Almost there.
Please make it stop, please. I don’t want to see. But she was dragged inexorably forward.
“She’s almost ours, the soul-eater has her. We’ll seal it to her on the day of her majority.”
The door was open and through it she could see.
A back. Sandy hair.
Something was wrong, all wrong, the head wasn’t right, the back wasn’t right. None of it was right. He turned a little, and the familiar features of his nondescript face ran like warm wax, shifting and sloughing, the eyes receded then tried to shift back. Long fingers that looked more like talons, with claws that retracted.
Half Tolan, half something else, something with mad eyes and sharp inward-facing teeth.
It was what was beyond him though that made her scream, what Tolan had been talking to that sent her flying out of sleep.
She saw it.
And it had seen her.
In seconds she threw on clothes, scrabbled under the bed for her swords and bow, flung them on even as she ran for the door.
From somewhere deep below her she heard something roar in a terrible fury.
The back stair and down, her feet sliding in the flour on the floor of the kitchen. The astonished cook backed away. Snatching at the table to keep her feet under her as she scrambled to the door.
A quick look outside. Nothing.
A look up. Darker shadows against the sky.
Don’t look this way, she pleaded as she fled across the courtyard.
Duck around the stairs.
A shout somewhere. The alarm was up.
There’s no time left.
Slipping through the narrow, hidden door, she drew it shut as quickly and quietly as she dared.
Utter darkness awaited her, the starlight only barely bright enough to see where her feet were. She ran, counting the stairs, her hand scraping the wall. One slip and all would be done. Which might be a blessing compared to if they caught her.
That man, that body tossed so carelessly into the corner, what they had done to him… She shuddered.
Each morning she’d practiced, counting the stairs so she wouldn’t forget and nearly run off them again. Her knees shook.
She could hear the shouts above her now.
“Smoke!” she hissed, clinging to the rope.
Something bumped her legs and she almost cried out.
A mottled shadow below her, a quick shake of head that made his mane whisper.
She dropped onto his back.
“Horse, if you value your life, if you’ve ever wanted to truly run, do it now.”
She felt his muscles bunch and ducked her head low, clinging to his mane as he leaped down the last of the hill and raced for the picket line. His muscles bunched to leap over it.
In the tower Geric cowered near the top of the stairs as Tolan stormed past him into Ailith’s rooms. The covers were thrown back in a jumble. She was gone. Otherwise, the room was neat, too neat for the supposedly thoughtless creature that had roamed these halls, as he’d seen with her mother.
How? How had she done it?
The soul-eater…
Where was it? He could almost feel it. It should have been here, it should have been in the bed. Claws extended Tolan ripped the mattress apart. Nothing. Like a dog on a scent he turned his head, turned it to and fro.
Caradoc arrived at a run and stopped, frozen. Some instinct warned him to keep his distance as Geric did.
It was a wise move, Tolan’s blood was already up. He’d have ripped Caradoc to shreds and feasted on his entrails.
Where was it?
Tolan knew it was here, if it wasn’t on her, it was still here somewhere. He quartered the room, feeling it closer. A string, where none should be, in the garderobe. He pulled on it, drew the filthy thing up into the room and screamed his fury.
He spun, holding it out. “No magic, you say? She doesn’t know, you say? She knows something!”
Geric shank further against the burning heat in those eyes.
His head turned on his shoulders, impossibly, his body still facing Geric, his head now looking at Caradoc behind him. “Find her. I want her back. Now!”
Caradoc unfroze, turned and ran, shouting orders to the guards below.
Advancing on Geric, who crouched in a corner, Tolan hissed, “Where will she go?”
Looking up at him, looking into those terrible eyes, Geric said, “To her grandmother’s. Selah’s mother. To Delae. Or to Gwillim of the Hunters. She’s always been fond of him.”
That scream echoed across the hills, sent a chill down Ailith’s spine. Fear spilled icy tremors down her spine as her fingers clutched Smoke’s mane where she crouched over him. He ran flat out, stretching for speed as if he knew the race was life and death.
Her mind spun in a million directions, that nightmare vision from her dream filled her mind and clouded her sight.
The revelations of the night.
Tolan’s voice. ‘She’s Otherling.’
No.
Where to go? Not to Delae’s, that’s the first place…they’ll go.
A chill went through her.
Yes, it would be the first place they’d go. To Delae’s. And her grandmother would be completely unprepared.
Would they go with a soul-eater? Ailith had to warn her. She had to warn her, yes, but she also needed answers. She needed to know the truth. She needed confirmation.
Delae would know.
The dream.
It had been so real.
No dream, not really a dream. A vision. Somehow.
She kept trying to push that thought away but like an animal in a trap it kept circling and circling back. Her breath came in short pants. No. She took the thought, crammed it into a compartment in her mind and slammed the door shut. Mad? If anything should have driven me mad, that last sight, that vision…
No. Don’t think about it. Close that door and lock it. The same with the other.
Otherling? She wouldn’t think about it.
Looking around, she saw familiar sights around her. It was half a day’s ride on her own horse. Half a day! How long since she’d slid down the rope? She didn’t know. Not long. Certainly not half a day. Somehow she’d guided Smoke all unknowing to where she needed to go. Her thoughts were a jumble but still she had done it.
She’d known Elven-bred were fast, but this…?
The high wall around Delae’s house rose before her. Smoke didn’t even pause, he cleared it with a small rap of a back hoof. Six feet and he didn’t even hesitate. She barely avoided smacking her face into his neck on the landing.
Across the green, with the short grass muffling Smoke’s hoof beats.
Sliding off his back, Ailith ran to the wide oak doors with their banding of iron.
Banging on it, she shouted, “Delae. Wake up. Delae. Hurry.”
A light blossomed through the narrow window on the side of the house. She banged again.
“Delae,” she shouted. “It’s Ailith. Hurry.”
The door opened to show her grandmother Delae’s face lit by the soft light of the candle. Save for the gray in her hair it was so much like her mother’s face that grief struck Ailith like a fist, driving the breath from her.
No. Not now.
“Ailith,” Delae said, bewildered and half awake. “What are you doing here?”
The voices were different.
Ailith closed her eyes, fought for control.
“Get dressed,” she begged. “Hurry, there’s no time. I’ll explain as you dress. Quickly, please.”
The urgency and fear got through as Delae looked at her granddaughter’s frightened face and nodded. She hurried into her bedroom with Ailith close behind.
“Am I Otherling?”
The words just popped out. Ailith hadn’t meant to say them.
Delae froze, her shocked expression all the answer Ailith needed.
True. The shock hit her. It was true. She couldn’t deal with it, couldn’t accept it. Not
now.
“How did you…?” Delae began to say.
“Not now,” Ailith said, shaking her head as much in denial as negation. She couldn’t think about that now. “Get dressed, hurry. They’ll come here first.”
“Who’ll come here first?” Delae demanded but she pulled on clothing, working clothes.
“Delae,” Ailith said, “I’m not mad, I’m not. Please believe me. The guards from the castle are coming. My mother is dead. Selah is gone.”
The words were like blows raining down on Delae’s heart.
Selah? Her precious baby, beloved daughter. Her life and dreams and solace. Dorovan’s child and hers, though none knew it.
Selah. Dead? What could Ailith be saying? Delae’s knees went weak.
“What did you say?”
“Mother is dead, Delae. My mother. They killed her.”
The aching need to weep, to release all the fear and the pain and the sorrow seemed too great for Ailith to bear.
“Why can’t I cry?” she wailed, in frustration and grief.
“Oh, dear child,” Delae said, clutching her by the shoulders to shake her hard.
She’d ridden so far and so hard at this time of night. The urgency. If it was all true? Ailith had no time for grief, then, any more than she did. Something was clearly wrong, but there was no time for this.
“Stop it. You can’t because you’re Elven as well as Dwarven. They can’t weep either. Oh, Ailith. I am sorry.”
The shake helped.
Ailith shook her head to clear it. Push it back, all the pain and the fear. That last vision. She was indeed Otherling. It all chattered wildly through her mind. She willed control. Accepted at least some of it, for now.
“How?”
“That’s a long story, sweetling. The short of it is… A moment of weakness, of loneliness. No one knew Selah was Elven, not even me. She didn’t look it, she looked like me. Her mother’s daughter. As with you. Different, yet not. You were Otherling but we didn’t want to know. Your father set the bindings on you but in all other respects you were like any other child. A merry happy baby, a sweet, rambunctious and saucy child. You were so like other children that after a while it was easy to forget you weren’t. As with Selah. When she met Geric and they seemed so much in love, I never gave thought to his blood. Or of what might be in her blood. Of what might happen. Of what it could mean. We protected you the best we could.”
They’d been so in love, her parents. Ailith remembered that. The kisses and hugs, the warm affection. He’d killed her. She scrubbed her hand across her face.
“Why are the guards coming?” Delae asked.
“They’re after me. I saw something I shouldn’t. They’ll know I’d come here. My father will tell them. They would come here even so, thinking I might.”
“Your father…,” bewildered, Delae stared. “I don’t understand.”
“Please trust me but not him. He isn’t the man he was. And Tolan. Beware especially of him should you ever be so unfortunate to meet him. Don’t listen to him. His voice entrances. There’s so much to tell and no time to tell it.”
None of it made sense but Ailith was in such earnest. So frightened.
“So, why am I dressing?”
“You have to leave. They’ll think you know where I am, where I’ll go. I’ve seen what they will do to you if they catch you.”
“What about my people here?”
“They’ll be safe enough, it’s you they’ll want, to get to me. The guards can’t stay forever,” Ailith said. “And what will your people do if they hurt you, too?”
The very thought was shattering.
No more.
She’d lost both mother and father these last months. Friends. Korin. No more.
“Please, Delae. You can hide in the woods and they’ll never find you. You know them too well.”
“Where will you go?” Delae asked. “What about you?”
Ailith smiled a little. “I have friends, they’ll help me. I’ll be safe enough once I reach them.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded, quickly. She was certain of. “Yes. We must go.”
Saddling and bridling her horse was necessary but it took so long. Delae wanted Ailith to put something on Smoke but it was taking too much time. Ailith kept glancing at the surrounding hills, looking for dark shapes against the stars. She and Smoke had made time but not enough of it. It was a half-day’s ride at a trot or a canter. Riding hard? She listened for the drumbeat sound of hoof-beats.
Then they were off and the drumming of their horse’s hooves wasn’t only the sound of their horses. Delae glanced back, to the hill beyond, to the sound of the thunder of many horses’ hooves. So many.
She looked at Ailith.
“When you reach the trees, ride at speed. That’s an Elven-bred, he’ll carry you far. I’ll go my own way.”
“Delae…,” Ailith cried.
“I’ll only slow you down with this old horse. Do it, Ailith. It’s you they’re after. I’ll lose myself in the trees, I promise.”
With that, she set spurs to the horse.
Ailith was right behind her.
Into the trees and then with a shift of knees and reins Delae turned the horse, disappearing among the trunks and leaves in the near moonless night. Trusting to the horse to find its way among them.
For a moment Ailith wanted to follow her, to follow her grandmother. Her only family now. A thousand memories flashed through her mind, both happy times and sad. She couldn’t lose the last of her family, the last of her blood. She couldn’t.
It was her they were after, her they sought. In that Delae was right. If she followed they were both lost.
Where to go?
A voice in her head, deep and steady.
‘If you must run, come to us,’ he’d said.
Elon of Aerilann.
It suddenly seemed as if all the stars in the sky blossomed inside her head and heart and soul. A hundred thousand stars. More than she could count. They all had names and some of those names she knew.
One in particular.
Due north, for a while. If the stars in her head were true. Once they’d helped her find a lost child. It was enough for now. It was a direction in which to go.
She was so frightened.
What other choice did she have?
“Run, Smoke.”
Delae had wanted her to take saddle and bridle but they seemed to do well enough without them. Ailith clung to Smoke’s back and prayed Delae would be all right.
Whatever it was Ailith had been going on about Delae wanted to see. She wanted, needed, to know what was happening.
There was a vantage point, a place where she could look down on her house, on the homestead, what had been her home and once her prison, until Dorovan. A place where she could watch the comings and goings and not be seen.
It was a special place. One she’d never shown her daughter or even her beloved granddaughter. Only one other person had ever stood there.
Dorovan.
That house below had been a wretched and desolate place for so long. A husband who’d mistreated her and abandoned her for dicing and drink. It had been sad and lonely until Dorovan, until Selah. They’d brought her such joy, those two, her lover and her daughter. And then Ailith, so bright, so beautiful. Her sweet Selah, her beloved daughter, was dead? The thought tore Delae’s heart in two.
Geric had sent to tell her Selah had gone north, something about someone sick.
Ailith seemed so certain, though, so sure. There had been deep grief and pain in her voice.
Then Delae remembered.
Ailith was Otherling. She couldn’t lie. Over the years she’d seen the truth of it so many times. That knowledge drove her to her knees in grief and tears streamed down her face for the loss of her only child. Her only light, made with the only one who had given her joy.
But…there was Ailith.
Fire touched the top of the distant hill, torches to light the
night.
A rumble of hooves as they crested the ridge and thundered down the hill, at least ten of them, a few of the riders holding torches high aloft. Sparks trailed behind them. She could barely see their badges in the flickering light of the torches but she recognized them as those of her son-in-law. There were too many to bring back one recalcitrant daughter.
Ailith hadn’t lied, she couldn’t.
Running with the horses was something else as well, shadowy creatures, large, black and oddly shaped. Another appeared out of the darkness. Its hide reflected the torchlight as if it had been oiled. The riders pulled up in the yard of the homestead, milled around. All were armed. One dropped off his horse, kicked open the door and went inside.
One of the oddly shaped things stepped into the pooled light and Delae’s heart nearly stopped. She knew it. Her blood froze.
A hellhound. Named so for its resemblance to a dog in general shape and for their method of hunting, especially by scent. There all resemblance stopped.
Hellhounds. Mounts of trolls and goblins, creatures of the borderlands. Predators. Hunters by scent.
Fear coursed through her veins, made her stomach tighten. In all her life Delae had never been so frightened as in that moment.
Carefully and quickly, Delae backed her horse up, holding its reins tight and close to its head. There wasn’t much time. She didn’t want them to notice the movement and give them a direct quarry. Another hell hound stepped into light even as she mounted and turned the horse’s head away. Down and away from Ailith’s trail. It was dark, deep dark here beneath the trees and she was alone in it and unarmed. There was no place to go but away as fast as she dared, keeping her head low and letting the horse find its way. She’d known a few moments of fear in her life but nothing like this.
In the near distance she heard the sound of baying, like a hound’s on the scent. The hell hounds. Which scent? Hers or Ailith’s? She prayed desperately for her granddaughter. Her only blood, now. All that was left of their families. She prayed for them both and tried to drive her poor horse farther and faster. It needed little encouragement with that sound on its heels, forcing and plunging its way through brambles and bushes, dodging trees half seen until they were almost upon them.
A sharp yelp, almost triumphant, sounded from behind her. Far behind but not far enough. Her heart pounded.
The Coming Storm Page 20