Free The Long War 03 - The Red Prince by A. J. Smith

back to the Fell Walk,’ said Loth, also resuming his seat.
    ‘To die?’ asked Nanon with incredulity. ‘That’s not a message I’ll deliver.’
    ‘Our intentions will reach their minds anyway, you know this. Whether your human sensibilities allow it or not, the Shadow Flame will be lit.’
    The collective memory and consciousness of the Dokkalfar would gradually inform all the Fell Walkers that their elders planned to die. Nanon could do little to stop the thoughts from influencing them.
    ‘It has not even occurred to you that we can win, has it?’ he asked.
    ‘Who are we fighting? What can we win?’ Hythel asked.
    ‘Well, I thought we were fighting for the survival of our people, and the survival of the gods of men. Was that ever in your mind?’
    ‘We are old, our time to die should be a time of our choosing. Our people deserve more grace than to be turned into monsters. The wars of men will bring ruin to us.’
    Nanon took a step back and bowed his head, thinking quickly. He was not foolish and he doubted rational argument would be of much use with the stubborn forest-dwellers before him. But he could not concede.
    ‘It will take time to light the Shadow Flame, it has been cold for centuries.’
    ‘I have a dozen Vithar working on the fires, coaxing them to life with their blood,’ said Loth.
    ‘So I ask for time.’ Nanon let his human smile appear. ‘The Dark Blood still lives, the Red Prince enters the war, the gods of men have allies, we should be among them. ‘
    Loth leant back and his eyes darted from side to side as if his thoughts were troubled. Once again he tried to enter Nanon’s mind and once again the Shape Taker refused to let him in. The Tree Father had never lit the Shadow Flame and had probably only ever glimpsed the Twilight Grove from afar. He was uncertain how long it would take to light the fires. As he looked at the smiling Tyr before him, Loth had to concede that Nanon knew more than he did.
    ‘The last time the Flame was lit,’ began the Shape Taker, ‘was six hundred years ago. Vithar Duil and ten of his shamans walked into the fires after they lost a settlement in Narland. They killed themselves in shame. That’s illustrious company to join.’
    ‘You mock us,’ stated Hythel.
    ‘It seemed the appropriate response to your idiocy,’ Nanon snapped. ‘But I’m serious about the time it’ll take. If you have any strength left, you’ll wait until I return. If the enchantress falls, then your suicide is unnecessary.’
    The wind picked up again, a steady breeze swirling across the empty space. The auditorium felt hollow and cavernous. Loth was in command of everything in the Fell, he ruled in a way unknown to many other Dokkalfar settlements, but he was unsure when challenged by an older forest-dweller. In the Heart, the Vithar were advisers, wise and respected, but they made no claim to leadership. Nanon preferred it that way. The Fell Walkers, however, looked to their Vithar for more than just counsel. The Tree Father was the eldest and he held authority over the settlement in consequence.
    ‘Talk to Joror, kill the human woman, it makes no difference. When the Shadow Flame is lit, we will enter the void,’ the Tree Father pronounced stubbornly.
    ‘We are agreed,’ Nanon replied, knowing that the fires would take much longer to light than Loth realized.
    * * *
    Nanon took his time walking back to the line. The Vithar had escorted him to the edge of the Fell Walk and remained morose the entire way, though, on this occasion, the Shape Taker was deep in his own thoughts and less talkative.
    He’d begun to project his words to the north and was slowly contacting Vithar Joror in the Heart. The transfer took time and was only possible because Nanon and Joror had known each other for many centuries. Both were old enough to have forgotten their earliest days of life.
    ‘How long will the Shadow Flame take to light?’ he asked into the air, hoping that Joror would