A familiar fair-haired head hove into view. Colath joined him, a host of Elves behind him. True-friend.
Their eyes met with relief and then they turned as one to fire their arrows, clearing the way ahead of those fighting.
“Ailith?” Colath asked.
He hadn’t seen her since they parted.
“The Captain of the Garrison says she sends her compliments,” Elon said, his voice ringing.
The streets of the second level were deathly silent, as was fitting, else Ailith wouldn’t have heard so faint a sound over the clatter of their horses’ hooves. In the face of so many dead, with the smell of blood – and other unpleasant smells of death – so rich and ripe upon the air, even the horses seemed to go as silently as they might.
They were questing for another place to harry the rear when she heard it.
“My fair lady of Riverford,” a voice caroled.
The sound of it was weak and thready.
Gwillim. She’d have known that voice anywhere.
Her heart wrenched at the sound.
She’d thought the man hanging so limply from the door was only another of the many dead that littered the streets but now she could see through the blood and the stars in her heart that he wasn’t.
Not yet.
He should have been. A sword pinned him through the chest to the wood of the door. An arrow pierced his thigh. He had other injuries but those were the most grievous. The troll that had done it lay dead at his feet.
Ailith was off her horse and running to him without a second thought.
“Oh, Gwillim,” she said and her heart already grieved for him.
“No,” he said, quickly, on a scant breath as she reached for the sword. His voice was weak. “Pull that and I’m done, my dear Lady.”
She looked up into his handsome, beloved face. He’d taught her to track, taught her as much as her father had about leading people into battle.
A hand on his shoulder and her Healing confirmed his assessment.
His injuries were too severe for even Elon to have Healed them. Too many vital organs had been damaged and left unhealed for too long. Once the sword was pulled she knew he would bleed out in seconds. It was all the more amazing he’d lived this long, the hilt of the sword that pressed so tightly against his skin all that had kept him alive this long.
“Glad I am to see you, though,” he said and coughed a fine mist of blood.
More trickled down his chin.
From behind her she heard the thrum of arrows and knew her people were buying her this time.
“And I you, Gwillim,” she said.
She looked into his much loved face.
Leaning close, she added in a whisper, “If I could weep I would.”
“Too Elven,” he said, softly. “Ah, I shoulda guessed it long ago. You have that dignity, too, my Lady. Truth be told, though, I wouldn’t want it. You smile sommat more than them.”
He was reverting to the accents of his youth.
“That’s what I’d like to see,” he added softly.
So she smiled at him. “I love you well, Gwillim, you know that.”
“That I do. Always have. Tell my lady wife that I love her, for me, and the children, too.”
Her lips tightened at that and the swelling grief nearly choked off her voice. “I will, Gwillim. I’ll tell her.”
Danalae. She would tell his wife and her friend that his last thoughts had been of her and the children. She thought of those young bright faces. Danalae, a widow and the children…
Smoke came up, extending his nose to snuffle at Gwillim’s clothes.
His fingers trembling, Gwillim managed to flutter them over the horse’s soft muzzle.
“Keep him, Ailith. Danalae won’t mind, she knows it’s right,” he said. “Now, do me a favor milady and pull that sword. It pains me. Bright flower of Riverford, jewel of the Kingdom, my sweet Lady Ailith. I’ve served none better or greater.”
Her heart aching, she said, “Nor have I been served by any better, Gwillim my friend.”
A man couldn’t have done it, the sword had been thrust through him so hard but she had the strength of Elves and of Dwarves and she wouldn’t hurt him more than necessary if she could help it.
One pull, clean and quick.
She caught him as he fell. He tumbled into her arms. She felt the life run out of him like water from a broken pitcher as she held him. His eyes never left hers and he even smiled a little, with relief and with love.
Laying him down gently, Ailith straightened his limbs and put a fold of his cloak over his face to cover it. She marked the spot where he lay in her mind.
Taking a breath, with the sounds of battle still in her ears, she mounted Smoke once again.
She looked at Gwillim.
“He was a Hunter,” she said to the others, against the agony of grief, “the leader of Hunters at Riverford. One of us and a good man. We’re not done here. What we do now, we do for him. Let’s go.”
They fought their way through another gate and found the battle again. It seemed as if it would never end. She slashed with her swords, they ran a strafing run down a mass of trolls, raking them with arrows.
Pushing, pushing, even while her eyes searched for elf-lights, for Elon and Colath, for Jareth and Jalila.
Ailith found Catra and her people again, instead, driving trolls and goblins before them.
The garrison was somewhat diminished, as were her own people. A deep gash on her hand pained her, as did the bite from a boggin on her calf. There was a scratch on her forehead from an arrow that had just missed her, when she’d twisted her head just in time to avoid taking it in the eye.
Catra, too, bore the wounds of battle.
“They’re on the run,” Catra said.
It was the truth, they were. The survivors streamed through the battered gates and shattered holes in walls. They were running. The flight had begun as the trolls and the goblins turned and fled before the hail of arrows and sharp steel.
At the sight of the enemy fleeing Elon didn’t let down his guard, there was still too much risk of a chance arrow coming his way. He kept looking, though, for the top of a head, for familiar sun-touched wavy chestnut hair. It was all he would see of her through the mass of men in front of him.
Stretching up in the saddle, Colath, too, sought for her.
Ailith saw a tall figure astride a black horse. A familiar stern face with dark hair and dark eyes beneath winged brows. Elon. His grave dark eyes searched. She lifted her sword up, waved it so he could see her above the press. Their eyes met and his eyes lightened. Beside him was Colath. Relief and joy flooded her. Alive.
Nor were they alone.
Behind her came the garrison.
Elon’s gaze found hers and something eased in him, as it did in Colath. He sent Faer surging through the clusters of men that hunted down the last stragglers of trolls and goblins, with Colath at his side.
With a nod at them all, Catra said, “We’ll clean up here, since we came late to the battle.”
“My thanks to you, Catra,” Ailith said, but all she could see was Elon, and Colath beside him.
They were alive.
Catra’s eyes went over the shattered town, the smoke that still rose from the second ring. Her mouth thinned.
“That mealy mouthed… Time was wasted, minutes only perhaps or more. How many lives? We should have come faster.”
“You came. It’s enough, Catra. They’ll have food and drink for you when you return.”
All Ailith wanted was Elon and Colath, Jareth and Jalila.
With a nod, Catra said, “There are folk waiting for you.”
“There are,” Ailith said.
Catra offered an arm. Ailith clasped it back hard and gratefully.
“Thank you,” Ailith said, her heart in her voice.
With a nod, Catra rode off.
Sometime in all this the sun had risen and golden light spread over the valley like the promise of hope.
Elon closed, reached an arm to her as did Colath.
Her eyes locked on Elon’s grim dark ones Ailith saw them warm. Sheathing her swords, she reached for them in turn, one on each side as her eyes met Colath’s lighter ones. Arms clasped, hard, the warmth from them penetrated cloth. Her eyes went from Elon’s dark ones to Colath’s lighter as their hands tightened. For a brief stretch of time it was enough.
A dark stain and a hole in the fabric of Elon’s shirt caught her eye and her breath. It was what she’d felt, earlier.
Following her eyes, Elon shook his head and said, “It’s nothing, it heals.”
He looked her over as well. There was a cut on her arm, what looked like a boggin bite on her calf, another cut over her brow. Nothing he’d felt through the bond, nothing like the arrow earlier, so, not serious.
With a small smile, she echoed him, “It’s nothing, it heals.”
It was enough for Elon to see that smile, weak though it was.
Colath had a sword cut on his upper arm and another on his calf but nothing that wouldn’t heal of its own, either.
Around them the sounds of battle receded.
“Catra said she will finish it, since they came late,” Ailith said. She looked away for a moment, fighting grief. “Gwillim’s dead.”
“Ailith,” Elon said, “I sorrow for the loss. He was a good and brave man.”
Colath nodded. “There was none like him.”
He smiled a little Ailith laughed, remembering Gwillim’s flowery greetings.
Elon’s hand tightened.
Two hands pressed hers, a flow of sympathy and empathy moved between them in tribute to the friend they’d lost, and then they released.
It wasn’t enough but there would be time later. Perhaps.
“There wasn’t,” Ailith agreed. “Jareth? Jalila?”
A shadow moved in Elon’s eyes. “Jareth is above at the castle. Jalila…?”
He hadn’t felt her death. That was all of which he was certain.
Ailith said, softly, “She lives.”
In the aftermath of battle people started to flow past them, the gates above were opened to let them past. They scrambled to search for loved ones lost, to survey broken homes and broken lives. There were cries, shouts of joy, wails of grief.
As one, they turned toward the castle, Ailith searching for familiar lights in her mind.
“Wait,” she said, finding one, happily. “Slow.”
Jalila stepped from between some buildings out into the street, in one motion Colath reached an arm out to put her up behind him.
There was no mark on her, none at all save smoke and soot. Her eyes were weary, stunned and her quiver was empty.
“Took your time coming,” was all she said.
Elon shook his head and allowed himself a smile.
The castle yard emptied as well of all but the wounded scattered about. Of those there were many and the castle yard was filled with the groans and moans of injured men and women. Doril looked up from one such, blood smeared on her cheek and staining her clothes as Jareth walked across the yard to join them.
Jareth looked from one to the other, seeing the wounds both large and small. He reached a hand to each, Elon and Colath, Ailith and Jalila with relief. Each clasped it, briefly, with the same emotion. He looked to Ailith, thankful to see her alive and well and Jalila, too. The depth of that feeling surprised him somewhat, a strong surge of warmth, but he couldn’t be sorry for it.
“Hai, Ailith,” Doril said, wearily, coming to them as they dismounted. “Westin’s in his Chambers, he’d like to see you.”
Ailith looked down at her battle-torn and stained clothing. Only a simple leather thong bound her hair, to keep it out of her eyes.
With a sigh, Ailith said, “He’ll have to take me as I am this time.”
It was a much different place than they’d seen only a day or so before. The bright chatter of folk in the hall, the butterfly brightness of their clothing, was diminished, hushed and muted. People went about their business with purpose, some with haunted, worried eyes, wondering at the fate of loved ones they hadn’t yet found.
A flurry of people surrounded the chubby little King.
Westin looked up as they came in, unannounced. He seemed quieter, his eyes shocked and somewhat shamed. A wave of his hand sent those around him back.
“My Lord Elon,” he said, stood, and bowed. “I owe you a debt.”
Straightening, he held up a hand for silence when Elon would have spoken. He shook his head and gestured his hand at the people who waited for him and sighed.
“This is what I am good at,” he said, resignedly, “and I know it. If not for you my Kingdom wouldn’t have survived at all. I’ve no head for war, no hand for weapons. No skill at it either sword or bow. I ran. I couldn’t face it. You did what I should’ve done and couldn’t do and for that I’m thankful. Thanks as well to you, Ailith. You tried to warn me. It seems you’re a better friend to Raven’s Nest than Raven’s Nest has been to Riverford. I can’t make amends but I can and will make apologies. Now, what can I do for you?”
Elon looked at him.
There was little to be seen of the petty little man who’d played with power only two days before. Still small and rotund but his eyes were shadowed now. To have watched a goodly portion of his city go up in flames to save the rest had marked him.
“Give me your warrant to speak on your behalf,” Elon said. “We’ve long suspected such an event would occur and we learned it was likely to occur here, which is why we came. I need proof enough to take to the High King. Until today, there was none.”
He gave Ailith a glance.
Geric hadn’t come, where then was Riverford? Still waiting? The garrison was still here and the Elves, the Hunters and the Woodsmen from beyond the Rift.
Would they take the chance?
Even this much was something to take to Daran High King, though, proof enough that the creatures of the borderland would attack like this, something that had never happened in history. Even during the wizards war there’d never been anything like this.
Daran might see the defeat here as teaching them a lesson but it might be enough to convince him to strengthen the garrisons in the north at the very least.
“If that’s all you need, you shall have it,” Westin said.
With a snap of his fingers a secretary handed Westin a warrant with his gold seal on it of a Raven crowned. He gave it to Elon with his own hands.
“Food, drink, a bath and rest as well await you. Doril laid in enough food for a siege, so we might as well use it rather than waste it. Go and take your rest, none of you escaped unscathed. Let me do what I am good at.”
Ailith kept looking back over her shoulder, curiously uneasy. A sense of wrongness weighed on her. There was a sensation of being watched, of eyes that bored holes in her back. Exhaustion trembled in her every limb but she had to see.
“Thank you, my Lord,” she said and bowed to Westin.
She touched Elon’s arm.
He looked down into her eyes which looked puzzled and disturbed.
With a small gesture of her head she indicated he should come. She looked to Colath, who raised an eyebrow in question but she shook her head in bewilderment. Jareth and Jalila looked at each other, at the question in her eyes and followed.
On the steps to the castle she looked up and out. Elon followed her gaze. So did the others.
There was the answer to his earlier question.
Massed in the pass was a dark shadow, not of creatures of the borderlands, but men. Many men.
Riverford’s men.
Elon’s heart sank. He looked around at the wounded. At the smoke that rose from below.
Jareth said, “What will they do?”
Then, though, the shadowed mass of men in the pass melted away, returning back the way they’d come. Only two figures remained, one large, one smaller and then they, too, melted back into the shadows.
“I felt it,
” Ailith said, her voice was calm. “His eyes on me. I don’t like that… thing in my thoughts so.”
Elon’s eyes went to hers, she met his gaze evenly.
“What now, Elon?” Colath asked.
“For what remains of this day and tonight, we rest. Tomorrow… “He sighed, looking out at the pass. “Time grows short. We’ve thwarted Tolan’s plans here but not the rest. There’s no reason to believe he’ll give up them up. There’s a larger plan at work here. In a matter of weeks the snows will begin to fall in the north. Unwarned, the castles and the garrisons won’t be prepared for something like this.”
Even now a plan formed in his mind. He didn’t like it but he could see no alternative. He couldn’t be in two places at one time.
“And you must go south and see the High King,” Ailith said, tilting her head to look at him.
She, too, had been thinking, weighing the time, the distances, it seemed.
Elon could see she saw it as well.
Arms folded, Colath looked at him and nodded. He knew.
Elon turned to Jareth, who also nodded, understanding, and Jalila. She waited impassively but she knew and understood also.
“Take Colath with you,” Ailith said lightly.
It pained her but he could see she was resigned to it.
“You’ll need him at your back, Elon. If Jareth and Jalila are amenable, I would take them with me. Where we go a good archer will be useful and a wizard as well. My status will gain us entrance to places you couldn’t. I’ll see if Doril can find me something more regal to wear, so I can make a good impression.”
Jareth sighed, but nodded assent.
After a moment of thought, so did Jalila.
It only made sense but it pained him. Ailith made it easier for him but Elon knew the thought of separation pained her as well.
There was no other answer though he didn’t like it.
“We’ll do well enough, Elon,” Ailith said, with a grin. “I’ll have a wizard and a master archer at my back. For now though I’ve a visit to make.”
She sighed and her eyes shadowed.
“To Danalae.”
As tired as she was, it had to be done and done now. There was no putting it off. She couldn’t leave Danalae waiting and wondering what had become of her beloved husband.
The Coming Storm Page 43