent!” Chernitt exclaimed, raising his voice and striding back towards where the prince was still patiently waiting. “Igor!”

The door opened almost immediately, as if the manservant had been poised and ready to re-enter the entire time.

“Three drinks, Igor,” Chernitt commanded.

Prince Stormguard looked from Chernitt to Diana and back again. “You accept?”

“We accept,” Chernitt confirmed. “Don’t we, Queen Diana?”

The faerie grunted her assent, clearly still unhappy with the duplicitous nature of proceedings.

Igor emerged bearing a tray on which three goblets were balanced. Dark liquid sloshed within them.

“A toast!” said Chernitt, scooping up one of the vessels and holding it aloft.

“Certainly,” agreed the prince, deftly taking the goblet from Chernitt’s hand rather than taking his own from the tray.

Chernitt laughed. “You don’t trust me, brother?”

The prince adopted a wry smile of his own. “Just being cautious, brother.”

Chernitt shrugged and picked another goblet. Diana copied the prince in removing this one, too, from Chernitt’s hand. Chernitt looked surprised and a little shocked.

“I am also playing it safe,” Diana explaiend.

Chernitt sighed and seized the last remaining goblet, raising it in a toast.

“To peace!” he cried.

He brought the glass to his mouth and noticed that his companions did likewise only once they had seen the liquid pass his lips. He raised his hand to his mouth, brushing the back across his lips as if to dry them. As the largest jewel of his many rings passed across, he nipped at it with his teeth, freeing it from its setting.

It was a deft movement that went unnoticed by his companions. Once within his mouth, Chernitt was easily able to use his teeth and tongue to lever open the stone and allow the powder it contained to spill out and down his throat, a necessary antidote to the liquid he had just imbibed.

Mere moments passed before there was a cough from Prince Stormguard. Then another. The man was clutching at his throat, as if trying to reach for an obstruction within. Green foam leaked from his lips and he reached out a hand beseechingly.

“What ails you, brother?” Chernitt asked, though there was little concern in his voice and he made no move to go to his aid.

“Poison?”

Chernitt turned at Diana’s hoarse query. The once commanding tone had given way to a croak that contained disbelief at his betrayal.

“So it would seem,” Chernitt laughed.

Prince Stormguard dropped heavily to his knees, still gasping for air.

“You knew?”

“That both you and my brother would intercept the drinks I selected?” Chernitt asked. “I could have guessed with him; I was less sure about what your reaction would be. Either way, I wasn’t leaving something like this up to chance.”

“You poisoned yourself?”

“And then took the antidote, yes,” Chernitt confirmed. He watched the faerie carefully. She was clearly in distress but had not reacted half as severely as his brother. “I must say, you’re taking all of this rather well.”

“The poisoning?” Diana gasped. “Or the betrayal?”

Chernitt laughed. “Humour was not one of the outcomes I was expecting. Who knew that this is what it would take to bring it out of you. I am rather surprised you’re still standing.”

On that final word, Prince Stormguard collapsed to his side with one final gurgle.

“I am a creature of deep and ancient magics,” the queen managed. “You were a fool to think your poisons would be as effective on me as they are on your weak race.”

Chernitt merely smiled in response. “No matter,” he said, reaching for the knife sheathed at his waist. “There are some things you aren’t immune to.”

He held the blade before him and advanced, relishing in the feeling of power he had over the faerie queen as she backed away. Gone was his ever-benevolent smile to be replaced by a toothy grin of malevolent glee.

Diana lashed a hand in Chernitt’s direction and the prince felt the wave of power wash over him. It was akin to a light breeze and he laughed at its impotence.

“You’re neutralised, formerly mighty queen,” Chernitt gloated, gesturing wildly with his blade. “Come and meet your doom.”

Chernitt laughed. The power he felt in that moment was intoxicating. His last remaining brother lay dead. His former ally was helpless before him, the power over her life and death in his hands. All of the planning and scheming, the blackmail and bribery, all had led to this moment and he intended to savour it.

Diana stopped retreating and crouched, cowering before his majesty. Such behaviour was only right in one who had finally come to terms with the new order he was establishing.

He raised the blade, preparing to bring it down on his unprotected foe, then gasped as Diana suddenly surged upwards. Her legs extended into a leap and then her wings were unfurling and propelling her higher. Chernitt roared in anger and swung his blade but he was too late and all he could do was watch as the faerie circled laboriously higher towards the open windows close to where the wall gave way to the ceiling. And then Diana was gone, leaving Chernitt alone with his impotent rage.

Agitated feet carried him about the Great Hall and he silently cursed the poor fortune that had permitted the faerie queen to escape. The poison should have worked. There was no way she should have remained standing, let alone flown. Had Igor not dosed the glasses equally? And who had left the upper windows open? He was surrounded by impotent fools who had ensured that a powerful enemy slipped his grasp.

But no matter. He still remained the sole surviving brother and therefore first in line to the Stormguard throne. Diana might yet live but he would secure Moonreach against her before she could bring her forces against him and there was still yet more he could do to weaken those.

Sufficiently calmed, Chernitt forced the rage from his features and replaced it with an expression of deepest grief.

“Igor!” he wailed.

The door was opened almost instantly and the manservant glanced briefly at the fallen Prince Stormguard and then back to his master.

“Yes, sir?”

“Igor, my brother has been murdered!”

“Yes, sire. So I see.”

“Send the word, Igor,” Chernitt commanded, “to my men and my brother’s. My brother was murdered by the treacherous Queen Diana, who has since fled. Her kind are likely to do likewise to them given half the chance. I am the sole surviving prince of Stormguard. Their allegiance is now to me alone. They are to kill every faerie they can. The alliance is over. Let us strike them before they have a chance to strike first.

“Of course, sire,” said Igor, bowing as he began to back from the room.

“Oh, and Igor?”

Igor halted in his retreat. “Yes, sir?”

Chernitt glanced in the direction of his deceased brother. “Have someone come and clear up this mess.”