“Ala, Jareth of Doncerric,” he said.
It was in the eyes, Jareth thought, looking at him.
Their impassive expressions gave little away, but Elon of Aerilann’s dark eyes had kindled, sparked with interest. Had Jareth been elsewhere and in different company he might have whooped and jumped around in triumph but as it was he simply inclined his head in response.
As he watched the exchange, it was clear Daran didn’t like this turn of events one little bit, but he said nothing.
“Are we ready then to begin?” Elon asked, looking to the High King.
He was eager to be off. There was no love lost between himself and the High King of Men - which was of no matter to him. They could and would work together. That was enough.
Whatever else, Daran wanted to be remembered by his own people, but especially among the elder races, as the man who had wrought this peace.
Elon had learned quickly that he couldn’t trust the conniving Daran; the man loved his own plots and schemes far too well. He’d been burnt once and that had been enough. Daran sought his place in history by way of the Agreement. It was to be his legacy, nothing more. How that peace would be gotten - by what means - didn’t matter to him so long as it was gotten and his place in history assured. His reasons didn’t matter to Elon, so long as there was peace for his people.
In spite of that, Elon felt a lifting of spirit - a sense of hope he couldn’t deny. This would be the last piece of an intricate puzzle.
For the first time in memory - and his long-lived people had longer memories than men - there was a chance at a real and lasting peace. For that Elon was willing to tolerate almost anything. If they succeeded in their mission, those boundaries that men recognized would be marked. All the lesser Kings had signed that Agreement and agreed therefore to abide by it.
No more would there be war between Elves, Dwarves and men over land. Never again would a King or Queen of men push beyond their boundaries and cry foul to their people when Elves or Dwarves rose up in defense. Never again would other regents rise up in battle when their brothers sought common cause against the Elder races. For those who took up arms, there would be others who could and would stand aside, rightfully, legally. They would point at that document and ask if those who called for war would be forsworn.
If they didn’t, the High King’s own army would.
Never again would the armies of men be raised against Elven folk as had happened in the past.
Instead, the High King would put forth his levies in defense of Elven and Dwarven hegemony.
For Daran to have his legacy, he would and must stand with the Elves…even against his own people.
It was as if a weight Elon hadn’t known he carried lifted from his shoulders.
He was under no illusions. There were those who would try to prevent this mission, which was why he would risk no other than himself and Colath in attempting it.
Save this young wizard.
Looking down his long nose at Jareth, Daran asked, “What has your Master told you?”
Clasping his hands behind his back, Jareth nodded respectfully to the High King.
“I am to be part of those who set the Border markers as per the Agreement, acting as guide, as wizard, and as the representative of Men in this as Elon of Aerilann is representative of Elves and Dwarves.”
Daran didn’t like it, couldn’t like it, that a common orphan…this wizard…would represent Men in this endeavor but there was no help for it. A wizard had to go - to set the markers in place as only a wizard could. Elon would go to verify that the markers were indeed set, properly, defining the lands of Elves, Dwarves and Men for all time so there could be no quarrel over them - a source of contention in the past.
He would’ve preferred to send someone more…appropriate…but there wasn’t anyone else. It was difficult enough to choose any.
Select a member of one Kingdom over that of another and he’d be showing favoritism, set one against another and he risked acrimony. If he chose a member of his own staff they’d say he had set himself over and above the lesser Kings. Among the wizards there were those who hated the elder races. And the elder races had more than enough reason to hate wizards.
Elon had to go as it was he who had negotiated the Agreement and only he the Elves and Dwarves would trust and accept as their envoy. His Elven honor held him up in their eyes, his integrity unquestioned. Even by men.
Unlike himself, Daran thought bitterly.
Then there were Aerilann’s defensive skills - skills beyond that which most men possessed. They would be necessary, too. Not everyone was reconciled to the Agreement, even some of those who’d signed it, as Daran well knew.
Daran nodded and looked to Elon. “Very well, when will you leave then?”
Glancing at Jareth in question, Elon said, “Immediately, if possible.”
A grin flashed over the young wizard’s face as he gestured to his pack beside the door.
“I’m ready if you are.”
Watching, Colath was already beginning to like the brash young wizard, despite what he was. He sensed through the bond he and Elon shared that Elon did, too. This might not be as much of a trial as they’d feared.
“Very well, then,” Elon said and nodded. He looked at Daran. “We leave immediately.”
It was clear Daran was startled by their readiness but could find no reason to delay them.
To be honest, though Daran said nothing, Elon knew Daran was relieved to be spared his presence for a time and there was something to be said for that.
“Ready?” Elon said to the wizard, who nodded.
Inclining his head, Elon turned for the doors, the young wizard falling in at his right as Colath fell in on his left, in guard position, ever and always at Elon’s back.
The guards gave no apparent notice to them and the staff ignored them but Jareth saw heads turn among the visitors to the castle to see two Elves accompanied by a man - him - as they walked through the High King’s castle. Together. He supposed he’d get used to the stares. It would take months, if not years, to set all the markers at the pace most horses of men could manage.
Stepping out into the brilliant sunlight to see what awaited there he suddenly thought, Maybe not.
He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, couldn’t allow himself to hope.
A trio of horses awaited, not two, and not just any horses. Beautiful Elven-bred horses. For a moment Jareth simply couldn’t encompass it, the thought of even touching an Elven-bred horse was so far beyond his comprehension.
Gleaming in the sunlight, they were tall animals, standing hands higher than the horses of men, even the massive draft horses such as farmers used. These were lean and sleek with large intelligent eyes. A breath of breeze feathered through manes and tails as light as silk. Bred by the Elves for speed and stamina it was said an Elven-bred could cross the Kingdoms in weeks rather than months. So attuned were they to their rider that their reins were simply decorative.
They were also beautiful, magnificent examples of horseflesh.
One was so deep a black its hide glinted with blue highlights, its tack so light as to be clearly for show, and of the same color as its hide, while the other was silvery-gold in shade, like ripe wheat.
The third was a deep mottled gray.
Reaching out, Elon grasped that horse’s reins, drew its head around gently so the horse could see him.
“His name is Zo,” he said. “He’s a cull but he’s strong and intelligent.”
For a moment, Jareth could only stand there breathless, afraid to comprehend, afraid to believe what they were offering him, however temporarily. Even a cull was so far beyond his pocketbook as to be unimaginable.
Reaching out tentatively, Jareth stroked a hand down the silky nose. “Fog.”
Zo allowed the touch.
Elon lifted an eyebrow in surprise. “Just so. So you do speak Elven, it’s not just rote.”
Slowly Jareth nodded, distracted by the horse,
by the wonder of him. “As much as I am able, with texts I found in the library from the past. My pronunciations may be off.”
The young wizard was so fascinated with the horse he didn’t even note the small smile Elon allowed to grace his face at his amazement, his unassuming nature, and his pleasure in the horse.
“We can correct that,” Colath said, amused.
Lifting his head, Jareth looked to Elon, his voice breathless. “Mine?”
Elon nodded. “Yours.”
It hadn’t been politic to mention it in Daran’s presence.
The High King of Men desired an Elven purebred with an intensity that bordered on obsession, although none but Elves rode them or ever would, but he would have settled for a cull. He wouldn’t, however, be given one, not with his temperament. Elon had seen how he treated the horses of men, his reins hard on their mouths. He wouldn’t expose even a cull to Daran’s volatile temperament.
Jareth on the other hand…
Chosen for his gentle and flexible nature, Zo had been deemed perfect for this mission. Elon had planned to allow whoever accompanied them on this journey to ride Zo temporarily - he definitely didn’t intend to be months or years away from his beloved Aerilann - unless the horse bonded with his rider as Elven horses were wont to do.
It ceased to be a question. Bonding had taken place instantly - again boding well for the young wizard.
This promised to be an interesting journey.
Chapter Two
Zo’s gait was so smooth that - for Jareth - it was like riding a dream, or a cloud. He was fascinated by it and by the other two -watching the smooth, steady pace of Elon and Colath’s horses as they rode through the main gates of the High King’s city and out onto the Plains. Their speed was another source of interest. That even canter seemed no different to him than the horses of men and yet they ate up the miles far more quickly - putting distance between themselves and Doncerric far faster than he believed possible.
It was more than a matter of their longer legs and greater stamina, there was something of magic in it, Jareth knew, a magic bred by the Elves into the horses themselves.
A brisk, cool, salt-laden breeze from the sea that hammered and boomed at the cliffs of Doncerric blew over them as they turned north and slightly west, away from the ocean and toward the forested Enclave of Alatheriann - the largest of all the Elven Enclaves and the closest to Doncerric.
Others also rode out on this mission but they marked only the undisputed territories between and around the various lesser Kingdoms that made up the whole.
It fell to Elon, Colath and Jareth to mark these others - the ones between Elves, Dwarves and men.
Per the Agreement, this that they would mark first was also undisputed. To declare it and make it so were two entirely different things, though.
There was no small talk as they rode. It wasn’t a thing of Elves to talk for no reason, to comment on the weather - clear and bright, with the breeze setting the grasses and grains to blowing like waves on the sea - or the journey - which traced a path they all knew.
While he felt no need to comment on it, Elon enjoyed the fresh air, the sun warm on his skin as they finally escaped the confines of stone that the races of men and Dwarves seemed to enjoy.
It wasn’t for his people to be enclosed but to be out in the open air with the soft-scented breezes around them, the sun warm on their shoulders while the horses’ hooves beat a steady rhythm against the earth.
It was as well, too, that Jareth seemed to have no need to chatter as many men did, smothering the music of the world with their voices rather than listening to the whisper of the wind through the grass, the sweet songs of the birds - the heartbeat of the land.
The first few markers went easily enough as they skirted the very edges of Alatheriann, the ‘buffer zone’ as Daran had ironically named them. Verdant lands that lay between those of Elves and men, necessary for hunting but also for keeping distance between the empathic races and the mentally noisy folk of the Kingdoms.
It was another point in Jareth’s favor that he was as quiet in his mind as in his nature.
Elon and Colath sensed the watchers within Alatheriann observe them, though none came to greet them as they normally would have - not with a man - a wizard no less - in their presence.
Such things would take time even for their more broad-minded folk to accept, much less those of men. Elves - who had no capacity for lying - had learned early that the honor of men was shown more in the breach than the observance. It was difficult to tell which men could be trusted…and some who were trustworthy were still capable of betrayal under the right circumstances. Few men held honor the way Elves did, as inherent to their nature. Add wizardry to the mix - especially the horrors of which the wizards of old had been capable - and wariness was to be expected.
Magic such as that which men possessed was a rare talent among Elves, although most their people had intrinsic magic of some kind, if only the strength, speed and rapid healing all Elves had or the ability to light fires and find water. Others like Elon himself were gifted with far more.
The process of setting the boundaries wasn’t a difficult one.
Living on the edges of the Kingdoms and so close to the borderlands all Elves had an innate sense of place and location but men wouldn’t accept that as truth even knowing Elves didn’t lie. So Jareth would verify the location of each marker with a sextant and landmarks, conjure up the marker stone with those specifications from among those stored in the High King’s castle and set it in place. Once it was set Elon and Jareth would use a binding spell to set the stone immovably into the earth in that location.
It was simple in principle.
What it meant, and what the repercussions would be, was not so simple.
Elves and Dwarves didn’t need to mark land, to divide it into neat squares, to declare ownership yet deny it to others. Both claimed only the space they dwelled upon - their Enclaves and Caverns - seeing the rest as sacred open space, a pleasure to be shared, a source of sustenance for both body and soul.
Since men had come, however, rarely did any length of time pass but men pushed for more land, more space, declaring ownership of that which wasn’t theirs to own. So they would set the boundaries and markers so men, Elves and Dwarves could live in peace with one another.
Not all were so ready to cede that land to the other races. So far, though, they hadn’t come into conflict.
Elon didn’t expect that to last.
Beyond this point, past Alatheriann and the Dwarven Cavern just beyond it, beyond his own Aerilann were the Kingdoms to the north and the Dwarven Cavern there in the highest reaches of the mountains. To the east were the two smallest Enclaves. Tiny Lothliann was the emerald jewel of the Enclaves - once ravaged by wildfire but now restored to its former glory. It was hardest pressed by the greed of men, simply for its verdant growth. In between were the lands of men. The farms of the Heartlands were fast encroaching on Lothliann’s territory.
And Aerilann’s, his own Enclave.
Talaena, spared by its mountains and its proximity to the independent Kingdom of Marakis, was virtually undisturbed but unlikely to remain so for long.
All three grew more alert as they completed their circuit of Alatheriann, leaving a trail of markers embedded in the earth around it, before turning north into the unclaimed lands between it and the Dwarven Cavern beyond. They skirted to the west of one of the lesser Kingdoms, bringing them dangerously near where the Borderlands drew close and where the vicious, magically enhanced creatures of those lands held sway.
In such a place it could be fatal to let your guard down. Nor would they.
They camped at the location of the last marker, knowing the lands they were about to enter. It would be better to be well-rested before they reached them.
The country was wild and rough, thickly forested in some places while in others the bones of the earth broke through the thin skin of the earth in rocky outcroppings. Little grew in such
desolation - mostly lichen, tall, sparse grasses and scrubby trees.
As the leader of Hunters - those who defended Elven lands from the predations of the creatures of the Borderlands - Colath was well familiar with those creatures. As was Elon. He rode with the Hunters regularly as part of his duties as First among equals.
Both loosened their swords in their scabbards as they rode out and eyed the concealing brush around them.
Jareth, who’d stripped off his wizard’s robes and stuffed them into his saddlebag at the first opportunity, shook back his sleeves and drew up power. Elon could feel it drift over his skin.
“This is good territory for boggins and boggarts,” Colath said softly.
The small, quick and incredibly powerful animals were thickly furred and appeared vaguely man-like but possessed teeth like razors and jaws that could break even Elven bones like matchsticks. Smaller but more savage, boggins were cousins to the larger boggarts.
“Firbolg, too,” Jareth offered.
At a surprised glance from the two Elves he added, “I served for a time with the Hunters.”
It wasn’t required of the general run of wizards - although Jareth personally thought it should be. Such duty was required of itinerant wizards, those who moved about the Kingdoms at random, serving where they were most needed. That was how Jareth wanted to serve and so he had prepared appropriately.
With a nod Elon looked to Colath and then to Jareth, impressed and encouraged.
“Well enough,” he said, satisfied.
None of the creatures was stupid, the larger boggarts and firbolg having intelligence close to that of man. It was unwise by far to underestimate them or their cunning.
The attack when it came was still an unpleasant surprise.
With reflexes not unlike that of the great hunting cats they somewhat resembled, firbolg exploded out of the cover of the brush, one leaping from concealment in the branches of a tree - the group hunting as a pride, not as solitary males.
So quickly Jareth’s eyes could barely credit it, Elon and Colath were back to back, their horses spinning on their back hooves. Swords lashed out. Blood flew as they struck.
Not Magic Enough and Setting Boundaries Boxed Set (The Coming Storm) Page 11
