The Coming Storm (48 page)

Ailith looked to Elon and tilted her head.

“That trail leads us close to Riverford. To the castle and all within it. Each of the others takes us further east and north. Where would you like to go?”

“Which one will take us closest to where Gwillim and his people wait?”

She tilted her head at the last. “That one.”

“If Tolan learns we’ve gone into Dwarven lands, he’ll suspect we’ll come out through one of these ways. I won’t underestimate him again. We’ve lost the trackers for a time but they may find another way. Keep weapons close at hand and eyes sharp.”

This was more of that stony land, with huge boulders and monoliths on every side and massive tumbles of rock. It was eerily silent, broken only by the clatter of their horse’s hooves, but the stark and barren sparseness of the land wouldn’t encourage many creatures to make this place their home. Few trees grew here. What did grow were small scrubby bushes and grasses that had taken root in the cracks in the rocks or the spaces between the boulders. The trail was not always clear to Elon but Ailith led the way surely.

Jalila spoke suddenly. “Movement.”

They’d been at a walk, the better to pick their way through the rocky pathways.

“Where?” Elon asked.

She’d been watching, mentally picking bow shots to keep her aim true. “To our right.”

“What is it?” he asked.

With a shake of her head, she said, “I only caught a glimpse of movement and dark fur.”

“There’s another to our left,” Colath added, putting hand to bow. “Keeping low between the rocks. Kobolds, then.”

His look was significant. Elon knew it for what it meant. At least two. As that first day. But probably more as this was their kind of country.

Elon drew his bow.

“Jareth,” he said, quietly.

“I see them,” Jareth said, quietly, and dropped his reins to leave his hands free.

Zo was trained to answer to his knees.

As well, both Jalila and Ailith now had their bows in hands, arrows notched but bowstring slack.

Kobolds.

Ailith only knew of them from the tales of others, she’d never seen or faced one herself, those creatures preferred darker places. Riverford lands were mostly too open and exposed for a kobold’s comfort.

“On my mark, ride,” Elon said. “Now.”

The horses, having caught wind of the kobolds, needed no urging.

That flight was the signal, it seemed.

Ailith saw a kobold scrambling between rocks and let fly. It was astonishingly quick as it twisted to avoid her arrow, which bounced off a rock but turned the kobold’s path. Other arrows sang, to much the same effect, only one kobold squealed in shock.

Mage-bolts had much better effect. There were no squeals or squawks, they simply dropped. Which was as well, since there were many more than two.

After missing two more, Ailith concentrated on driving them away, firing arrows at them only to turn them. Elon, Colath and Jalila had more success, Jalila hitting two, Elon and Colath  each hitting one. Ahead was the canyon through which they had to pass, dark and narrow, that would lead out of this killing ground.

Yet what lay within it?

“ ‘Ware, Elon,” she shouted.

He looked ahead, saw the looming mouth of the canyon and understood the warning. The others glanced ahead as well.

“Jareth?,” Elon called. “Discourage those behind us.”

Her bow would be of no use to her there. Ailith slung it as she neared the canyon entrance and drew her swords instead.

There was a flash behind them as Jareth let loose a massive mage-bolt and then urged Zo up beside her.

Flinging his hand forward, he sent a mage-light flying ahead as Elon drew up on Ailith’s right. Behind them a bow-string sang as Jalila kept their rear protected, Colath at her side in case of need.

The mage-light revealed a boggart just as it charged but Smoke ran right over it as another came from the side. Elon slashed at it as it leaped at her, sent it howling back as Jareth let fly with another mage-bolt. Ailith heard another boggart howl.

A mass of them appeared up ahead where the canyon forked. They meant to push them the wrong way, the other fork was a dead end.

“Jareth,” she shouted, “the boggarts. They block our way.”

He looked, nodded and gathered up power. The blast of mage-light in that bolt was nearly blinding but the boggarts not killed by it staggered and shook their heads, blinded.

A few were trampled beneath their hooves as they shot out into sunlight. The way was clear, with nothing before them but the open highlands.

In their short absence from Riverford Tolan had set other plans in motion. A day and restless night later, late in the morning they came upon the village where they had left Gwillim.

The quiet little village was quiet no more. There were unmistakable signs of fierce and furious battle along the walls. An effort had been made to raise and fortify them, to some success but they were now badly battered. So, too, was the heavy wooden gate with its banding of iron that had been closed each night.. It had been smashed open at least once and then repaired with heavy oak crosspieces. Smoke rose thickly from within the fortifications, far too much for a simple fire in a grate.

Someone saw them coming and pulled the gate open quickly.

It was shut just as quickly behind them.

Gwillim, a bit battered and bruised, waited for them wearily.

One of the houses was still burning, at another a gaping hole that revealed the shattered remains of a table. Somewhere a woman wailed in grief and a child cried inconsolably. Everywhere they looked they saw wounded.

Seeing where they looked, at the remains of the burning house, Gwillim said wearily, “Salamander.”

Raising an eyebrow, Elon said, “This far north?”

With a exhausted sigh, Gwillim nodded. “Too right. We weren’t prepared for it, don’t get them much. It was over the wall and setting blazes before we realized what was happening. Ogre took the gate.”

He shook his head. “It started a few days after you left, after the drows came. They followed you but I’m guessin’ since you’re here you managed to survive them.”

“Barely,” Ailith answered.

“Ah, my sweet rose of Riverford, you’ve come back,” he said, but his heart clearly wasn’t in it.

She smiled though, at the effort.

“Leave off, Gwillim,” she said gently.

Smiling back at the retort, he said, “It still does my heart good to see you well, Ailith. All things considered. Any rate, I’ve lost two of mine and three of the Woodsmen. This started a few nights after you left and has gone on every night since.”

Elon looked around. “How long will the walls hold at this rate?”

With a knowing look at him, Gwillim said, “Two, maybe three more days.”

If they were very lucky but there were a number of listening ears so Gwillim was careful. It wouldn’t do to cause a panic. He gave a look to Elon.

Nodding his understanding, Elon said, “How far is the next nearest village?”

“A day, a little more. Hard riding?” He shrugged.

The two looked at each other.

“Where will we take them then?” Gwillim asked.

Both glanced at Ailith. These were her lands and her people.

She nodded. “In the end, to Raven’s Nest. It’s the only place left to go, and we need to go there anyway. If I cry sanctuary, they’ll have to let us in.”

“I thought you said Riverford was going to attack there,” Gwillim said, glancing from one to the other of them.

Elon said, “Raven’s Nest has stronger walls than these. Two or three days here and certain slaughter at the end. A week to Raven’s Nest, maybe a little longer. Fighting there perhaps but more of a chance as well.”

Looking at the dazed people wandering around, at the battered walls and badly damaged gate, Gwillim sighed.

“There’s no real choice is there? That gate, I was hoping it would hold through tonight. To be honest, I doubt that it will, unless we shore it with some of the wagons, which are our only means of escape. All right, then.”

He turned to shout orders. Danalae and Maret came running, both nodded sharply as he gave each commands, then turned to race away again. Danalae with a nod of greeting to Ailith.

Word passed quickly. There was no outcry, most were too weary.

In moments, as word went around people poured out of their homes with their most precious possessions in their arms to load on wagons and horse-carts. Folk such as these owned little and needed little, just their tools, what few clothes they could afford, food, water, their children and what livestock they thought they could save. No one would travel on foot. The monstrous wood sledges were hauled out, those massive wagons that were mostly an open platform used to transport the big logs out of the forest to where the sawyers could cut them. All those that didn’t have their own wagons piled onto the oxen-drawn sledges.

Still, it was a sad sight to see.

As the exodus snaked out from the gate Elon looked up at the sun. A day. They wouldn’t reach the next village until after dark unless they pushed hard. Very hard. They would have to. Most of these people seemed to understand that. Children were in carts or clasped in the arms of their mothers or fathers. Some few people rode horses but only a few. Some of those few rode the big draft horses as they pulled the sledges. For those beasts, nearly as tall as an Elven horse, these would be light loads compared to what they normally pulled, even with those astride.

There was little complaint. The nights they’d endured since Elon and the others left had inured them to disaster. Most were exhausted. Few hadn’t realized they had to leave, and soon. Some looked back longingly at what they left behind, knowing full well it was likely they wouldn’t see those homes again and they shed a tear or two.

Watching, Elon shook his head, trying to imagine the folk of Aerilann doing the same. It couldn’t happen among his own folk. He couldn’t imagine it. If that dark flood Ailith had seen did wash up against the Veil?

His people could fight, unlike these, it was bred in their blood and bone, along with their ties to the land. They could fight and would fight. And die.

It was somewhat of an ease to his mind to know that even stopping on his way Talesin would be there by now. The wards would be strengthened, the Hunters and Woodsmen would be girding up, as well as any and all of the blooded adults.

The surviving Hunters and Woodsmen here, even the wounded who could still ride, formed up on each side of the procession for protection, chivying the refugees along.

Gwillim rode up on a roan, waving at Ailith to keep her seat on Smoke.

“No, Ailith, he’ll be more use to you than me still.”

A horse cart came up beside them.

“Hai, Ailith,” Danalae said, with a tired smile of greeting. She was a striking woman rather than a pretty one, with piercing dark eyes and close-cropped short hair.

“Hai to yourself,” Ailith answered.

Two bright young faces popped up from the back of the cart to wave at her.

She smiled.

“Goodness, Danian, you must’ve grown a foot since last I saw you. You’ll be taller than your papa soon.”

The boy grinned, showing gaps in his smile but the circles under his eyes were evidence of too many frightened, sleepless nights for a small boy. His sister was more shy.

“Shall we?” Gwillim said, as the last of the villagers passed them by.

Nodding, Danalae shook up the horse and the little two-wheeled cart trundled away.

They went as well, the long string of wagons and carts stretching ahead of them as they rode alongside it.

The pace was hard but not so hard as to leave the refugees with nothing to spare. If it came down to it, Elon wanted to be sure there was enough in reserve to make a run for it if need be. It was a delicate balance to maintain. How hard to push yet leave strength remaining? Elon glanced at the sun worriedly. It was lowering fast.

“We’ll make it, Elon,” Gwillim said, with a grin, eyeing the sky as well. “Just.”

That eased his worry only a little.

Ahead of him Colath and the others rode out a little to watch for surprises. Bow in hand, Jalila scouted along the length of the line, standing in her stirrups to see better but staying within close enough range of the train that she could return to it swiftly. Jareth rode in the middle of the string, so he could go forward or back as needed. Too many times of late Elon had found himself surprised, this time he wasn’t taking any chances.

He glanced around for Ailith.

She and Gwillim chivied along a laggard at the back of the line, then prodded or coaxed those at the rear to keep the pace a little better. He saw her lean down to make faces at a cranky child to get it to laugh before turning in answer to someone else’s call.

These were her people, those she’d been born and bred to rule and serve. Watching her bully some, coax others, listen intently to their fears, doubts and hopes, he had no doubt she would be good at it or that she loved this land and these, her people.

That they in turn loved her it was clear, voices called to her constantly, or hands were raised in greeting.

In the west the sun lowered to become a brilliant orange ball that sank toward the horizon, just beginning to set as they neared the next village. There was no doubt these folk, too, had seen hard nights. Battered but intact, the gate still held but the walls showed evidence of hard wear, scratching and tearing.

There was a shout as they were spotted and the great gates slowly swung open.

Gwillim rode ahead to find his people stationed here.

Inside, there was less damage but sign that something had gotten through. Carts full of stones trundled past, rushed to a far wall. The damage there was hidden behind one of the cottages.

Scanning their rear, Elon signaled to the others to join him to guard the stragglers against the possibility of an early attack.

“Firbolgs tore down the back wall, a kobold got in and some boggarts and boggins. They’ve got a lot of dead. They’re trying to get the wall finished before the sun sets,” Gwillim said, as he rode up on his return.

“We’ll set elf lights above so we can see what comes, you should warn folks about them. We’ll all take places along the walls, Jareth will go where he’s most needed.”

Gwillim nodded. “Someone’s bringing food around, this might be the last chance we get to eat before morning.”

As the sun settled below the horizon, an awed young woman brought Elon a bowl of thick stew and a slice of bread. They didn’t see many of their folk in this region. She looked up at him with huge eyes before she hurried away.

Colath had far more of a problem. It was something in the look of him that had always drawn the eyes of the people of men, especially their women. More than a few of those eyed him with alarming interest. It wasn’t the first time he’d faced such attentions but it never grew more comfortable.

Most dispersed when Ailith, seeing his predicament, signaled to Jalila and the two of them settled to each side of him to keep him company while they ate.

Those who couldn’t fight were gathered in the largest secure building in the village. Men and women with young children, old people and the more seriously wounded. The lesser wounded who could still fight were on the walls.

A shout and then another. Tossing his bowl away, Elon ran. So did the others.

The weakened wall was under assault. Firbolgs and an ogre come under the uncertain light of the gloaming.

Jalila had her bow out and one firbolg was down.

There was a thundering bang. The gate.

“Colath, Jareth,” Elon shouted.

Hearing the sound, Colath had already turned, his bow in hand to race toward the embattled gate.

Jareth, too, was on his way, close on Colath’s heels.

It had begun in earnest. Five elf-lights lit the growing darkness. Elon needed to see. Gwillim waved him over from the flat top of one of the cottages. The height was low enough. Moving at speed, Elon leaped, long legs and Elven strength carrying him up to land lightly on the low roof.

Looking down enviously, Gwillim said, “I had to use a barrel.”

He shook his head then turned and gestured. His expression was grim.

From the rooftop Elon could clearly see most of the area around the walls. At least five ogres, dozens of firbolg and a moving mass of dark bodies that could be almost anything. Boggarts, boggins, kobolds all swarmed and climbed over each other to get to the wall. The ogres pounded the stones with both monstrous fists, trying to batter the walls down. Elon could hear the thuds. He could feel them. The gate, too, was under steady assault.