Sons of Ironstorm - Book 1: Griffon's Rise

Chapter 9: Old Allies

"They did come, one unto the other, until all were gathered.

  Each Race, mortal and puissant, made for a singular purpose:

  To war against the Shadow and protect the Creator's Work.

  It was born into their blood, burned into their very bones.

  So they did ally with the Elves and form the First Alliance."

   - from druidic writings concerning the first Shadow War

His eyes cautious, Jerald slowly looked around the table.  Directly across stood the Quadan commander, Tromn, looking as wary as the king felt with a room full of humans gathered around him, deep in the heart of the city he marched thousands of leagues to assault.  Unable to sit as humans did at the table, he chose to remain on his hooves instead, thick arms folded over his breastplate as he waited for Jerald to bring their impromptu negotiations to order.  Beside the grim centaur sat none other than Lord Bethane, looking somewhat nonplussed at the centaur standing so close to him.

No less discomfited was Cadmon, sitting on Bethane's other side, both lords visibly fighting urges to stare at the big centaur sharing the small room with them.  Jerald frowned; not that he blamed them in any fashion.  It had literally been centuries since Humans and Quada had formally met in any way, not since the fall of the Cadremoor. While the exact reason for that alliance's failure had been lost in the fighting that followed the federation's collapse, one thing was certain: Humans and Quada hadn't parted on the kindest of terms.  While not exactly enemies, the two races regarded each other uneasily across the vastness of the Aramas, a situation further exacerbated by Urud's depredations against them.

That oppression had led directly to Tromn leading an army of thousands to Tal Morun with the sole purpose of laying siege to the city once their oppressor's capital, after feeling a wave of evil ripple across the ether from the human city.  Unfortunately, outside his own experience with the bleak vision he had witnessed in the throne room, he had no explanation for the wave of evil the Quadan mystics felt, though there was no doubt in his mind the two were related.  Equally unfortunate was the fact that, despite his lack of explanation, Jerald stood now in the dubious position of trying to negotiate a peace with a possibly hostile commander, with an army camped just outside his gates and little to give.

The pressure was enough to send a ripple of tension along Jerald's jaw.  A canny diplomat, much like his father in the face of enemies on every border, the wiry king managed to stifle his anxiety and paste a smile on his face.

"Thank you very much, commander, in joining us for this negotiation," he quietly said after clearing his throat to get the participants' attention.  "For now I'd like to keep the discussion low key and informal, with the understanding that formal discussions will take place in the near future.  Also, so the participants that I've invited to join us will understand the exact nature of our discussions, I'd like to keep all communication in Taren, if you agree, sir."

Tromn glanced quickly around the table at the handful of humans that had joined them shortly after the human king had led them to this place.  By the looks of them, they were uneasy in sharing such close quarters with the powerful Quada male. That being said, they were no less uncomfortable than he and Commander Vodun felt, even in the knowledge these humans were nothing like the ones that oppressed them during the Season of Pain.  Still, by all reckoning, they had made as great a sacrifice in extending this gesture of peace as he had in stopping the Quada assault on their walls. If he was an honorable male, he had little choice but to take advantage of the gesture and see peace forged between their races.