The Coming Storm

by Valerie Douglas

  Jareth and Jalila came at a signal from Elon and they all rode to the head of the line.

  The broad slopes of the pass opened up before them onto the Kingdom of Raven’s Nest and revealed it to them.

  A broad and lush green valley spread out below them for leagues, surrounded on all sides by the distant mountains. The nearer mountains sloped steeply, while those to the East towered, reached like fingers for the blue sky. Of those, some were white-capped with snow. To the north and west, in the far distance, one mountain stretched like a broad gray wall.

  Little villages, nothing more than clusters of houses, could be seen here and there. On the hillsides, sheep drifted like bits of cloud, interspersed with cattle and horses.

  Nestled at the bottom of that cone-shaped valley was Raven’s Nest itself.

  From this small distance the castle looked like a child’s toy, yet the size was still impressive. Circling it in expanding rings was the town that had grown up around it. High above it, black birds soared, banked and turned.

  Built of the same marble and granite as the High King’s castle in Doncerric and crowned by multiple towers and minarets, Raven’s Nest glittered whitely in the brilliant sunlight. That whiteness was dotted with flecks of gleaming black – the ever-present flock of blue-black ravens and crows that gave the Kingdom its name.

  None knew why the dark birds so loved that Kingdom but one never found as many of them elsewhere as were found in Raven’s Nest.

  As they rode down the long gentle slope Jareth said, “It’s larger than Riverford Castle.”

  Ailith nodded and smiled wryly. “Size matters to some but not much to the Lords of Riverford. My father gave thought to expanding the castle once but there was no need. Have any of you met King Westin?”

  With a shake of his head, Elon said, “No.”

  He knew some of the lesser Kings, mostly those that surrounded Aerilann and some few of the lowland Kings that attended or danced attendance on Daran’s Court. Like many of the Kings of the far reaches, as with Geric, Westin likely had little reason or desire to travel to Doncerric any more than necessary.

  Jareth said, “I hear he’s a shrewd man, a bargainer.”

  “He is that. He also has a love for the trappings of royalty and uses his shrewdness to finance it. Perhaps also, it’s a matter of size as well. The Lords of Raven’s Nest aren’t given to height but to girth. Don’t mistake his merry expression for, as Jareth says, he’s a shrewd man, a calculating one.”

  She looked around.

  “There is his wealth,” she said, pointing.

  Shepherds, guiding sheep down from grazing the green hills. The slopes were dotted thickly with them.

  “His sheep have some of the finest wool anywhere. Not even in the heartland do they breed sheep with wool so fine as is found in Raven’s Nest. He’ll let none of his rams or sheep go, not even the culls, those get sold for their meat so none can breed from them.”

  Across the valley a party of Hunters turned to ride in their direction.

  With a sigh, Ailith said, “I wish I were dressed somewhat better.”

  Surprised, Elon said, “It hasn’t bothered you before.”

  “It doesn’t matter to me in the least but it will to them and to Westin. As I said, he loves the trappings. Well, he’ll have to take me as I am, as will these.”

  The Hunters met them some way down the road into the valley and hailed them.

  “Hai, travelers,” the leader called.

  Ailith drew herself up in the saddle regally, her chin up and her eyes level. Every inch the noble, for all her common clothing.

  “Greetings, Hunters. I am Lady Ailith of Riverford and all its domains, daughter of King Geric. With me are Elon of Aerilann, Councilor to the High King, Jareth the wizard and Colath and Jalila of Aerilann. I bring greetings and a request to your King.”

  The leader gave her a sharp look but she lifted her chin and stared back at him with icy steel-blue eyes. This was command and he knew it. She showed him her warrant, the seal of Riverford with its castle surrounded by a river.

  With a respectful bow, first to her and then to Elon, unmistakably Elven, the Hunter nodded. “My Lady, greetings.”

  “There are folk behind me in need. I am claiming Sanctuary for them. See that they have assistance and direction.”

  “Yes, my Lady.” He bowed.

  “My thanks,” she said and urged Smoke past.

  The man gave her an odd look. With a gesture, he sent a rider off, racing toward the distant city.

  “Well,” Jareth teased when they were far enough down the road to be out of earshot, “our Ailith has gone all royal on us.”

  It had been an impressive display. Ailith had said she could command and though Elon hadn’t doubted it he hadn’t seen it. Now he had. Her authority had been absolute and unquestionable, as had her confidence she would be obeyed. The superiority of monarchs among men.

  She sighed in response. “I would wish not. I know how to do it, I’ve learned that but I don’t like it much. I greatly prefer the informality of Gwillim. Caradoc was always much more formal, he preferred such displays of authority. Perhaps that’s why he fell to Tolan so easily, a longing for authority without merit. I would rather the merit. For myself, I wish to know that a person will do their duty and do it well, then trust that they will do it without barking commands at them. Follow me because I know how to command, not for an accident of birth.”

  That was his Ailith, Elon thought, much like their own folk. She simply didn’t realize that folk already did.

  At the gate to the city it was much the same.

  Drawing herself to her full height, she demanded entrance and an escort to the castle and received it.

  Surging ahead of them, the Guard cleared the street ahead of them with shouts and commands. The people of Raven’s Nest bowed as the folk of Riverford hadn’t, the men tugging on their caps or their forelocks and the women curtseying as they went by. It said much of Raven’s Nest’s King. Elon found he didn’t like it, this subservience.

  “I grow weary of this,” she murmured, as they rode through the streets of Raven’s Nest.

  However, here within the gates of the city she didn’t let it rest, keeping her back sword-straight, her head up and her gaze even as they rode down the center of the street. She looked neither right nor left at those who gawked as their party went past. The authority she radiated gave them the right to do so and have all give way before them.

  For that, Elon and the other Elves were grateful. The streets of the town were narrow and tight, the houses close together, with many of the upper stories built up and out over the lower. In most cases the slops and chamber pots were emptied into the gutters and so the stench was high. Even Ailith winced at the stink. There were better ways to deal with such but they weren’t employed here.

  Even Jareth didn’t much mind the privilege of rank for a change. More than once while riding in towns like this or even while walking he’d narrowly avoided having such a thing tossed on him by some careless shop owner.

  They rode up the broad causeway to the castle gate but this challenge was different.

  “Lady Ailith of Riverford and Elon of Aerilann, Councilor, here to see King Westin,” their escort announced.

  From the ramparts above came a voice, the tones glad. “Lady Ailith!”

  Ailith glanced up to see a familiar seamed face with a crown of white hair leaning out from between the crenellations and smiled.

  “Aranoc, you old rogue, how are you?”

  “Well, very well, now. Let them pass,” he said, over his shoulder to his people, saluting her and smiling back. “I’ll meet you on the other side.”

  With a finger to her lips and a glance at all of them, she looked up as they passed beneath the more elaborate gate. A murder hole gaped above them. She gave Jareth an arch look, a clear warning to make no merry comments.

  Aranoc was a stout, solid man of later than middling years, an air of command about
him and the badge of the Captain of the Guard on his shoulder. Sending a messenger into the castle, he gave Ailith a sweeping bow before putting a hand up to help her dismount.

  “My Lady, what are you doing here and in such a state?” he said, clearly shocked.

  “With due apologies, Aranoc, it was something of an emergency. We’ve had some troubles. Can you fetch the seneschal to arrange an audience with King Westin and find a place for our horses?”

  “Of course, my Lady,” he gave her a grin and then spoke more softly. “How are you, Ailith? Well? You look tired.”

  She smiled at him, dropping pretense somewhat. “I’m well enough, Aranoc. How is your lovely wife? How many children have you now?”

  Giving her a wink, he said, “We’ve stopped at six, it seemed enough. All healthy. I’ll go fetch Doril, we’ll get you settled.”

  With a wave, he summoned stablehands to take their horses and escorted them across the courtyard to the forecourt of the castle.

  “Wait here.”

  A few moments later, the seneschal, Doril, arrived, hurrying out of the main doors.

  Plain of face, very small and very serious, Doril was a woman of definite competence. She bowed to Ailith even as she shook her head at her with a warning look in her eye and then gave the bow to Elon and Jareth.

  There were watchers, protocols had to be maintained.

  “My Lady Ailith, Lords Elon and Jareth and your companions, welcome. Please, come in, come in,” she said, escorting them through the doors and into the entry hall.

  Straightening, she folded her arms across her midsection and gave Ailith a querying look. “My Lady, how is it you come to us in such a state?”

  “It’s something of an emergency, Doril. I have need to speak to His Highness as soon as possible.”

  Nodding once sharply, Doril said, “Well, then, we’ll have to hurry. We can’t have you going before him like this.”

  With a sharp wave of her hand, servants appeared. Others raced back through the halls to warn and help those who prepared the rooms.

  “These will escort all of you to your rooms. A bath, food and drink will be provided. If you need anything else, simply tell the servant assigned to you. Within reason, we’ll provide it. When it’s time, one of them will be sent to you to summon you before the King. Please follow them.”

  She bowed politely and waved them away.

  Including Elon, who raised a questioning eyebrow at Ailith.

  Sighing in resignation, she shook her head and gestured him to go. By the look in her eye he had a more pleasant time ahead of him than she did. Certainly with the promise of a bath.

  With another bow, Doril swept Ailith before her.

  Ailith, perforce, had to go.

  These were the rooms she’d had the last time she was here. She couldn’t complain of them as they were quite large. Tall narrow windows had been opened to allow light and air into the room. A wide fireplace dominated one wall, while a large bed draped with coverlet of fine wool dyed a deep shade of blue sat in the center of the room. There was a small sitting area but that had been pushed aside to make room for the tub.

  A bath was being poured, the water steaming, even as she entered with Doril behind her.

  Seeing it, Ailith asked, “My friends as well?”

  She’d had the sense from all three Elves that they felt as uncomfortable unbathed as she did. It didn’t seem to bother Jareth quite as much but she thought he might be glad of it as well.

  Doril smiled and caught Ailith’s hands fondly in hers. “Of course, my dear. You should know as much.”

  With a sigh, Ailith relaxed. “My apologies, Doril. It’s been too long.”

  “It has. The distance between the two houses has become great in these past few years.” Her glance conveyed that she knew the reason for it and the sense that she regretted it. She didn’t speak of it, though. “So, I’ve already sent the petition to the King, there’s time in his schedule later. Time enough to put you in correct condition for him to greet you with the proper attitude.”

  Another wave. A whole host of servants descended on her.

  Ailith resigned herself to the attention, thinking about the peaceful serenity of the bath at Talesin’s as a maid tortured her freshly washed hair into a concoction of curls. Another laid out a dress. Fortunately, there was a small dish of finger foods near at hand and a cup of watered wine with which to refresh herself.

  This was a small measure of the attention she would have received on her majority. Remembering the dress she’d been fitted for, she sighed a little, but whether with relief or regret she couldn’t say.

  A bath and a rest were much appreciated, as were the refreshments on the table, Elon thought, looking around the room provided him as the servant left silently. This was the courtesy Geric should have offered but hadn’t. Like all his people, Elon preferred to be clean. It wasn’t always possible when traveling as they had been and under such circumstances.

  Gratefully, he stripped and sank into the heated water. Drying cloths were near at hand. It would be good to be clean again.

  A servant slipped in nearly silently to lay fresh clothing from his bags on the bed before scurrying out again.

  When the time came, a servant came to escort him to the antechamber beyond the Great Hall where he found the others, clean and in fresh clothes, waiting.

  All but Ailith.

  The outer door opened.

  It took a moment to realize who it was who stepped inside.

  The woman who stood before him was every inch the daughter and Heir of a King. Ailith wore it well.

  A long gown of Elven-silk in a dark shade of rose brought out the faint blush of pink in her cheeks and the darker rose of her lips. Somehow, it also made her eyes seem more blue. The neckline of the dress and the tightness of the bodice made the most of her curves and narrow waist, the full skirts swept the floor. Her rich chestnut hair had been gathered on top of her head with rose ribbons and diamond studded pins to reveal the long graceful curve of her throat. A circlet of gold surrounded her forehead. Ailith had always moved gracefully but now she was regal, her back arrow-straight, shoulders down, chin up and her eyes serene.

  Somehow, she seemed taller.

  For a moment, they were all caught off guard by the transformation, even Elon.

  It was striking, that change, and yet essentially she was still the Ailith he knew.

  Clearly poleaxed, Jareth said, softly, “Oh, my.”

  Taking a deep breath, Ailith looked from him, smiled, then turned to meet Elon’s eyes.

  Without taking his eyes from hers, he inclined his head, giving her honor.

  It startled her, that small bow, taking her off guard, then she smiled a little.

  Colath nodded, once, in greeting, as did Jalila, gravely.

  She looked to each of them. Then to the man by the door. She nodded. At her signal the man knocked once, to alert those on the other side of the doors, then threw the doors open wide.

  Inside another announced, “Lady Ailith, heir to Riverford and its environs. Lord Elon of Aerilann, Councilor. Lord Jareth of Carevon, wizard, and company.”

  Ailith could have wished Colath and Jalila hadn’t been so idly dismissed as ‘company’ but she could do nothing for it. This was going to be difficult enough as it was.

  She stepped through the doors, with Elon and Jareth flanking her, a step behind.

  It was a full Court, something her father had rarely done.

  On both sides of them were the titled Lords and Ladies of Raven’s Nest, many of the major landowners and those merchants who looked to gain favor. King Westin was much for titles. Those he bestowed meant little outside of Raven’s Nest but it was considered an honor by those of the Kingdom to be so gifted by him. Everyone stared, of course, and whispered behind their hands.

  At the end of the room was a dais, with a large and impressed throne of some dark wood with red velvet cushions trimmed in gold. Westin sat in it, his daughter and
son to each side.

  As a man, Westin was less than impressive. Short and rotund, with pale watery brownish-green eyes, he had a weak chin and receding mouse-brown hair. The elaborate crown on his head did little to make him look more king-like, save perhaps in his own eyes. Decisive in commerce, he’d made his Kingdom wealthy. The source of his wealth – the shepherds – didn’t see much of that coin.

  Ailith had a suspicion Westin loved the accouterments of royalty all the more to make up for his own shortcomings. She’d never voiced that thought, of course.

  His son Evin resembled his mother more, being fairer than his father and less round, with a slightly stronger chin but a weaker personality. Unfortunately, Elen was her father’s daughter to the core. Neither was particularly prepossessing.

  The whispers died away as Ailith swept up the length of the hall to come to a halt the proper distance before the dais. A dozen heads turned and even more voices went silent. Some here were aware of the tension that had developed between the two Kingdoms but few knew the reason for it. Speculation had run rampant. It was certain to be entertaining for them to watch.

  Following with the others, Elon watched as avid faces focused on the young woman in the center of the room.

  With incredible grace, Ailith sank down into a perfect curtsey, her back as straight as an arrow and her head up. Not obeisance but courtesy, as the Heir of one Kingdom to the King of another. She rose as gracefully.

  Westin nodded his head. “Ailith of Riverford, what brings you before me?”

  “I cry Sanctuary for those who followed me here,” she said and her voice rang clearly in that colonnaded Hall. “They are troubled, beset and in need.”

  “Why,” Westin said, “should I grant Sanctuary to Riverford’s citizens?”

  His voice was bored but Elon could see by the sharp look in his eyes it was feigned. There was something else going on here. A game of some kind. Only Daran loved such games more.

  “By my own grant and petition,” Ailith said, bowing slightly and spread her hands. “I ask it of you, out of dire need.”

  “There has been a distance between our two houses,” he responded, idly.