“Kelm, forget it.”
He gave a final shot, then trudged over with a scowl. “Figures one would show up after starting this entire mess.”
“Starting it?”
“Yeah. It was a stupid magpie that stole the moon medallion and took it back to the elves. Tellie wouldn’t have gotten into so much trouble if it hadn’t. And I about killed myself trying to reach a nest—”
But Tryss wasn’t hearing him anymore. She stared at the fluttering bird, skin tingling. Was it no mere chance that a foreign bird should appear now?
“The Daisha,” she said slowly. “Follow that bird.”
“Good.” Stretching out her wings, The Daisha bared teeth at the magpie. “Fly for your life, you little monster.”
As if it understood her, the magpie shot into the sky and began racing across the treetops. In a flash, The Daisha was after it, her great wings closing the distance between them in a matter of seconds. Yet the bird didn’t seem to notice its own peril but flew determinedly on. The forest blurred underneath them like rushing water, and soon they came to the end of it altogether and sailed over the rolling hills, pale under the starlight. The magpie continued, the white on its wings flickering like the stars above.
“Look there, Tryss,” Kelm said, pointing. “At the foot of the mountains…are those tents?”
From the distance, it at first looked like a cluster of trees in the bare hills, but one could see things glittering and flashing amongst it. As they drew nearer, they could make out the dark green tents and see the horses and folk. They had not seen the camp when they’d flown to the jungle, but the rolling hills could hide many things, and perhaps this company had not been camped long judging by how many figures still hurried about.
“Any idea who they are?” Tryss asked.
“Smells like evergreen woods,” The Daisha said, and when that was apparently not a sufficient answer, she added, “Elves, of course.”
“Elves?” Tryss and Kelm cried together. “But how did they know…how did they come here?”
“I suppose you should ask them,” she replied, circling to land still some distance from the camp. “And when I mean you, I really do mean you. I’ve grown since they saw me last and I don’t want to startle them, so I’ll wait until you’ve established contact.”
“Kelm, do they know you?” Tryss asked, gazing nervously towards the company as she dismounted.
“No.” He swallowed hard. “Tellie never introduced me. I don’t know if these are even the right ones.”
“They’re elves,” The Daisha said, staring at him as if he was the stupidest boy on earth. “They’re deadly, but they’re not likely to kill you on sight.”
“They better not,” he muttered. “Otherwise, I’ll be really upset.”
Heaving a sigh, Tryss took his arm and pulled him forward. It felt like it took a terrible long time to approach, but they were able to observe much more of the gathering as they drew near. It was a camp of war, the tent flaps tied open for the figures rushing in and out, the sound of armor clinking and gleaming weapons being sharpened. Dark banners stitched with shining trees and stars swayed in the slight wind.
Tryss called out a greeting before they had quite arrived, but the call was lost amid the snort of horses and the blur of elvish voices, so they were forced to walk straight into the bustle.
And quite suddenly every elf stopped, every horse pricked its ears, and every weapon hushed. They all stared stunned at the meek figures who had so quietly invaded their midst. An instant later every hand sprang to sword, and Tryss and Kelm were surrounded by a forest of blades and arrows.
Tryss inhaled sharply, tugging the boy close to her. “No, we’re friends,” she cried. “Please, who is your leader, we came with important news.”
Not inclining to answer her, a captain of the company spoke swift instructions to a soldier in their own tongue who dashed off into the shadows of the shelters. They did not have to wait long…a tall figure in a white shirt came hurrying through the crowd and as he came close, he broke into a run.
“Tryss? Kelm?” the man exclaimed.
Their mouths dropped open in shock. “Coren?”
It was the smuggler, there was no doubt about that, for no other elf could be caught wearing that roguish apparel of a sailor.
Nor did any elf’s shadow follow with such a vigor and mind of its own, twinkling with its dark, brown eyes and saucy smile, calling in a distinct Oolum accent, “Did you kids get lost?”
Coren shouldered through the last of the retreating elves, his smile as wide as the sky. “I’d say they went the wrong direction.” His eyes skipped over the disbelieving stares of Tryss and Kelm and searched beyond. His grin dropped away. “So he’s gone then?”
“He was taken. Yesterday.” She somehow managed to choke the words out despite the confusion and hope and disbelief spinning her mind. “Tellie and him both.”
“How are you here, Coren?” Kelm demanded. “We left you only days ago…why are you here, and how did you get all these people?”
But Coren shook his head, snapping out a few words to their surrounding guards who immediately retreated. “Never mind that for the moment. Come with me, I need you to give a full report to the commander.”
He turned and swept away, Zizain again at his heel, leaving them little choice but to follow in his wake. The elves parted before them, staring with shining, inquisitive eyes. They marched up to the central tent, which like the others was open, and within it was set up a table and hung with lamps that filled the curtained chamber with a fire-hearth’s glow. A tall, elegant man bent over the table, his long blond hair brushing the map upon its surface. As they entered, he straightened and surveyed them with a quiet and unsettling depth.
“Tryss and Kelm, this is my father, Lord Leoren,” Coren said, with a jerk of his hand.
The chema and boy stared, both somehow managing to not slack their jaw. The elf lord did not look old enough to be any grown man’s father, let alone Coren’s. Coren, the red-head rascal of Oolum…son of this refined creature?
“Daava,” Coren said. “These are two of Errance’s companions. It is just as Oriah said. The Darkness has already caught Errance and Tellie again. But this is Tryss, of that chema tribe I spoke of, and Kelm, Tellie’s friend.”
Leoren inclined his head gracefully, but a heavy weariness hung in his eyes. A disabling grief that continually plucked at his attention, allowing nothing else to be received in full concentration. “You arrive at an opportune time, friends. It is strange that we should meet.”
“More than strange, your lordship,” Tryss stammered. “That you should be here is completely baffling. Coren only met us a short while ago.”
“I told you going by ship was faster!” Coren said, tossing up his hands as he began to pace the floor. “I reached Aselvia a few days after you left…I had every intent of bringing a company to intercept Errance and secure his travel home. But when I arrived, I found my father had already set out for Tertorem…turns out Rendar had known about Errance’s location. He figured Tellie would be there too.”
“You know Tellie—” Kelm interrupted. His eyes bulged a second later as he guessed the answer. “Are YOU the man who was going to adopt her?”
“That was my hope,” Leoren said softly.
“Anyway,” Coren continued impatiently. “While I was there, one of our priests had a…well…it’s bit hard to explain if you aren’t familiar with…you know…spiritual realms…the Unseen world? Anyway, I suppose you could call it a vision. A message from the One himself, telling us to assault Tertorem once more. I guessed that Errance had been retaken, and so I set out with a company to join my father here.”
Leoren sat heavily in a chair, his head in his hands.
Looking at him, Tryss thought him much older than he first appeared. Indeed, she had not known an elf could look so tired…Errance didn’t count, for even exhausted a ferocious energy had burned in his gaze. The poor man. He had only had a few d
ays at most to process the survival of his crown prince and now faced losing him again.
“When we combed the Tertorem mountains for weakness,” the elf lord murmured, “I thought it was only Rendar’s desire for justice concerning Errance’s death. In the years that followed, he’d lock himself away for days…maybe even weeks….I wonder if he was here….trying to find a way in. And if he could not, what chance do we have..?”
Coren slammed a fist into his palm. “Because we can see Ayeshune’s finger in all this! He is guiding the pieces to their positions….everything is aligning, our board is set. If there was ever a time to discover the way over those cursed mountains, it is now and—”
He suddenly stopped. And blinked. And spun around to face Tryss and Kelm with a confounded expression. “Half a moment. You said they were caught yesterday? I rather thought you’d have made better progress on your journey. How’d you two get back here so fast?”
Tryss’s mind stuttered and she blinked at him.
But Kelm had found his tongue. “We flew of course. And as for getting over the mountains, we already figured all that out—we have The Daisha!”
Tryss was never sure how much time passed, because everything that happened afterwards could hardly be measured, but she found herself again sitting in the tent, now curled up in a chair and looking at the faces of the elves while they in turn stared at the face of The Daisha.
The Daisha lay halfway into the tent, the curtains draped around her shoulders, and she chattered on cheerfully, quite unperturbed by the stunned looks upon her.
Tryss sipped the flask of warm tea given her by a woman with brown hair and lavender eyes who she guessed was Lord Leoren’s wife. Finally, she began to feel alive again, no longer lost in the fever that had propelled her from yesterday through night to another night again.
It was funny, she thought, but Coren, daring and intrepid man as he was, looked the most sick about The Daisha, while Zizain wore a dazzling smile that cared little about her own confusion and shock. Lord Leoren did not wear an expression of unbelief like his son for he’d known the creature in her youth and surely remembered to what size they grew, but he did look quite dazed or at least as dazed as a man of his sophistication could hope for.
“Anyway,” The Daisha went on, clasping her fingered paws. “I say it is providence that has brought us together again, although I do wish it was under happier circumstances. My Errance is still alive, and no one, no one, can simply snatch him away and not expect me to do my utmost part in rescuing him.”
Leoren’s eyes fluttered shut as he bent his head into hand. “Two impossibilities in only a few days…”
“They tend to happen all at once,” The Daisha comforted. “So let’s get the third out of the way and scale those mountains, yes? My wings are large enough now to lift me to those heights.”
The elven lord nodded, brushing back his doubt and exhaustion. “What do you propose? You cannot fly us over the peaks one at a time.”
“That’s easy,” Coren said. “She only needs to fly up a few of us with ropes so we can secure them to rocks and send down a ladder for the rest of you.”
“That could work…but it’s so simple.”
“Everything’s marvelously simple when a daisha is your friend,” the good creature quipped.
“And while we draw out their forces,” Coren continued, “The Daisha flies Tryss and Kelm to the fortress to search for Errance.”
“What?” Startled, Leoren looked to him with a jerk. “You suggest sending in the boy?”
“I’m the only one who’s been inside,” Kelm protested. “I’ve the best chance of recognizing places…they didn’t blindfold me all the time.”
“That place is demonic. There is no telling if anything is going to look familiar to you. No, Coren, we cannot have children involved in this.”
“With all due respect, sir…your lordship,” Kelm said, stiffening his back. “Those you’d call children are already involved. My friend Tellie is in there, and she and Errance need all they help we can give them if this rescue’s going to be successful. Anyway, I am fourteen and that’s almost a man.”
Coren leaned against the table and smiled. “He has a point, Daava. Many human cultures would consider him so.”
Before Leoren could respond, another shadow cast in the room, and they turned to look at the elven guard standing in the tent door. “Lord Leoren,” he said. “We have new arrivals come from the jungle. More of her kind.” He gestured Tryss with a nudge of his chin.
With a gasp, she stumbled to her feet. “My tribe…?” But fleeting hope dashed a moment later with the thought they had more than likely come to bring her back. Her hands curled. Well. She was not going back, and in this mighty company, there wasn’t much point to their protest.
“May I speak with them first?” she asked, bowing a little to Leoren. If they did cause a scene trying to convince the folly of her actions, she hardly wanted them all to witness it.
“Very well.”
Leaving behind the resurrected argument of Kelm, she hurried after the guard through the midnight draped camp. The elves gathered in an agitated throng on the borders of the camp, perturbed to have so many unexpected visitors at once, though these ones at least they had seen coming. Or at least Tryss hoped her people had given the elves the chance of seeing them approach.
A cluster of about fifty men stood outside the camps borders, and as Tryss drew near enough to see detail in the torchlight, she recognized the foremost man as her father. And a few of her uncles. And beyond them, the faces she could see belonged to the most able men of their village. If all the shadows revealed the same, then over half of the tribe’s men had come…and they had come arrayed in what armor and weapons served their most perilous hunts.
She quickened her pace, heart rising on wings in her throat. “…Da?” And by then she could see the answer to her question, the war-paint striped across their faces and bare arms. They’d come to fight. For Errance, for Tellie. For her.
“You came!” She threw herself into her father’s ready embrace with a glad cry, nestling deep against his heartbeat. “I thought—”
“My stubborn cheedee…” He cupped her face in his large hands, shaking his head in somber pride. “Your dedication to your friends convicted us all. If you would risk your life for them, we cannot let you risk it alone. Though I see,” and here his eyes rose cautiously to the onlooking elves, “that you are not quite alone.”
“The Aselvian elves, Da. Errance’s people.” It was perhaps a bit silly to say since no one else in Orim could so perfectly match the idealized stories of the reclusive elves. “We are discussing our plan of attack in the main tent. Come, I’ll introduce you.”
And taking his arm, she lifted her chin with pride and led the way.
oOo
The girl was no longer in the cell. A cowering guard slunk to the Voice to tell him the news. Daran had found the cell door open with the elf still inside. Though interrogated, the elf would say nothing about the girl’s disappearance. Of course. Because he was stubborn that way.
The Voice of His Darkness took the news without comment or action, merely turning away.
It had been a long time since a child of his Great Enemy had entered his demesne. He’d underestimated her, written her off at their first meeting. She was just a little thing—but her frailty seemed to make her cling all the greater to her faith making her more powerful than she realized.
And now as he sent his thought peering into every corner, every crevice, every chamber of Tertorem, he could sense nothing. Blinded. Blinded! Even within the shadows of his own domain!
But the elf had not gone with her. That, at least, was an encouraging sign that the Darkness held predominant sway over the prince.
What was the girl doing? Was she wandering around listless in dark tunnels…or did she have a plan?
The Voice wheeled about so fast, the guard nearly dropped to the floor in fright. “Bring the Prisoner to the Well
,” he said. He’d find the girl himself—but first, he’d make sure the prince was somewhere she would never find him.
32
oOo
Now was not the time to panic. In all Tellie’s years so far, she could think of several more opportune moments for flailing and hysterics, mainly in the toddler years, but the time for that was not now. Instead, she reminded herself that she could in fact breathe, even though her chest and back were pinned between two unmoving walls of stone. Tight spaces. Add that to her growing list of fears.
At first her escape through the tunnels of Tertorem had been very successful. The medallion’s light shone each step ahead, and she’d followed its glow through rot-riddled cells until she’d reached a freshly broken crevice in the wall, caused perhaps by a recent earthquake. The glow had reached inside so she’d followed with only the slightest tremble. The passage widened and narrowed at turns, and finally she’d been forced to her belly to wiggle through a small hole.
And that was when she’d gotten stuck.
Heart rattling, she lay still against the cold stone, feeling the rocks close in around her. The moon medallion rested in her palm, glow faint. As the hours of her journey had passed, she’d begun to notice that the sliver of the moon was vanishing altogether. It would be gone soon. “All right,” she whispered to herself. “All right, I can do this. Please, please, please, Ayeshune, help me do this.” Releasing a long breath, she began wriggling her shoulders back and forth and using her feet to push forward. She felt the stone tear through her dress and skin, but didn’t dare stop.
Then her head and shoulders burst out into open air, and with a final shove, she squirmed free and somersaulted down onto the ground. The hard landing knocked the final shred of breath out, so she lay sprawled on the jutting stone, whispering groans of pain and prayers of thanks.
When she finally found strength to stand up, she reached for the moon medallion and…it was gone. She seized in panic for one second before her frantic hand combed the necklace strand and found the medallion’s shape still under her fingers. No longer visible, but still there.
Moonscript (Kings of Aselvia Book 1) Page 39