by Lee Dunning
“You’ve had three days to recuperate,” Lady Swiftbrook said. The hint of a smile added an air of mystery to her otherwise unreadable expression. “We leave for Teresland soon and Lady Sera wants my estimation of your condition. As I recall, you once expressed an interest in crossing swords with me.”
W’rath’s heart quickened. “Indeed, madam.” He flowed to his feet. Every muscle responded, tingling with the anticipation of a new challenge. Just a few days earlier, he’d required Raven’s assistance to make it from his study to his bedroom. Now, after time spent meditating, and devouring every morsel put in front of him, shakiness and fragility no longer plagued him.
Openly presenting his predator’s grin to Lady Swiftbrook, W’rath strolled to the evergreen shrub where he’d draped his tunic during his meditations. He shrugged it on and made a show of smoothing out the fabric, all the while eyeing the weapons Lady Swiftbrook held so lightly in her hands. “Those are not the long, sweeping swords I’d expect a Sky Elf lady to favor.”
“I use a hybrid style. I studied under the masters of the Ice Blade.” Her words were matter-of-fact but she didn’t fool W’rath.
“That is the same dojo which accepted Lady Raven,” he observed. “Interesting how you failed to mention you too trained under them.”
“Is that so?” Laughter didn’t quite reach Lady Swiftbrook’s voice. She took three graceful steps back and struck an exaggerated opening stance, brandishing one of the blades. “Perhaps I wished to put forth a modest face.”
W’rath raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I think not.” He willed his hair to wind itself into a loose braid and gave Lady Swiftbrook an innocent smile when some of the bravado dropped from her posture. It seemed she had just now grasped what it meant for him to have use of his powers once again.
“This is a sword fight,” she said, waggling the point of one blade at him, “no mind powers.”
W’rath tsked. “For shame, madam. There you stand, clothed in chain, while I must settle for supple leather and cloth. Yet you would deny me the use of my gifts?” He teleported behind her and cupped the hand grasping the spare sword. “As you wish,” he whispered.
Her nerveless fingers dropped the spare sword into his hand.
W’rath whirled away before Lady Swiftbrook could recover and came to a stop across from her. He raised his blade in salute and then mimicked the dear lady’s earlier stance. She colored but didn’t take the bait. Instead, she raised her sword up and out so the hilt rested just above her temple. The blade’s point angled slightly down toward her opponent.
W’rath had no idea what her dojo called the stance but he’d seen it and several variations over the years. It provided an excellent defense. Ah, madam, always so cautious, so reserved. Let’s see if we can’t push you a wee bit.
He came at the Sky Elf straight on as if intending to gut her. As he closed, she dropped her arms in an arc to deflect the attack. With her committed, he pivoted, skirting around her flank. She surprised him by following suit and they spun like dancers across the glade.
The pace picked up as they took one another’s measure. The morning air sang with the chime of elven steel. W’rath ducked and dove and leapt about the glade. Lady Swiftbrook swayed and flowed like an uncompromising willow caught in a storm.
Against most, W’rath had no doubt the lady’s discipline and skill would prevail but her greater strength did little good against an opponent she couldn’t pin down. She had enough training and natural instinct to keep him from overwhelming her with his frenetic assault. But only just.
They paused on opposite sides of the glade. A faint sheen of perspiration dappled Lady Swiftbrook’s forehead. W’rath bounced his blade atop his shoulder. “You’re out of practice, madam,” he teased. “I’ve only just returned from death’s door and yet there you stand, shaken and exhausted. Pity, I’d hoped for a challenge.”
Lady Swiftbrook glowered and brushed away the moisture with an angry swipe. “I’ve never had squirrel before, perhaps tonight I’ll find out what it’s like.”
“Madam, all you’ve ever needed to do is ask,” W’rath said, and batted his eyes at the Sky Elf.
She went scarlet. “That’s not what—you’re always twisting my words. Damned, bloody squirrel! Defend yourself!”
W’rath was laughing so hard she nearly ran him through. He brought his weapon down at the last second and batted her blade toward the ground. Her momentum drove her bodily into him, sending him into a backwards skid. Her greater size and weight nearly toppled him over but his agility saved him from that particular embarrassment.
W’rath’s nose stung from the overpowering scent of rain and lightning. His scalp tingled from the hum of electricity as her angry breath heaved in her chest. The pounding of her hearts …
Hearts?
He stumbled away from her. Her blade followed. He just stared at her as its tip slashed his cheek, sending a thin arc of blood to spatter the gold leaves of the aspens. Lady Swiftbrook gasped. She dropped her sword, face suffused with horror. “Ancestors!”
W’rath didn’t notice the angry burn of the wound or the itching as his skin mended itself. Only the significance of the twin heartbeats, tickling at his psionics, held any import for him. “Madam, what have you done?”
Lady Swiftbrook took a step back, dismay and confusion pulling the heat from her limbs. She’d lost control. Luck more than skill kept her from slicing off half of W’rath’s face. Shame flooded her even as rage twisted the Shadow Elf’s face. Why had he just stood there?
W’rath’s recrimination brought the sting of tears before her mind finally sorted through the events and she realized his statement had nothing to do with her careless cut to his cheek. Something else had so shaken him he’d taken a wound rather than dodge or block.
What have you done? W’rath’s words rattled within her breast. Her hand pressed against the pounding of her heart. Without thinking, her other hand trailed below. Understanding blossomed and pulled a gasp from her. Sweet Sister of Wisdom, he senses the life within me.
As her revelation played across Lady Swiftbrook’s features, W’rath’s frown deepened. “How could you allow that cur’s seed to quicken you?”
She opened her mouth, excuses and explanations fighting their way up her throat, when her own anger finally caught up with her. Her fists balled up. “How is it any or your damn business?”
The power of her pronouncement sent him back on his heels. Seething, Lady Swiftbrook advanced on W’rath. The air crackled about her, pulling tresses from her braid to writhe in a halo about her bristling form. “I am tired of you two cockerels acting like you own me.”
The distance between them disappeared and she stopped before W’rath, bending down to glare into his widened eyes. Her words hissed through her bared teeth. “I chose this path for myself—not K’hul.” A lump of emotion choked her. She pulled back, fighting to rein in her emotions. “I need your support not your reproach.”
I am ten kinds of idiot. W’rath gaped after Lady Swiftbrook’s receding back. He considered letting her go, apologizing later once her hair and anger settled. Perhaps that made more sense but he also considered it the coward’s path—one, which would lead to further hurt.
He chased after her.
She ignored him when he drew alongside her, matching her long strides with two of his. “Madam, I am deeply sorry for my behavior,” he said.
Lady Swiftbrook remained silent. W’rath didn’t think it his imagination the air around them grew chillier. His skin prickled from the power radiating from her. “I realize I overstepped when I chastised you for what is a deeply personal choice. When I sensed a second heartbeat emanating from you, I panicked.”
Lady Swiftbrook’s posture didn’t soften but she turned her head to peer down her long nose at W’rath. “Panicked? Explain yourself, little squirrel.”
Encouraged by the lady’s use of her favorite nickname for him, W’rath continued. “While your Ice Blade technique is a hybrid of tr
aditional Sky Elf and First Born fighting stances, mine makes use of my body as much as the implement in my hand. I had taken your measure and waited for the right moment to block with my sword and deliver a punishing kick to your midsection. Armor or no, I could have …”
Lady Swiftbrook sucked in a sharp breath. “Sweet Ancestors.”
They passed through a natural arbor made up of star vines and more aspen. Lady Swiftbrook gazed across the peaceful glade to where the steps led up to House of Memories. A Wood Elf awaited them. The Sky Elf paused and turned to face W’rath. “I appreciate your restraint. However, your so-called panic came across as outrage.”
True enough. W’rath made no move to head toward the Wood Elf. He wished to speak frankly without worry of word spreading across the island and to his nephew. “I admit the idea of K’hul believing he has a claim to you because of your shared child might have caused me to act regrettably.”
“You bloody males and your bloody egos,” Lady Swiftbrook hissed. “This is why I kept my circumstances to myself.”
W’rath winced. It seemed he had a facility for causing those around him pain. Certainly, Uruviel had suffered due to her association with him. “Madam, I have no excuse for my foul treatment of you.”
Lady Swiftbrook gave a sniff of disdain but there was no venom behind it. Her hair had calmed so it hung quiet and sleek down her back. “I’m halfway tempted to draw this out longer just to find out how many more flowery stabs at apologizing you’re capable of but we’re keeping Kela’s messenger waiting.
W’rath wondered at Lady Swiftbrook’s easy forgiveness, but then remembered her long association with K’hul. No doubt, she had a great deal of experience dealing with oafish behavior. W’rath inwardly shuddered, the idea of finding himself lumped together with his half-nephew, nothing less than appalling. “At the risk of angering you further,” W’rath said, “I would appreciate it if you would take care to wear some additional protection beneath your chain.”
The first sign of a smile quirked at Lady Swiftbrook’s lips. “I shall take that under advisement. Considering whose child it is, I admit to some surprise over your concern.”
“It’s hardly the child’s fault its mother has terrible taste in males,” W’rath replied.
Lady Swiftbrook snorted. “Have I told you recently you’re an ass?”
“Not since before we left to fight Oblund,” W’rath said. “I am well pleased I continue to amuse and exasperate you at the same time.”
W’rath waved for the Wood Elf to approach. He trotted up to the councilors and W’rath nodded in greeting. “I take it your scouts discovered the disposition of the demons?”
“Yes, Kela has called for a meeting of the High Council,” the Wood Elf said.
“Ah, excellent,” W’rath said. He offered his hand to Lady Swiftbrook. “Shall we, madam?” The moment her fingers touched his palm, he spirited them away.
To K’hul’s chagrin, he was the last to arrive at the council chamber. His cheeks burned but he refused to apologize. He took a position next to Lady Earthfire and found himself across from Kela.
The Wood Elf glared at him with open loathing. “Your soldiers ignored the runner I sent to fetch you.”
“They’re used to important messages coming via proper magic,” he said. “I’ve informed them to take all messages, even those sent by mundane means, seriously.” K’hul applauded himself for stopping short of calling Kela’s messenger a tree-shagging primitive. The snarls issuing from her side of the table indicated the scruffy urchin saw through his false politeness.
K’hul dismissed the Wood Elf from his mind and took in the rest of the council. All of them were present except for Foxfire, who still abided at the whim of the human nomad in the Badlands. Once again, Kiat Icewind joined them via remote projection. Lady Culna’mo and her mother, Lady Earthfire, flanked him. He’d hoped his new nanny would leave him be except on the field of battle but she apparently intended to intrude in every aspect of his job.
Farther down the table, W’rath stood squarely between Raven and Kiara. K’hul searched his former lover’s face for any hint she’d softened toward him but if anything she regarded him greater disdain. Not surprising considering the company she kept. He fought back a grimace and gestured at the table before them. “Tell us why we’re here.”
Kela paused, probably deciding whether to take offense at K’hul’s terse words but when Lady Earthfire cleared her throat, the Wood Elf shrugged. “My people found the demon army,” she said, eliciting murmurs from around the table. She pointed to a spot along the stretch of land leading from the coast, where Second Home lay, to Teresland. “They travel by mundane means.” She paused long enough to make sure K’hul recognized her pitiful attempt at sarcasm before continuing. “They have a few flyers serving as scouts. We’ve made sure to whittle them down so their leaders stay blind to us.”
“They travel by foot?” Lady Culna’mo muttered. “Why not travel by magic?”
“Perhaps we killed most of the magically adept creatures,” Raven offered. “Many demons have little more than animal intelligence.”
K’hul studied the Shadow Elf warrior. For a non-mage she showed unusual confidence in discussing the nature of demons. Perhaps her scholarly pursuits had provided the knowledge. Then again, he’d heard plenty of stories growing up about Exile’s acquiring power through unnatural unions with demons. For all his mistrust of Shadow Elves, he couldn’t convince himself a demon lurked within Raven.
K’hul drew his attention back to the table. “What about devils?”
Kela shifted her moccasin-shod feet and shook her head. As he suspected, she and her rabble didn’t know a demon from a devil.
“All right,” K’hul said, letting his disapproval of Kela’s ignorance tinge his voice, “can you at least tell us their numbers?”
“About three thousand,” she replied.
“So many still?” Raven bent over the table as if she could somehow make out the army for herself. Only natural creatures roamed the map, though, magical phantoms representing the known flora and fauna of the place. A herd of translucent deer scattered as a lock of Raven’s hair disturbed them. “How long until they reach Castle Teres?”
“They’re going slow,” Kela said. “They’re not making more than twenty-five miles a day.”
Lady Earthfire pointed to the area Kela indicated earlier. “From here I’d say the army has a good week to go before they reach the border of Teresland.”
“That’s the first good news we’ve had,” Kiara said. “If we intercept them we can finish them off before they get anywhere near Teresland.”
Before K’hul could respond, W’rath slipped into the conversation. “Assuming this isn’t a ruse,” he said.
Kiat cleared his throat. “I have divined the area around the castle and found no sign of the enemy.”
“That means nothing,” K’hul said, jumping in before the Exile or Lady Earthfire could take control. “If they have skilled casters left to them, they could move an army near Teresland and raise spells to confound your scrying. Once we engage the mob we’ve located, the real threat will attack Castle Teres.”
Kiat’s delicate brow furrowed but he didn’t argue against K’hul’s logic. The First Born raised his chin, pleased with his assessment and silently dared any to counter him. “He has a point,” W’rath said, and K’hul wanted to spit. I don’t need your fucking approval.
“It would explain the slow movement of the demons Kela’s people found,” Lady Earthfire agreed. “They’re dangling a mass of lesser creatures before us like juicy worms on a hook.”
“Bait we cannot ignore,” Kiara said. She ran her hands down the front of her chainmail as if intending to smooth a gown and frowned when her fingers found cold metal instead of silk.
Kiat’s image wavered and grew strong again. “You can’t commit the army to one fight and leave Castle Teres unprotected. My wards are strong but if there’re fiends out there capable of deflecting my
scrying, then they’re also powerful enough to whittle away at my wards.”
“We won’t do that,” K’hul said. “We’ll take half our force to eliminate the obvious army and keep the rest in reserve. If that prompts a surprise attack against Castle Teres, we’ll have enough soldiers and casters left to fall upon them from behind with our own surprise attack. If it turns out there is no second enemy army, our reserves can move in to help mop up the rabble along the plains.”
“Split our forces?” Lady Culna’mo frowned and looked toward her mother.
To his surprise, the one-legged veteran supported K’hul. “It’s not a rash plan, daughter. As Lady Swiftbrook pointed out, we don’t dare let a demon army run loose even if we think they’re a decoy. What the Voice of the First proposes allows us to deal with one army without leaving Castle Teres defenseless. Holding back part of our army gives us the flexibility to move soldiers wherever they’re needed.”
K’hul swept his gaze over the room searching for signs of dissent. W’rath tapped one long finger against his chin. “What is it, Exile?” K’hul asked, hating himself for even acknowledging the runt.
W’rath shrugged. “It’s nothing really. Tomorrow Lady Swiftbrook and I planned to travel to Castle Teres in order to provide Lord Icewind some relief. I merely wish to ensure those plans do not cause complications.”
K’hul opened his mouth but Kiara didn’t give him the chance to voice any objections. “I’ve already arranged to integrate my sword mages within Lady Culna’mo’s command. Lord Icewind has a castle bursting with human refugees W’rath and I can help. If necessary, W’rath can teleport us out.”
The flash of disgust on the Exile’s face at the mention of helping human refugees brought a warm glow to K’hul. He didn’t like Kiara traipsing off with W'rath, but he would tolerate it if it meant the Shadow Elf suffered the entire time. It had the added benefit of keeping Kiara off the front lines. He managed to put on a pleasant expression as he nodded his approval to the plan.