by Lee Dunning
“Yet King Oblund saw fit to hire three casters to further his ambitions. And with the blessings of the queen since she had to provide the funds for his war.” Lady Winterdawn hadn’t meant to wallow into such volatile territory but her mouth hadn’t paused to consult with her brain.
The stiffness was back in full force—of course. So much for putting the priest at ease. “She funded the war, but she never intended for King Oblund to hire demonologists. All of us now suffer due to his deceit,” Renoir said.
Lady Winterdawn started to argue he’d missed her point but clamped her lips tight before she could cause more damage. She allowed herself to cool down for a moment before speaking. “Forgive me, Chalice, I spoke poorly. Within the next few days, your king will lose his head and your queen feels compelled to appeal to a rival kingdom in order to keep her people from starving. You have no need for me to remind you of what led to this mess.”
“No, I certainly do not.” Renoir gazed from his empty goblet to the mostly full crystal decanter across the room.
Lady Winterdawn had mercy upon him and murmured a few arcane words. The decanter floated over from the serving cart to the low table set between their chairs. “More wine?” she asked, retrieving the decanter from where it settled.
The priest sighed but accepted the offered refreshment. “Do you see? You cast that spell as easily as I breathe.”
“Not so easily. I’m still an apprentice,” Lady Winterdawn said, a hint of pink reaching her snowy cheeks. “Every spell I cast serves as practice. Anyone else would have simply stood up and retrieved the wine. I take every possible opportunity to refine my skills.”
“Only an apprentice? And Lord Icewind is … your teacher?” Chalice Renoir’s lined brow furrowed further.
“You seem surprised, Chalice.” Lady Winterdawn wondered if the priest, like most humans, and even some elves, mistook her for Lord Icewind’s twin. Chalice Renoir wasn’t the first to examine her nails to determine if he addressed lord or lady.
“I’m afraid I may make a fool of myself again, but yes, I confess myself curious. You appear confident and at ease for someone who, I assume, must be quite young. How is it you are the student and Lord Icewind is the teacher?”
The blush, which had started to fade from Lady Winterdawn’s cheeks, bloomed anew at the mention of Lord Icewind. “Don’t let his shyness fool you, Chalice. Lord Icewind channels exceptional power. He prefers to surround himself with scholarly works instead of people, so he lacks in social skills. Still, I am honored to train under such a skilled a caster. He helps me learn, and in return, I do what I can to aid him in situations like this.”
Chalice Renoir leaned back in his chair. “I came here to apologize but instead you have given me a great gift. Lady Winterdawn, you may call yourself a student, but today I have learned from you.”
Lady Winterdawn pursed her lips in confusion.
“You have no idea what I’m talking about,” Renoir said.
“I confess, I do not.”
He gestured at her elegant robes. “My people reserve purple for royalty,” he said.
Lady Winterdawn ran her fingers down the gold threaded silk cloth. “We don’t have royalty,” she said, still perplexed. “We all contribute with what skills we possess. Why would we choose to deny a segment of our people the opportunity to wear what they like?”
“I’ve said too much,” Chalice Renoir said. He remembered his wine and finished it off before rising to his feet. “I fear my revelation reflects poorly on my people and makes clear why we have so much trouble dealing with one another. I have no desire to add to your list of our failings.”
Lady Winterdawn rose as well and followed the bewildering human. “If it’s any comfort, Chalice, I have heard only good things uttered about you personally.”
“That is kind of you, Lady Winterdawn. In truth, I am considered strange by most humans.”
“Yet you hold a position of respect within your church.”
“Not so high,” he said with a rueful shake of his head, “and soon to come under scrutiny. The highest members of our church, High Master Favre and High Matron DuBoi, travel here to investigate the charges against King Oblund. While here, they will also determine whether to hold any of the rest of us accountable for the demonic magic which has brought us to our current predicament.”
Lady Winterdawn drew up short, completely at a loss for a response.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Winterdawn,” Renoir said into the sudden silence. “Please convey my deepest apologies to Lord Icewind. I meant in no way to add to his burdens. If given the chance, I will endeavor to make it up to him.”
“I will pass your words on to him, Chalice, but I assure you, no apology is necessary. This place could do with more laughter,” Lady Winterdawn said, trailing Renoir into the hallway.
She watched him go before turning to the guards still stationed at the door. “Can you see about providing Chalice Renoir with a bodyguard?”
They shrugged. “We can ask our commander,” the one on the right said. “I’m not sure he’ll see the value of protecting him.”
“Tell Commander Orcbane that Councilor Icewind has concerns for the safety of one of the few humans friendly to us.”
The guard peered over his shoulder into the empty room behind him. He turned back to Lady Winterdawn, eyebrow arched. “Really?”
“Let’s pretend the answer is yes, shall we?” Lady Winterdawn rose up on her tiptoes to make herself a bit taller and let her unwavering gaze bore into him. When she got like this, no one mistook her for Lord Icewind’s twin.
The guard to the left came to his partner’s aid. “If we volunteer, we won’t have to stand here all day. Someone else can have the privilege of absolute boredom.”
“You make a compelling argument,” the first guard said still transfixed by the apprentice’s spark-filled eyes. “Lady Winterdawn, rest assured we will put forth your, er, Lord Icewind’s request to Commander Orcbane.”
“I knew I could count on you,” Lady Winterdawn sank to her normal seven feet two inches and patted the soldier’s arm before she retreated to the quiet of the rooms she shared with Lord Icewind.
With hallway door closed again, she squared her shoulders, preparing for the real battle. Great Lady, give me strength. Convincing Lord Icewind to come out of his room in time to face another day of diplomats and preening nobles could take all night.
Kela prowled back and forth in front of the nervous pack of Shadow Elf youths clustered before her. She’d had a pair of portal mages open a passage to the wilderness spreading out in the shadow of Gryphon’s Aerie so she might introduce the boys to basic survival techniques. She doubted most of them had ever stepped outside of their underground prison, so even the scent of the pines and the crunch of needles under their feet were new experiences.
While their eyes no longer protruded toad-like and their skin had shifted from grey to a healthy sheen of ebony, she still had never met a more pathetic collection of gangly-limbed goblin bait in her life. Their newly sprouted puffs of white hair brought to mind a field of dandelions. She snickered. This will be fun.
Opting for a voice less stilted than she usually shared with outsiders, Kela addressed the boys. “All right, these last couple weeks have provided you plenty of pampering. Pretty healers have fed you choice morsels and massaged your bony arses. You’ve snuggled in too-soft beds. Now. You’re. Mine.”
The anxious group of boys muttered and shifted. A feral grin sprang onto Kela’s face. Oh, how she enjoyed torturing the uninitiated. Her mind jumped back several hundred years when she’d first stumbled across Foxfire as he froze to death in the snow. His ignorance had provided her entertainment for years. Sometimes it still did. However, she’d never had the chance to play with forty-some victims. She planned to relish such a rare opportunity.
Behind her, five more Wood Elves materialized out of the dense foliage. She’d instructed them to appear as intimidating as possible with ca
mouflaging paint, feathers and battle trophies. She didn’t have to inspect them to know they had complied. Sharp intakes of breath from the twitchy youngsters before her, told her as much. Even the two mockingbirds, Ryld and Caeldan, jostled their way to the back, out of sight.
The youngest, Seismis, suddenly found himself abandoned by his self-appointed big brothers. He made a pitiful mewling sound and tried to escape. A wall of larger bodies blocked his way, and despite Seismis’ frantic determination, he couldn’t put any distance between himself and the Wood Elves.
It took all of Kela’s willpower to keep from laughing as she snagged the back of Seismis’ tunic, snatching the youngster away from the pack. Wild-eyed, he fluttered his limbs like a panicked moth. “I have my first volunteer,” she said, showing both sets of teeth.
“Leave him be.”
Kela’s head shot up in surprise. The twins. They shoved their way back through their brethren, their fear gone, replaced with concern for Seismis. She gave them her best raptor gaze, expecting them to back down. They didn’t. A genuine smile tugged at her lips. Gangly-limbed, but perhaps not so pathetic.
“Very good,” she said, and the two stepped back, confused by her sudden change in attitude. She gave them a nod of approval and released Seismis’ tunic. Immediately she wrapped a protective arm around him as he sagged. He shuddered against her side, panting.
“You two with me,” she ordered the twins before addressing the other boys. “The rest of you will split up among my scouts. This was your first lesson. Think about what you just saw and learn from it. Your lives could someday depend on it.”
What just happened? Ryld sent to his brother.
I think we just passed some kind of test, Caeldan replied. The situation had changed so quickly he didn’t know quite what to think. One moment he was certain Councilor Kela would beat them into snail snot, the next she led them deeper into the forest for some sort of training exercise.
Lady Kela continued to hold Seismis close but to Caeldan’s eye, the kid looked recovered. He suspected their youngest member was cleverer than he let on.
They entered a small glade, and the councilor settled Seismis onto a log, gesturing for Ryld and Caeldan to join him. “I thought you two were just mouthy but I’m happy you proved me wrong,” she said.
“So we’re not in trouble?” Ryld asked.
The Wood Elf chuckled. “Depends on your outlook.”
“What about me?” Seismis may have enjoyed the brief snuggle with the councilor but he probably feared she still might gobble him up.
“You’re not in trouble,” Kela said. “You’re stuck with me because you’re so young I want to keep an eye on you. Not to mention, I think these two would protest if I split the three of you up.”
Caeldan made a scoffing noise that sounded phony even to his ears. “Someone has to keep the brat in line.”
“You’re the ones who always break the rules,” Seismis said. Now that Kela had assured him she wasn’t out to get him, he reverted to his normal poutiness. He kicked at a piece of moss clinging to the log.
“Rules are for First Born and Sky Elves,” Kela said with sudden venom. “Rules are what got you stuck in collars and hidden away in a dark hole where you could be murdered with no one the wiser.”
All three Shadow Elves sat up straighter as the volatile Wood Elf paced about in agitation. Ryld and Caeldan nodded vigorously but Seismis couldn’t keep his trap shut—he just had to come to the defense of their former Shadow Elf councilors. “Lord T’sane and Lady Reaper loved us. They wanted nothing more than to free us from Umbral’s taint. If Umbral hadn’t broken the rules, we wouldn’t need cleansing in the first place.”
Caeldan shoved the young elf off the end of the log. The boy squealed as landed on a pile of pine needles. He thrashed wildly. Caeldan and Ryld grinned at Kela. “He’s terrified of insects.”
Kela barked out a laugh and bent to help Seismis extricate himself from the forest debris. “Struggling in the needles like that makes it worse. Most of the little beasts like to burrow down where it’s moist.”
Seismis shot out of the needles and frantically brushed at himself. Kela backed up, eyebrows raised in amusement. “He’s endlessly entertaining,” Ryld said.
“All of you are proving to be,” the Wood Elf said.
Seismis finally calmed, though Caeldan expected it had more to do with exhaustion than any belief he’d removed every last invading insect. As much as he enjoyed tormenting the kid, Caeldan’s curiosity demanded he find out the real reason Kela had dragged them from their comfortable beds to sit on a rough log in the forest.
Ryld beat him to the question. “Why are we here?”
Lady Kela didn’t seem to find Ryld’s bluntness out of line. “These last few weeks the healers have worked to bring you back to the realm of the living. They’ve done their part. Now we need to get your bodies strong and your minds active. We have some time before W’rath recovers. When he does, I want you ready for whatever he has in mind.”
Caeldan swallowed, not sure how much he relished the idea of falling under the care of the former Exile psion. Ryld’s own concern blossomed in his mind and to his left, Seismis’ breathing started to sound a bit labored.
If Kela noticed their discomfort, she chose to ignore it. “For the next couple weeks I’m dragging your bony arses all through this forest. You’ll learn how to survive in the wilderness. I’ll show you how to find food and how to find shelter—or construct it if necessary. You’ll learn to track, read animal spoor and avoid the most dangerous of the animals. Depending on your progress, I may start to teach you how to hunt.”
Seismis perked up. “You’re going to teach us the rules of survival,” he said, sounding much too smug for someone who, only moments ago, teetered on the verge of hyperventilating.
Kela squinted at the boy, lips thin in feigned displeasure. “We’ll call them guidelines,” she said. “The first one you need to know—Kela is always right. If I tell you to fall on your face and play dead, you do it without question.”
Seismis raised his hand. Kela gaped.
Oh, that’s too precious, Caeldan sent to his brother.
“What in the hells are you doing?” Kela asked.
Seismis wilted and he lowered his hand. “I have a question, Lady Kela,” he said.
Councilor Kela shut her eyes for a moment and bit her lip. Caeldan couldn’t tell if she attempted control her temper or stop herself from laughing. “Okay,” she said at last, “let’s set some more guidelines. First, I’m not some stuffy Sky Elf or tight-arsed First Born. I’m a Wood Elf. My parents named me Kela and I’m not ashamed of it. Use it. Don’t call me councilor. Don’t ever refer to me as lady. I don’t like honorifics and none of my kin do.” Seismis started to raise his hand again but a glare from Kela changed his mind and he switched to smoothing out his rumpled tunic. “Second, I’m in charge but I run an informal dictatorship. You have a question ask it. You notice something, don’t assume I know about it—point it out.”
“What if it’s something stupid?” Seismis asked.
“Hasn’t stopped you yet, squirt—no point in changing now,” Caeldan said.
Kela gave him a light cuff on the back of the head. “It’s only stupid if you don’t ask and we end up getting hurt or killed. Understood?”
Three heads nodded empathically. “Good. Let’s start. Who can tell me what that is climbing up Seismis’ shoulder?”
Chapter 7
It took K’hul an hour of searching before he managed to hunt down Historian’s lair. Curious gazes followed his travels through the perfectly straight but maddeningly numerous halls and levels of House K’hul. He let them wonder, refusing to ask for help, thereby announcing to the rest of the household he had no idea where their chief scholar, and his childhood teacher, holed up.
I should have realized he’d claim the lower realms. K’hul considered simply barging in but at the last second used the bronze, goblin-headed knocker fused to the d
oor. He wanted to finish quickly with whatever business Historian found so important. He’d intended to take a brief rest and return to the mainland to relieve Kiat. Instead, he’d managed to squander over a week trying to get to the bottom of his sister’s idiocy with those four boys—to no avail. No point in wasting more time by giving Historian reason to gripe about privacy and manners.
“Enter,” came the curt call.
K’hul had imagined all sorts of things during his quest to find Historian’s study. Most mages he’d met lived among an ever-growing collection of clutter. Even delicate-looking Kiat kept stacks of tomes, piles of scrolls and bits of things better left unidentified. A few, mostly blood mages, maintained sanctuaries disturbingly similar to torture chambers, only with the added décor of magic circles and ancient runes scrawled across every surface.
K’hul came to a halt just at the threshold of the chamber. It’s a damned museum. Immediately to K’hul’s right rose the skeleton of some strange bipedal reptile. Its head only rose to the First Born’s chest, but even so, the ripping hooks dangling from its feet promised agility and ferocity he wouldn’t wish to face.
To his left, another skeleton, this time four-legged and enormous, held sway. Two sweeping tusks jutted from its jaws and K’hul had to tilt his head all the way back to take in their length. A shaggy pelt draped across its back, presumably, a sample of what once covered its entire body.
K’hul finally pulled his eyes from the long-dead creature only to find Historian stood at his elbow. K’hul jumped and a tiny smile twisted the mage’s lips. K’hul bit back a curse.
“The Pale Dwarves of the far north discovered this beast,” Historian said, waving a long-fingered hand toward the tusked skeleton, “and sold it to a pack of gnomes. Eventually, I acquired it when a group of our sailors stumbled across it in a bazaar and bought it from those selfsame gnomes. They thought it had the look of something I would find of interest, and they were right.”