The Coming Storm (35 page)

He put those grim thoughts aside. He enjoyed watching this.

Colath of course, was always a pleasure.

A master swordsman, he was quite skilled with a blade. Not surprising as Elon himself had taught him. It was how they’d become friends.

Once again, though, Ailith surprised him.

A good teacher could make even a poor swordsman better but never good. Jareth, for example, would always be only passable with a blade. To his credit, unlike some of his folk, he acknowledged it with neither rancor nor jealousy. Even the best instruction couldn’t make up for lack of talent. For example, with a bow Ailith could stand with most Elves without shame. Even so she would never be as good as Jalila. She knew, however, that she could be better and had sought instruction without discomfort.  That stood to her credit.

As a swordsman, though, she did have talent, a great deal of talent.  He understood now why she’d been gifted with those swords.

He and Colath sparred often but it had been long since Elon had been truly challenged by another. He and Colath knew each other too well.

For a moment he considered it then he nodded and signaled to Colath.

This Jalila hadn’t seen in some time. She sat up straighter. Her skills with a sword were more than good enough but still not enough to provide a challenge to the likes of either Colath or Elon. The bow was her weapon. This then promised to be interesting.

Across from her, Jareth leaned forward to prop one elbow on his knee, pipe to mouth, to watch closely as well.

Colath had wondered how long it would take. The lack of a true challenge had plagued them both, who knew each other so well.

“Oh ho, Elon,” he said as he stepped back. “It’s been some time since you have had anyone as worthy to spar with.”

Giving him a level look, Elon bowed his head. “A challenge would be welcome.”

Warily, Ailith looked from one to the other of them. She caught her breath at Elon’s words and tried not to grin as excitement replaced caution.

Colath gave her a warning glance but there was a lightness to it, too, a joy.

“I’ll warn you, Ailith. Elon is a master swordsman among our people, he taught me. Prepare to be tested.”

 A little apprehension flickered inside her, but with it was more than a little excitement and a rush of anticipation. Ailith’s heart leaped at the challenge.

Elon stepped before her, his dark eyes intent. He raised his sword in salute to her.

With a smile she matched the gesture.

He allowed himself a small smile.

It began.

Strike and counter, their swords flashed and rang. He had reach but she was quick and as surefooted as a cat. They circled, probed, their swords met and clashed. There were moves she clearly didn’t know but she countered quickly despite it, her blue eyes bright, watching. She catalogued each in her mind and filed it away. Elon could almost see her mind work.

Faster. Her eyes widened but so did her smile, turning brilliant, her eyes alight.

It was a pleasure and joy for Elon. It had been a long time since any but Colath had tested him this way. Her size and quickness added a subtle difference he hadn’t expected. That she was enjoying it as much as he did as well only added to Elon’s satisfaction.

Colath took a stand next to Jareth. His pale eyes, though, were on the two sparring. He tilted his head at Jareth.

“Do you hear it, Jareth?”

Puzzled, his eyes intent on the two in the center of the camp, Jareth asked, “Hear what?”

“Listen,” Colath said and closed his eyes.

Cocking his head, Jareth listened.

It took a moment and then he caught it, what it was Colath meant.

It was like music, the four swords, longswords and shortswords ringing against each other like point and counterpoint, a unique harmony all their own, almost as if each sword had a tone and when they struck they made a kind of melody. Watching them, he could see it, too, in their faces, in their bodies, as they moved like dancers around each other, circled, moved out and around with grace, their movements fluid.

It was both beautiful and awesome to watch.

“The music of the swords. When it’s good, it’s like this,” Colath said, his voice deeply content, “it’s like making music. It’s the only thing I regret in sparring, that you can only hear this while standing outside of it. A part of you can hear it but the rest is focused on strike, guard and parry. On sword against sword.”

Faster.

They two had the measure of each other now and so could test skill against speed.

It had been long and long since Elon had proved himself against anyone so talented.

He lost himself in it, wholly involved in steel against steel. He’d needed this escape and it was clear Ailith had as well, as she matched him stroke for stroke.

As good as Colath had been for Ailith sparring against Elon was incredible. It was both exhilarating and intoxicating. Even sparring with Dorovan hadn’t been anything like this. It was glorious.

Against Colath it had been like play, serious play but play nevertheless.

This, this was magic, balance and harmony, all in one. Thrilling. It had been some time since she’d sparred with Dorovan but it had never been like this. Without a doubt she knew now that Dorovan was a gifted swordsman and an excellent teacher but even he would have been tested here. Colath would have matched Dorovan by more than a little. Never had she thought to be challenged by even one truly good swordsmaster and now she’d sparred with two.

It was a kind of ecstasy, almost a delirium. Incredible, glorious.

She was getting tired, though. Tired people made mistakes and a mistake here would have serious consequences.

As much as Ailith didn’t want it to end, it must.

She looked up into Elon’s dark eyes to see in them the same pleasure, the same joy she knew was in hers, and smiled with contentment.

Elon caught her glance.

With a little regret, he nodded acknowledgment of both the pleasure and the end of this little idyll.

The heaviness that had weighed on him for some time was gone. It would return but for the moment he was relieved of it. This was only a momentary respite. There was a satisfaction in knowing it could be repeated and not just with Colath.

She was tiring though and wise enough to know it.

So was he.

Both stepped back nearly simultaneously.

For a moment Elon was still as he looked at her and then he nodded. Slowly.

“You’re very nearly Colath’s equal and will be very soon. Not long after, you’ll be an equal for me. With some work, some experience. But you will. I look forward to it.”

For a moment, Ailith stood and stared at him, stunned. Had he said what she thought he had said?

“As will I,” she said, exhilarated, amazed, and exhausted.

Jareth broke the spell.

“If you two are hungry, and you must be after that, there’s food.”

One more time, one last time, they looked at each other, taking each other’s measure.

Elon saluted her, sheathed his sword and gestured her to precede him.

With a grin, she gave him a little bow before she sheathed her own sword and turned toward the fire.

Everyone picked from the spits, it was simpler.

The weight settled on Elon’s shoulders once again. It was time to return to more important matters.

“What have we to expect tomorrow, Ailith?”

“The Gorge and the Bridge,” she said, looking at him evenly. “Jareth, how is your head for heights?”

He sighed in resignation.

Colath smiled a little. “He’s never been above the second level at Aerilann.”

“They sway, those trees,” Jareth complained. “I can feel it.”

Giving all of them a quizzical look, Ailith shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“They live among the trees, Ailith, the Elves do,” Jareth said but he smiled with obvious joy and contentment.

“You would be amazed, Ailith, to see an Enclave. It’s magic. They’re incredibly beautiful. Nothing like our stone and brick monstrosities or the blocks of the cottages in a village. Instead they have colonnaded galleries that surround the base of each tree, with tiered balconies above them. Vine-wrapped bridges span between them like lacework. More vines of all kinds drape everywhere, flowers and grapes dangle within reach. When a breeze blows, drifts of petals waft across the vale to dance like scented snowflakes.”

He smiled and the beauty of that smile in his plain face made Ailith’s heart wrench.

It surprised Elon that Jareth spoke so eloquently of his home. He knew Jareth loved Aerilann but Jareth spoke so rarely and even more rarely so glibly. Jareth tended more to plain speech, clear and direct. It said much that Elon hadn’t known how much Jareth loved to visit his Enclave, not only to see him and Colath but for the love of Aerilann itself. It shouldn’t have, it had that effect, his home.

Colath teased with gentle good humor, “Jareth, you’ve become a bard.”

Abashed, Jareth looked away.

“No fear, my friend,” Colath added, “I shall not tell. I don’t know that Aerilann has ever had a greater compliment. He’s right, though, Ailith. It’s beautiful beyond most measures but perhaps I’m biased as it’s my home. Jareth, however, has never seen half its beauty and look what it’s done to him. To truly see it, you must go up among the trees. From above it astounds even me sometimes. Jareth, however, has a problem.”

“He can’t bear heights,” Jareth interrupted. “I’ll manage. Somehow.”

For a moment Ailith debated warning him of what he would face in mere hours but then decided against it. Anticipation would be bad enough but imagination with a description to fuel it would only make matters worse.

“Between here and the Bridge we have a problem. We’ll have to watch, as a bend in the Gorge puts us as close to Riverford as we’ll get going this way. Below it widens but it’s deep woods. While we might pass through there, it would slow us down greatly and give good cover to any watchers. If Tolan has the Guard out looking we’re most likely to see them between here and the Bridge. It’s very open with not much cover.”

Elon nodded. “If you can See everyone in your mind, could you see them coming enough to give us warning?”

Frowning a little, she said, “I’ve never used it that way.”

She closed her eyes to see the stars around them in her internal sky, and found Elon, Jareth, Colath and Jalila. No others.

“I wouldn’t count on it,” she said, honestly, “but I’ll try.”

“That’s all I can ask,” he said. “We’ll keep our eyes sharp all the same. For tonight, who wants which watch?”

With a quick impish grin, Ailith said, “I’ll take the late watch.”

Elon was growing suspicious of that look. “Why?”

That sparkle grew.

“Well,” she said, with sly mischief, “for one thing, I am the youngest of you lot. By far.”

Jareth snorted laughter. “Oh, ouch. I am pained. You make me feel aged. Yet that was the spot I once claimed.”

With a jerk of a thumb at the others, she grinned merrily, “If you feel aged, imagine what they must feel.”

Colath rolled his eyes as Jalila shook her head.

Amused, Elon leaned back and folded his arms.

“More seriously,” she said, sobering. “I know these lands. I know the sounds of them. If something other comes wandering, I’ll be more likely to know it to hear it.”

Sensible she was, too. That was good judgment, Elon noted.

“Can you not sense them, the way you do people?” Jalila asked, curiously. “The borderlands creatures?”

“No,” she said. “I’ve never been able to. They are other. Darkness. I can’t See Dark things.” She took a deep breath. “When my father… went…  his light…”

She gestured around her face as if blocking her sight.

It pained her to say it. Sharply and piercingly.