The Coming Storm

by Valerie Douglas

  Don’t be foolish, she thought, looking at Tolan’s eyes. There was a warning there. You’re alone and unarmed. Do as he says. For now.

  He was taking no chances with these visitors.

  She went to her room obediently and then to the narrow slit of the window where she could look down on the courtyard.

  Watching, she saw them ride in on horses like Smoke, large, well-shaped and fleet but she doubted these would try to eat her hair. These were pure-bred Elven horses. A great black one, a pair of silvery gray ones, another a deep brown. Ridden by Elves, two male, dark and light, a female Elf, and a man.

  All four were tall. One was dark-haired, one was fair, the Elven woman was dark of skin and hair and the man had brownish hair. From this angle and height she couldn’t see them well.

  They didn’t know their danger. Would Tolan dare to do to them what he’d done to her father, her mother, and Caradoc? She didn’t think so. She hoped not. Or she’d be forced to warn them and reveal herself. She’d allow Tolan no more victims.

  It was somewhat entertaining to watch Tolan bow and scrape, giving all the appearance of a loyal servant, as he had at the beginning.

  Below she heard the doors open, shouts to servants for refreshments. A great deal of fuss, more so than necessary. Her father called greetings as if he were still himself.

  Still, Tolan had to be worried.

  Ailith waited until the sounds became muted, then slipped down the stairs on bare, silent feet and to the library that adjoined the Great Hall. Carefully, she drew the door open, listening to the sounds from the other room. She looked across the library to be certain the other door was shut. It was.

  This was her mother’s sanctum. Here were scrolls and letters, curled maps. Paper was a rare thing throughout the Kingdoms and few could read. Most Elves read their own language but for most men there was little need for writing unless one was a scholar. Which her mother was. Had been. Her father could barely write his own name and so it had fallen to her mother to keep the records. He’d had this built for her.

  It had made the Great Hall a little smaller but that hadn’t mattered much so far from the affairs at Court. They entertained rarely; had the larger landowners in for harvest or winter festivals but that was all. Her father wasn’t much – hadn’t been – much of one for idle amusements. For Ailith, the fortunate part was that when they built the library, they hadn’t been able to get all the joints to exactly match. The Great Hall was round and this small room had squared it, cutting off a small section of curve. The shelves and such didn’t adapt well to the curve. If she sat on the floor by the one set of shelves there was a place where she could peer into the other room. A table hid her from view.

  Once she’d watched her parents that way, a quiet curious little mouse.

  Now she could watch and see, and perhaps warn them.

  They were still standing as refreshments were brought in and set upon the table.

  One of the visitors dominated the room and it was neither her father nor Tolan. That wouldn’t please Tolan – who had been visibly becoming comfortable, even demanding of deference – and it was clear by his face it didn’t now. That sour-lemon expression on Tolan’s face had intensified. Ailith couldn’t help but smile at that.

  No, the one who dominated the room was one of the Elves.

  Tall, serious and stern, he wasn’t what men considered handsome but he did hold the eye. He was striking, even arresting, in face and form. He dominated the room with his character, so calm, certain and sure. This was someone used to command and comfortable with it. It was his grave dark eyes, though, so clear, so assured, that caught her attention. They were beautiful.

  He had high arched winged eyebrows and a high forehead. A straight nose, firm mouth. His dark hair had been swept back to fall well below his shoulders, caught back on each side in clips as Elves did. It wasn’t just his looks, though, that fascinated her, he was neither particularly handsome nor pretty as men measured such things – no, those honors fell to his companion, the fairer of them – but his confidence held her attention. He was arresting, fascinating and intriguing.

  She’d never seen or met anyone like him.

  The other Elves stood back, the fair and pretty one to the other’s side. His stance told her much, staying on guard, the other Elf’s good right arm. His paxman.

  With her high cheekbones , sharp eyes and brownish coloring, the female Elf was striking, too.

  As for the man, he was curious, just for himself but also by his nature. His eyes roamed the room taking in everything he saw. There was something about him that she liked instinctively.

  That was a difference about Elves and men, she noticed. Men’s eyes moved constantly. Elves didn’t. Dorovan had been like that, taking in everything but keeping his eyes still.

  This man had brownish hair, slightly disheveled, with warm brown eyes. A strong plain face but not distinctive. There was something about him though, something she couldn’t put her finger on…something that marked him as different from most men.

  “My Lord Geric,” Tolan said, bowing deeply. “These are the Elves Elon, Colath and Jalila, of Aerilann and the wizard Jareth.”

  Three elves and a wizard. No wonder Tolan was bowing and scraping. That explained the curious air about the man – he was a wizard. Among the Elves, there was one name she knew. Elon of Aerilann. He was the tall dark stern one. Her father had spoken of him often and with great respect, rare for her father. There were few who had earned that level of admiration from him.

  Ailith went still as her father said, “Councilor Elon, Tolan – my chatelaine and advisor. Yes, I had the pleasure of meeting you before very briefly some years ago, although there would be no reason for you to remember that.”

  If you knew Tolan well enough, the relief he showed at that moment very nearly shouted.

  His puppet was performing well. There was just the right amount of respect in his voice.

  Geric, her father, had been very impressed with Elon of Aerilann after that one meeting. At the time he’d been prepared not to be.

  “The Lords of Riverford,” he’d told her once with a smile, “are known as an independent lot and rightly so. I mean to keep it that way. We bow to the High King but we do not scrape. And we bow only to him. No other.”

  That meeting had been during the early days, when the Alliance was just taking hold.

  Ailith had been only a child but she remembered her father speaking of those days to her mother. They’d discussed many such things once.

  Her father had been all in favor of the Alliance. Riverford wasn’t a large kingdom but the land was rich and there was the ford for which it was named. That was the key, it was the gateway to the highlands to the north and the King that reigned there and the only safe way across the fast moving river for leagues. Below the town the river widened, diminishing the current enough to ford it before the river cut into the hills and narrowed again into a rough and dangerous torrent. Across that singular ford traveled cattle, sheep and wool, wood, apples and pears. People as well, to trade or be traded to. As a result, every few hundred years or so, one of the neighbors decided they wanted it. Riverford had been overdue for such a conflict before the Agreement had been signed, though peace had reigned for some years.

  Still, Geric had wanted to be convinced and he had been by the speech Elon had given that day and their brief conversation afterwards.

  So impressed was he that he’d followed Elon of Aerilann’s career closely, as much as he could so far from the heartland.

  “I remember that meeting well, my lord King Geric,” the Elf said.

  He had a very nice voice, deep and modulated. An orator’s voice.

  “No standing on titles and such here. Geric will do.”

  Elon of Aerilann inclined his head gravely.

  “Have a seat,” Geric continued, gesturing.

  “After so long in the saddle,” Jareth said, apologetically, “would you mind if we stood?”

&nb
sp; “No, no, of course not.” Geric said. He was being more than a shade too hearty. “I do have to apologize that my ladies aren’t here to meet you. Unfortunately, they were called away. There’s a pestilence of some kind in one of the easternmost villages and they went to give aid. So, what can I do for you?”

  For those who knew her father that was a wrong note. Never my ladies, making little of them. My Lady Wife, always, and for Ailith, my daughter and Heir. He’d been proud of her and told others often of her skills in many things, not the least of them her swordsmanship. He’d embarrassed Ailith frequently with such praise. Now she missed it and regretted the discomfort.

  The wizard Jareth picked up a glass of wine, sniffed lightly and took a sip. “Nice vintage.”

  “We’ve a winery not far, they have a very nice red wine. A little sweet.”

  Elon said, in answer to the original question. “We were wondering if you’ve had problems along the borderlands.”

  “Were you now?” Geric said.

  He glanced quickly at Tolan and something passed between them. Another slip, although none would know it. Her father had looked to no one.

  “As it happens, we have. My Hunters have been complaining. Had an ogre not too long ago. It’s a pity you arrived when you have, you just missed them. They’re all up in the hills now. They left two days ago.”

  Which was true. They’d been back only a day for a badly needed rest. In fact, Gwillim had left Smoke here, taking a remount.

  Even Elven culls needed a break and Smoke had taken a blow from a boggin which left him limping. Ailith had taken the horse some carrots to console him in Gwillim’s absence. And herself. Usually, there was one group resting, one group going out and one coming back. Both horses and men given time to rest. Not these days. With so many incursions, Gwillim had everyone riding the fringes of the borderlands, trying to keep the invaders from getting so far it took days to chase them back. He’d also been up to her father to request more men again, with no more success than before.

  “I’ve given them some extra men,” Geric was saying, “and conscripted some from the villages. We’re stretching the treasury a bit but it has to be done.”

  Why does the lie surprise me? She didn’t know.

  “If I may be so bold,” Tolan asked, subserviently, “Why do you ask?”

  His eyes glittered sharply.

  Elon of Aerilann looked at the man briefly, his tone noncommittal. “We’ve heard stories, here and there and wanted to know if you had the same problem.”

  The ambiguous tone didn’t fool her, he was on the Council, this Elon. He wouldn’t be on this errand if it weren’t serious.

  She looked at Elon of Aerilann’s eyes, seeing in them as you couldn’t see from his impassive Elven expression that he wasn’t telling all he knew. There was more going on here than she knew. That put a different light on things.

  So, it was happening elsewhere. Other Kingdoms were having problems as well. It wasn’t only their Hunters and Woodsmen being so pressed. With her father so changed and Tolan always creeping about, Ailith had heard little news.

  A look passed between her father and Tolan. They knew something Elon didn’t.

  “Ah,” Tolan said and bowed to step back a little once again.

  That sing-song voice was in abeyance, as was the repetition. He was simply being a bland, nondescript man again, not the one who had urged her father to kill her mother. No one could see it, nor would he show it. If Ailith could have wept then in frustration, she would have.

  Three Elves and a wizard. Tolan wouldn’t wish to tangle with them. Still, she didn’t know if they could be of any help. For one, the Guard outnumbered them by a great deal. Although they might hesitate at killing Elves. Elves didn’t tolerate someone killing one of their own.

  For another reason and far more importantly, what could she say that wouldn’t sound mad? That her father had killed her mother? What proof did she have? She could step out from here and declare herself, prove Tolan and her father liars but to what end? Who would be more surprised and who more at a disadvantage? She was like to get the visitors killed.

  A dozen wild plans went through her head as her father and Tolan lied and spun tales to the visitors.

  If they guested them, there might be a chance for her to speak with one of them in private. But what would she tell them? A dream? Where was the proof?

  To her astonishment, though, Geric didn’t offer them hospitality. It stunned her. That was unconscionably rude, inhospitable and a violation of all of society’s rules of courtesy but the Elven party couldn’t request it either. It could only be offered. Geric was King here. None could question his rule in his lands. He decided who he would guest and who he wouldn’t.

  In the end, she did nothing but listen as they left and her chance at escape slipped away.

  There was a long pause and then Caradoc returned from escorting the party out.

  “My Lord, they’ve turned east and north.”

  He addressed Tolan, not her father.

  A furious look passed over Tolan’s face, that murderous rage she’d glimpsed once before. It chilled her now as it had chilled her then.

  “At what speed? Why could they not have gone back the way they came?”

  “Not fast, my Lord, at a walk.”

  “No hurry, then, no rush. So, nothing seems to have alarmed them unduly.” Tolan glanced at the simulacrum that was her father. “Tell me about these folk.”

  “Elon is a powerful Elf – well-known and respected. One of the Council and Advisor to Daran High King.”

  His voice now was a monotone, when he spoke it was as if by rote.

  “Is he now,” Tolan said. “Is he now? Well. Well. Tell me more.”

  How could Tolan not have known that? Where had he been?

  “Aerilann was one of the major influences behind the Alliance. It was he who managed to convince the Dwarves to agree, despite the differences between those two races. Daran, the High King, was the driving force but Elon of Aerilann was the glue that held it together. If Daran needs something negotiated he summons Elon. Elon is also First among equals in his Enclave, no little thing among those folk. He’s the voice of reason among the Elves, balancing those who still feel that commerce and association with the race of Men is undignified, beneath them and encourages the lesser race to believe they’re equals. He has a reputation for integrity that has rarely been questioned. Geric was much impressed with him.”

  Pacing slowly, Tolan considered. “If he continues east, he’ll either find that no villages have pestilence or run into our Hunters. Gwillim isn’t one of us yet. I’d hoped to get him this last time and have him lead those of his men who won’t follow us into a trap but I couldn’t catch him alone.”

  “They are only three Elves and a wizard,” her father pointed out, “asking about problems along the borderlands and heading east, into the highlands.”

  The creature that was her father was beginning to think for himself.

  “So they are, so they are,” Tolan said. “A point. If the illustrious Elf Elon of Aerilann were to fall to some of the more notorious creatures of which he asks then it would be more than a tragedy. Would it not?”

  Her father nodded. “The Alliance would crack. Daran is a visionary and in his own way an able High King of men but he is impatient and immoderate. That’s not a good combination in regards to relations with the Elves or Dwarves. He’s a political creature without the skills to implement his plans. He likes to scheme too much. Without the help of someone like Elon, he was as like to fail as succeed. Little as Daran likes to admit it.”

  That earned Geric a very pointed stare from Tolan. “Does our good High King somewhat resent Elon?”

  “He does at times even as he respects his opinion and admires him.”

  “So,” Tolan said, “if Elon of Aerilann falls we rid ourselves of exposure and damage the Alliance as well. That would be a good day’s work, my friends. A good day’s work, indeed.”

>   “Elves and wizards,” Caradoc said, “are powerful. They won’t be easy to take. What would you have me do?”

  “You?” Tolan asked. “You. Nothing. Truly nothing. They may be powerful and the Elves long lived but they do bleed, they do die. They are mortal and can be wounded or even killed. The wizard, too, for all his magic. I’m afraid Elon, his Elves and his wizard friend are going to find out how mortal they are and how many of the creatures of the borderlands have slipped across the borders unnoticed. There’s no village close enough for them to reach before nightfall in the direction they’re going. They’ll camp for the night. They’re few. They may post watches but there will be only one or two. For all their vaunted abilities, even Elves and wizards can fall if the numbers are great enough. If they call for aid, Caradoc, don’t send it. Otherwise, do nothing. We need them far enough away that no blame falls on us. If it falls on the Hunters, all the better. They won’t have a full night’s sleep, unfortunately, but they will sleep eventually and for always. A pity for Daran, to lose a Councilor and Advisor so necessary to his success.”

  He nodded slowly.

  “A pity, indeed. Caradoc, we have no more need of you at the moment, you can return to your duties. Geric, tell me more about Daran.”

  Ailith’s heart pounded. Moving very carefully, she slipped out of the library, using the noise Caradoc made as he left to cover the small sounds she made. As soon as the outer doors closed she ran lightly up the stairs to her rooms.

  It was an effort to remain calm. They had to be warned. A plan formed in her mind but she would need to settle herself first. Dorovan’s exercises stood her in good stead once again and she mentally thanked him yet again for teaching her. Would they call her down to dinner? Or would Tolan forget in his plotting and planning? That which was Geric, once her father, would neither care nor notice. It remained only for her to wait and see.

  Time passed too slowly. She prayed that after so many days in the saddle, as the wizard had said, that they wouldn’t wish to press too hard. She hoped they would stay at a walk.