Exile's Redemption: Book One of the Chronicles of Shadow

by Lee Dunning

  “All the more reason to make sure King Oblund, and anyone associated with him, learns that rising against us is a very bad idea,” Raven said. “Since the main force of our attack will probably fall on the heart of the enemy camp, what if we have the Wood Elves use the chaos as cover to get close in and make sure the cavalry can’t form up. That way we can spare the horses. If anyone actually manages to get on a horse, you shoot the rider and the horse can escape. With luck, the horses will panic and add to the confusion.”

  Foxfire found himself nodding in agreement. A quick glance at Kela ensured she approved as well. They would have a large number of responsibilities, but with some twelve hundred Wood Elves they could easily split their people into teams accordingly. “We can pick off any we see trying to make a break for it. Most of the commanders will have horses, so we can pinpoint them easily while the rest of you make things explode.”

  K’hul’s gaze settled back on W’rath and Raven. “That leaves you,” he said. “Obviously your minions cannot assist us. The two of you could infiltrate the camp in order to capture one of the magi and the king.”

  “That seems a bit much,” Lady Swiftbrook protested. “Lord W’rath hasn’t recovered the use of his psionics yet.”

  “You needn’t worry yourself, madam,” W’rath said. “As I stated before, even without my psionics, I am quite capable, and all Shadow Elves can blend into the shadows, making us nearly undetectable. Thanks to the quick thinking of the Wood Elf scout, we know where the magi keep their sleeping quarters. The king’s tent should be easy enough to spot. Someone that arrogant isn’t going to hide in a rough tent in order to blend in.

  “In addition, we know the humans have a security perimeter set up that can tell friend from foe. It’s possible it’s keyed to detect race, but not likely. A much simpler spell requires only that a person carry a small token. Usually, a caster sets a charm on a mass of small stones or chits, and then hands them out to the perimeter guards. Take down a handful of those guards and we’ll have easy access to their camp. Do you concur, Lord Icewind?”

  Kiat reflexively glanced at K’hul before answering. K’hul merely made an impatient gesture. “Uh, yes, you’re well informed concerning the forms such spells can take. Specifying within the spell who to allow in and who to react to provides much better security, however such detail makes the spell quite a bit more difficult to cast and maintain. I don’t doubt these men have the capability of performing such a spell, but with them deeply involved in ritual magic, it’s likely they went with a more simple version as you suggest.”

  “You couldn’t just say ‘yes’?” Kela muttered.

  “Assuming that’s true, then our scouts could take out a few of the guards and relieve them of their tokens,” Foxfire said. “We’ve kept an eye on them and we know when the guards have their shift changes. We can take them down just after a new shift starts. That will give you plenty of time to get into the camp without them realizing they have intruders.”

  “Very good,” W’rath said. “So, we have a means into the camp, locations marked out, and targets established. I will have need of Lady Raven’s strength. She and I shall enter the camp, and converge on the tent where the resting mage sleeps, and capture him. We shall next visit the king. My question to you—once we confront the king, what do you wish done with him? Shall we kill him? Take him prisoner? Or … something else?”

  “If I may,” Lady Swiftbrook said before K’hul could take control, “This plan of ours shall result in enough killing. Sparing the king, because we can, will benefit us in the long run. If we kill him, his people may feel honor-bound to seek revenge. If we leave the king alive, but obliterate his army, he will return home and spread word of our power. Once he recovers from the blow we’ve dealt him, he can find himself someone less fearsome to make war with.”

  “Like that other king he wants to fight, using siege weapons, made from our trees,” Kela said.

  “Precisely,” Lady Swiftbrook agreed.

  “Very well,” W’rath said. “While it goes against my nature to leave the fellow alive, and I honestly doubt he’ll behave in the rational manner you’ve described, I shall abide by your wishes. That will leave Raven and me with two captives. I assume, at that point, you’ll have fully engaged with the enemy, making it much more difficult for us to leave the way we came in. We shall require a means of escape.”

  Once again, the Shadow Elf focused on Kiat Icewind. “Yes, well, that is certainly possible. We can use sympathetic divination to locate you and then open a portal at your location.”

  K’hul had enlarged the representation of the battlefield. “We’ll break the area into sections and have contingents made up of Sky Elves and First Born assigned to each. Lord Icewind will stay with me to aid in coordinating the battle. We’ll place one of his people with each of the contingents to help, both in communicating with us at the command post, and to facilitate troop movement. Once Lord Icewind locates you, we’ll send in people to assist you and get you out of the human camp.”

  Kiat had gone pale while K’hul spoke. W’rath eyes regained their inner light and a mischievous smile curled his lips. “Is there a problem, Lord Icewind? Had you not planned to join our little adventure?”

  “No, of course not! My skills lie in scrying. I excel in the subtle arts. I have neither the constitution nor the unrefined nature needed to engage in the sort of savagery we’ve outlined today.”

  The cold stare K’hul leveled at Kiat positively wilted the slender, black-haired mage. “No insult intended, Lord K’hul,” he whispered. “And of course, in light of the strategy you’ve outlined, I yield to your wisdom as War Leader and will be more than happy to make myself available to you in the running of the battle.”

  W’rath chuckled and K’hul’s scowl switched to him. “Don’t look at me, old boy, he’s your toady.”

  “First Father preserve me,” K’hul snarled. “Everyone out of my sight. We have our tasks—let’s get to it.”

  Chapter 11

  K’hul watched as the others left while Kiat made a show of examining the map for the best place to have his team of casters open portals. Kiat muttered under his breath and the area in question magnified and took over the table.

  That the inquisitive Lord W’rath hadn’t decided to stay and watch Kiat’s work, surprised K’hul. W’rath had paused just long enough to present a long strand of hair to the diviner so he could use it to locate the Shadow Elves during the battle, and send aid and their means of evacuation. Then, without another word, W’rath headed out the council room door, as though he had another pressing engagement, Lady Raven close on his heels. No doubt W’rath had some mischief to attend to.

  K’hul scowled at the thought and started to voice his suspicions to Kiat when he looked up to find Lady Swiftbrook still standing at the table. She wore much the same expression of suspicion as he, only hers was directed at him, and not the wretched psion.

  “Don’t you have troops to rally as well?” she asked.

  She knew perfectly well he did, but obviously she didn’t like leaving him alone to consult with Kiat. His toady. K’hul’s teeth ground. How dare that runt say such a thing in front of the entire High Council!

  “Lord Icewind may specialize in the subtle arts, but you do not,” she continued when the only answer she received was the sound of his grinding molars.

  “You asked me to reconsider helping the Wood Elves, and now, not only have I done so, but I’ve decided to provide them assistance. Can I not spend time with Kiat, arranging for the best possible battlefield, without having my motives questioned?”

  The flash of the Sky Elf’s eyes said she didn’t believe a word he said. Her lips thinned. “I’ll need to know how you want me to break up my people into teams, and which warriors I can expect from the First Born so I can assign them accordingly.”

  “You’ll have that in a few hours.”

  “Right. I’ll leave you to it then. Your strategizing.”

  She st
rode from the hall her back even straighter than usual. From his left K’hul heard Kiat take a deep breath of relief. Bloody coward.

  “She knows,” Kiat whispered.

  K’hul peered at the slender elf shivering in his robes. “What exactly do you think she knows?”

  “That we’re plotting against Lord W’rath, of course!”

  K’hul rolled his eyes. “You’re acting overly dramatic. I’m just after the truth.”

  “Then why do you keep things from her?”

  “Because she is completely beguiled by the creature,” K’hul said. “She says he cured her madness during the attack on the city, but I’m more inclined to believe he did something to her to make her trust him far more than she should.” He forced himself to remain calm and not cross over to loom over the diviner. Fanning himself with a long hand, Kiat already looked ready to faint. K’hul hadn’t spoken to anyone about his suspicions until now. Kiat might have the backbone of a jellyfish, but he commanded respect among a large portion of the casters. Keeping him as an informed ally could ensure needed support in the future.

  “Mind control,” Kiat gulped. “Ancestors, preserve us.”

  “If you’re done pissing yourself, maybe you could tell me what you found out during the council meeting.” K’hul ignored Kiat’s pout. He might need allies, but his patience with Kiat’s constant state of terror had grown thin.

  After a time, the finger wiggler seemed to realize the futility of waiting for K'hul to apologize for his coarse words. “I don’t know what you expected to find out in this sort of setting, but I put up the spell as you asked.”

  “And what sorts of untruths did you uncover?”

  “Not a thing,” Kiat said, spreading his hands, as empty as his information. “Why you would expect differently, I don’t know. If you want to find out if Lord W’rath truly stands with First Home, you’ll need to ask him a direct question while I have a truth knowing spell up. However, nothing suspicious came up during our meeting. He didn’t even fake his lack of knowledge about the human’s use of cavalry.” He shook his head in wonder over the Shadow Elf’s ignorance.

  K’hul snarled and paced around the room. “I don’t understand. I can smell the lies coming out of him. What about his claim that he’s a superior assassin?”

  Kiat’s lips thinned, K’hul’s suggestion that he’d missed something finally bringing forth a reaction not seated in fear. “He wasn’t lying. It’s possible it’s not true, but he honestly believes he’s an one elf army.”

  “Ridiculous! Someone that competent, living like a hermit, for who knows how long, and he just happens to wander into Second Home during a demon attack? I don’t believe it for a second.” He spun back on his heels and marched over to glare down at Kiat, no longer concerned if he sent the smaller elf into a faint.

  The Sky Elf cringed in the shadow of the powerful First Born, but doggedly continued to try reasoning with him. “I don’t know what to tell you, Lord K’hul. Unless you make those accusations to his face, and force a response from him, I cannot tell you one way or the other.”

  “And his accent—have you noticed it?” K’hul said, not at all interested in Kiat’s attempt at logic.

  “I didn’t notice any accent, just some strange mannerisms,” Kiat said. His shoulders slumped in defeat.

  “Precisely! He has no foreign accent. He sounds like any elf from First Home—well, except for all of the irritating ‘old boys’ and such. Raven has an accent. She’s obviously not from here.”

  “I sensed no deceit from her either,” Kiat said. He stepped back, putting a chair between himself and K’hul, as if he expected another tirade.

  K’hul waved Kiat’s words away. “My concerns do not lie with her. She’s just an overgrown sword maiden. If anything, she’s in over her head. But W’rath … he’s tricky and sneaky. You don’t live away from people as long as he claims and suddenly pop out of a cave with a civilized tongue and foppish manners. He makes me want to punch something.”

  Kiat gave up on trying to calm Lord K’hul, and decided staying silent was his best strategy. He wasn’t exactly sure what he’d let himself in for now. He’d been surprised and honored when the Voice of the First had approached him to fill the Sky Elf vacancy on the High Council. It was unusual, since each Elven race nominated their own councilors, but apparently, in this case, Lord K’hul and Lady Swiftbrook had exchanged roles, and she appointed the First Born councilor.

  Kiat hadn’t realized Lord K’hul even knew he existed. Now he recognized he’d been chosen because Lord K’hul felt he could control him. Moodily, he dragged his hand through the projection of the Wood Elves’ forest, causing the trees to bend and wave crazily as if caught in a hurricane. If only he had that kind of strength, but sadly, Kiat reflected, Lord K’hul was right about him. He couldn’t even drum up enough ire to take exception to Lord W’rath referring to him as Lord K’hul’s toady.

  Only a few minutes had passed, but Kiat sagged from exhaustion, as if he’d been trapped with Lord K’hul for hours. The First Born had finally wound down. “Very well, Kiat, focus on getting us well-positioned against the humans. We’ll revisit the problem of Lord W’rath once we finish with this situation.”

  Kiat inwardly flinched at the overly familiar use of his given name, something Lord K’hul had done throughout the meeting, showing his complete disregard for propriety. If anything, it was more insulting than Lord W’rath’s ‘toady’ comment. He didn’t have it in him to protest the lack of honorific, though. “Perhaps his over confidence will get him killed tonight,” he offered.

  “Heh,” K’hul snorted, turning to leave, “we should be so lucky.”

  Lady Swiftbrook caught up to Raven and W’rath as they exited the council hall and stepped into the sunlit garden surrounding the domed structure. W’rath had just lit one of his offensive clove cigarettes. He raised an amused eyebrow as she arrived, skirts hitched up so she could run. “Perhaps more practical garments are in order, madam?”

  “I hoped to give off an air of dignity and appear less warlike during the meeting,” she said, flushing.

  “Odd that,” W’rath replied. “I was under the impression we had you to thank for K’hul’s willingness to reconsider fighting on behalf of the Wood Elves. Was I mistaken?”

  The Sky Elf’s blush grew even greater. “You’re not mistaken.”

  “So, in point of fact, we’re going into battle because of you,” W’rath said, obviously enjoying the lady’s discomfort.

  “Yes, all right, get your jollies at my expense. I wanted to help the Wood Elves, not slaughter thousands of people.”

  “Then you’ve succeeded, madam,” W’rath said with a chuckle.

  Lady Swiftbrook scowled in confusion, but Raven caught on to the implication behind W’rath’s words. She pursed her lips. “Humans are people.”

  “Really? Since when? Are orcs and goblins people now too? No one informed me.”

  Lady Swiftbrook glared daggers at the small male. “We took a vote while you sat mumbling in your cave. For your information the civilized peoples include: humans, gnomes …”

  “Gnomes?! Oh, surely not!” W’rath clutched at his heart and staggered several steps. Raven turned away in a futile attempt to hide her laughter.

  “Gnomes,” Lady Swiftbrook plowed on doggedly, “halflings, dwarves and barbarians.”

  “You would think the fact they’re called barbarians would indicate they do not qualify as civilized,” W’rath observed.

  “He has you on that one,” Raven said, no longer bothering to hide her mirth.

  “I’ll concede the point, but despite the seeming contradiction, all of those named, including barbarians, are universally accepted as people.”

  “I’m assuming elves of all stripes appear on that list?” W’rath asked.

  “Of course, that goes without saying.”

  “I suppose I’ll need to discuss that with King Oblund then,” W’rath mused. “He doesn’t sound inclined to ack
nowledge Wood Elves as people.”

  “From the description Kela and Foxfire gave of him, I don’t think it would matter,” Raven said. “He’s perfectly willing to make siege weapons to use against a fellow human.”

  “Good point, lass,” W’rath said. “He’s the sort of chap who believes he has to the right to possess anything that catches his fancy. We’ll have to see if we can’t break him of the habit.”

  Lady Swiftbrook continued to frown through the exchange. At the mention of the human king, she finally remembered her initial purpose in chasing down the Shadow Elves. “Do you really want to enter the camp alone, and go after both a mage and the king?”

  “Stealth will be our ally,” W’rath explained. “We’re referred to as Shadow Elves for a reason. Give us any subdued light and I dare you to notice us. Obviously, we won’t traipse about the camp in heavy armor, but dark leathers will ensure our natural abilities aren’t compromised.”

  Lady Swiftbrook raised a dubious eyebrow. “And I suppose you’re going to have Raven throw the mage over her shoulder?”

  “Actually, yes, you’ve divined my plan exactly.” W’rath beamed at the frustrated Sky Elf.

  “I thought you needed me as a body guard, not a pack mule,” Raven muttered.

  “Your size and strength make you suitable for many roles. I mean no insult, but felt it important to keep you off of the front lines. You and I should face far fewer threats than those engaging angry and frightened soldiers.”

  “I slew a devil …” She didn’t bother to finish. The situation had been completely different. Fueled by her fury, she had smote the foul creature with the full brunt of her psionics. She had lost her psionics, and didn’t even have her rage now. How would she fare on a battlefield with just the skills she’d absorbed from Linden, fighting desperate, frightened men who just wanted to survive?

  “Once this nastiness is behind us, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to hone your skills, lass,” W’rath said, giving her a knowing smile. “Besides, I shouldn’t expect a self-professed scholar to relish the idea of rushing into a likely blood bath.”