Chapter 2: Matters of Trust
Stars twinkled merrily in the heavens above. Their speckled light covered the Kingdom in a gentle blanket. Hidden beneath the foliage of the western forests Eriviara and her troop rested. They had spent nearly a fortnight traveling westward through the rolling hills surrounding Asgard, across the canyon river Rhine, which split the Kingdom in two, and into the forested north-western region.
The company now spent their final night of travel resting in the comforting embrace of the forest. Sentries remained vigilant as they watched over their sleeping comrades. Hidden by the forest’s vegetation from prying eyes and guarded by their friends the majority of the party had let sleep overtake them. Only Eriviara and the sentries remained awake.
Staring at the dying embers of the campfire the light flickered in Eriviara’s eyes. For once she sat still and calm. The usual strains and qualms pushed from her mind. Focusing on patient and steady breathing, Eriviara meditated.
Insuring her own sanity Eriviara had begun meditating shortly after taking control of Skyfall. Without taking time to refocus her thoughts Eriviara wondered how long she’d have lasted without cracking under the pressure of leadership. There was always something for her to do. Even when her body was still, her mind was hurtling forward at top speeds: rooting out spies, planting her own, supplying her officers and the 22nd Legion, coordinating raids against royalists, spreading rumors, planning a dozen moves ahead everyone else, while, of course, protecting her followers.
Eriviara’s emerald eyes glittered in the dying light, flickering to her brother. The focus and calm of her meditation wavered. Her brother, Nelan, was only one of thousands that Eriviara protected. She protected her Gemiehe officers and agents, loyal soldiers, northern griffins, and all of Skyfall. Eriviara ran half a nation and she did it alone.
Her officers helped as they could, of course, but when it came down to the final feather Eriviara made the call. She couldn’t afford to make mistakes. Her followers couldn’t afford for her to make mistakes.
Exhaling slowly, Eriviara pushed the troubles from her mind, reasserting the sense of calm she’d established. Free of anxiety Eriviara opened herself to her surroundings. She fanned her focus, letting the world come to her.
For a moment she saw the world around her with perfect clarity, far beyond what her senses normally allowed her to see. The full moon cast an eerie pale light over the small campsight. A silent breeze kissed the trees, creating a muted rustle among the leaves. Dying embers glowed in the center of the campsite emanating warmth against the nip of the night.
Huddled about in small clumps for warmth were a dozen griffins, their breath leaving misty trails in the chilled air. The griffins on watch hid themselves about the perimeter, totally invisible. Eriviara couldn’t see them, but she knew and felt their location.
For half a moment she sensed it all, and then a stray thought entered Eriviara’s mind breaking her focus. Suddenly she was back a decade, as a youngling yearning to become a Mistweaver.
Is that how they go through life? Like a glass wall the sense of calm Eriviara had established shattered, cracking and scattering to the wind. A wave of emotions, facts, and figures rushed forward to swallow her. Releasing an irritated sigh Eriviara let the deep meditation flitter away.
She’d given up on meditation and many of the Mistweaver’s teachings when she ran away, determined to become a Gemiehe officer. After abandoning the Order, the historic teachers and leaders of Eriviara’s clan, she’d left many of their practices by the wayside. However, as time and experience wore upon her, she’d returned to many of the practices she’d left, meditation being one of them.
The war had been unkind to the Order, though it hadn’t been the Equestrians that nearly destroyed the Mistweavers. It had been Eriviara. The sting of her actions festered under Eriviara’s feathers.
“He should have kept quiet and let the war pass,” Eriviara mumbled under her breath.
“Thinking about Mistweaver Releck again?” At the abrupt intrusion Eriviara’s claws whipped to her belt seizing her side arm. Snapping her head towards the voice she blinked, her eyes clasping onto Meriar, one of Eriviara’s trusted Gemiehe officers.
Meriar’s eyes flicked to Eriviara’s claws before pulling back to Eriviara. “Agonizing over his arrest does you no good. Stop letting it ruffle your feathers.”
“We both know the issue is more complicated than a simple arrest, Meriar.”
Meriar dipped her head in acknowledgement. “Perhaps, my Lady. But the resolution is the same. It’s the same old dance. Stop distracting yourself with the past.”
Eriviara grimaced. She knew Meriar was right. Ever since Eriviara had taken command she’d had become paranoid, and brooded over minute errors. With royalists seeking her removal and the parlies sitting on their tail feathers, Erivara couldn’t make a single misstep. Trusting the wrong griffin or moving at the wrong time could have disastrous results, and Erivara had no intentions ending up dead or joining Releck in Veglede Tor’s murky cells as a traitor.
“You’re right, Meriar,” said Eriviara vocally admitting the point. “I simply hate feeling helpless.” Erivara’s eyes flared with a sudden zeal, a feral grin splitting her features. “Though I suppose I should know better.”
Meriar shared her Lady’s predatory grin, the fire’s dying light glinting off a pair of goggles dangling about her neck. “Full moon tonight,” her eyes flicked up to the night’s sky before returning to Eriviara. “I’m looking forward to the moonless hunt.”
“The sentiment is shared,” the emerald in Eriviara’s eyes gleamed in the moonlight. She turned her thoughts to the present and future. “Once we’ve returned to Barton Hollow, contact the commanders’ of the 22nd. They’ll be in route from Skyfall, and should be half a day south of us. I want to meet before breakfast.” Eriviara’s earlier sense of peace and calm were replaced by adrenaline and anticipation of the hunt. “We have work to do Meriar.”
* * * * *
The day passed far too slowly for Eriviara’s liking. Finishing the journey home took little enough time. Unfortunately, the 22nd officers arrived late, delaying Eriviara by several hours. The inefficiency irked Eriviara, but she was a huntress; she could wait.
Despite the delay of the 22nd, Erivara sat behind her desk before all seven of her commanders by noon. Two were typical soldiers, but the rest were Gemiehe. Eriviara trusted everyone in the room, as much as she trusted anyone anymore. The two officers of the 22nd Legion stood to her right, each wearing faded ebony uniforms, silver feather pins along their necklines, illustrating their rank. Meriar stood between Eriviara and the 22nd officers. The rest of the Germiehe stood scattered about her office. Casting her gaze about the room Eriviara took note of everyone as they waited for her to speak.
Eviviara turned to her left “Agent Glix, your report?” Eriviara’s voice spiked with energy.
A charcoal speckled griffin slipped forward, light glinting off his glasses. “My lady,” he spoke softly, his eyes flicked around the room, acknowledging the other officers as he bowed his head in respect toward his commander. Fiddling with his glasses he turned his attention back to Eriviara.
“I have received word that Lord Gallar has begun accelerating his plans. The continued harassment of his assets, and the attempts on his life, have whittled away what little patience he has. The Legions loyal to him have begun amassing, and it won’t be long before he makes his move on the parliament.”
“I assume parliament remains oblivious?”
“Of course,” snorted the Gemiehe agent. “Gallar could have his legions occupy the capitol, kick open the doors, and those morons would remain blind to his ambitions.” Eriviara clicked her beak as calculations tore through her mind.
“If Gallar is accelerating then so must we,” she said scratching her beak. “The raids on Gallar’s assets have done what they were intended to do, but we have no further need of them. Agent Glix?”
“Yes, ma’am?” the charcoal griffin asked.
“Finish the renegade Gemiehe. If we’re to operate freely throughout the nation we must ensure that the only Gemiehe in operation are our own.” Eriviara pulled a bland vanilla folder from her desk and handed it to Agent Glix. “Find them. Kill them.”
Glix clasped the folder tightly in his claws, dipping his head towards Eriviara before stepping back into the room’s shadows. With her orders given Eriviara turned to the other griffins in the room.
“Meriar, any word from the mainland?”
“I’m afraid not my Lady,” Meriar’s eyes crinkled into a frown. “Our agents are behind schedule, though not terribly so.”
“Nothing from our officers in Equestria?”
“None, though it’s unlikely that we’ll hear from them for another month or two. Captain Trejir is wary. He’ll take his time to insure that he and his team pass through Equestria unnoticed.”
Eriviara exhaled slowly, releasing the tightening muscles along her neck and wings. She was desperate for news, but she’d chosen Captain Trejir because she knew the Gemiehe captain would play it safe. Trejir was there to find allies, not make enemies. The last thing Eriviara wanted was to have Equestria storming the Kingdom’s beaches months after the previous war.
“It seems we’ll have to proceed alone then. General Greyleck,” Eriviara turned to the 22nd Legion’s commanding officer. “Fill the garrison at Skyfall, and secure the port. We can’t afford to allow the royalists any outside help.” Greyleck and nodded as he mentally began moving resources about the country to achieve these ends. Sealing the port would require the majority of the 22nd Legion, and that required food, weapons, and ammunition.
“Meriar,” said Eriviara turning her attention back to the female Gemiehe. “Will the Gemiehe be ready for the next moonless night?”
“The Gemiehe are ready,” Meriar said softly, the eager edge to her voice faint. “The new helms Dr. Haber has been working on are ahead of schedule. Not only will the new helms be ready, but we should have enough for a full strike team by the moonless.” Eriviara’s eyes flashed in excitement at the good news.
“Glad to see the crazy scientist’s work is still exemplary. We’ll need his talents,” pausing for a moment Eriviara’s gaze swept through the dark room. “Make no mistake; war is coming. Gallar will not rest until he has secured the throne. He will sacrifice any piece to achieve victory.” Her gaze swept through the room again before she continued. “General Greyleck, do you have an update on Em’dar?” Pulling a map of the local region on her desk, Eriviara’s eyes fixated on the beige officer.
“My Lady,” the older griffin inclining his head, speaking with reverence. “The former Gemiehe outpost has been expanded and fortified. However, Em’dar’s new fortifications are not complete. But it’s now capable of withstanding an attack. In a couple of months it’ll be finished.”
“Excellent,” Eriviara turned her attention back to the map before her. “From Em’dar and Barton Hollow we can secure the northern provinces, from Skyfall the western.” Eriviara leaned over the map, her claws marking out invisible lines: starting from the old Gemiehe outpost in the northern mountains, moving along the Rhine, the river that split the kingdom, and curving towards the city of Skyfall, the gateway to the ocean. Eriviara effectively cut the kingdom in two.
“My Lady,” Eriviara raised her head, her eyes turning to the other 22nd officer. The young griffin shifted his wings nervously under her steely gaze.
“Yes, Colonel Etare?” opening his beak to speak Etare found the words caught in his throat. He wasn’t sure what was more surprising, that he’d dared to speak up or that Lady Eriviara Orn Vorastrix knew his name. Etare had followed Lady Eriviara faithfully ever since she’d saved the 22nd Legion at the final battle of Skyfall. He’d been a junior officer then-but now he stood as a member of her inner council. He still wasn’t sure how he’d gotten here. Gathering his wits Etare took a breath, steadying himself, before speaking.
“It’s just that we don’t have enough griffins to control that much territory,” Etare felt his temperature spike as the Gemiehe agents and officers turned to regard him. Eriviara considered the young griffin for a moment before speaking.
“General Greyleck your latest report on the 22nd Legion was that it’s back to it’s post-war strength, correct?”
“That is correct, my lady.”
“And the newly formed 20th is just over half strength?” As Eriviara spoke her searching gaze never wavered from Etare.
“That is correct, my Lady.”
“About fifteen hundred griffins, if we count the Gemiehe officers. Greyleck, is Colonel Etare correct in his assessment? Do we lack the numbers to control the western and northern half of the country?” Receiving no immediate reply Eriviara tore her gaze from Etare. “General? Do we have the numbers?”
“No, my Lady. Mathematically it isn’t possible to hold.”
“Oh?” A carnivorous grin plastered itself across Eriviara’s face.
“Agent Glix, can we hold?”
“Not according to the numbers.” A smirk tugged at Glix’s eyes.
“Meriar, can we hold?” Eriviara’s gaze remained undeterred.
“Mathematically?” ask Meriar, sharing the same raptorial grin as Eriviara. “Not if we stick by the rules.”
“Good thing I don’t play by the rules then.” Quiet chuckles emanated from the other Gemiehe officers. Eriviara returned her attention back to Etare. “There’s your answer Colonel. I’m changing the math.” Eriviara paused for a moment, continuing to examine Etare. Nodding once to herself Eriviara turned back to the rest of the room. “You know your duties. See to them. Meriar, could you stay a minute?”
Summarily dismissed Eriviara’s commanders began to file out of her office one by one, until only Eriviara and Meriar remained. The two griffinettes remained silent and motionless until the door closed behind General Greyleck with a soft thump.
Meriar stood patiently, her attention never drifting from Eriviara. Meriar waited for Eriviara to speak. As the seconds stretched into minutes Meriar could sense Eriviara’s unease grow. Meriar found herself perplexed at the abrupt change in Eriviara. The shift from proud and confident to anxious and restless had been palpable. Quirking her head Meriar brought herself to break the reigning silence.
“My Lady what do you need of me?”
“I need you to keep an eye on Nelan.” Eriviara spoke slowly, the words seemingly forced from her beak. “I love him, but…” her words trailed before returning with conviction. “But I can’t afford to trust anyone. Not even him.”
Meriar dipped her beak in understanding. “Aye, ma’am. I understand. Anything else?”
Eriviara’s emotions flared: “Keep him safe.”
Bowing before Eriviara Meriar slipped out of the shaded office, leaving Lady Orn Vorastrix surrounded by shadows. The door closed with a soft thud, and Eriviara’s final words echoed about her. “I can’t afford to trust anyone.”
* * * * *
While Erivara surrounded herself with her followers, her brother, Nelan, explored his old home, slowly. Nelan’s wings throbbed in pain and his feet ached with each step. Eriviara had set a brutal pace to arrive in Barton Hallow early. Before a trace of pink appeared in the morning sky, the griffins had set out, flying over the forested north.
The hard flight left Nelan exhausted. His body slumped, each step took far too much effort for his taste. He was a scholar, not a marathon flyer. He’d struggled to keep pace with the rest of the group, but he’d succeed in keeping up. It was a minor feat, but it left some pride in his beating heart.
Free from his little sister’s tyrannical journey Nelan found himself alone. Once the small troupe had entered Barton Hollow Eriviara had cloistered herself in father’s old den-now her office-with her band. Finding himself alone and with ample time to spend, Nelan explored his old home.
The old stone building was by far the largest building in Barton Hollow and it lay on the highest hill, but it was far too small to truly tower over the rest of the village. Rather, it benignly overlooked the cloister of homes called the Hollow. The building itself hadn’t seemed to change much. Old family portraits hung where’d they’d been since his days as a hatchling. Some furniture had been rearranged or had disappeared, but Nelan quickly felt the familiar rooms soothe and rest him.
Once he’d concluded his inspection, Nelan retreated to his father’s study. The room might have been considered large if it hadn’t been crammed full of so many books. Nelan shared his father’s love of reading, and his father’s study reflected their common passion. The sun’s rays lightly touched on the old desk and chair invitingly, beckoning him to rest his body.
Collapsing into the chair Nelan grabbed a book at random and idly began perusing through the pages. As he flicked through a dusty tome, flecks of soot flittered freely through the air. It quickly become apparent that the book had lain idle for sometime with a layer of dust coating the cover. Nelan flipped the book about reading it’s cover; Power of the Mistweaver Order: Politics and War.
“That’s odd,” he murmured an eyebrow raised. When he’d left the Kingdom his sister had been spending hours studying the Order’s teaching. This book would have been one of her old favorites, and shouldn’t have been gathering dust. The Mistweaver Order was an ancient tradition that pre-dated the Kingdom’s first war with the ponies, before the Skari clan had been driven from their coastal territories. The Order had guided the Skari clan for generations. Once the Mistweavers had acted as the guardians of the coastal dwelling Skari clan, but during the first war the clan had been forced from their homes, and into the heart of Kingdom. At that point the Order began to crumble among the superstitious Gallchobhar and Baldr clans.
Nelan remembered how his sister used to regale him with stories of the old Skari clan and Mistweavers. In the griffin’s patriarchal society the Order and Skari clan had been the only groups to place value in females. It was a place where Eriviara could be someone, yet here she was; in charge of the monarchy’s former secret police, the agents of the very patriarchy that kept griffinettes, like Eriviara, from doing something with their lives.
There’s a story there, he thought as he placed the tome aside. Selecting a book of myths and legends from the pile Nelan began half reading half scanning the pages. Having grown up on the stories of the monsters from myths and legends, he knew each story by heart. He flicked through the book before stopping on a story he’d been hearing an awful lot about of late, “Nightmare Moon, hu.”
It was a tragic tale of two sisters, ending with the youngest’s banishment to the moon for attempting to bring about eternal night. It was one of the many folk stories that came from Equestira, and yet it seemed the story was more than a fairy tale. Nightmare Moon, Luna as the Equestirans were calling her, had returned to the world after a thousand years.
Thumbing through Nightmare Moon’s legend, questions and thoughts bubbled inside Nelan’s brain. What he would give to spend fifteen minutes with Luna. There were so many things he wanted to ask, so many questions to have answered. Equestria and its residents was technically an enemy of the Kingdom, but Nelan was a scholar at heart and couldn’t bring himself to hate the country.
Nelan hummed merrily as he spent hours reading his father’s books. He found himself frequently returning to ancient myths; if the tale of Nightmare Moon was true what else was lost to time? The stories his sister used to regale him with when they were little now held a different meaning.
Completely engrossed in his readings Nelan missed the opening and closing of the study’s door. A soft cough interrupted his thought, making him aware of the other griffin in the room.
“Oh. Sorry,” he said bashfully. Looking up from his book his eyes met the intruder’s own. The griffentte stared at him, her hazel eyes bore into his own. Her broad wings and earthy feathers tickled his memory before a spark lit. “Oh! You’re Meriar, Eri’s friend, right? I didn’t recognize you without your uniform on.”
Her eyes crinkled into a small grin. “Yeah, a griffin can really change how they look with a uniform.”
Nelan bobbed his head in agreement. When he saw his little sister in her Gemerie uniform, he couldn’t help but be fearful. His little sister, the griffentte who’d made him listen to her as she read her books aloud, was beginning to scare him. Only part of it was the uniform she wore.
The pair of them stood in an uneasy silence for a moment. “So” Nelan said, desperate to break the ice. “Is there a book or something I can help you find? I’ve been in here all day and I think it’s the same way our father always left it.”
“No, no.” Meriar said with a chuckle. “I just wanted to meet you. We flew together for nearly two weeks, but we never actually spoke.”
“Yeah well” he said embarrassment creeping into his voice. “I had a hard time keeping up with the rest of you. By the time we landed each night, I couldn’t do anything but lay down and sleep.”
“Oh don’t worry about it. Eriviara didn’t start out so tough either” Meriar said, a genuine smile and laugh lighting her eyes.
“Eri?” Nelan was surprised.
“Aye. She could hardly herself before she came to us, but the Gemiehe and Legion toughened her.”
Nelan tried to imagine what life had been like for his sister, as she trained within the instrument of the patriarchy. He didn’t understand why she’d joined them, and he sure as hell couldn’t fathom how she’d become the one in charge.
“Meriar?” he began hesitantly, the words barely leaving his beak.
“Yes?” a playful grin danced in her eyes.
“How’d Eri get into the Gemiehe? I mean…” he trailed off, his right foreclaw gesturing pointlessly. He put it down. Unsure how to word his question, he turned to Meriar hoping she understood.
“I was wondering when you’d ask.” The mirth in her eyes dimmed to an ember. “Honestly, I’m not entirely sure about Eriviara’s experience. Everyone has their own story about how they found their way into the Gemiehe.”
Silence took hold of the room. The non-answer was unsatisfying, particularly to a griffin of knowledge. The lack of insight irritated him.
“So, she just suddenly appeared one day?” he asked briskly.
“That’s what it felt like,” Meriar shrugged. “I know she’d been working with Agent Glix for sometime, but I didn’t meet with her until King Alaric’s fool’s war with Equestria had begun.” This perked Nelan’s interest.
“How did you meet her?” he asked with growing enthusiasm.
“Oh, we were assigned together in Skyfall.” Meriar paused, she shuffled her wings and her eyes dropped to the floor. “Officially she’d been working in the 22nd Legion as a communication officer. Unofficially she was a Gemiehe agent, with Agent Glix as her handler.” Nelan waited for more details, but with none forthcoming he began to prob.
“What was the assignment? What were you doing?” Nelan was eager to hear news about the war. He’d had few opportunities to speak with Eriviara about the war, and she’d been oddly tight lipped about it.
“I’m sorry, that’s classified.” The response was curt and brokered no discussion. The amused ember burned out from Meriar’s eyes. Possibly it was the robotic response, or perhaps distrust simply ran in the family, but Nelan found himself doubting the claim.
The pleasant mood between the two griffins flickered out. The close quarters, once homey, felt cramped and uncomfortable. Silence reigned.
“So,” Meriar fumbled for words as she tried to breach the awkward wall between the pair. “You lived in this house then?”
“Until I was fifteen. Then I spent ten years in Learsi, as a student.” Relieved to have found a new topic, Nelan launched into stories drawn from his childhood. Meriar seemed eager to listen, and Nelan was happy to reminisce the past. Nothing in the Kingdom was the same for the young scholar and Meriar provided him an opportunity to revisit that happy time.
He regaled Meriar with tales of the past. He spoke with passion and vigor, the stories and memories happy ones. It was therapeutic for Nelan. It was an opportunity for him to revel in the past, when his sister’s greatest concern was when she might dance or listen to music, his own great worry being when he might return to his books, in the days of their youth. Meriar listened attentively, understanding that this was Nelan’s farewell to his old life. Nelan was beginning to realize the effects war had had on his country and family, and that things would never be the same.