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

by Lee Dunning

  “I’ve shed that name.” he said, falling into the same language. Several millennia had passed since he’d last spoken his native tongue, but it came back to him in all of its strange, primal beauty.

  “Really? What do you call yourself now?” The unicorn cocked its head, its eyes a swirl of color.

  “I’ve taken the name W’rath.”

  The unicorn wrinkled its nose. “Ridiculous name. I refuse to call you that. Since you’re so sensitive about your true name I shall simply refer to you as First Son. And since you couldn’t possibly pronounce my name properly, you may call me Stone.”

  Stone? Arrogant prat—thinks I’m an idiot. Even humans could pronounce such a simple word without fear of stumbling over the complexities of Elven intonation. W’rath swallowed his quickly growing annoyance and instead asked, “How do you know me?”

  “Long ago I accepted the tiresome duty of awaiting your return. The Great Lady told me that one day, you would gain your freedom. I sensed when the house welcomed you, and though dubious, I came as I’d been bid. Despite my doubts, your presence here proves the accuracy of the Great Lady’s vision.” The creature shook its mane as if incredulous that any elf, even one it referred to as Great Lady, could impress it.

  “Lady Stormchaser?”

  “Yes, though not the one you refer to. She had already passed from this world some time before. Her blood flowed true in her offspring, though. One of her daughters told me of your eventual return.”

  Inwardly, W’rath flinched upon hearing the unicorn’s words. He’d thought he’d come to terms with the idea of Uverial’s death. The emptiness suddenly filling him with cold regret said otherwise. He’d still hoped … Foolish! He forced his feelings aside, and returned to the matter at hand, sneaking a glance at the females to see if they’d drawn near. Surprisingly, they clustered together, astonishment on their faces, making no attempt to come closer. Perhaps Lady Swiftbrook and her young charges had seen a unicorn, but he doubted Raven had.

  “Have no fear, First Son,” the unicorn said. “They know to keep their distance. Our conversation shall stay private.”

  The fae creature must have had an easier time reading Elven faces than the other way around. “You remain free of carnal taint,” it said in response to W’rath’s bafflement. “I must admit to a certain amount of surprise.”

  That explained the shock on the ladies’ faces. The sound of muffled laughter reached his ears. He sighed. He would never live this down. “Pleasant female company is sadly lacking in the Abyss,” he said.

  The unicorn seemed to accept this without the slightest hint of amusement, and it expressed no further curiosity concerning the subject. Instead, when next it spoke it’s words served only to fulfill the obligation given it so many years past. “You’re familiar with the Great Settling?”

  “I’ve heard people speak of it. Apparently, it refers to when the world started to calm and grow more hospitable.”

  “Yes, it started about five thousand years after your banishment. The popular explanation goes that once Mother Magic finished giving birth to the world’s creatures, and the pain and struggle of creation released its grip on her, she set about nurturing her offspring.”

  W’rath rolled his eyes at the personification of the element of magic. Such a fanciful story had to have come from the imagination of a Sky Elf. The ever practical First Born would never dream up such a thing. His father’s people would have simply accepted the truth as it presented itself, and determined how best to utilize it. “Why do I care about this?” he asked.

  The unicorn stamped a hoof and flared its nostrils, the first sign of true emotion it had shown. “For such a long-lived individual, you show a remarkable lack of patience. You should care because as the world calmed, so did all the fighting. Food, land, clean water—all those things went from scarce to abundant, and the need to continually fight ended. The People changed, grew less warlike, and the desire to create beautiful things filled them. This new peace made possible this house you’ve inherited.”

  W’rath gestured to everything around them, the pristine gardens, the soaring spires of House of Memories, as pure white as the unicorn’s horn. “So what happened to everyone? Aside from you, I’ve met no others old enough to have known anyone from that time. No one else remembers the events you speak of.”

  The unicorn twitched its tufted tail. It’s strangely hued eyes took on the color of storm clouds, and hints of lightning flickered in their depths. “Much of what you need to know, you’ll find in your new home. There were books …”

  “The last Lady Stormchaser left two journals and a history book to Lady Raven. We have yet to read through them.” He suddenly recalled the letter he’d hidden from Raven, still up in his new study unread, and ground his teeth in frustration. Raven’s earlier dismay at having to leave her books for later perusal came back to him, and he felt a stronger sense of empathy now. “Will you at least tell me what happened to everyone?”

  The unicorn snorted. Was that supposed to be amusement?

  “I’m not here to give you a history lesson, First Son. But I will tell you this: The First had other sons by other females, and most proved far less pure of heart than Lady Stormchaser’s offspring. They dealt with your father in a far less direct manner than you did.”

  Direct? Well, I suppose attempting to will the old boy’s head to explode qualified as direct. “So someone else managed to succeed where I failed?”

  “In a way,” the unicorn said, and didn’t react to the scowl of exasperation that flashed across W’rath’s face.

  When it was plain that the creature had no intention to elaborate further, W’rath attempted to prod it. “You’ll need to explain.”

  “I need do nothing aside from fulfill my promise to the only one of you I ever much cared for,” the unicorn said. “I’ve already left my forest unattended for longer than is my want. I wish to quickly finish with this tiresome conversation and return to my solitude. So, listen carefully, and take what you will from my words. Do not interrupt me further.”

  The unicorn seemed to take W’rath’s silent fuming as cooperation and finally continued. “Lady Stormchaser wanted you to know, while it took a great many years, your father eventually matured to the point where he regretted his treatment of you, First Son.”

  The unicorn gazed at W’rath for a long moment, perhaps trying to gauge the reaction its words had on the lone survivor from that ancient time. W’rath’s secretive nature assured that he kept much of what he felt buried, but even so his ice white brows met in a prefect V on his dark forehead. He couldn’t entirely hide every frown and twitch that Stone’s words sent flitting across his face. The unicorn waited, as if memorizing every tiny movement of muscle on W’rath’s face for future contemplation. Once satisfied that W’rath grasped the import of its words, the fae continued. “In the end, his decision to rescue you led to his, as well as, a great many others demise.”

  W’rath fought to compose himself. Even if they couldn’t understand the conversation, surely the ladies understood more than a casual conversation played out before them. He could almost feel Lady Swiftbrook’s penetrating gaze burning into him. He needed time to determine how much of this tale he could safely share. Despite the unicorn’s earlier words, W’rath couldn’t keep silent any longer. “That’s not possible. If my father had launched an invasion to rescue me, I would have sensed his presence. No one came to the Abyss to aid me.”

  His eyes narrowed as he recalled the unicorn insinuating a son of the First might have subtly arranged for his demise. It would have required a great many elves to open a one-way door large enough for an army to march into the Abyss. Exhausting work, those marching wouldn’t have participated in the ritual casting. Someone who wanted the invasion to fail could have altered the spell’s intention. A son, or sons, of the First, wishing to oust the relic from their past, and put themselves in power, could have managed to convince others that a dangerous element like Umbral should not
be allowed to walk among them again, and that the time had come for younger, more forward thinking individuals to take charge.

  So this was the schism he and Raven had discussed earlier. It explained why the curse of memory had been unleashed on First Home. “Where did they end up?”

  “I’m not certain,” the unicorn admitted. “I suspect the Nine Hells, as it would take little effort to alter the spell to reflect a change of locale from one plane of horror to another.”

  W’rath’s hands clenched in impotent rage. “War broke out once they left?”

  “Yes, most of the fae, myself included, abandoned this place then. The savagery, which had lain dormant, erupted with renewed vigor. Only a few places, like this protected area, escaped the ravages of what the fae call the Descendant’s War. Whatever came after, you’ll need to learn from the writings of the Stormchasers. My promise to seek you out, when you returned, has provided my only link to this place since that time. Having done that, I have fulfilled my obligation to the Great Lady.”

  The unicorn turned, and all around it the air started to shimmer. Another forest, more wild and full of primitive magic, appeared as a hazy halo around the creature. The scent of damp earth drifted into the glade and the temperature dropped noticeably.

  “Stone, wait!” W’rath instantly regretted using the unicorn’s made up name. He saw it’s withers shake with silent laughter. Too late to take the name back, he continued. “What do you expect me to do with this information?” he asked.

  “Isn’t it obvious, First Son?” The unicorn peered back over its shoulder. It’s eyes had transformed into green pools as unknowable as the ocean. “Fix what has been done here. Raise the elves up. Restore. Heal. Redeem. Do that and perhaps my people and the rest of the fae will return to this place.” It gave a final toss of its head and gracefully stepped through into its forest home, and with a flick of its leonine tail closed the way.

  W’rath stared at the spot where the unicorn had lectured him. “Lovely,” he muttered. His feminine audience would want to know what had just happened. Certainly, he could trust Raven with the truth. The two of them had already pieced a great deal of the story together, and no doubt the books Lady Stormchaser had left to her would provide even greater revelations. But he didn’t think Lady Swiftbrook would take the unicorn’s story well. Beyond that, how did one go about introducing an entire population to the idea that most of what they accepted as fact was false, that their ancestors had betrayed them, and set the People on a course of slow decline and eventual extinction?

  He would need to give it a great deal of thought, and the day of a major assault against King Oblund did not leave time for such contemplations. But he did have to tell the ladies something …

  “Unicorns,” he said, coming up to the little group, “unfortunately, are not the answer to our cavalry issue.”

  “Is that what the two of you discussed?” Lady Swiftbrook couldn’t hide the amusement from her voice.

  W’rath shrugged, and moved past them on a course leading away from the Stormchaser property. The ladies fell in step with him. W’rath fastidiously ignored the knowing titters from the apprentices. “Our discussion earlier, concerning horses and human cavalry, made me think we could benefit from the same arrangement. It’s plain the Wood Elves would never give their blessing to anything involving the use of creatures who have no say in the matter. When I spied the unicorn, I decided to see if it were sentient, and if so, if its people would deign to serve as steeds for us. Sadly, as I drew close to the creature I realized my first mistake.”

  “They’re quite small,” Lady Swiftbrook said.

  “Certainly too small for a Sky Elf to ride, which I had imagined serving as our cavalry,” W’rath said. “I changed my expectations at that point—I thought, perhaps Wood Elves would agree to work with the creatures if they acted as equal partners, and not master and beast.”

  “I take it the unicorn didn’t care for that idea?” Raven asked.

  “As it turns out, assuming this particular individual is typical of the population, they are every bit as arrogant as we, and would never allow us to ride upon them. Very few of them still live among the People, finding us petty and tedious. They prefer their solitude and their forests. This one appeared only because it sensed the change in ownership of the Stormchaser estate.”

  “Hmmph!” Lady Swiftbrook exclaimed. “Perhaps you misunderstood and it meant just you.”

  “I didn’t see it bolt from my company to come lay sweetly at your feet, madam,” W’rath replied.

  “Yes, well, there is a very simple explanation for that,” Lady Swiftbrook said.

  “Ah, yes, of course,” W’rath said, a wicked glint appearing in his eyes. “Apparently, among all of us, only I maintain high standards.”

  He skipped ahead of a wave of outrage. He grinned at them over his shoulder, relieved he’d managed to divert their attention from the mostly one-sided conversation with the unicorn. No doubt, once they had more time to think about it, Raven and Lady Swiftbrook would start to wonder what had really gone on during his encounter with Stone. At least for now, his denigration of their honor concerned them more. Soon they would have their hands full with the attack on the human king. With luck, by the time it occurred to them to question him further, it would seem of so little import, they would dismiss any lingering concerns as unimportant.

  Perhaps by then he would manage to devise a plan for tackling the much greater concern facing them all.

  Chapter 13

  Foxfire fidgeted nervously in the dark, wondering how he had gotten roped into sneaking into an enemy camp to provide assistance for Raven and W’rath. Of course, there really was no mystery involved. Lady Swiftbrook had asked, and not wanting to look like a coward, he’d told her he’d love to help. No place he’d rather be during the battle than at the side of an overconfident psion with brain damage.

  While very good at talking, and even arguing for the Wood Elves, Foxfire had spent most of his life trying to get along with people. Since he had found himself marooned on this primitive planet, he’d spent his time gathering stories, and providing a spot of entertainment for a world populated by people who had little to look forward to besides bringing in the next season’s crop.

  “I’m really not much of a fighter,” he said for the third time.

  “We intend to avoid trouble,” Raven said with a look of sympathy that surprised the Wood Elf. The huge First Born sword she carried and her muscular frame promised a violent end for anyone foolish enough to get between them and their goal. That she could have any empathy for him seemed completely at odds with her appearance.

  They’d arrived via magic gateway about a mile from the human camp, a vast plain spilling out in all directions, the yellowing autumn grass coming to Foxfire’s thighs. A copse of trees blocked any view of the gateway’s cyan flare. Additional thickets and numerous large shrubs broke up the landscape, providing much needed cover for their approach to the camp. Sien, one of their scouts, met them at the gateway and went over the layout of the camp with them. They’d already studied a map made earlier, but some changes had occurred since then. Sien guided them toward the camp, quietly explaining the situation. “A couple of the nobles had a falling out. They’ve resettled their tents on opposite sides of the King’s pavilion. At first I didn’t realize what they were up to, but it turned out they were spending a ridiculous amount of time ensuring neither tent stood closer than the other to the king.” He rolled his eyes, presumably at the incomprehensible nature of humans.

  Once they got closer, Sien fell silent, and they made their way without further discussion. They hunched down to creep through the tall grass, taking advantage of bushes to mask their approach. A few hundred paces out from the camp, slouched shadows resolved themselves into the forms of bored guards.

  Foxfire checked the sky and reassured himself clouds still blocked out the sky. No moon would illuminate the night, helping the humans see. With all the dry grass, no one
had provided the guards with torches. Since the earlier debacle that had cost several Wood Elf lives, the king and his minions probably had the utmost confidence in their magical warning system. They had posted guards as little more than an afterthought. Foxfire hoped that boded well for the rest of the evening’s events.

  Sien motioned for everyone to hide themselves in a particularly dense area of growth. As they hunkered down, the scout let out a brief but convincing bird cry. Instantly, shadows rose from the grass behind the sentries, and the men crumpled, disappearing into the grass as if the ground had swallowed them up. A moment later, a trio of Wood Elves arrived at the party’s hiding spot and handed over three small chits to Sien. “Kela told us these are probably what you need to cross the magic wall safely,” Sien said, passing the chits out to Foxfire, W’rath and Raven. “I took one from a guard yesterday and tested it. They don’t look like much, but they work.”

  Foxfire had to agree, the chit he held didn’t look impressive at all—little more than a small, smooth stone. He pushed it inside one of his gloves for safekeeping, trying to look indifferent, and confident in front of his kin.

  W’rath nodded. “This is precisely what I expected.” He slipped the chit into his belt pouch and Raven followed suit. “We’d best get moving. Any further delays and the fireworks will start before we’re ready.”

  The three newcomers whispered well wishes and then dispersed to regroup with the rest of the Wood Elves. Sien lead Foxfire and the two Shadow Elves further in, to the very edge of the encampment. His assignment complete, he nodded to them and melted into the night.

  Foxfire swallowed. Everyone expected him to share the same talent as his kin when it came to creeping about, but in truth, he was quite miserable at such things. Raven must have seen his look of dismay and came to his rescue. “Grab hold of my belt,” she offered. “Once I blend into the shadows, you’ll stay just as hidden.”