by CK Dawn
“Oh, Marcus!” Balan called, “Thanks for coming back for us.” The Drill Master knew it would have been easy for the young man to remain in the capital—any number of excuses could have been manufactured to prevent him from returning home to stand with his people. His willingness to return spoke volumes about his manly character and his potential as the future Lord of the Listar family.
Marcus didn't acknowledge the remark; instead he swung into the saddle and began nudging his horse toward the Manor gates.
Elaina followed his lead. “Where are we headed?” she asked.
“To the beach—we need to know what we are up against. If we stand our ground and the Manor is overwhelmed, we will all be killed or taken. If their numbers are not sufficient to take the Manor, the proper course is to hold our ground and stop them here. Balan believes their numbers are great enough to defeat the Manor. But it makes little sense to stay and die here. We can take our people and retreat inland, where the slavers cannot follow us, lest they risk being caught by Alford before they can retreat. They may have a large fleet, but many of their vessels will have their heaviest guns removed to make room for slave cells. The Tanamere will easily be their match on the water.
“We simply need to preserve our people,” he continued. “. . . Be it by holding the Manor or by retreating so we can live to fight another day. My father taught me to weigh the costs of an engagement and consider whether it truly needs to be entered. Commanders who choose their engagement on a foundation of fear or pride are foolish. We must weigh it on its merits and act accordingly. Homes can be rebuilt, but people’s lives, once lost, are gone forever.”
“Your father was a wise man,” Elaina answered. “You are fortunate to have had such a gifted teacher.”
“I only wish he were still with us,” Marcus replied. “He was fearless warrior and a cunning strategist—both qualities we could sorely use today.” They cleared the crowds and passed through the gates. “We must move swiftly, Elaina—are you comfortable enough to keep up?”
Elaina failed to suppress a laugh. “I do not need a horse to keep pace with you, Marcus. I merely ride to keep you company. Lead the way—I'll be right behind you.”
Marcus dug his heels into his horse’s flanks and the majestic creature increased its gait. Marcus loved to ride, and under different circumstances he would have taken great pleasure in their swift journey. There was nothing quite like hurtling across the countryside with the wind rushing through his hair. There was something about sitting astride so magnificent a creature, the rider felt almost invincible as his steed's steady stride covered mile after mile.
The pair made their way east from the Manor, working their way up the steady incline that led to the Eastern Beaches. As Marcus crested the hill and gazed out over their dunes, his heart sank.
“Allfather, have mercy on us . . .”
Nine
Lying at anchor just off the coast were well over two dozen ships, but it the flotilla of launches making their way to shore caused Marcus more concern. A handful had already reached the beach, their occupants disembarking as they spread out to secure their landing.
Marcus couldn't even count these vessels, there were so many. Alford's scouts had clearly been misled or witnessed only part of the armada now assembled against Listarii. It was one of the boldest slave raids Marcus had ever seen or heard of. There had to be over a thousand men making their way toward the beach at this very moment. One of the men on the beach spotted the two riders atop the plateau and raised the alarm.
A party of slavers began making their way up to the plateau to prevent the riders from reporting their movements. At the same time the launches increased their pace—propelled by teams of men on the oars, the sturdy landing craft cut through the swell and sailed toward the shoreline.
“Marcus, what are you waiting for?” Elaina cried. We need to leave!”
“There is no leaving, Elaina, not for my people. The slavers are already ashore. We have no time to safely evacuate our people, and their numbers are greater than any of us could have imagined. Without help from the other Great Houses, Listarii Manor will be overrun. But they are already on the beach—that help will never reach us in time.
“Well, we can't do anything here!” Elaina declared, exasperated.
“You’re right,” Marcus answered. We will be better off behind the Manor walls. At least there we can sell our lives dearly—make these slavers pay for every life they would take and ruin.”
Elaina's mind wandered back to the Manor and those taking refuge there. In her mind's eye she could see the elderly and infirm, the innocent children who had gathered into the Manor for protection. These lives and so many others now hung in the balance. Elaina glanced at Marcus. His countenance reflected a steely resolve to save his people. He would return to Listarii Manor to fight—she knew it. She could also see the immense host arrayed before her. To fight was certain death, she knew in her heart, yet Marcus would not be swayed from it. He had been unwilling to abandon Dariyen in the alleyway, and he would not leave his people to perish.
Tanith's warning echoed in her ears. She knew the Five would be watching, their attention drawn by her recent conduct. There was no way that taking action here would go unnoticed. “One voted for your death, one for exile . . .” Elaina heard Tanith's voice as if he stood beside her, repeating again and again: “Consider yourself warned.”
Elaina watched as the figures scrabbled up the sand toward them. Others continued pouring onto the beach.
“Keep my son safe—” Amarisa's injunction came flooding back into her mind. “Do you love him?” That piercing question again. Elaina looked upon the man at her side, his resolute determination to save his people written across his countenance. If it were possible, Marcus would make it so, through sheer willpower. He was one of the most determined and resourceful men she had ever met, but—more importantly—he cared for those he served. He didn't lord over his people. Instead, he fought desperately on their behalf. “Do you love him?” the voice echoed again.
“Yes!” Elaina cried out sincerely. The affirmation burst from within her.
Marcus turned to see what was the matter. “Yes—what?”
Elaina fixed her eyes upon his and answered: “I love you, Marcus.” She dismounted and began walking toward the slavers.
“Elaina, wait! What are you doing?” Marcus called, but she ignored him and continued walking calmly down from the plateau onto the beach.
Elaina needed her mind focused and his voice only served to break her concentration.
The disheveled slavers spotted her and increased their pace, scrambling over the shifting sand in an attempt to reach her. Of course Elaina could have carried out her intentions in her wind-form, but such a course of action might result in her fury being dismissed as coincidence by those before her. I want no doubt in their minds. Elaina thought.
Storm clouds formed in the sky overhead as the Astarii made her way down the sand dunes. At her command the winds increased in intensity—what had been a mild breeze quickly grew out of proportion. Those attempting to row to shore were now fighting a fierce headwind, that slowed their progress. The wind lashed at the beach and everything upon it. Sand sprayed outward from the sorceress, blinding those who sought to approach her.
Elaina used her powers to amplify her voice, so that it carried on the driving wind before her: “Hear me, denizens of Khashish! It is I—Eleen.” This was the name by which the people of Khashish had come to know her. In Khashish, the southern tribespeople had witnessed her power when she sought to preserve their lives. Their accounts of her power had spread, and in many parts of the land she was now worshiped as an Avatar of Nature. Until now Elaina had always dismissed the attention as the foolish notions of a superstitious people. Today she saw it as an opportunity to sow fear and discord.
“You trespass on sacred land with foul intent. Your presence here is an offense and an affront to the mercy I have long shown you. Depart now or be a witne
ss to your own destruction.”
The men on the beach looked up at the figure descending the sand dunes. The driving wind should have swept her before it but she remained undisturbed save for her hair whipping about furiously. Her appearance and confidence inspired fear in those on the beach and they wavered, unsure of how to proceed. The tales of Eleen's power were fierce enough to give the slavers pause.
Another launch struck the shore and a figure leapt from the boat's prow onto the sand. The man was tall, his sandy hair and mustache framing a handsome face set with deep blue eyes. His sharp dress set him apart from those around him—the slavers were grubby by comparison. No sooner had his boots struck the sand than he began bellowing orders. “What are you waiting for? Take the young lady—she'll fetch a fair price at the markets, as long as we prevent her from speaking until she's been purchased. Wouldn't want her new owner to know just how delusional she really is, now would we, boys? Throw her in the boats, and grab the other fool too.”
Elaina glanced behind her to find Marcus following her down onto the beach. With his life in peril, her course was clear.
“We must move swiftly,” the Slave Master shouted. “We have a day—two at the most—before the Tanamere are upon us. If we succeed this will be the greatest raid of our time. Not only will we be wealthy—we'll be famous too.” The men about him took heart and resumed their progress up the beach. They moved slowly as the wind tore at them, threatening to cast them off their feet.
Elaina cursed. There was only one problem with the tales of Eleen's might. For those who had not seen them for themselves, the tall tales were difficult to believe. For all the theatrics she was displaying, the idea of nature's wrath was not enough to contend with the very real prospect of fame and fortune. The slavers pressed on.
Knowing full well the price she would pay for her actions, Elaina allowed the wind to carry her off her feet. Slowly she rose into the air above the beach. I must leave an impression their kind will never forget.
Projecting her voice once more, Elaina rolled her words like thunder through the darkening sky: “You were warned, and in your foolish ignorance, you still persist. Behold, your judgment is at hand.”
The men below her on the sand stood rooted to the spot, eyes fixed on the figure floating above them in the air. The Slave Master too stood speechless, unsure how to respond to the fearsome avatar floating above the beach.
Then, without further warning, Elaina unleashed the full weight of her wrath upon the beach. The heavens broke and driving rain poured down in thick sheets, blanketing the beach and everyone on it. With a devastating crash, a bolt of lightning hurtled groundward. Elaina's aim was true. The bolt struck the Slave Master with concussive force, and when the flash of the lightning faded there was only a pair of boots where the Master had stood only a moment before. The man himself lay twitching in the sand several paces away.
Terror seized the hearts of the gathered slavers in its icy grasp. Rooted to the spot, they found themselves unable to move. Elaina showed them no mercy. Lightning rained from the heavens, devastating the beach as the furious fusillade of arcane energy emanated from the Astarii sorceress. The slavers perished in droves as the lightning arced through their ranks without mercy. Some tried to flee, and others fell to their knees in fear.
Neither act would save them. They had chosen their current course of action, trafficking in the enslavement and misery of others for personal profit. The avarice and greed was everything Elaina loathed in humankind.
That hatred was made manifest as Elaina turned her attention to those still in the water. The devastation caused by the lightning had achieved the desired result—those in the launches had abandoned their attempts to reach the shore and were now struggling against the rising waves in an attempt to return to their ships. Elaina considered allowing them to depart but knew that in time their memories of today, like the fables of old, would fade.
Elaina needed her demonstration to stand the test of time, for the Five would not look favorably on her flagrant disregard of their warning. Elaina needed to ensure Marcus would live a long and free life. Elaina needed to ensure that the memories of those who survived today would never fade.
Elaina floated out over the water. Her reputation as Eleen, Goddess of Nature, was well earned. Her affinity for the wind allowed her to manipulate the weather as few other beings could dream of, for her years spent as Guardian had allowed her to hone her arts considerably.
Elaina channeled those same arts now, as, focusing her will, she raised the intensity of the windstorm before her. At her command, cloud, wind and water combined to devastating effect. Pillars of wind and water descended from the ashen black storm clouds overhead. The pillars struck the surface of the water with terrifying force. Several launches were capsized instantly, others torn apart entirely. Men and timber were lifted into the air and thrown into the sea. The roving pillars of wind and water tore through the slavers’ ranks as the waves rose to batter those that still remained afloat.
Above it all Elaina moved onward, a soaring embodiment of nature's untempered wrath.
Moving past the shattered launches, Elaina turned her attentions to the larger vessels still lying at anchor. Driving wind and water onward, Elaina tore through them with a vengeance. Ships collided as their anchors tore free, and hulls splintered and their rigging and masts were dashed to pieces.
In minutes the slave fleet had been eviscerated. Elaina closed on the last remaining vessel. The surging waves battered its sides as its crew struggled to keep the vessel from capsizing. Tempering her emotions, Elaina restrained herself. Every fiber of her being wanted to lay waste to the remaining ship, but Elaina refrained. At her command the wind ceased and the ocean went still. The storm clouds rolled out to sea and as suddenly as it began the world was still once more.
Elaina looked on those who cowered on the ship's deck below her. The abject terror was impossible to mistake. Raising her voice, she called to them: “Men of Khashish, behold the fruit of your sins. I warned you, and you would not listen. Hear and remember this day, now and always. Remember it as the day when your might stood before Eleen and defied her will. You faced nature's wrath and were found wanting. If you ever return to this place, I will lay waste to your fleets and then I will turn to your homes. I will not stop until they are left desolate. Do not defy me again!”
Elaina turned her back on the remaining vessel and made her way back to Marcus. As she crossed the water Elaina saw the magnitude of destruction that she had wrought and knew she had accomplished her purpose. The slavers might have been the vermin of society but the lives she had taken in an instant weighed down upon her, a burden she feared she would never be free of.
Khashish will never forget today. Elaina thought. Listarii is safe, but at what cost?
Ten
The Five sat aghast in Council on Altiran. After Tanith had delivered their warning the Council had eagerly observed the world of Meldinar to ensure its Guardian had been adequately chastened. Elaina had always been an active Guardian, cautiously treading the line between enigmatic protector and open interference with the events unfurling on her world. The Council's gaze had been drawn to Meldinar by a shift in energy surrounding Meldinar. As Elaina continued to take an active role in the lives of those she served, their attitudes toward her—or “Eleen,” as she had begun to be known—were starting to shift.
First she was a rumor, then over time, as her intercessions became more frequent and defined, she had been elevated to legend, and tales of her actions spread throughout the world. While the world as a whole maintained its reverential awe for the Allfather, this supernatural being that moved among the people was winning hearts and minds as she spared them from the harsh forces of nature. Already she was revered as Eleen the Protector, the elusive Goddess of Nature. Farmers had begun to pray to Eleen for a favorable harvest, sailors invoked her name when confronted with harsh weather at sea, and children pleaded for her aid in overcoming the trials and vicissi
tudes of life.
The shifting of the people's attitudes had not gone unnoticed by the Five. It was an unprecedented occurrence—usually Guardians were enigmatic observers—seeing all but never being seen by those they were to guide and protect. Elaina's approach, while novel at first, was beginning to undermine the people’s faith in the Allfather himself. The Allfather would not tolerate that. Elaina, the Five and the Astarii themselves would feel the sting of his reproach, should his anger be so kindled.
The Five had taken to monitoring her actions more closely, using their arts to observe the events unfolding on Meldinar, scrying their Guardian's actions to ensure she operated within her mandate. When the Guardian had killed a handful of thugs to save a single life it was a clear violation of her role. The Astarii had been formed by the Allfather to preserve life, interference being permitted only if it served to protect a greater number of lives than might have otherwise been the case.
Thugs though they might have been, killing five of them to save a pair of wastrels was the opportunity the Five had been waiting to latch upon. The event might have gone unnoticed normally, but with their gaze fixed firmly on Meldinar, the incident was noticed immediately, and their response, decisive.
Tanith’s warning was calculated to sway her back into line. The Five were accustomed to being obeyed, for in Creation few wielded power sufficient to challenge them. Disobedience to their warning was unthinkable—the punishment to come inevitable.
Yet in spite of it all Elaina had paid their words no heed. The Five watched in outrage as the image of Elaina hovered in the air, unleashing wave upon wave of destruction on the poor souls in her path. The vision itself was terrible to behold but the cataclysmic cost in life was intolerable.
“Enough!” shouted Falinor, Master of Fire, as he slammed his fist down upon his armrest. “How long will we tolerate this blatant disregard for our authority? Her actions undermine not only our Council, but the Allfather himself, whom we are bound to serve. Can you imagine how he will react to this? It does not even bear thinking about.”
