The Coming Storm (107 page)

He sighed.

Hope blossomed again for Dorovan, it was clear in his eyes, in the empathy all Elves felt.

“Come,” Elon said. “We haven’t much time and we have lost even more.”

Surprisingly, he led them to the stables.

Jareth was puzzled but he followed without question.

Then he saw what was stabled in the end stall.

Startled, he said, “That’s without doubt the ugliest horse I’ve ever seen.”

It was.

For an Elven-bred it was surprisingly homely.

Its coat was a mottled brindle color, neither gray, nor brown, nor red, nor black but all of those. Even the mane and tail were mixed in color. Handspans shorter than most Elven horses, it was almost the size of those bred by men. Like all Elven horses its head was large, its eyes well set and clear but its head seemed too large for its body. One eye was dark, the other was light. Most Elven horses were all one color, with no markings. They were bred for it. Usually they were gray, white, or black, sometimes brown, not this all-color or no color.

For a moment Elon paused before he smiled slightly and sadly.

“As men would judge, perhaps. His name is Katar.”

A small smile tugged at Colath’s mouth, puzzling Jareth.

“I don’t understand,” Jareth said.

“It means sport,” Colath explained, amused. “Not sport as in contest but sport as an accident of birth. It’s not a word you would have had much chance to hear.”

The irony was subtle, as most Elven humor was but even Dorovan seemed to appreciate it.

“It suits her,” he said and his expression lightened a little more.

Taking a breath, Elon let it out and nodded.

He’d planned it that way from the moment he’d learned that Ailith’s beloved and faithful Smoke had died. The horse was to have been his gift to Ailith before their trip north. Where she would have been safe, had he not delayed too long.

“Yes, I think she’ll like the name.”

He’d wanted to see her smile, to see the way her eyes would sparkle when he gave it to her.

Would the pain ever ease? He thought not, hoped not, even as he took a breath against it. There should be payment made.

“They have much in common. It happens sometimes that one like this will be bred. This one, though, caught my eye. Smallish, usually with dull minds. He wasn’t. Normally, an animal like this would be traded to your people, Jareth. I was loath to do so. Your people put much value in appearance, where ours do not. He wouldn’t have been prized by your people as he should be. It wasn’t his appearance that would have put him aside among us but his size. Of his intelligence, there’s no question. After Smoke died, I thought immediately of Katar. I had him schooled and sent here. I’d meant to give him to Ailith when she joined the Hunters, he would have been an appropriate gift for such an occasion. They would have been a good match.”

Once, so short a time ago, he ‘d looked with anticipation on the moment he could make this gift. He had wanted to see the pleasure in her expression. Now the thought brought him up short, with a sharp pang of sorrow and bitter regret that he wouldn’t see it.

At the least, though, the gift would be made.

With gentle hands, Colath felt Katar’s legs, stroked his neck. He looked Katar in the eye and saw the look returned with cleverness.

In like sorrow, he nodded. “Yes, they would suited each other well. He has a good chest, good wind. Yet his size wouldn’t have been a strain on long hunts.”

Ailith had always looked so small on Smoke. The memory pained him.

With his eyes on the horse, it was too easy for Elon to picture Ailith astride, as he had many times before.

He put it aside. He couldn’t see it without the hurt.

Dorovan entered the stall, offered his hand and stroked the animal’s muzzle with his free hand when Katar lipped at his other palm. He nodded.

“Wait,” Colath said and ran lightly from the stable to return moments later with a bundle in his hands. An Elven Hunter’s cloak, spelled and oiled to repel rain and snow, and to give warmth in winter. “They sent her away with nothing but her swords. She’ll need this. It will be long but she can mend it.”

Jareth stepped into the tack room and came out with his travel roll, a stretch of waxed-cloth for shelter and a bed roll. He smiled grimly. “And this. I can buy another. It’s not much.”

“No,” Elon said, quietly. “It’s not. But it’s more than she has. That’s something.”

It was little consolation but consolation nonetheless.

They’d sent her with nothing.

He took another breath against the pain.

“Will you take them to her?” Elon asked and looked at Dorovan.

“Aye. Little though it is, as you say it’s more than she has.”

“You’ll have to be careful, Dorovan. One hint and all will be lost. She’ll have none of this and any chance of redemption will be gone. Her sacrifice will be for nothing. The Alliance will crumble and each of us will pay the price. You most of all. It’s your life the Dwarves will demand.”

Sourly, Jareth said, “And Daran will most likely accept. He’s not a temperate man. The Council won’t defy him on it.”

“Our people won’t stand for it. The war will then be among ourselves.”

Dorovan looked at them. “Think you I don’t know this? Why else did I stay silent? Why else did I leave her to face this alone?”

For a moment, Elon bowed his head. As he had, allowing her to go. For the thousandth time he wished he could go with her. She knew and understood, she’d said. Did he? Yet, if he went he couldn’t bring her back and there would be no hope at all.

“Watch also for Avila,” Jareth said, grimly. “She has her fingers in this. I can’t imagine she’ll sit idly by and accept that we’ll do nothing. She has no love for either myself or Elon, she would be pleased to see us both brought down. She has spelled hawks to be her eyes and ears, so she’ll be watching as well.”

“I’ll take care,” Dorovan replied. “It will do Ailith no good if I fail. I’ve served with the Woodsmen and Hunters, I know the ways. Elsewise, I’ll be only another Elf returning to my Enclave. No one will question Katar, since his appearance will render him little more than a pack horse in most eyes. An Elf might know the difference but they won’t question it. I’ll do well enough. What of the watchers, though?”

Jareth didn’t bother to keep the bitterness from his tone. “As a wizard, I should have the power to do something. It’s late, there’s been a lot of excitement today and those who watch will be tired. If they nod for a few moments, they won’t be surprised but they won’t comment on it either for fear of punishment. By the time they note that you’ve left, they’ll only see an Elf passing by with a pack horse, leaving as so many others are.”

From the bin by Katar’s stall, Elon pulled out a set of Elven tack, a halter and light saddle with another pang of regret. Or grief. He ran his hands over the fine tooling on the leather, set to match that of Ailith’s swords, then set it on Katar’s back. These, too, would have been his gift to her. He had so wanted to put them in her hands himself.

No one spoke much as they worked. Katar watched them alternately, his ears flicking but otherwise patient.

Finally Dorovan stood at the door with Katar’s reins in his hands.

“One more thing,” Elon said, suddenly, just as Jareth began his spell.

He held the piece of jewelry out in his hand. Men wouldn’t know what it was. Elves would. If Dorovan was caught with it, it was damning.

He held it out despite that.

“Give this to her.”

Colath looked at him sharply and Jareth’s breath caught.

A charm. A Veil charm.

Jareth recognized it. He had one himself that matched it. It allowed those of the race of men to see and pass through the Veil that guarded the lands of the Elves. Into Aerilann. He was stunned.

For a moment, no one spoke, then Dorovan opened his hand and Elon placed the pin in it.

“Tell her she may come to Aerilann if she has need,” he said. “She may not ask for aid, succor or comfort but it can be offered. She’ll find it there.”

Colath nodded assent.

What went on within the borders of an Enclave was the business of the Enclave. There might be a few within Aerilann who might question but they wouldn’t speak of it outside their borders. It was madness but it was a madness he shared. It would be Aerilann’s madness and Elon was First among equals there. If Ailith had need, she had one place she could turn.

He nodded and kept silent.

“If I’m caught with this…” Dorovan said.

Elon gave him a level look. “Then don’t get caught, Dorovan.”

A nod as a swift look passed between them.

Jareth cast the spell.

“Go now.”

They shut the door behind Dorovan.

Elon took a breath. It was done, the die cast. Whatever happened now was beyond his reach. Would it matter? He didn’t know. There was an emptiness within him, beside him. On the side where Colath was not.

Ailith. Her laughing steel-blue eyes. Looking down at him from the wall by the sea. A thousand pictures of her were in his mind. He had let her go. His heart twisted.

Colath looked at him. “Elon.”

A wealth of compassion was there in his true-friend’s eyes.

He shook his head and at Jareth’s questioning glance.

No, he couldn’t bear either sympathy or empathy, not yet. Not for a long time.

“It’s done,” he said instead. “You must be weary, Jareth.”

Weary, yes. Restless and unsettled, as well. Unsatisfied. The long ride and the burning hope. All for naught.

Jareth shrugged.

As if echoing his thoughts, Elon said, “I never saw this coming. I underestimated them. I won’t make that mistake again. I trusted to reason and justice alone. It wasn’t enough.”

Not in dealing with Men.

It hadn’t been enough to save her. Or him.

He stopped and shook his head.

“It’s done and all we can do is hope it can be undone. We’ve done all we can for her now.”

Colath watched him walk away.

With a weary glance, Jareth followed Elon.

Irresolute, troubled himself, Colath stood, unable to move. He glanced at the door to the street, wishing Dorovan well and safe, before he followed the others.

As he walked past the doorway onto the veranda, he saw Elon standing in the moonlight, arms folded, his eyes on the stars. For a moment he thought to speak but for this time he didn’t think Elon wished it.

He left his true-friend alone with his thoughts.

Jalila waited, looking beyond him to Elon as well. Her dark brown eyes met his, the sorrow in them deep. Their fingers meshed, comfort to comfort, for each other and for what they couldn’t offer Elon or Ailith.

Standing looking over the garden, a thousand memories went through Elon’s mind.

The soft feel of Ailith’s skin beneath his mouth, the flutter of her eyelashes against his cheek. Her small frame tucked into his lap or held close with his mouth to her hair.

He’d let her go.

His honor wouldn’t let him leave and hers wouldn’t let her stay.

Dorovan was fastening Katar’s lead rein to Aranath’s saddle when he felt eyes on him. A man. There was no man born yet who could pass unnoticed by an Elf. They hadn’t the stillness for it.

He gave the man no notice. Let him see what he believed he saw, another Elf preparing for a long journey homeward. It wasn’t unlikely for an Elf to leave at this hour. Many did to avoid the noise and press of Men at the gates during the day. With the light of the half-full moon there was plenty of light for his people to see by. Men wouldn’t fare so well.

And Ailith? He’d never asked. As he’d never asked a thousand other questions he now wished he had.

Without acknowledging the watcher, he swung up into the saddle. Aranath was a good horse, picking her way quietly down the street, Katar following.

He departed through the gate he should have if he were returning home. If there were any who marked such things, no one would have any cause to comment. It wasn’t a time when hawks were about but there were guards in the towers who watched. Still, he could make some speed without notice and he did. He needed to turn west once he was beyond the sight of those in the towers. There were no Elves there, Elves didn’t keep watch over the lands of men and men’s sight was short.

When he judged it safe, he turned them west and set Aranath to speed with a care for Katar’s shorter legs.

There was no need. Katar kept pace easily.

For the horses of men such a journey at such speed would be perilous. It held no danger for Dorovan. When he was close to the castle again, he slowed to scout the trail.

Once he’d been a Hunter and a Woodsman and he hadn’t forgotten his skills. Cutting trail was the simplest of them. So many men would leave a clear one.

He hadn’t expected so one so straight. He’d thought they might make an effort to conceal it but they hadn’t. It was so clear he had to wonder if it was true but there was no doubt these riders came from the now-distant city at the right place and the right time. They rode as Guards did, some fore and aft, the others to each side with one solitary rider in the center. Still, he doubted and hoped he didn’t follow the wrong trail.

It was past dawn before he caught sight of them and his doubts were cleared. They were still quite distant but he could see them clearly on the far side of the valley. They were still riding in formation. Eight riders and another, solitary, in the center. He didn’t need to see that one any more clearly, his heart and his blood knew her.

He glanced upward but no hawk winged in the sky. It was early yet in the city behind him and they’d been passing through woods. Still, he kept a wary eye on the trees and sky and his senses open to the presence of magic. He should know if it was at work.

The cool forests were behind them. This was high desert, barren and desolate, dusty, dry and sere. Around them rose-colored slabs of stone thrust out of the earth or had been cast down from the escarpments above them. It was hot but the air was thin and growing cool. Here little grew between the rough blocks of red and yellow stone except the sparse grasses and small shrubs. It was a forbidding place. The hot sun beat down upon Ailith’s shoulders, pressed like a weight. In her heart, through the bonds, Elon’s pain, Colath’s, and her own beat steadily.

Ailith rode in silence. There was no point in speaking. The Leader of the Guard had made that clear before they mounted. He’d spoken to her once.

He pointed to a pin on his collar. “This is all I’ll say. It’s spelled against magic, as am I. By Avila herself. We won’t speak to you except to give you instructions. If you speak to us we won’t answer. That was a condition of this service. Not one of us refused. You have no friends here.”

Handing her some travel bread and a skin of water, he’d mounted his horse. With no other comment, they rode out.

Abruptly, they now stopped. To break? She didn’t know. They’d been true to his words, they didn’t speak to her except to say go there or do this. When she’d needed to relieve herself, they gave no sign she’d been heard. Only when she stepped behind some bushes without comment did she know she had permission.

Now they were here, wherever here was.

“Get down,” the Leader said.

She got down. What else could she do? She had thought once or twice of using magic but there was no point. Even less so now.

He took the reins of her horse and set spurs to his own.

“What, you won’t even leave me even a horse?” she called after them in despair.

No head turned.

They abandoned her to disappear down among the tumbled slabs of stone.

Far above, a hawk turned lazily in the sky, circling, circling. There was no other sign of life. Otherwise, all was still and silent, with only the faint whisper of sand on stone. Already she was thirsty. She shook the skin of water she’d taken as she’d dismounted, thinking it this was only a brief stop. Not much there. She’d been sparing with it but they hadn’t given her much.

There was little shelter except beneath the stones that tilted precariously against each other. Searching her memory for all the tales she’d heard and read, she could remember little of lands like these. It seemed to be a place for basilisks, salamanders and mandrakes. She sighed. She’d had enough of those. Above her she heard the faint and distant cry of a hawk. She looked up even as it winged away.

Kneeling, she placed a hand in the dirt and dust, every sense alert to the slightest change in sound. Nothing. Of the creatures who lived in such a place? She didn’t know. Where to go? Which way to turn?

For a moment the urge to weep was nearly overwhelming, that she couldn’t mattered little but she knew that in this harsh place she couldn’t chance the noise or give in to it. The pain of it would shatter her resolve to survive. It was as well she couldn’t. Still, if she gave in to that wrenching, terrible pain, she would be vulnerable and revealed. The things that lived here might know by it that she was quarry and prey, weak. She fought with it and then mastered it.

The effort left her shaken and still uncertain.

Pulling out a small piece of travel bread she’d stuffed in her pocket, she nibbled on the hard biscuit against the pain in her belly.

A presence. She sensed it.

To her astonishment it was a familiar presence, a familiar light in her mind and a familiar sound. The scrape of hoof on stone. She knew that presence but couldn’t believe it. Dared not.

Nearby was a rock tilted so as to provide a little shade but not the deep shadows between the rocks. Those she mistrusted. If she was a creature of this place, those would be an excellent place to hide. Settling into the shade, she resigned herself to wait.

The rider was concentrating on the trail, which was wise and then he sensed her. He raised his head.

A familiar face, one she’d thought never to see again.

“Ala, Ailith.”

Their eyes met and her heart lifted a little. But still…

“Ala, Dorovan. You shouldn’t be here,” she said.

He bestowed on her one of his rare Elven smiles and her heart lightened even more.

“Well I know it,” he said, lightly, in his own tongue.

A thousand words had gone through his mind, all manner of things he might say to her. In the end, though, he thought these and the tone in which he spoke them were the best. Rarely did Elves speak of deep emotions, as he had to Elon and the others. It pained too greatly for those who couldn’t shed tears. It was best to speak lightly, to not deepen the wound.

She shook her head and answered him in Elvish. “You shouldn’t be here. You risk too much.”

The thought of him leaving again, of being alone again…

It was foolish to feel so lost.

Her words were light on Dorovan’s ears. It pleased him that she spoke the Elven tongue so well.

“Be light, young Ailith. I’ve had a care for my journey here.”

He glanced upwards, scanning the sky for watchers. He’d seen the hawk earlier and sought cover until it left. He dared not stay long, this wasn’t a good place for their people. Some of the creatures here would find a lone Elf a tasty morsel. That would do Ailith no good and cause her unnecessary grief. She’d enough of that. It was enough that she herself was in such danger.

“No one knows I’ve come and I can’t stay long else be missed.”

A moment of piercing pain, at the thought of leaving her in such a place, alone and friendless. He’d known  he might feel such but not the depth of it. He was an Elf, though and the master of his emotions. He put it aside.

He saw her at a loss for words and filled the silence. “I came to let you know you have friends still and they’ve sent you gifts.”

His words made no sense. Bewildered, Ailith simply stared at him.

Sliding off Aranath, he walked forward, her reins in hand Katar trailing him.

“From Elon,” he said, gently. “A gift he meant to give you in better times.”

Elon.

That nearly broke her. Her heart wrenched. She looked from Dorovan to the horse. It lowered its head to nudge her knee and offer its nose to her. Tentatively, she reached out to stroke that silken softness.

“For all he doesn’t look it,” Dorovan continued, “he’s Elven-bred. Elon chose him for you. His name is Katar.”

Her breath caught and then she laughed. Elon. He would have known it would make her laugh.

“Katar. How fitting.”

That laugh eased Dorovan’s own sore heart. He smiled again. “He said you would like it.”

“Yes,” she said, softly. “We’re alike then. Both of  us accidents of birth.”

That pierced him. “Ah, Ailith, I’m sorry. This wasn’t my intention.”

Her eyes came up to his sharply as a doubt and wonder were answered.

“You knew?” he asked, surprised.

A twitch of her mouth.

Taking a deep breath, she said, “I guessed. It’s not the same as knowing. And therefore, not exactly a lie.”

“How long?” he said, remembering that moment in the square, not knowing himself.

That secret had been kept for so long. It had been a long moment. If she knew and was forced to speak…

Giving him a level look, her tone was gentle. “As I said, I guessed. Which isn’t the same as knowing. I wouldn’t give them you as well, Dorovan.”

It shook him. To have come so close to disaster. However, she’d found the exception and outwitted the question. She was quick, no doubt of that, but he’d always known that. He was sorry he hadn’t known her sooner for her blood. His blood. He should have, it was in her hands, the ones  held her swords.

“It’s good to know, though,” she said, softly.

“I would have claimed you if I’d known.”

“And name me Otherling?”

“So many secrets,” he said.

“All wrapped one within another. I only found out what I was by accident, a chance overhearing of something my father said.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dorovan asked, finally. The question had worked on him. “I knew you were troubled.”

She sighed. “When you last visited I had only suspicions. He was my father. The changes were small, my fears vague. I didn’t know. I could put no name to it and didn’t know my magic was warning me somehow. I didn’t know my magic well enough. I suspect I’m about to learn it better.”

Experience was a harsh teacher, she allowed for few mistakes.

Looking about him, Dorovan despaired. She would or die. Either way, he would know. She was his.

“Learn quickly, little one. This isn’t a place for those of our blood.”

How could he leave her here in this place? Yet, he must.

“Do you know what this place is?”

She shook her head. “I’ve been wracking my memories but I can’t call it to mind.”

“The Escarpment. There are few places within the borderlands that are more dangerous to those of our kind than this. The Crown to the north, whence the goblins come. A few others. This place, though? Our race comes here rarely and for reason. The creatures here have a taste for magic and those who bear it. Particularly our people. It’s a place of salamanders and mandrakes and one creature we have no name for. It has a sense for us.”