The Second Generation

by Margaret Weis

  Tanis nodded to show he understood, though he wondered what Dalamar had in mind. At the first sound they made, the Kagonesti would fire. Even if they managed to kill him, his fingers might spasmodically unleash the arrow.

  Alhana sat unmoving on the couch, staring at death with a disdain that seemed to invite it.

  Dalamar, invisible to everyone in the room except Tanis, walked over, came to stand directly in front of the Kagonesti. The arrow was now pointed at the dark elf’s breast. With a sudden movement, Dalamar grabbed hold of the bow, yanked it away from the guard. Tanis—both fists clenched—clouted the guard on the back of the head. The Kagonesti went down without a sound.

  Alhana didn’t move, didn’t speak. She gazed at the fallen guard in bewilderment. Unable to see either Tanis or Dalamar, it must have looked to her as if the guard had just fought with himself and lost.

  Tanis took off his ring. Dalamar threw off his magical cloak.

  Alhana shifted her disbelieving gaze to them both.

  “Your Majesty,” Tanis said, hastening to her side. “Are you all right?”

  “Tanis Half-Elven?” Alhana stared dazedly at him.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” He touched her hand, let her know he was flesh and blood, and began to untie her bindings. “Did they hurt you?”

  “No, I am fine,” Alhana said. She rose hurriedly. “Come with me. We have no time to lose. We must stop Rashas …”

  Her voice died. She had seen the expression on Tanis’s face.

  “Too late, Your Majesty,” he said quietly. “When I left, Gilthas was taking the vow. Before that, the Thalas-Enthia decreed that you and Porthios are to be exiled.”

  “Exiled,” Alhana repeated.

  The blood drained from her cheeks, left her as pale as if it had taken her life with it. Her gaze went involuntarily to Dalamar, a dark elf—the personification of her doom. Shuddering, she averted her gaze, put her hand over her eyes.

  Dalamar’s lip curled. “You have no right to turn your face from me, my lady. Not now.”

  Alhana flinched. Shivering, she pressed her hand over her mouth and leaned unsteadily on the back of a chair.

  “Dalamar—” Tanis began harshly.

  “No, Half-Elven,” Alhana said softly. “He is right.”

  Lifting her head, the mass of dark hair falling disheveled around her beautiful face, she held out her hand to him. “Please forgive me, Dalamar. You speak the truth. I am now what you are. You saved my life. Accept my apology and my gratitude.”

  Dalamar’s hands remained folded in the sleeves of his black robes. His face was ice hard with disdain, frozen by bitter memory.

  Alhana said nothing. Slowly, her hand lowered.

  Dalamar gave a sigh that was like the wind in the leaves of the aspen trees. His black robes rustled. He touched Alhana’s fingertips, barely brushing them, as if fearing he might inadvertently do her some harm.

  “You are wrong, Alhana Starbreeze,” he said quietly. “They may send you from your homeland, term you ‘dark elf,’ but you will never be what I am. I broke the law. I did it knowingly. I would do it again. They had every right to cast me out.”

  Pausing, keeping hold of her hand in his, he looked at her intently, spoke earnestly. “I foresee dark days ahead for you, my lady. If you or your child are ever in need of aid or comfort, and you are not afraid to turn to me, I will do whatever is in my power to assist you.”

  Alhana stared at him wordlessly. Then she smiled, pale, wan. “Thank you for your offer. I am grateful. And, I do not believe that I would be afraid.”

  “Davat! Where are you?” An angry voice sounded from below. “Why aren’t you at your post? You men, over here!”

  “It’s Rashas,” said Tanis, listening. “Probably with more of his Kagonesti slaves.”

  Dalamar nodded. “I was expecting him. He must have guessed we’d come here. We could make our stand.” The dark elf looked at Tanis grimly, expectantly. “Fight them …”

  “No! There will be no fighting!” Alhana caught hold of Tanis’s sword arm, held him back as he would have drawn his blade. “If blood is shed here, all chance for peace is lost!”

  Tanis stood irresolute, his sword half in and half out of its sheath. In the rooms below, Rashas could be heard, dispersing his guards, sending them throughout the house.

  Alhana’s grip tightened. “I am no longer queen. I have no right to command. Therefore, I beg of you …”

  Tanis was angry, frustrated. He wanted to fight, would have enjoyed nothing more. “After what they did to you, Alhana? You’ll meekly let them exile you?”

  “If the alternative is killing my own people, yes!” Alhana said calmly.

  “Make your decision, Tanis!” Dalamar warned. The footsteps were very near.

  “You’re too late,” Tanis said, thrusting his sword back into its scabbard. “You know that, Alhana. Too late.”

  She tried to speak, but her words came out as a sigh. Her hand slid nervelessly off Tanis’s arm.

  “In that case,” said Dalamar, “I will take my leave. Do you travel with me, Half-Elven?”

  Tanis shook his head.

  The dark elf folded his hands in his sleeves. “Farewell, Queen Alhana. Walk with the gods. And do not forget my offer.”

  He bowed to her respectfully, spoke words of magic, and was gone.

  Alhana stared at where he had been standing. “What is happening in this world?” she murmured. “I am betrayed by my friends … befriended by my foes …”

  “Evil times,” Tanis replied, voice bitter. “The night returns.”

  In his vision, the silver moon shone through the storm clouds, its light lasting long enough to illuminate the path, and then was gone, swept away by darkness.

  The door burst open. Kagonesti guards ran inside. Two grabbed hold of Tanis by both arms. One guard divested him of his sword; another put a knife to Tanis’s throat. Two more started to take hold of Alhana.

  “Traitors! Do you dare lay rough hands on me?” she demanded. “Until I cross that border, I am your queen.”

  The Kagonesti appeared daunted, and they looked at each other uncertainly.

  “Leave her be. She will give you no trouble,” Rashas ordered. The senator stood in the doorway. “Escort the witch to the Abanasinian border crossing. By order of the Thalas-Enthia, cast her out.”

  Alhana walked disdainfully past Rashas. She did not look at him, as if he were beneath her notice. The Kagonesti accompanied her.

  “You can’t send her out into Abanasinia alone, defenseless,” Tanis protested angrily.

  “I don’t intend to,” Rashas replied, with a smile. “You, half-human, will accompany her.” He glanced around the room, his brow darkening. “Was this man by himself?”

  “Yes, Senator,” the Kagonesti replied. “The evil mage must have escaped.”

  Rashas turned his gaze on Tanis. “You conspired with the outlaw wizard known as Dalamar the Dark in an attempt to disrupt the ceremony crowning the rightful Speaker of the Sun and Stars. Therefore, you, known as Tanis Half-Elven, are hereby banished from Qualinesti for life. Such is the law. Do you dispute it?”

  “I could dispute it,” Tanis said, speaking Common, a language the guards would not understand. “I could mention the fact that I’m not the only person standing in this room who conspired with Dalamar the Dark. I could tell the Thalas-Enthia that Gilthas did not take that vow of his own free will. I could tell them that you are holding Porthios prisoner, his wife hostage. I could tell them all that. But I won’t, will I, Senator?”

  “No, half-human, you won’t,” Rashas replied, also in the human tongue, but spitting the words, as if they left a bad taste in his mouth. “You’ll keep quiet because I have your son. And it would be a pity for the new Speaker to meet an untimely and tragic end.”

  “I want to see Gilthas,” Tanis said in Elvish. “Damn it, he’s my son!”

  “If by that name, you mean our new Speaker of the Sun and Stars, may I remind you, half-human,
that under elven law the Speaker has no father, no mother, no family ties of any kind. All elves are considered his family. All true elves.”

  Tanis took a step toward Rashas. A tall Wilder elf stepped protectively in front of the senator.

  “At this moment, our new Speaker is receiving the accolades of his people,” Rashas continued coolly. “This is a great day in his life. Surely, you would not want to ruin it by embarrassing him with your presence?”

  Tanis struggled inwardly. The thought of leaving without seeing Gil, without having a chance to tell him he understood, that he was proud of him, was intolerable, heartbreaking. Yet, Tanis knew well enough that Rashas was right. The appearance of his half-breed bastard father would cause only trouble, make things far more difficult for Gil than they were already.

  And they would be difficult enough.

  Tanis let his shoulders sag. He shrugged bitterly, appeared whipped, beaten.

  “Take him to the border,” Rashas said.

  Tanis started to walk meekly past the senator. Pausing in front of Rashas, Tanis pivoted, rocked forward, and swung his fist. It connected—satisfyingly—with bone.

  The senator toppled over backward, crashed into an ornamental tree.

  The Kagonesti raised his sword.

  “Leave him be,” Rashas mumbled, rubbing his jaw. A trickle of blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. “This is how the servants of evil fight against righteousness. I would not give him the satisfaction of striking back.”

  The senator spit out a tooth.

  Tanis, nursing bruised knuckles, strode out the door.

  He’d been wanting to do that for over two hundred years.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The griffins refused to answer any form of summons from the Qualinesti elves—another fact that gave Tanis grim satisfaction, though it forced him to make the journey to the border on foot. The distance was not far, however, and Tanis had a legion of bitter, unhappy reflections to keep him company.

  His thoughts crowded in around him so thick and deep that he took no notice of where he was. He realized they had reached the border only when the Qualinesti captain brought his men to a halt.

  “Your sword, sir.” The captain handed over the weapon in a courteous manner. “The path leads to Haven one way, to Solace another. If you take the fork to the left—”

  “I know the damn path,” Tanis told him. Long ago, during the war, he and his companions had taken that path into Qualinesti.

  He thrust the sword into its scabbard.

  “I was about to advise you, sir, to avoid Darken Wood,” the captain added politely.

  Tanis, struck by the elf’s manner, looked at the captain intently. Was he in agreement with all this? Or was he one of the malcontents? He was young, but then most members of the elven army were young. What did they think about this? Would they back the Thalas-Enthia? … On and on, the questions spun their spiderwebs in Tanis’s brain.

  He would have liked to ask, but could think of no way to frame the question. Besides, other soldiers were listening. He might well get the captain in trouble. Tanis mumbled an ungracious thanks.

  The captain saluted gravely, then stood waiting to watch Tanis cross the invisible line which divided the elves from the rest of the world.

  Tanis took six steps down the path, six steps that were the longest and most difficult he’d ever taken in his life. Six steps, and he was out of Qualinesti. Though the sun shone brightly, his eyes were blinded by tears and a lowering darkness. He heard the captain give a command and heard the soldiers march off.

  Tanis wiped his eyes and nose, looked around, and suddenly recalled he was supposed to meet Alhana Starbreeze at this location.

  She was nowhere in sight.

  “Hey!” Tanis yelled angrily, taking two long, swift strides back toward the border. “Where is Lady Alhana—”

  An arrow zipped out the trees, landed at Tanis’s feet. A hairbreadth to the right, and it would have gone through the toe of his boot. He looked up into the trees, but could not see the elven archers. The next arrow, he knew, was aimed at his chest.

  “Captain!” he bellowed. “Is this how elves keep their word? I was promised—”

  “My friend,” came a gentle voice at his shoulder.

  Tanis’s heart lurched. He whipped around and found Dalamar standing at his side.

  “I suppose … I should be used to your dramatic appearances by now,” Tanis said.

  The dark elf smiled. “Actually, I used no magic. I’ve been waiting for you beside the path for the past hour. You were so intent on your shouting that you did not hear me.” He glanced into the leafy branches of the aspen trees. “Let us remove ourselves from this location. I offer a rather tempting target. Not that their puny weapons could hurt me, of course, but I do hate wasting my energy.

  “I will answer your questions,” he added, seeing Tanis’s frown. “We have much to discuss.”

  Tanis cast the elves a final, baleful glance, then accompanied Dalamar in among giant oak trees that stood on the fringes of Darken Wood, now haunted more in legend than in fact. The shadows were cooling. In a clearing, Dalamar had spread a white cloth. There was wine and bread and cheese. Tanis sat down, drank some wine, but couldn’t stomach the food. He kept constant watch on the path.

  “I offered Lady Alhana some refreshment before her journey,” Dalamar said, with his irritating habit of answering Tanis’s thoughts. The dark elf settled himself comfortably on a cushion on the grass.

  “She’s left then?” Tanis was back on his feet. “Alone?”

  “No, my friend. Please, do sit down. I have to strain my neck to look up at you. The lady has a champion, who will accompany her to her destination. Samar is somewhat battered and bloodied, but stalwart and strong for all that.”

  Tanis stared, mystified.

  “The blood we found on the floor belonged to a Silvanesti warrior-mage,” Dalamar explained. “Samar tried to help Alhana and your son escape. The warrior was being held in a Qualinesti prison as a spy, facing execution. I snatched him right out from under the nose of that White Robe, who’d been sent to guard him.” Dalamar took a sip at his wine. “A most enjoyable experience.”

  “Where are they going?” Tanis asked, staring into the trees in the direction of the path that could, for Alhana, lead only to darkness.

  “Silvanesti,” said Dalamar.

  Tanis protested. “That’s crazy! Doesn’t she realize—”

  “She realizes, my friend. And I believe we should accompany her. That is why I waited for you. Think a moment, before you refuse. Rashas has looked on the face of rebellion. He knows now that some of his own people may rise up against him. He’s afraid. My dread queen loves those who are afraid, Tanis. Her nails are dug into him deeply, and she will continue to drag him down.”

  “What are you saying?” Tanis demanded.

  “Only this—it’s bound to occur to Rashas that Porthios is a threat, that exile won’t stop him.”

  “That Porthios mustn’t be allowed to live.”

  “Precisely. We may already be too late,” Dalamar added offhandedly, with a shrug.

  “You keep saying ‘we.’ You can’t go into Silvanesti. Even with your powers, you’d be hard pressed to fight all the elven magic-users. They’d kill you without hesitation.”

  “My people won’t welcome me home with open arms,” Dalamar replied, smiling slyly. “But they can’t stop me from entering. You see, my friend, I’ve been granted permission to visit Silvanesti. For services rendered.”

  “You don’t give a damn about Porthios.” Tanis was suddenly angered by the dark elf’s coolness. “What’s your stake in this?”

  Dalamar answered with a sidelong glance. “A high one, you may be certain. But don’t expect me to reveal my hand to you. For now, we are partners in this game.” He shrugged again. “What will it be, Tanis Half-Elven? In a snap of my fingers, we could be in your home. You will, of course, want to talk to your wife. Tell Laurana wh
at has happened. She will need to accompany us. She will be most valuable in talking sense to that stiff-necked brother of hers.”

  Home. Tanis sighed. He wanted very much to go home, to shut himself up in his fine house and … do what? What was the point now? What was the use?

  “When Alhana reaches Silvanesti,” Tanis said slowly, thinking this through to its bitter conclusion, “the Silvanesti elves will hear of the insult the Qualinesti offered their queen. That will mean bloodshed. Alhana won’t be able to stop it this time. Once, long ago, we elves fought among ourselves. You’re talking about starting another Kinslayer War.”

  Dalamar shrugged, unconcerned. “You are behind the time, Tanis. The war has already started.”

  Tanis saw the truth of this, saw it with the same vivid clarity he’d seen the vision of Gilthas. Only now, instead of Solinari illuminating the young man’s future, Tanis saw it lit by flame and lightning, saw it stained with blood.

  The war would come … and he would be pitted against his own son.

  Tanis closed his eyes. He could see Gil’s face, so young, trying so desperately to be brave, wise.…

  “Father? Is that you?”

  For a moment, Tanis thought the voice was in his mind, that the image of his son had conjured it into being. But the word was repeated, stronger, with a ragged edge of joy and longing.

  “Father!”

  Gilthas stood on the path, just inside the border of Qualinesti. The white-robed wizardess lurked jealously near him. She did not look pleased to see Tanis. She had obviously not expected to find him here. She laid a firm hand on Gilthas’s arm, appeared ready to whisk him away.

  A rustle in the treetops was a warning, all the warning Tanis was likely to receive.

  “Tanis!” Dalamar called. “Be careful!”

  Tanis ignored him, ignored the White Robe, ignored the elves in the trees with their bows and arrows. He strode toward his son.

  Gilthas jerked away from the wizardess’s grasp. She clasped hold of him again, more firmly this time.

  An angry flush stained Gilthas’s face, but he swallowed hard. Tanis could see his son choke down his anger, could see—in Gilthas—himself. Gilthas said something in a low, conciliatory voice.