Dockalfar

by Nunn, PL

  He inclined his head to her, impressed by her logic. “A weapon not of this world. You do understand.”

  “I think,” she said slowly. “That your sanity is at question. I think paranoia is your enemy and your excuse.”

  They stared at each other, he on his cushions, she standing stiffly across the floor. He looked down, casually refilled his goblet. Halfway he brought it to his lips, then suddenly flung it across the tent.

  Her eyes followed its path and at that moment of her distraction he leapt upon her. She struggled, caught off guard, but he wrapped his arms around her, pinning her own and bore her back towards the cushions. Twisted around to fall on top of her when they hit. He used no magic. None came from her in defense. Use from either would have brought the court down upon them. Both knew it. Her face was tight with rage and some small bit of fear. He pressed his lips over hers. A rough, punishing kiss. She bit his lip and glared at him in fury when he pulled back.

  “This, my lady,” he whispered, face mere inches from hers. “Is what you would expect from a Dockalfar lord into whose care you had placed yourself. Do you wish me to act according to the nature this world has placed on me? Do you wish to be my hostage lady? I would be most pleased to have you.”

  “Get off,” she hissed. He stayed a moment longer, then rolled away. She sat up indignantly.

  “When I take your vale, I promise you safety,” he told her. “And when the time comes, if you bargain well enough safety for those you love. But the girl will be mine.”

  “A fine way to draw loyalty from your would-be protector,” she snapped.

  “I tried charming persuasion. She refused it. You have free passage from here. Go.” He needed her away from him.

  Her presence, the very smell of her, the sense of the aura of her being behind her tightly constructed shields was driving him to distraction. He did not want her a broken and bound possession. He had decided long ago that he would not have her in that manner. So he would never have her, for despite the natural yearning of their matched souls, her heart belonged elsewhere.

  But so close to him, it was hard to remember his vow to himself. It was hard to remember anything but the days when she had willingly come to his arms. He gestured sharply for her to go.

  She was shaking as she rose. She did not look at him. He followed her to the tent flap, caught her arm before she could fully emerge. “Ask your wise woman about what I said. Prick her curiosity, if your own is not aroused.”

  She drew her arm away and stepped from his tent.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Part Twenty-five

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Victoria came running. She had been dry, but the rain quickly drenched her clothing and hair. It glistened on her face.

  She was breathtaking. Literally. She barreled into him with more enthusiasm than his not wholly healed ribs could tolerate. She was babbling at him. He could hardly understand her for the sobbing and the erratic pace of her words.

  The gist was, she was very, very happy to see him. He was rather overwhelmed by her reaction. His mind immediately began searching for other reasons for her glee.

  She could not be so joyful at the mere sight of him. His presence had never caused exultation.

  She was apologizing stridently over leaving him in the Liosalfar keep.

  Breathlessly she rattled on about an arrow wound and days of delirium. He might have been more concerned over that had she not immediately gone on to another subject. The storms. She claimed they were the workings of Azeral. That Azeral was waiting outside the runes for them to be driven out by the flood.

  He shivered at that news, having little desire to find himself again within the dark lord’s reach. The girl, Aloe, saw the tremor even if Victoria was oblivious to it. She stood away from them, her arms crossed over her bosom.

  “Ask him, Victoria, how he escaped our keep under Azeral’s eye?”

  Victoria turned wide eyes to him, her fingers were clutching at his. The contact made him nervous and giddy at the same time. A lifetime of avoiding intimacy made it hard to easily accept what came to Victoria so naturally.

  “Oh, God. What happened? Was he terribly upset?”

  “Terribly,” he murmured. She looked at him closer and her green eyes narrowed suddenly as she saw the fading marks on his face telling just how upset Azeral had been.

  “He hurt you,” she accused and cast an angry look at Aloe. “I told you something like this would happen.”

  “How did he get away?” Aloe insisted and Victoria silently implored the same question from him.

  He drew breath to answer when an excited feline squall erupted from up the hill. A wet, thoroughly disgusted gulun cub slip slid down the drenched slope.

  Victoria let out a wild yell and sloshed across the distance to met the cat. She skidded to her knees and caught an armful of damp fur. The purrs that resulted were thunderous. Dusk followed, standing over her as she caressed the broad head. Aloe kept their company, kneeling next to Victoria and stroking Phoebe. The cub basked in the attention. It was almost worth being soaking wet and getting wetter by the minute.

  “You brought her back,” Victoria said, praising him. “I thought she was lost for good…or that the hunt might have gotten her.”

  He shrugged, having little to do with bringing the cub anywhere. She came and went as she pleased. “Victoria, I did not come here alone. I had help.”

  Aloe looked up before Victoria did.

  “Outside the wards?”

  He nodded. Victoria looked between them, confused.

  “Who helped you? Are they friends?”

  “Yes. Fleeing from the Hunt as you are. I beg you grant them safe entry into this vale.”

  Aloe stood up, narrow jaw set. “How many and where?”

  “Two,” he ignored Aloe and knelt by Victoria. “Victoria, I bring Alexander to you. He got me out.”

  She froze, her hand stilled on Phoebe’s coat. Her eyes first grew round, then slowly her brows drew down and her lashes covered all but a portion of the green. Her generous mouth grew taut. He had seen this look on her face before. Had had it directed at him enough in the past to feel wary.

  “You brought Alex here?” she practically hissed. “You bastard!” the last came out a shriek. She reached out and shoved at him. He let her, putting out a hand to catch himself in the standing water. She clambered to her feet and glared down at him. “How dare you bring him here? You know what he did to me.

  You know how I feel!” She whirled on Aloe. “Don’t you dare let him in here!!”

  One last glare at Dusk before she stormed away. The cub looked at him curiously, wrinkled her nose and trotted after Victoria. He was left with Aloe staring at him and a few other Liosalfar curiously peeked out of the sheltering ruins to see what the yelling at been about.

  Aloe tilted her head at him and half smiled. A very feline smile. She extended a hand. Dubiously he took it and her help up.

  “He is not Azeral’s,” he told her.

  “And has magic that might be of help to you.”

  “Not for me to decide. Or her for that matter. Why don’t you explain the situation to someone of a clearer head who does have the power to decide, hmmm?”

  ~~~

  Azeral stepped out into the day’s dim light and watched Ashara go. The court stood in the rain, protective shields over their heads sheltering them from the onslaught. Two dozen gleaming, armored forms, hair and faces perfect. Stances hinting at their readiness to pounce. All and all they were a wildly undisciplined court. Informal under his leadership. A habit he had never seen fit to correct. He had never needed that much dominance over the court. Now he frowned at the barely leashed violence.

  Ashara hesitated at the gathering, eyes flickering over the gilded group.

  Their faces were coldly assessing, mildly disappointed that she was walking away unscathed. Leanan and Neferia were close to his tent, the former whispering to the latter in urgent gestures. Leanan’s eyes na
rrowed. Her gaze followed her mother.

  Neferia turned away from her and her eyes for one moment met his. There was smugness in her face. A look of victory that he could not fathom. And after a moment, he need not have wondered. He knew.

  Suddenly, shockingly an attack came from Leanan. Neferia, ever the instigator, never the antagonist, stood back and smiled. Leanan sent the missiles. It was not a killing attack. Azeral saw that in the instant he noted the act. The blades that formed out of air were mental. They sped towards the only target in this crowd they could have before he could think to warn Leanan against the attack.

  Ashara was not unperceptive, or a novice. Standing ankle deep in mud, she whirled at the surge of magic and summoned defense. It was simple and elegant, like the lady. A mirror shield, to send an attack back against the attacker.

  The mental blades spun back at Leanan and the girl cried out in agony. And the camp erupted.

  The hunt had been too long dormant.

  Too long held on tight rein when their blood cried for the kill. All it took was an aggressive action by the enemy for them to take up arms. Leanan staggered and the court launched a concentrated attack. It descended on Ashara like a flood. Azeral cried out, too late to stop it. Not too late to throw his own shield atop Ashara’s in an effort at protection. Her mirror shield was tripled, by her own efforts and his. The attack slammed into it. He felt the impact to the center of his being. No weak effort had been made. Ashara swayed, but the shield held and the barrage was sent flashing back.

  The court as a whole gasped, but the damage, the true damage was sent back along the original linkage. Back to Leanan who had initiated the whole thing. It struck her like a physical blow, and she was literally tossed backwards into the sidhe behind her. Hands caught her, supported her, for she had no power to support herself. She had not even the time to cry out as the soul was seared from her. Even as Azeral ran out into the rain, she was nothing more than a empty husk. And the court was growling. The power was building.

  “Stop!” he roared. “How dare you?”

  He whirled and whipped them all with a lash of burning power. They flinched back, shocked by his retaliation. But the power dissipated. He turned to Ashara.

  Her face was a mask of waxen white. Her eyes wide, uncomprehending.

  No. Not uncomprehending. Shocked rebuttal. Utter irredeemable dismay.

  Go. Now. He told her, mind to mind.

  Quickly.

  She fled. She caught up the reins to her horse and sent it down the hill at a reckless gallop. He was left with his court. With stares that ranged from shock to sullen accusation. His knees felt weak.

  That defense had taken a great deal of energy. He pushed his way through them and went to where they held Leanan. Her eyes were wide and staring. Lifeless.

  Neferia hovered behind her. Neferia who had somehow urged that fatal attack. He spared her one glance. A cold, dark look that she flinched away from.

  Leanan, he gathered in his arms, wanting her out of the rain. Foolish, foolish child. Ever spoiled. Ever intolerant. Indignant over her recent human troubles.

  “Tyra,” he said, for he sensed her presence at his back. Hers had not been a power among the attack. He doubted the shield would have held if it had been.

  “My lord?” Her voice was neutral.

  Cold.

  “Open a portal to the keep. I want to take her back home.”

  “Did my lord exhaust himself protecting the Liosalfar?” There was something in her tone that scared him. He looked at her and for the first time saw a danger to him and his place as dark lord.

  At this moment, if she chose, she might be able to take him. He was that drained. He hurt that much.

  When she gathered power, he almost put up shields. But the end results were only the opening of a portal. On the other side of the doorway were stone walls and dry air. Tyra extended a hand. He nodded to her and carried his daughter through.

  ~~~

  Victoria sank into a sulk. An utter, selfish, spoiled sulk that she had no desire to stop. She held the cat to her and curled up in the dry nook she had found for herself and let her thoughts stew. She quelled the overwhelming desire to cry.

  Just to burst out into heart-wrenching sobs of betrayal and hurt. She pulled her cloak around her, the wet cloth dragging against rough stone. It hung depressingly heavy on her shoulders. Vehemently she wished it dry and warm. The air almost sparked around her, like embers flying off a burning log. Her cloak immediately lightened, growing warm.

  A hysterical laugh escaped her. Her own magic was still new enough for even the little things to amaze her. The power-induced comfort was enough to momentarily delight her. It did not take long, of course, for her morose thoughts to return.

  On top of all the misery she was presently going through, he had to show up. How could she have possibly expected the one thing that had gone right of late, to stay right through and through?

  How could Dusk, of all people, have brought Alex back to her? There were thousands of folk in this world. She was sure of it. Why did the one responsible for getting Alex here, out of all those denizens, all those choices, just happen to be the only other lover she had ever taken besides Alex himself. It was unfair.

  Terribly, terribly unfair.

  And they were not listening to her wishes either. She had surreptitiously been listening in on stray thoughts since her retreat and knew very well that Aloe had taken the matter to Neira’sha and that that lady had made the decision to allow Alex into the vale. By now he was probably within the boundaries of the runes. Closer to her than she had ever wanted him to be again.

  Why had he come here when he had been so deliriously exuberant with the sidhe. Certainly not for her. Azeral must have put him up to it. What other reason would he leave his viperous Leanan? She thought she ought to point that out to Neira’sha if the lady was too distracted by other matters to see it for herself. Yes, she really ought to point out Alex’s treachery to the sidhe.

  A half sob escaped her and she pressed her face into the gulun’s fur. It was only part dry, even though Phoebe was spending a good deal of effort grooming it. Wet gulun fur did not have the most pleasing of odors. Victoria wrinkled her nose and summoned a small spell of drying warmth for Phoebe too. The cub’s purr rose in pitch and her ears pricked forward with interest as her fur miraculously fluffed and lost its moisture.

  The interruption in the licking was only temporary, hardly a task to be daunted by a mere drying of coat.

  “You would never hurt me, would you, kit?” she murmured into the soft pelt.

  The licking ceased and Phoebe looked up at her. Amber feline eyes locked onto her own. For a moment, there was something vastly more intelligent that the cub she knew behind those dilated, almond eyes.

  A contented purr escaped and the cub butted her head against Victoria’s chin, knocking her head back into the stone wall. She grunted and scratched behind a tufted ear.

  “I do hate him, you know,” she said, reaffirming her convictions. The cat began her grooming once more, all artifice of deep thought fled. Victoria sighed heavily, gloomily, looked out the rectangle of pale light across the room. If the storm would ever stop, she might be able to arrange her thoughts.

  The wind picked up its pace.

  ~~~

  Aloe was most put out. Aloe was glaring with narrowed, silver eyes at the assassin’s back and the assassin was becoming more and more nervous at her presence behind him. The four Seelie scouts that accompanied them were just as jumpy. They stank of fear. Some for him, but mostly, he thought for the storm and what the storm might force on them.

  The wind whistled through the trees like the lash of a whip. Cloaks tumbled forward, outlining backs and obscuring vision. Dusk wiped hair and hood out of his face and chanced a glance backwards at the high sidhe following him. Grim, all of them. Cold and tired and out of patience. The girl, Aloe, would just as well have him dead as look at him. Would have but for Victoria and the ancient Nei
ra’sha, who had looked at him with something more than hatred and fear. That one weighed everything for its value.

  Discarded nothing that might have use.

  She was older than he could imagine, with only three hundred years behind him.

  Older than Azeral who was the oldest thing he knew. There was such incredible wisdom on her face, tolerance in her eyes.

  There was nothing in Azeral’s court that came close to the benevolence in the whole being of Neira’sha. He thought she was the epitome of the difference between Seelie and Unseelie.

  He was a little bit in awe of her and he had never been in awe of anything in his life, save for the impact of a human girl. She had listened to him, had thought for a dozen breaths in silence then smiled on him and nodded, telling Aloe who was in no way patient or benevolent to let him lead them to his companions and allow them into the Vale.

  So Dusk led Aloe and the scouts up the tree studded valley walls towards the wards that protected the sidhe. They passed the rune stones silently and without incident. To the west they circled, where the land became rockier and more disdainful of easy travel.

  The sidhe would have passed the cave by. Not because it was so well hidden, but for the layer upon layer of magic placed over its mouth. Alex was becoming very good at making himself unnoticed. The spells had no effect on Dusk, who saw the cave mouth and scented the strong odor of horse and wet spriggan.

  He called softly, announcing himself.

  Alex stepped out of the cave, hand on the sword at his belt. His eyes were guarded, suspicious and just a bit surprised that Dusk had come back for him so quickly.

  “You’re fast,” he commented under his breath, when he had to step forward to make room for Bashru with the mounts.

  Dusk merely inclined his head and thought from the look Alex was giving him that what the human really wanted to ask, was if he had seen Victoria.

  Aloe and her hunters urged them to alacrity. She gave Alex a long, gauging stare. Finally she commented, level and calm, “She is my friend. I do not give that lightly. Do her no harm.”