The Coming Storm (85 page)

From the western towers Jareth and Itan fired the pitch-filled pits on either side of the castle, then slid down the ropes to their own waiting horses.

Clattering through the deserted streets of the empty city, Elon, Colath, Ailith, Jalila and the archers raced for the Western Gate. The light of the fire pits on each side of the castle cast everything in a lurid, eerie glow. If Mornith outflanked them, they would be trapped in the city.

They sprinted under it, hearing the cries and screams of the borderlands creatures surprised by the firing of the pits. Ailith wheeled Smoke around, waiting until the last of the archers was clear of the city and then sent the gate crashing shut behind them.

Mornith might guess the city was deserted but he couldn’t take the chance it wasn’t. That would take some time, draw off some of his forces. Anything and everything they could think of to do to slow or draw them off, they did and would do.

Pushing their horses, they sought to put distance between themselves and the on-coming army.

The garrisons were already on the march in neat order.

From a distant dune they watched the flames, until the mass of the oncoming army blotted them out and then slowly retreated once more.

Their faces grim, Olend and Itan watched as new fires blossomed within the walls of Marakis like savage roses. Mornith had loosed salamanders within them.

Briefly, they had considered fortifying the castle further and leaving defenders in the city but the price of losing those being trapped within with no escape was too high. Elon would leave no one to the mercies of Mornith and the borderland creatures. No one to fuel Mornith’s blood and soul magic.

The Elves, Hunters and Woodsmen swept along the enemy lines as they could, firing arrows, and then raced away.

So it went, as night turned to day and the hot desert sun beat down on them.

Elon sent another messenger to the High King to tell him the city had fallen, that the city forces and the garrisons were in retreat.

There was little they could do save direct those that harried the enemy.

Elon was kept busy Healing those who got too close, Elf or man, and risked enemy arrows. None commented on it.

As the army approached with still no word from the High King, the garrisons were finally forced to stand and fight.

So far those folks had done little save dig pits or stand watch. They saw the numbers of the enemy, though, and most had more than enough imagination to picture what would happen if such reached the rest of the Kingdoms unimpeded. Not one of them didn’t know and accept that their numbers were few in comparison to the enemy. They knew that what they were about to do was suicide. Most had the company scribes record their names and quick sentiments to family and friends. Then they formed up in neat ranks. As they did, the scribes handed the precious pieces of paper to their commanders. Who presented those fragile scrolls to Ailith, before they joined their people.

Ailith watched, her throat tight, proud of them, to see them stand so firm, and yet grieving also, for what they were about to do.

Beside her, Elon stood close, knowing what this would cost her, as she knew what it cost him to watch his people as they swept along the enemy ranks. Colath stood to her other side with Jareth and Jalila behind to lend support.

Spreading out, the garrisons took their positions, the pike men set their weapons in the sand and braced them. Behind them, the swordsman waited, with their archers behind them.

A cloud of arrows rose from their ranks, to fall on the enemy.

They slowed the advance, if only a little, the archers firing arrows to keep them from being completely overrun, while the Hunters, Woodsmen and Men of the Desert tried to keep the garrisons from being flanked.

Instead they were slowly chewed up…but they didn’t give up a single foot, a single inch of sand without a brutal fight. It was both incredible and horrifying to watch.

It was also one of the bravest things Ailith had ever seen.

Even so, she finally had to give them the order to retreat.

What was amazing was that in the face of such a terrible foe they hadn’t and didn’t run. What was amazing was that, when given the order to retreat, they did. Neatly. The archers, Hunters, Woodsmen and Men of the Desert caught up the few survivors, swinging them up onto their horses as they could.

Then there was nothing more than strike and run, harry and harass, keeping out of reach while still trying to slow the relentless tide of the enemy.

Word from the High King finally came – the army was in position. Elon, Ailith and Olend gave the order to their respective forces to retreat. In quick order. No one hesitated. Where possible, those mounted took up those still on foot, riding double, pressing the horses hard but not enough to founder them.

With relief, they left the sight of the enemy behind the dunes and hills of sand.

Sand gave way to the waving grasses of the sloping plains.

Clearing a rise, they were greeted by the sight of the High King’s army spread out before them across the plain as the sun set.

It was an impressive sight, brighter and far more colorful than Mornith’s dark forces.

Banners and standards marked the encampment of each lesser Kingdom, the flags waved and crackled in the breeze. Tents were formed neat ranks. Smoke rose from campfires and the scent of cooking food filled the air.

It was good ground by Elon’s judgment, the natural slope of the plains would funnel Mornith’s forces to this spot. On one side the land rose up to form the cliffs over the sea, creating a small hill laced with boulders and rocks that had split the sandy soil. To the other, a higher rise of land, almost a small mountain, wooded and dense, thick with brush, led up to the sharp spine of the mountains between Marakis and the Elven Enclave of Talaena, the smallest and most isolated of the Elven Enclaves. Elon knew that the Hunters and Woodsmen of Talaena, bolstered by the folk of that Enclave, stood by to ensure that Mornith’s army would stay in its course, whatever the price.

Beyond this point, the plains opened up to the delta of the great river and beyond that, to the cliffs of Doncerric and the mountainous country behind it. The gateway to the Kingdoms as a whole. Here the torrent would be checked, or not. Once past here, as in the north, the torrent would become a flood.

No retreat was possible. If they were defeated here, the whole of the Kingdoms would lie open to the enemy.

The Elven archers split off to either side to join those who’d come from Alatheriann and Aerilann, Lothliann and Talaena. Filtering through the lines, the Hunters and Woodsman sought out the banners of their Kings to rejoin their fellows and perhaps get a meal. The tattered survivors of the battalions went through the lines to the rear. They’d done their job and more, they deserved their rest, with luck for them the war was over.

Olend sent his Hunters and Men of the Desert ahead to make their own place.

“Tell Daran I’ll be there shortly, once I get my people settled,” Olend said to Elon.

Nodding, Elon said, “I will.”

Dark eyes intent, Olend scanned the five that remained, his eyes taking in each one.

“If I see none of you again before the battle, fight well and stay safe,” he said, and then reached an arm to Elon, who clasped it. “You, too, my friend.”

At his side, Itan inclined her head in salute.

“We’ll see you all, after,” she said. “Next time, under better circumstances.”

“Yes,” Elon said, “next time. Stay safe, both of you.”

With a salute to Elon and each of the others, Olend and Itan  rode off to rejoin their people.

Only they remained now, the original five.

Elon scanned the familiar faces, these five who were known to him so well. As steady as always, Colath met his gaze. Beside him, Ailith’s steel-blue eyes were alert and aware, set. Taking a breath, Elon nodded to them both, then looked to Jareth, slouched as always in his saddle. Jareth dipped his head in return. Jalila, sitting as straight in her saddle as one of her arrows, waited quietly as always.

Elon led them to the High King’s tent. It was quite crowded already with Kings, generals, commanders and two Dwarves. Elon and Colath would stand for the Elves.

Looking up, Daran said, “Elon, good, you’re here. I heard you’d arrived. You might want to take a look at this.”

He spread out the map showing the deployment. Ailith took a quick glance at who was where.

She felt eyes on her like a weight.

Geric, staring at her with a hard glittering gaze. There was a light in them she didn’t like.

Once more she glanced at the map.
Where was he
? On the right flank, behind a contingent of Elves.

From Aerilann. Elon’s people. Her blood went cold.

Daran looked at them.

“You want to deploy your people?” Daran asked Elon. “You have command of them. Goras is taking his.”

She looked at the Dwarf as Daran gestured to him. This then was the Third of the Three, the Dwarf who didn’t want the Alliance much or like Elon for getting the Dwarves to agree to it.

Ailith looked at his graven face, the cold stone-gray eyes. No friend but an ally.

The Dwarf gave Elon an unreadable look. “We couldn’t get our people here sooner.”

Not soon enough to save Marakis or to aid the Elves.

Perhaps,
Elon thought. It didn’t matter. They were here now.

Tapping the map, Daran said, “I have a company here Ailith could take command of, not at the front but she’ll see battle all the same. She could be of use there since she knows how to keep her people moving. Avila has the wizards,  of course, so Jareth will have to speak to her.”

Separated again and Ailith in the thick of it once again.

Elon looked at her.

She raised an eyebrow and shrugged a little.

The thought of being parted from her, from Colath, from any of them again, was painful. There was no choice. If they lost here, none of it would matter. Mornith would kill them all.

“Colath,” he said, “will take the left flank, I’ll take the right. Jalila, with me. Jareth, as Daran says you’ll have to speak to Avila.”

He gave Jareth a sympathetic look, seeing the Master eyeing her recalcitrant wizard with distaste.

With an effort, Jareth kept from rolling his eyes but he appreciated the sympathy.

Avila was dressed in full robes, the high narrow collar making her seem even more stiff-necked than usual. She was likely very displeased to see him out of them.

“Daran, King Olend sends his greetings and said to tell you he’ll arrive shortly, once he has his people settled,” Elon said. “You might want to put his people here and here, to the fore of mine. Like us, they’re good mounted fighters, archers and cavalry.”

His eyes on the map, Daran said,. “Thank you, I’ll consider it.”

“Do you need me for anything else?” Elon asked.

With a shake of his head, Daran said, “No, not at the moment, unless you see something wrong?”

Nothing Elon could complain of that he could see but he’d chosen the right flank deliberately because Geric was there. He wouldn’t put Geric behind Colath or any other Elven contingent. He wanted Geric where he could see him.

Outside Ailith, Colath, Jareth and Jalila waited for him off to one side. He looked at their faces, these four. All dear to him.

He clasped arms with Jareth. “I wish I could keep you with me, old friend, but you’d best go. She’s unhappy enough you aren’t in that garment she insists you wear.”

Jareth laughed. “Don’t you remember, Elon? It’s still in my saddlebag as nice and neat as Jalila put it in for me last. I’ll go put it on and get back in her good graces.”

How long ago had that been? It seemed like an age but it had only been in late spring.

In all his long years Elon couldn’t remember a season that seemed to go by so slowly and so quickly all at once.

Elon allowed himself a small smile. “I’d forgotten.”

“There’s been a lot that’s happened since then. I doubt that robe will last long in the heat of battle anyway.”

He grinned wickedly.

Seeing the look in his eye, Jalila said, “Not if you have any say in it.”

Reaching out to her for an arm clasp, Jareth said, brown eyes glinting. “You know me too well.”

“I do, “ Jalila said.

Taking his arm, Jalila held it tightly.

This parting was painful, as it would be for and from all of them.

For a moment, Jareth and Elon just looked at each other and then their arms came together the same way, in a tight, strong clasp.

“Stay safe, Jareth,” Elon said, “and away from the front.”

A short bark of laughter escaped. “I’ll try, Elon, but you know Avila.”

“I do, too well.”

Clasping arms then with Colath, Jareth said, “You be careful, too, old friend.”

With a nod, Colath said, “You as well.”

Ailith half expected the same.

Instead, Jareth looked her seriously in the eyes and said, “I’ll still follow you anywhere you lead.”

Then he took her face in his hands, kissed her gently on the forehead and left, quickly.

A little startled, she was more than a bit touched by the gesture.

Jalila clasped arms with each of them, then looked at Ailith with her characteristic gravity and said, “I the same as Jareth.”

She stepped back a little way to give the three who remained a little privacy.

They looked at each other for a long moment.

It hurt to part again.

“Afterwards,” Ailith said, “we’ll do the forms. During, listen for the music of the swords.”

It seemed the right thing to say.

Colath took her arm, held it long and tight, his light-colored eyes firmly on hers. Her own grip on his wrist was just as strong.

“True-friend,” Colath said, “don’t get yourself hurt. No more arrows.”

It came as no surprise to Elon to have Colath name her so.

With a smile, Ailith said, looking Colath intently in the eye, “Make sure the only arrows you face are pointed at the enemy. Be careful, Colath, my friend.”

Then Colath turned to do the same for Elon.

Between them there was no need for words, it was there in the bond, they’d been true-friends for long and long. Still, both would feel an empty place where the other always was and a new empty place as well.

Without a glance backward, Colath left, to take command of their people.

Only Ailith and Elon remained.

Taking Ailith by the shoulders Elon looked at her squarely. His heart ached.

“Don’t,” he said, “get yourself killed.”

Looking up into his dark eyes, Ailith smiled and said, “Promises bind me, Elon. I can’t promise you that but I can promise I’ll do my very best to try not to. As long as you promise the same.”

“I can promise that,” he said.

It wasn’t enough.

A sharp spurt of fear went through her.

“Be careful, Elon. Geric is at your back. That’s not a place I want the man who was once my father to be. He has a look in his eye I don’t like.”

“My choice, Ailith. I wanted to be where I could keep an eye on him but I will be very careful. Stay alive for me, Ailith.”

She nodded. “You do the same. I’ll be watching, Elon. Always.”

He smiled a little.

Then, suddenly, he duplicated Jareth’s gesture, his lips on her forehead and was just as suddenly gone, with Jalila at his heels.

Suddenly bereft, Ailith was intensely aware of the feel of his lips on her brow.

Smoke nibbled at her hair, commiserating. She smiled crookedly.

For a moment, she felt very alone, then she took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. She stroked the horse’s nose.

“It’s just you and me again, old horse.”

As it had been at the beginning. Just her and Smoke.

A banner marked her command. Some of people looked a little startled as she made her announcement but the leaders followed her to what was now her tent in the center. She got them all sorted out and where they were located. Once the battle started it wouldn’t matter much anyway. The enemy would come at dawn, she was only certain of that. They’d been that close behind them.