The Coming Storm

by Valerie Douglas

  Elon pulled himself back to the question at hand, sending Colath a small shake of his head at his questioning look.

  The Dwarves didn’t know she couldn’t lie but they would know she was telling the truth. Men would have questioned it, demanded proof the scar had come from that time. Dwarves wouldn’t, any more than Elves would have.

  For them, it was enough.

  Ondelak nodded. “We’ve felt the darkness rising, sensed something amiss at Riverford. The loss of Geric was felt among us but it puzzled us. His essence dimmed slowly, as if from a debilitating injury but there was no word from Riverford requesting aid. Then he was gone. We thought Ailith on the throne. This was why we thought you had come, Ailith, Geric’s daughter, but then you said you were here on Councilor Elon’s behalf.”

  Now Elon understood why they’d answered so quickly. They’d been confused by the events.

  With a tilt of her chin at the package on the table, Ailith said, “They sought to put one of those on me. I escaped while I might and sought out Elon that I might aid him if I could. That which appears as my father still sits upon the throne at Riverford.”

  “Why should we care what happens in the worlds of men and Elves?” one of the Dwarves asked, his voice harsh and angry.

  Elon had been waiting for that. He’d seen the same attitude too often in Goras, Third of the Three, the Dwarven High Councilor.

  It had long been the way of Dwarves, who stood apart from all the worlds. There were Elves, too, who would have felt much the same.

  “In the war of wizards, did they not strike against the Dwarves as well? Did we and the men fight that war alone? No. I believe it is that darkness that rises again.”

  “There are more of those than that one,” Ailith said to them, her eyes level. “If my father wears one, that was on my mother and they had one yet to place on me, how many more have they? Did no Dwarves know the power of soul-eaters?”

  It was well-done, skirting what she knew yet making the point.

  That shook them, badly.

  Ondelak paled, as did one or two others.

  As with Elves, Dwarves didn’t show their age. He didn’t know if any among them were old enough to remember but he suspected so.

  “Yes,” Ondelak breathed, confirming his thought. There was an ancient and personal grief in her eyes. “Yes.”

  As one, the Dwarves averted their eyes from her pain, to allow her privacy and respect her dignity. Such was their Way.

  Raising her head, she looked at Elon. “The word will go out to all the Dwarven lands that a darkness rises again. To beware. We’ll aid you Elon of Aerilann. Ask what you will. Those that seek you stand at our borders. They shall not pass.”

  So the trackers were that close.

  It was more, much more than he’d dared to hope for. There were no qualifiers, no exceptions or conditions as he’d feared. Inclining his head deeply, he bowed to them.

  “I thank you. We seek passage around Riverford, for we dare not challenge Tolan where he holds sway, not so few in number. Not yet. He plans to lay siege to Raven’s Nest, we go to warn them and those we can reach in the north. Is there a way?”

  With a wave of her hand, she dismissed the others.

  As they filed out she nodded. “Yes. I’ll guide you myself. Food and water have been added to your supplies against need. Come, we’ll see you on your path.”

  She led them through the other door, to where their horses and a small, strong pony now waited.

  With relief, she handed the small silk-wrapped package back to him.

  “My sorrow to return this but I would not have it among us here. My apologies, as well, for the speed of your departure, Elon of Aerilann, but there are some among my people who have no love for yours, the race of men or wizards. None but Dwarves should pass through these corridors, this is a special grant. My warrant only, to take you through these ways.”

  It was a maze, twists and turns down endless stone corridors, some narrow, some wide. In the distance they heard the sounds of Dwarven pickaxes and hammers as they rang against stone. The pony had no trouble setting a pace that had the Elven horses trotting at a good speed. Now and again, though, Elon had to duck, or keep his head low to keep it from hitting the ceiling.

  As did all but Ailith, who he caught grinning once when he glanced back at her after avoiding an outcropping. He didn’t have to ask the source of her good humor, as for once her lack of stature was an obvious advantage. Shaking his head only made her laugh, the sound ringing through the tunnels.

  For herself, Ailith glanced around in wonder. Although she had visited the Dwarven Cavern a time or two in the company of her father, even he hadn’t been allowed down in the tunnels. It was fascinating.

  She’d expected them to be as damp as the escape tunnel below Riverford and half feared the memories it would invoke but it wasn’t. It was dry. She would have expected it to be dark as well but Dwarf lights were embedded in both the ceiling and the floor, providing plenty of illumination. The sides of the tunnel were rough with the markings of Dwarven tools, carved from the solid rock.

  “Once,” Ondelak said, “these were filled with coal and iron. Waste nothing. These shafts then became the corridors through which we travel. You should know this, Ailith, Geric’s daughter. This is the work of your forefathers and those who came before them. You are Dwarven, through your father you know earth and iron.”

  Ailith gave a significant glance to Elon, knowing Elves had no love for chafing, scorching iron, but he gave no sign of discomfort.

  They traveled beneath the earth for what seemed to be hours.

  It wasn’t a place where Elves would be comfortable. Jalila too easily felt the weight of all that mountain above their heads. The stone seemed to press down against her to hem her within it. She found it oppressing and longed for the open sky and the green trees. There was no place or room here to draw a bow and fire it to any effect. She felt confined, restricted.

  Colath gave Jalila a glance. She seemed huddled within herself. He, too, felt the weight of the crushing mass above their heads but tried not to think about it. He caught her eye and nodded his understanding. Taking a breath, relieved, she made an effort to straighten her shoulders.

  For Jareth, the whole journey was intriguing. He could almost feel the magic that permeated in this place. The power it took to hold the stone above their heads, to channel water away so it didn’t weaken it. The dwarf-lights set in niches along the way to light their path. All of it was a marvel few men had been privileged to see.

  A glimmer of light ahead, natural light, sunlight.

  It was a relief to see it.

  Even Elon had begun to feel the pressure of the massive weight above them.

  There was a small chamber where Ondelak stopped.

  “Beyond,” she said, “there are three paths to Riverford lands. Which you choose is for you to decide. Ailith will know where each ends.”

  Ailith nodded.

  “Good. To you then, Ailith, Geric’s daughter, I give this.” She held out her hand and dropped a small stone into Ailith’s hand.

  A spark of light glimmered within it.

  Ondelak nodded sharply, with satisfaction. “Your blood holds true then. It’s a Dwarf light. At need it will light your way where none other might. Go now.”

  There was a small twinge of something in Elon at that, a sorrow that through a twist of fate it was only the blood of his people Ailith must conceal. Elon saw the look Ailith gave him and knew she understood and shared that sorrow. They didn’t speak of it, there was no need and too much danger.

  With great relief among the Elves they rode out into the sunlight.

  Ailith looked to Elon and tilted her head.

  “That trail leads us close to Riverford. To the castle and all within it. Each of the others takes us further east and north. Where would you like to go?”

  “Which one will take us closest to where Gwillim and his people wait?”

  She tilted her
head at the last. “That one.”

  “If Tolan learns we’ve gone into Dwarven lands, he’ll suspect we’ll come out through one of these ways. I won’t underestimate him again. We’ve lost the trackers for a time but they may find another way. Keep weapons close at hand and eyes sharp.”

  This was more of that stony land, with huge boulders and monoliths on every side and massive tumbles of rock. It was eerily silent, broken only by the clatter of their horse’s hooves, but the stark and barren sparseness of the land wouldn’t encourage many creatures to make this place their home. Few trees grew here. What did grow were small scrubby bushes and grasses that had taken root in the cracks in the rocks or the spaces between the boulders. The trail was not always clear to Elon but Ailith led the way surely.

  Jalila spoke suddenly. “Movement.”

  They’d been at a walk, the better to pick their way through the rocky pathways.

  “Where?” Elon asked.

  She’d been watching, mentally picking bow shots to keep her aim true. “To our right.”

  “What is it?” he asked.

  With a shake of her head, she said, “I only caught a glimpse of movement and dark fur.”

  “There’s another to our left,” Colath added, putting hand to bow. “Keeping low between the rocks. Kobolds, then.”

  His look was significant. Elon knew it for what it meant. At least two. As that first day. But probably more as this was their kind of country.

  Elon drew his bow.

  “Jareth,” he said, quietly.

  “I see them,” Jareth said, quietly, and dropped his reins to leave his hands free.

  Zo was trained to answer to his knees.

  As well, both Jalila and Ailith now had their bows in hands, arrows notched but bowstring slack.

  Kobolds.

  Ailith only knew of them from the tales of others, she’d never seen or faced one herself, those creatures preferred darker places. Riverford lands were mostly too open and exposed for a kobold’s comfort.

  “On my mark, ride,” Elon said. “Now.”

  The horses, having caught wind of the kobolds, needed no urging.

  That flight was the signal, it seemed.

  Ailith saw a kobold scrambling between rocks and let fly. It was astonishingly quick as it twisted to avoid her arrow, which bounced off a rock but turned the kobold’s path. Other arrows sang, to much the same effect, only one kobold squealed in shock.

  Mage-bolts had much better effect. There were no squeals or squawks, they simply dropped. Which was as well, since there were many more than two.

  After missing two more, Ailith concentrated on driving them away, firing arrows at them only to turn them. Elon, Colath and Jalila had more success, Jalila hitting two, Elon and Colath each hitting one. Ahead was the canyon through which they had to pass, dark and narrow, that would lead out of this killing ground.

  Yet what lay within it?

  “ ‘Ware, Elon,” she shouted.

  He looked ahead, saw the looming mouth of the canyon and understood the warning. The others glanced ahead as well.

  “Jareth?,” Elon called. “Discourage those behind us.”

  Her bow would be of no use to her there. Ailith slung it as she neared the canyon entrance and drew her swords instead.

  There was a flash behind them as Jareth let loose a massive mage-bolt and then urged Zo up beside her.

  Flinging his hand forward, he sent a mage-light flying ahead as Elon drew up on Ailith’s right. Behind them a bow-string sang as Jalila kept their rear protected, Colath at her side in case of need.

  The mage-light revealed a boggart just as it charged but Smoke ran right over it as another came from the side. Elon slashed at it as it leaped at her, sent it howling back as Jareth let fly with another mage-bolt. Ailith heard another boggart howl.

  A mass of them appeared up ahead where the canyon forked. They meant to push them the wrong way, the other fork was a dead end.

  “Jareth,” she shouted, “the boggarts. They block our way.”

  He looked, nodded and gathered up power. The blast of mage-light in that bolt was nearly blinding but the boggarts not killed by it staggered and shook their heads, blinded.

  A few were trampled beneath their hooves as they shot out into sunlight. The way was clear, with nothing before them but the open highlands.

  Chapter Eleven

  In their short absence from Riverford Tolan had set other plans in motion. A day and restless night later, late in the morning they came upon the village where they had left Gwillim.

  The quiet little village was quiet no more. There were unmistakable signs of fierce and furious battle along the walls. An effort had been made to raise and fortify them, to some success but they were now badly battered. So, too, was the heavy wooden gate with its banding of iron that had been closed each night.. It had been smashed open at least once and then repaired with heavy oak crosspieces. Smoke rose thickly from within the fortifications, far too much for a simple fire in a grate.

  Someone saw them coming and pulled the gate open quickly.

  It was shut just as quickly behind them.

  Gwillim, a bit battered and bruised, waited for them wearily.

  One of the houses was still burning, at another a gaping hole that revealed the shattered remains of a table. Somewhere a woman wailed in grief and a child cried inconsolably. Everywhere they looked they saw wounded.

  Seeing where they looked, at the remains of the burning house, Gwillim said wearily, “Salamander.”

  Raising an eyebrow, Elon said, “This far north?”

  With a exhausted sigh, Gwillim nodded. “Too right. We weren’t prepared for it, don’t get them much. It was over the wall and setting blazes before we realized what was happening. Ogre took the gate.”

  He shook his head. “It started a few days after you left, after the drows came. They followed you but I’m guessin’ since you’re here you managed to survive them.”

  “Barely,” Ailith answered.

  “Ah, my sweet rose of Riverford, you’ve come back,” he said, but his heart clearly wasn’t in it.

  She smiled though, at the effort.

  “Leave off, Gwillim,” she said gently.

  Smiling back at the retort, he said, “It still does my heart good to see you well, Ailith. All things considered. Any rate, I’ve lost two of mine and three of the Woodsmen. This started a few nights after you left and has gone on every night since.”

  Elon looked around. “How long will the walls hold at this rate?”

  With a knowing look at him, Gwillim said, “Two, maybe three more days.”

  If they were very lucky but there were a number of listening ears so Gwillim was careful. It wouldn’t do to cause a panic. He gave a look to Elon.

  Nodding his understanding, Elon said, “How far is the next nearest village?”

  “A day, a little more. Hard riding?” He shrugged.

  The two looked at each other.

  “Where will we take them then?” Gwillim asked.

  Both glanced at Ailith. These were her lands and her people.

  She nodded. “In the end, to Raven’s Nest. It’s the only place left to go, and we need to go there anyway. If I cry sanctuary, they’ll have to let us in.”

  “I thought you said Riverford was going to attack there,” Gwillim said, glancing from one to the other of them.

  Elon said, “Raven’s Nest has stronger walls than these. Two or three days here and certain slaughter at the end. A week to Raven’s Nest, maybe a little longer. Fighting there perhaps but more of a chance as well.”

  Looking at the dazed people wandering around, at the battered walls and badly damaged gate, Gwillim sighed.

  “There’s no real choice is there? That gate, I was hoping it would hold through tonight. To be honest, I doubt that it will, unless we shore it with some of the wagons, which are our only means of escape. All right, then.”

  He turned to shout orders. Danalae and Maret came r
unning, both nodded sharply as he gave each commands, then turned to race away again. Danalae with a nod of greeting to Ailith.

  Word passed quickly. There was no outcry, most were too weary.

  In moments, as word went around people poured out of their homes with their most precious possessions in their arms to load on wagons and horse-carts. Folk such as these owned little and needed little, just their tools, what few clothes they could afford, food, water, their children and what livestock they thought they could save. No one would travel on foot. The monstrous wood sledges were hauled out, those massive wagons that were mostly an open platform used to transport the big logs out of the forest to where the sawyers could cut them. All those that didn’t have their own wagons piled onto the oxen-drawn sledges.

  Still, it was a sad sight to see.

  As the exodus snaked out from the gate Elon looked up at the sun. A day. They wouldn’t reach the next village until after dark unless they pushed hard. Very hard. They would have to. Most of these people seemed to understand that. Children were in carts or clasped in the arms of their mothers or fathers. Some few people rode horses but only a few. Some of those few rode the big draft horses as they pulled the sledges. For those beasts, nearly as tall as an Elven horse, these would be light loads compared to what they normally pulled, even with those astride.

  There was little complaint. The nights they’d endured since Elon and the others left had inured them to disaster. Most were exhausted. Few hadn’t realized they had to leave, and soon. Some looked back longingly at what they left behind, knowing full well it was likely they wouldn’t see those homes again and they shed a tear or two.

  Watching, Elon shook his head, trying to imagine the folk of Aerilann doing the same. It couldn’t happen among his own folk. He couldn’t imagine it. If that dark flood Ailith had seen did wash up against the Veil?

  His people could fight, unlike these, it was bred in their blood and bone, along with their ties to the land. They could fight and would fight. And die.