The Coming Storm

by Valerie Douglas

  Ailith went still, smothering the faint flicker of anger. She’d cried Sanctuary and by all rights and laws he should simply grant it. In doing so, he could, by those same rights, dun Riverford for the cost. For an man like Westin, it was an easy prize. Instead, he’d brought this up.

  “That was not by my doing,” she responded, coolly. “Nor is it the fault of those people who wait outside your gates. My Lord, I noticed you are bringing your sheep in at night and your gates are closed. Is there reason for this? If so, will you allow those people, who have done you and yours no harm, to suffer on my account?”

  Westin sat up a little, stung. “Why should I aid Riverford, who spurned my offer?”

  Now Ailith knew what this was truly about. Anger she dared not show burned inside her. That he would use this as leverage, those desperate people outside his gate, as a wedge…

  “Would you like my answer now, my Lord King? Here? In open court?” Ailith asked, her voice now as cold as iron.

  The air practically crackled with energy as two strong-willed people stared each other down. This was an Ailith Elon hadn’t seen. Always, he was learning new things about her.

  Jareth watched in concealed amazement.

  Where was the young woman who had ridden beside him with her impish smiles? He’d stood in Daran’s Court and seen women less regal than this who claimed greater crowns. This was a different woman and yet the same. That core of strength ran through both.

  Crossing his arms, Colath was content to watch. This promised to be interesting.

  Jalila resisted the impulse to shake her head. This Westin didn’t know who he played with. This one had faced down boggins and boggarts and a dark wizard alone, a mere King was not going to toy with her.

  Silence stretched as their eyes locked. No one spoke, not even a whisper.

  With a sudden wave of his hand, Westin dismissed the Court.

  There was a sudden shocked silence and then a low mutter as the room emptied in response to that command.

  Ailith restrained a shout of triumph.

  “Your answer,” he said, when the room was empty of all but his children, his attendants and those in Ailith’s party.

  “Your offer may have been meant with the kindest intentions,” Ailith said, evenly, “but did you not consider the insult?”

  “Insult!” Westin shouted. “I offered you my son.”

  “No, my lord King,” she said calmly but frostily, “you offered up my Crown.”

  There was righteous fury in her voice, a deep-seated anger no one in the room missed. It thrummed.

  “Did you not think my Lord Father would see your offer as an insult, not only to him but to me? He has no shame for his blood nor do I for mine. I’m proud of my blood, on both sides. You would set your son over me on my throne. In my lands. How dare you, sir! And your excuse? To remove the ‘taint’ of mixed blood from our house. The taint! Did you not realize, sir, the insult you gave to my father’s mother? Or did you simply wish to see your children ruling over two houses, yours and mine?”

  Her blue eyes blazed.

  “Ailith, Ailith,” Westin said, placatingly, “I meant no insult to your father or to you. I meant only that my son is a fine young man and will be a fine King some day. Your blood is an issue, though, surely you see that? Even your father had difficulty finding a wife. Who will marry you, with your blood as it is? And your children, who will carry the same?”

  She glared at him, her back rigid. “When I marry, if I marry, it will be for me and me alone to choose. If there’s no one strong enough to not to care for my blood then I shall rule alone. My children will carry it no matter what name I wear. I’ll say it again, sir! I’m proud of my blood, every drop of it and I’ll have no one who doesn’t feel the same.”

  “But,” she said, forcefully, “that has no bearing here. Offers made and offers refused are of no consequence to need. What of these people at your gate?”

  She flung out a hand in that direction.

  “Would you refuse them, sir?”

  Those steel-blue eyes stared at him, her slender frame vibrated with anger.

  “I have cried Sanctuary, sir, and you are bound by the laws of men and the Agreement you signed to grant it. Will you do so or in the face of that need do I send to the High King to ask, no, to demand, why not?”

  “Aye,” he said, deflating.

  He knew the law and the Agreement as well as she did. With a nod he waved impatiently to a man at the back of the room, who left hurriedly.

  It grew dark outside, the light fading from the high clerestory windows of Westin’s Great Hall.

  Ailith never turned her eyes away from the man on the dais.

  “In truth, Ailith,” he said, finally, on a sigh, clearly reconsidering his strategy. “I intended no insult to you or your father. I erred in my thinking.”

  There were words Ailith could have said but didn’t. “No insult then, should be taken. There are matters of more serious import to discuss. I’ve come not just to cry Sanctuary for those who follow me. I come also to ask a question.”

  “Which is?”

  “Have you been troubled of late by incursions across your borders by the creatures of the borderlands? When I mentioned it earlier you didn’t deny it.”

  “Yes,” he said, curious now but wary.

  “These folk I bring to you for sanctuary come because such incursions have increased in force in Riverford. Our eastern border is under siege.”

  Turning gracefully, she stepped back beside Elon and Jareth, putting them on equal footing with her as such things were measured by the race of men.

  “My Lord Elon, My Lord Jareth and I, Colath and Jalila of Aerilann have come to bear you warning. We fear an attack will be leveled against Raven’s Nest.”

  So far, she was treading lightly around the truth. She couldn’t say the attack was likely to come from Riverford, of that she had no proof and the proof she might offer would damn her. Accuse her own father of such a thing, even with the soul-eater in Elon’s wallet? It would mean nothing to Westin. An Elf or a Dwarf might resist such a thing but Westin of Raven’s Nest was neither. He was a merchant at heart. He would demand to examine it. Closely. For its value, to determine the worth of the danger it offered and so be caught by it.

  What she said made Westin sit up. Evin paled and Elen looked frightened. Neither one of those two pampered people had ever even considered such a thing.

  “What makes you believe so?”

  “Haven’t you experienced attacks by all manner of borderlands creature, even some far beyond their territory?” she asked.

  “The people I bring with me were in walled villages. They were attacked by boggarts and boggins, ogres and firbolgs. A salamander attacked another. When has one of those been seen so far north? One attack was of such ferocity the walls gave way.”

  Westin paled. “Nothing of that sort has ever happened, not in all memory.”

  Taking a breath, she said, calmly. “It happened, I saw it with my own eyes. As did all of us.”

  She gestured at Elon, Colath and Jalila. Elon’s reputation was well known, but everyone knew Elves didn’t lie or risk their honor.

  “We thought to warn you.”

  So far, she hadn’t lied. It was a possibility they would indeed attack. In fact, it was increasingly likely. Why would Tolan risk men when he had thousands of those creatures?

  Elon had to admire her perspicacity. She’d danced neatly around dangerous truths.

  “My Lord King Westin,” Elon said and bowed his head enough to allow this King to see it as he chose.

  With a small incline of his head in recognition of his presence, Westin said, “My Lord Elon. Your reputation precedes you. There are many in Daran High King’s Court who speak highly of you.”

  There was something in the man’s voice that hinted it would take more than reputation to impress him. That hardly mattered to Elon, save that it raised grave doubts in his mind as to this man’s ability to lead ef
fectively.

  “Thank you. I would lend my voice to that of Lady Ailith. I’ve seen it, all of our party have. We came to give warning. Strengthen your Guard and pull your Hunters and Woodsmen in from the field. If such come, you’ll need every sword you can find.”

  Westin looked at them for a moment, thoughtfully.

  Looking at him, Ailith could almost see him counting off the appropriate number of minutes for him to consider such information. Minutes they were forced to stand awaiting his decision. He needed to recover his dignity and command and to give his response some thought. She restrained a sigh at such petty behavior.

  At last, he nodded solemnly and his head bobbed slowly. “I’ll consider what you’ve said. Thank you for coming.”

  They were dismissed. Elon was stunned.

  For a moment he considered adding more but he could see there was little point.

  Ailith, too, thought to protest but it would have been to no avail. She knew him well enough to know the news they brought frightened and disturbed him. Westin was no warrior and a peace time leader, a King by virtue of his Crown and his birth but he also no fool. There was little doubt in her mind he was aware of the increased incursions. If he was the same Westin she’d always known, it was likely he knew he wasn’t alone in that. A good enough King in time of peace, he would be a terrible one in time of war.

  Reluctantly conceding to his power and authority in his own kingdom, she bowed and they left.

  Doril waited in the hall outside.

  “How did it go?” she said, quietly, joining them as they walked down the hall.

  Taking a breath, Ailith shook her head as she removed the circlet and rubbed her brow where it had rested.

  “As well as you might expect, Doril. Could you arrange a repast in my rooms for myself and my companions? And ask Aranoc to join us as well? It has been a while since I’ve seen my old friend.”

  Doril’s sharp eyes examined Ailith intently and heard what wasn’t said.

  She nodded. “I might attend also.”

  “That would be wise,” Ailith agreed.

  With that Doril’s eyes widened. She nodded once, sharply, then turned and walked briskly away.

  Elon was about to speak when a voice called out.

  “Lady Ailith.”

  Very softly, she breathed, “Oh, no. This will be very awkward,” before turning with a slight bow. “Lord Evin.”

  A young man scurried down the hall after them, the color already high in his pale cheeks. A few years older than Ailith, at that moment he seemed to be much younger. His outer robe billowed like a sail behind him, the vibrant shade of blue only making him seem more wan in comparison. It had been a poor choice, and, by Doril’s disapproving expression, his own.

  Jareth restrained a grin.

  Turning her eyes on him, Ailith raised an eyebrow.

  The grin disappeared but Jareth was still clearly amused.

  On closer examination Evin was no more pleasing to the eye or spirit than before. Pale, slightly chubby, and with his father’s watery brownish-green eyes.

  “I wish to apologize for my father’s offer,” he said.

  “No insult was intended, by your father’s own words,” Ailith said, “and so none should be taken.”

  “Still,” Evin insisted. “I would marry you if you wished it.”

  Faintly, she heard someone choke back a snicker.

  Ailith fought the urge to kick Jareth in the shins.

  She wanted to disappear into the floor in embarrassment but, knowing what she knew now, she was half afraid that that if she wished it as badly as she wanted to, she just might.

  Very gently, Ailith said, “Your father said he meant no insult but that wasn’t the truth Evin and we both know it. I said it there and I meant it, I’ll marry no one who thinks my blood should shame me. Nor will I marry one whose family thinks it should. If I marry, I’ll marry who my heart tells me. Not for blood, nor titles, nor money. For heart alone or not at all. Good night, Evin.”

  She led them away, color sweeping from her collar to her crown.

  Jareth tried hard not to chortle.

  “If you don’t wipe that smirk off your face, Jareth, I shall perforce do it for you.”

  “Yes, Lady Ailith,” he said.

  “Oh, leave off, Jareth,” she said, and rolled her eyes in exasperation while fighting back a smile.

  A servant opened the door for her, she waved him away as the others entered after her.

  Removing the circlet, she tossed it carelessly on the bed. Jareth snatched it up, shaking his head.

  “I hadn’t even considered that foolish offer,” she said, in disgust.

  “Will he listen?” Elon asked.

  With a sigh, she shook her head. “It’s doubtful, Elon. If it would have helped I would have had you show him the soul-eater but he likely would have demanded to see it or see it used to make him believe it.”

  The idea made all of them shudder.

  “He wouldn’t,” Jalila said, horrified.

  Ailith looked at her regretfully but meaningfully.

  There was a knock at the door, she called, “Enter.”

  A servant brought in large tray, which he set on the table before leaving.

  Ailith waited until he was gone, then nodded, “I’m very much afraid he would. He would know what it does before he would believe it.”

  There was another, quieter knock. Taking a breath, Ailith restrained herself from rolling her eyes at yet another interruption until she caught the amusement in both Elon’s and Colath’s eyes, and Jareth smothering another grin at her exasperation.

  Giving them all a look, she called, “Enter.”

  Doril ushered Aranoc in quickly and closed the door behind them.

  “We stand on no ceremony here,” Ailith said. “If I hear one more Lord or Lady I shall scream.”

  “That,” Doril said, dryly, “would be most unseemly, Lady Ailith.”

  It was obvious she’d heard Ailith’s comment. Ailith had the grace to feel chagrined. She felt herself blush.

  Still.

  “Perhaps, but it was necessary.” Ailith said as she pulled pins from her hair.

  “Is what I heard true?” Doril said. “You expect an attack of some kind?”

  Raising an eyebrow at her, Ailith nodded.

  Doril looked at her. “I listen, Ailith, I always listen, for it’s the only way I can be sure I know what is truly going on. Westin knows I do it but pretends he doesn’t, to maintain the illusion. So, there is going to be an attack of some kind by creatures from the borderlands.”

  With a sigh, Ailith nodded. “It’s likely.”

  “How soon?” Aranoc said, looking from her to Elon.

  “We’re not certain but by the time the leaves change at the latest.”

  “What needs to be done?” Aranoc asked.

  That Elon answered, “Increase the Guard and pull in the Hunters and the Woodsmen. All the shepherds should come in as well, out there they’re only food.”

  Aranoc settled into a chair, as if his legs had given out beneath him.

  “They already are,” he said, grimly. “We’ve lost three so far. Found them, or what’s left of them. I tried to tell Westin but… All right, how bad could it get?”

  “We don’t know. It’s best to be prepared.”

  Taking a deep breath, Doril nodded. “Food enough for a siege. I’ll get it in somehow, without Westin knowing.”

  Aranoc nodded. “The Hunters will be called back, guards will be posted and warned, have no fear. Need me for anything else?”

  With a shake of her head, Ailith said, “No.”

  They left.

  Ailith looked at the others, then grinned and shook her head vigorously.

  Pins and ribbons went flying as her hair tumbled free once again. Gratefully, she scrubbed her fingers over her scalp.

  “Feel better?,” Jareth asked.

  Letting out a breath, she said, “Much. Let’s eat. Who knows whe
n we’ll eat so well next?”

  The smell of the food was tearing a hole in her stomach. Yet somehow, she found she could only nibble at it once she had it.

  “We’ve done all that we can,” Elon said, watching her as they ate. “You did well.”

  “You were quite impressive, Ailith,” Colath offered.

  She smiled crookedly. “Did I? I wish I felt it.”

  “Rest,” Elon said. “We all need it.”

  Contentedly, Jareth said, “In beds.”

  Pulling the door closed behind him, the last to leave, Elon said, “You did do well, Ailith. Sleep well.”

  “You, also, Elon,” she said.

  The door closed. Wearily, she rang for a servant to help her out of the dress before she crawled into the high bed. Soft wool blankets and a deep mattress. After so many days of sleeping on the ground, it was a pleasure to feel herself sink into that comfort.

  With a sigh, exhausted. she put the night and the day behind her and closed her eyes.

  Darkness swallowed her up and took her down to dreaming.

  Slowly, nearly imperceptibly, darkness gave way to light, to flickering firelight.

  Darkness and monstrous shadows that danced and pranced on the walls. It drew her down and drew her in. Torchlight and firelight, as she was drawn down the dark, dank tunnel. They dripped, the walls of that tunnel, thickly, each crimson drop plopped loudly as she was pulled closer to the door. The iron door. It stood open, waiting, in invitation. A wash of firelight and torchlight spilled across the red-washed floor. The light was lurid.

  Ailith’s heart sank. This time she wouldn’t fight it. Not here, there was no point.

  Tolan’s so reasonable voice, that odd sing-song. And her father’s voice.

  “The attack has been moved up,” Tolan said.

  “Why?” Her father’s voice.

  “Your daughter and the Elves, they’re at Raven’s Nest. I want her. I want the Elves and I want that wizard. Alive if I can. Your daughter, alive. Oh yes. I want her alive. I want the Elves alive. I want to see them all in chains. Iron chains around Elven wrists, Elven lives I can twist. Oh yes, oh yes. Your daughter, though, your daughter is mine.”

  Her swords. Ailith felt for them, at back and hip. There.

  Pulled ever onward. Unresisting, for now. Take control of your dreams.