The Revenge of the Elves (10 page)

“It must have been hard to give it up, after all this time,” Conrad reflected. He knew. Giving things up that one had grown accustomed to was painfully difficult.

“No, strange enough, it wasn’t. Though at first I admit it frightened us. It felt as if the very ground we stood upon was pulled out from under us. But it was never ours anyway. If protecting it meant removing it from the Tower, so be it. I think every sister felt that way.”

“But what will you do now?”

“Continue on as before. Study, grow things, shelter the needy. And recently we have begun to discover some things about us that require more serious contemplation,” she said.

“Magic, you mean?” He didn’t know much about it, but he knew another woman who was adept. Sidra was not unlike this sister in many ways.

“Yes. The aptitude for it seems rather abundant amongst the sisters. This has come as a surprise to us, particularly me!” she confessed. And yet I am very comfortable with it now. And he is not frightened by it.

“Do you miss the others much?” he asked as he helped Tamara up and over a mound of earth.

“Yes, I do! The sisters are my family. There is e’er someone willing to listen, and I always have companionship. I have known nothing else since I was a child.”

“My impression of the sisters was very different from what you describe. I thought you all were secretive and mysterious…. and hard!” Conrad admitted.

“Hard? How far from the truth impressions can be. Serious perhaps. Well, some of us at least. Competent. But not one of the sisters is cruel or unfeeling,” Tamara said. “We do have secrets to protect. Well, we did…” She frowned. “You are among the very few who know anything at all about the map.”

“Forgive me if I’m asking things that are inappropriate, but I’ve been particularly curious about this,” he said, hunching his shoulders and looking uncomfortable. “You said earlier you regret not having a family. How hard was it to renounce that part of life? I don’t know what I would have done all these years without Caroline.”

“Renounce? What makes you think I’ve ever had to renounce that possibility? We’re free to do as we please,” Tamara explained, but she wasn’t surprised he assumed that. Everyone assumed things about Parth. “There is no vow of celibacy that we must take, nor have any of us promised never to fall in love or have families of our own. It’s just that the responsibilities of the Tower seem to take over and leave one with no time or opportunity for worldly relationships.”

“I just took for granted….”

“Everyone does,” she replied. “There’s no book of rules we must follow. We find our way like everyone else does.”

A branch crashed to the surface nearby and the leaves rustled in the distance. A wind lifted her skirts and pushed her forward. Swatting at the cloth, she looked back and walked straight into Conrad. He swung around, surprised by the sudden contact. Startled as she was, Tamara slipped and fell. Reaching out, he caught her. For a moment she didn’t move, suspended in his arms with her head pressing upon his chest.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” Tamara said, pushing away. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Conrad didn’t let go.

“Shhh!” he put his finger against his lips. “That was more than wind,” he replied. His other hand was already at his belt and a small dagger gleamed in his fingers.

Her heartbeat accelerated. His body was warm against her own and his warning seemed unimportant. Her legs were still unsteady. “I can’t catch my breath,” she whispered, her nostrils flaring.

“Lean upon me, Tamara.” He’d never called her by her name before. “Careful, don’t fall again. Can you walk?” His eyes passed over her head to the trail beyond and he listened to the noises in the forest.

He took a small step closer to her so she could rest better against his shoulder, and they continued down the path, his knife at the ready.

Chapter Eleven

“Run, Maringar! Run!” Beolan shouted. His friend was trying to keep up but his legs, no matter how powerful, weren’t long enough to hug the big horse’s flanks and he struggled to keep his seat on the slippery saddle. The water rushed madly underneath.

The sky was as dark as pitch though it was no later than midday. Enormous droplets of rain fell heavily everywhere, making it treacherous to ride and impossible to see. Thunder cracked across the heavens, reverberating off of the sheer walls of rock that lined the gorge on either side of them. Lightning lingered in the air far longer than it should have. The valley was filling up from the downpour, and water cascaded into the legs of their horses as they headed for the path leading to higher ground. The mares stumbled and slipped on the loose surface.

“Don’t worry about me,” the dwarf yelled. “I’ll follow you. Just lead the way!”

Beolan wiped his forehead and tried looking further ahead than the few feet the rain allowed. His auburn hair was plastered to his back and it reached to his waist. His clothing was stuck to his skin, drenched and irritating. Gazing into the falling water, he scrutinized the landscape that lay before him. There, up ahead, he spotted an outcropping of stone and headed for it.

“Come!” he yelled again over the din. “There’s a place we can take shelter.”

Beolan ducked under the promontory, reined his horse in and waited for Maringar. He burst through the sheets of rain and nearly crashed into Beolan’s mount before coming to a halt. Shaking his thick braids, water flew in all directions. The wind whistled and wailed and poured over the ledge above them as they attempted to speak.

“This is not a natural storm,” Maringar shouted.

“No. It’s not. We’d better keep moving,” Beolan replied, stroking the forelock of his horse to try and calm him. The animal’s eyes were wild and it pranced in place. He mumbled some words in its ear.

“My thoughts exactly,” he agreed. “Do you know where we are?”

“Vaguely,” Beolan said. “I’ve been here before but I don’t remember it well. There was never much reason to travel through the gorge when the highlands took you to the same place.”

“We had no choice this time. That group on the hill was not a friendly one.”

“No doubt about that. I’ve not seen a mountain troll near the borders of Crispen since I was a child. And even then, it was a blinded and lost stray.”

“So many were killed in the battle of Pardatha, I’m surprised to see them organized again this soon. Were you able to count them?” Maringar asked. The trolls of the mountains kept to the mountains. They preferred sheep to elves or dwarves and these hills had far more of the former than the latter.

“Sixty perhaps. I may have missed one or two,” Beolan answered.

“Do you think they saw us?”

“Did they smell us is the question. They hunt by smell, their eyes are weak,” Beolan said. “I hope the water has diminished our scent.”

“We’d put up a good fight against them one on one, but they’re mean and too numerous. We wouldn’t stand a chance against this many of them.”

“They must know we’re here somewhere. But now’s not the time for us to engage the enemy. We need to get to Odelot.”

“The water’s rising,” Maringar said, looking at the ground. His horse’s hooves were covered already. “This whole valley could fill up to the brim, it’s coming down so hard. Is there no place for it to run off?”

“No. This gorge is a dry river bed. If we could have gotten to the other side before we spotted them, it would have saved us a lot of trouble. There’s only one way to cross over now.” He looked out across the broad basin, wiping the rain from his brow.

“Then they can’t cross from where they are either?” Maringar asked.

“No. Not for some distance. They’ll have to double back and enter the valley where we did if they want to catch us. We better be on the other side by then, the First willing!”

“If we don’t drown before we get there!” Maringar yelled as he watched the water rising around him. It was raining harder now.

“We have to get to higher ground fast!” Beolan said, urging his horse ahead. The animal shied and threw its head. Foam dripped from its mouth. “Keep close to the rocks. They won’t be able to see us from above. When we reach the end of this wall, there’s a path that curves up to the left. From where they’re gathered, they won’t be able to get to us. I hope the water hasn’t already washed it out.”

“In this storm, it’s likely we’ll get by unnoticed, as long as the lightning doesn’t give us away. They can’t see beyond their ugly noses.”

Coaxing their mounts out from under the shelter of stone, they walked, single file, clinging to the wall on their right. The water cascaded upon them from the front as if they were at the foot of a waterfall. It was impossible to progress with any speed, as it was hard enough for their horses just to maintain their footing. A lame horse would be disastrous.

A bolt of lightning lit the area, silhouetted against the blanket of dense clouds hanging over their heads. It lingered in the sky, pulsing and flickering like a dying star, before fading. The air was charged with an ominous power, sodden and dangerous. Thunder rumbled and crashed.

“Can you still see them?” Maringar yelled. “I can’t make out what’s five feet in front of me.”

“Yes, but it’s not easy. I don’t ever remember a rain this violent!” Beolan replied, squinting. “That lightning lit them right up. They haven’t moved. There’s a big group up there. Stay close to the rock.”

“I can’t get any closer than I am,” Maringar replied. He shook his head like a wet animal. “These blasted trolls hate water as much as I do. If they’re out here in this storm, it’s not by choice. They’re looking for something, and the odds are it’s us!”

“No one in Crispen would have given us away!” Beolan replied. “Only my father and mother and Premoran knew about the key. Even the wizard doesn’t know we have it. Why would they be searching for us?”

“Trust me, they have a compelling reason to endure this rising water. If not, they’d be holed up in their caves, as far away from it as possible!” Maringar would be in a similar place if he had the choice. His body was drenched to the bone and his thighs ached from gripping the sides of his horse.

Another flash lit the sky. Beolan and Maringar turned their faces to the stone and pulled their capes tight around themselves, concealing any weapons or other metal that might reflect the penetrating streaks of light. Darkness blanketed them again allowing a slow but steady progression. The path rose steeper as they advanced, and the water flowed with more intensity, crashing into them and impeding their movement.

“Tie yourself to the saddle, Maringar!” Beolan called. “Use the ropes from the bedroll. Quick! We can’t sit this out.”

Maringar untied his sleeping roll and the wind carried it away into the gloom before he could get his hands on it again, but he held onto the rope and wouldn’t let go. He wrapped the twine around his waist and looped it over the pommel of the saddle, securing it with a slip knot and pulling it taught. Beolan did the same and they continued on.

The water splashed above their horse’s hocks. Both riders crouched low in their saddles and held on.

“Can you see anything above us?” Maringar screamed over the barrage of wind and rain.

“Barely. It’s teeming and getting worse!”

“We have to move faster. The water’s rising around us. We’ll not make it up the pathway if we don’t!” Maringar warned.

“Easier said than done!” Beolan yelled. He raised his head to look around and the fierce rain pelted him, but he could see a rise in front of them that was much steeper than what they were now walking on. “We’ll make it. Just stay with me.”

The water rushed over the dirt and stone with frightening speed. Branches and debris hurtled along with it. Maringar glanced down. It had lapped over the knees of his horse already. The wind howled in his ears, invading each loose fold of his clothing despite his efforts to stay low. A spout of water rose next to him, and his horse whinnied and reared up in fear. Geysers of cold liquid shot out from it and crashed on their heads.

“What was that?” Beolan shouted.

“Something from the side of the cliff must have fallen loose. It could have been a rock,” he screamed back over the noise of the storm.

Something else struck the water right in front of Beolan. His horse shied and reared again, but Beolan kept his seat.

“It was a rock, and it didn’t fall! It was thrown!” Beolan yelled. “They see us!” Another projectile sped by the left flank of Maringar’s mount, missing him by inches. “Tie something around your horse’s eyes. If they don’t know where they’re going, they’ll be less nervous.”

“By the First, how can these damn trolls see through this?” the dwarf cried out, while pulling a dry handkerchief from inside his leather jerkin. Leaning forward, he wrapped it around the animal’s forehead.

Beolan did the same. “Stay close to the wall. Hold your horse tight. Don’t let him turn his head out. The path is just ahead. We can make it, Maringar!”

It seemed the trolls were guessing at their location as the missiles dropped, both near and far.

“Luck be with us today!” Maringar said. “How far is this bloody path?”

“Not much longer,” Beolan hoped.

“Watch out!” Maringar yelled. A boulder rammed into the water right next to Beolan. His horse shied to the right and fell into the stone wall of the canyon, smashing the elf s leg. Beolan lurched and his foot slipped from the stirrup. “Are you okay? Hold on!”

“Yes! Just stay with me!” he said while reaching over to rub his bruised knee. His hand came away bloodied.

“If you can move faster than I, go ahead!” Maringar shouted. “I’ll catch up. You’re the one with the key. Go! You’ve got to make it. If I get there without you, it won’t do anyone any good!”

“Hold on. We’re almost there. But when the path veers left, we’ll be out in the open again. We can’t avoid it,” Beolan yelled. “We’ll be exposed no matter what we do!”

“We’ll be easy targets in this mess.” Maringar shoved his boots further in the stirrups and clenched his knees into the sides of his horse.

“If we don’t follow the path, we’re going to be swallowed up by the water. We have to take our chances,” Beolan shouted. “Get ready. I see the turn.” He spoke a word into his horse’s ear.

The animal leapt forward and Maringar stayed as close behind him as he could. Their horses’ hooves clattered against the drenched surface, sending spumes of liquid flying. Huge rocks hit the water from above, but the horses stayed calm now that they couldn’t see their surroundings. A spear whizzed by Maringar’s ear and disappeared into the murky liquid. And then another and another. The incline was steep, slippery and treacherous to climb. The enemy could see them, but they were far below the cliffs edge. It was impossible for them to be accurate, though just one strike on target was all they needed.

Ahead a distance he saw the top of the opposite side of the gorge.

“Don’t stop, Maringar! Keep moving!” Beolan yelled, crouching lower on his horse’s withers. He heard the sound first, a mounting roar.

“What is it? The wind?” Maringar screamed over the noise.

“No,” Beolan answered. “It’s the water. You mustn’t slow down!”

He glanced backward and gasped. A liquid wall, at least ten feet high, was rushing toward them from the opposite end of the gorge. Giant and glistening, it rolled across the terrain.

“Go! Go! Go!” Maringar kept shouting, but his words were swallowed by the massive sound engulfing him. He watched as Beolan’s horse leapt over the embankment and disappeared in the shadows above, just as the wave broke and crashed over him. “Maringar!” Beolan screamed as the deluge swept him away.