Elvendude (2 page)

"How did the Unseleighe seize the nodes?" Samantha asked. "I didn't think such a thing was possible."

The King leaned back, the old wooden chair creaking loudly in the small, damp room. He looked at his hands as he spoke, a habit Samantha knew showed his embarrassment.

"Evidently, neither did our mages, none of whom are with us today. We acted so slowly when the danger was upon us. We'd received a message through the Oracle from Outremer. A warning, actually. Long ago, it now seems. This was during the new year's feast, the time of year we are least likely to be worried about anything, much less a confrontation with the Unseleighe."

Samantha's ears pricked at the mention of Outremer; her mother was from that Elfhame.

The King seemed to notice her interest. "Outremer tried to warn us. In fact, they
did
warn us, but in our arrogance we assumed that no Unseleighe had the power to conquer us. Our nodes were beyond danger, we thought. After all, had they not been in our Elfhame for millennium?" The King shrugged. "We all but ignored the message. We went about our affairs, sending only a few scouts to see if Unseleighe were gathering at the edge of our domain. Two of the scouts failed to return. We thought they were simply out exploring. That is, until we found their bodies. Or what was left of them." He glanced over at his wife's corpse, the pain and regret of his actions evident on his exhausted features. "We discovered the threat's true extent only recently. We attempted to communicate with Outremer, to inquire of the Unseleighe. Something blocked us. The message never arrived, and we assumed something had happened to
them.
"

Samantha nodded, understanding the complacency that had led to this situation.
Status quo. One of the reasons I left.
She looked away, down at the Prince who sat tiredly on the floor. The elfling nodded off for a moment, then jolted wide-awake.

Half brother,
she thought. Then,
No, he's my
brother.
Brethren. Kin. And I'm to be his protector.

"Even when the flow of one of the nodes ceased, we thought little of it at the time. This has happened before, particularly in the early days, and never proved to be permanent. What we did not know was that the Unseleighe had seized it, then used it to render their armies invisible to our Sight. Once the armies entered the domain, they set into motion the spells to seize the other nine nodes."

They might have prevented this, had the mages shown more . . . attentiveness,
she speculated, but saw no need to mention this to the King. King Traigthren already knew, in the most personal way, that his Court had failed to protect itself.

Samantha shook her head, the fatigue and vertigo still hanging on. "Who are they? I didn't recognize any of the banners."

"
Zeldan Dhu
," the King spat.

One of the guards groaned at the mention of the Unseleighe name. Fear masked the faces of those who remained quiet; evidently, they'd already acquainted themselves with Zeldan and his armies.

"They're not going to stop until we're
all
dead," the King said, glancing down at his son.

The elfling looked up, suddenly aware they were talking about him. The King stroked his head. "Don't worry, son. We're going to get you out of here. They will not get their hands on you. They'll have to kill me first. My death—" Another explosion roared, cutting off his sentence. This one felt closer than the previous one and stirred up a thick layer of dust. One of the faerielights flickered out, leaving them with only one. The group stirred, murmured frightened sounds. The King continued, "—is looking like a real possibility."

The dust settled, and the vibration rumbled to a stop.

"Have you decided where we will go?" Samantha said, though she had a good idea what the answer would be.

"The humans' world, of course. We must hide the Prince further, so that even if they see him in public, they will have no idea who he is."

Samantha frowned. "Of course, we have concealing spells. They give us the appearance of being human, and some ability to interact with them without practice. Sire, I've lived with the humans for many years. I have never once become suspect."

The King frowned. "Not good enough, my dear Samantha. They will not stop until they find every last one of the royal family. While one of us lives, they will never feel safe."

The King's request was becoming more and more disturbing; perhaps he had arranged some sort of surrender without telling anyone. Whatever became of this, he didn't sound like he would live much longer.

"The spell will activate when you and my son Gate back to the Earthplane," The King said, with finality. "The spell will not only give Prince Aedham the appearance of a human, he will . . ." The King's words trailed off as he looked down at his son, who had fallen asleep at his feet, curled up like a cat. "He will have the mind, abilities, and memory of a typical adolescent human male, thirteen years of age, with the regular growth spurts common to the species at that age. The Prince will remember nothing of the elven lands, Elfhame Avalon, his father and family, his dead mother, his mentors, his playmates, who have already died in this terrible battle. I will leave some of the details for you to work out once you both arrive."

Samantha wondered if the battle had touched the King's mind. This plan was, to say the least, extreme.
Total amnesia? No memory of Avalon?
She masked her doubts carefully. This was her King, and she was a faithful subject. Not only was it heresy to question him, the remaining members of Elfhame Avalon needed a single, strong ruler. They needed unity, now more than ever.

Survival. In its own perverse way, the plan makes sense.

"Your hesitancy," the King said slyly, "
is
understandable. But this is the only way I can be certain my son is protected. This total lack of memory will prevent any Unseleighe from reading his mind, if only by accident, and discovering his true identity. With the proper adjustments, he could be your son."

"It will be done," Samantha said without hesitation, although she didn't much like the notion of making herself appear older to become his human "parent."

The King stood, regarding the remaining soldiers of his Guard. "We must protect our youngest. Our children, even older children who are serving me in the capacity of adults, will go first. If we lose the nodes altogether, at least our most precious commodity will survive. You," he said, pointing at an elfling in full battle regalia, "and you. Step forward. Prepare to leave your heavy weapons behind. The less metal the better. And remove your chain mail. Yes, that's it."

Ethlinn and Iarbanel began stripping all metal from their battle dress.

"If we have the power, we will all go at once. If not, and if the rest of us survive," the King said, gesturing toward the remaining elves in the small room, "long enough to follow you in a later Gating, it may be several years, or decades, relative to yours and the Prince's arrival. Or possibly even before." The King offered his first smile since her arrival. "We might already be there."

"Yes," she agreed. Time to think about the consequences of
that
situation later. "Gating becomes inaccurate under these conditions," she said to assert her knowledge on the matter.
Better to let the King feel confident with who he's trusting his heir with.
"We do have two nodes left," she pointed out, "which is about double what we would need to Gate the survivors.
All
the survivors."

The King leaned over and gently woke his son, who rose with a start from his comfortable, curled position. He spoke in an undertone to the Prince, apparently explaining to him what was about to happen.

On Samantha's right, Niamh muttered loudly to himself as he diddled with what she perceived now to be a weapon of some sort. Its appearance suggested a cross between an AK-47 machine gun and laser light show equipment. Thick cables ran to what had to be banks of batteries, cradled by a backpack. Niamh looked up at Samantha and the King, his face aglow with success.

"Sire!" Niamh said, struggling with the backpack. Even for an elf, Niamh was small. "I think I have it this time."

"That's . . . wonderful news, Niamh," the King said. He did not sound excited. Apparently, Niamh had "had it" before. "We robbed it from the humans some time back," he said, waving absently at the weapon. "The mages thought they might be able to amplify magic, enhance our fighting capabilities. But in Underhill, the godsforsaken thing refuses to work."

"Have faith!" Niamh said. "There. That pebble." He pointed and aimed at a small stone in the corner of the chamber. Samantha stepped back in reflex; no one else bothered.

Niamh closed his eyes, squeezed a trigger. Samantha held her breath as nothing happened.

"If only we had a mage," Niamh said dejectedly. "I know we could beat the Unseleighe back, quick like."

"It worked in the humans' world," a new voice said.

Samantha turned to see Marbann, one of the King's knights. Marbann was easily the tallest elf in the chamber, strong and muscular, with blond curly hair and particularly long ears, even though he wasn't all that old. He wore the tunic and chain mail of battle, though the latter had taken some major hits. The tip of his sword was broken, the blade bent, his right arm bloodied. When he saw Samantha, his expression softened, then became sad.

Thank the gods, you're alive,
Samantha thought as she ran to embrace him.

"We must leave now," Marbann said urgently, releasing himself gently from Samantha's arms. "The Unseleighe are crossing the moat now." The news did not seem to surprise anyone. As Marbann spoke, Samantha examined his injured arm, remembering her own leg wound when she saw the blood. Both wounds had stopped bleeding; they would both need more comprehensive healing later.

"Another node has gone over to the Unseleighe," Marbann said.

The King groaned and looked down at his son. "That last hit. We must get out of here now. While we still can."

"We'll have to go a few at a time," Marbann said. "Then, if it holds out . . ."

"Samantha, you take my son," King Traigthren said. "You will both leave immediately."

The Prince stepped backward, away from Samantha, toward the rear corner. "I don't want to go, Father," he said simply.

"But you must," the King said impatiently. "You have no choice!"

"I will be deserting the family!" he wailed. He stood resolutely with his arms crossed, with such apparent unwillingness to leave it looked like a direct levin bolt would be necessary to persuade him. "What will you do to protect yourselves if you cannot escape? You need as many adults here as possible."

"You are not an adult," the King said. The Prince flinched at the insult. "And there is very little family left," he added, glancing at the shrouded body of the Queen. "You are still a child, and you haven't even begun to explore your magical potential. I suspect you could be a powerful mage someday, but now is not the time for debate!"

"If you activate the spell to turn me into a human, won't that divert power from the nodes?"

"Node," the King corrected. "We only have one left."

"My point precisely!" the Prince said. "This plan to hide me with the humans . . . I have doubts."

Apparently he wasn't missing a thing when he "slept". . . .

"
Doubts
you may have, but say in it you have
not,
" the King said, his temper slipping visibly. "You are more liability than asset right now."

Samantha thought the argument would soon escalate into a full battle; the elfling was trying to be a hotheaded adult and succeeding nicely.

"You don't understand Zeldan Dhu the way I do," the King insisted. "I know you're trying to be mature, but now is not the time to grow up. Do as I say. You don't even have to listen to reason. Just
obey
it."

The Prince's face changed slowly from anger and self-righteousness to sadness and, inevitably, tears. The King went to his son and held him for a long time, then whispered something inaudible to him. The Prince nodded his reply.

"Farewell, Father," the Prince said. His shoulders drooped, and his gaze dropped to the floor. In his own moment of defeat, his posture mirrored his father's. Then he looked up, jutted his chin out, and marched over to Samantha's side, with a single tear trickling down his cheek.

He's trying to look so strong, and failing so completely. He's crying inside so loudly the enemy can probably hear it.

"We're ready," Samantha said. "Who will summon the Gate?"

"I will," Marbann said. "With your assistance, sire," he added, bowing deeply.

"Of course," the King said, and the guards cleared an empty space in the middle of the chamber. Marbann and the King stood facing each other an arm's length apart, then raised their arms, forming a circle. The faerielight dimmed as a low resonant hum began to vibrate in the floor, then reached up the wall. Several long moments passed with no visible sign of the Gate, and Samantha began to worry.

Gods help us all if they fail,
she thought.
Have the Unseleighe already seized the remaining node while the King squabbled with his son?

Light flickered in the air, but this was not the comforting arc of Gate light. Power popped and crackled and began dancing across the floor with the familiar power of destruction.

Not another levin bolt . . .

She instinctively grabbed the Prince and dropped to the floor. The wail of the incoming blast reached even their ears, deep below ground level.

"Everybody!" Samantha screamed, oblivious to royal protocol. "Get down! Levin bolt!"

Marbann turned toward Samantha, but made no move to follow her suggestion. His look was maniacal and desperate. The King remained standing, arms raised. He also seemed to be ignoring the approaching blast.

When it came, the Prince had covered both ears against the deafening wail of the bolt, the roar drowning out his screams. The room rose and settled as the concussion rippled through the castle like an earthquake, throwing everybody in the small chamber to one side. Except the King and Marbann; they stood in precisely the same spot, this time protected by the reddish hue of a shield, surrounding them in a sphere.