by Renee Wildes
The high priestess frowned. “It just might, youngling. Leave the specifics with me, and I shalt consult the Lady.”
Dara left the entire book.
Pahn found her on the way back to the palace. “Lorelei contacted Cianan. They’re waiting for you in the palace.”
The two women ran the entire way to the hall. Pari, Loren, the three mages and Lord Elio awaited them. Dara sidled up to Loren, leaning into him as he slid an arm around her waist. Solid. Warm. Comforting. “Is everything all right?”
“Cianan and Kikeona are fine,” Lorelei reassured her. “But the only clans to march are Wolf, Badger and Bear. The others promised weapons, food and a refuge should the battle go ill, but they shalt not march.”
Dara’s ire rose with the torque’s. “That’sss but two hundred,” she hissed. “Moira isss one of their own.” Hearing the sibilance in her own voice, she struggled to tamp down the draconian rage with human reason. Loren moved behind her to stroke her shoulders, her arms. She focused on the soothing motion, let his touch relax her. “Calm down. Save it for the battle. Then I promise you can scream ’til you’re hoarse. Now cease.”
They settled down.
“Nay, she is not,” Pahn said. “Not to their minds. Clans are like the dwarf tribes, very separate and insular. I’m surprised they offered outfitting.”
Loren wrapped his arms around Dara and nodded. “Cianan agrees it is the best offer we are bound to get. Moira accepted the terms. All the clan leaders swore blood-oath, so it is binding.” He turned Dara around to face him. “See if you can contact Hengist and Xavier.”
Dara knelt by the fireplace. “Little friend?”
First’s eyes appeared in the flames.
“I need to speak with Xavier and Hengist again. Do you remember the way?”
“Aye.” First took off fire-hopping. Soon the interior of a tent appeared, from an enclosed oil lamp. “Hengist’s tent,” it told her.
Hengist was busy writing on some papers at his makeshift field-desk.
“My Liege,” Dara called.
He jumped, and his pen scrawled a line of ink right off the paper. “Give an old man heart palpations, child. You are well? What news from the dawn?”
“We’ve confirmed two hundred spears from the north, no more. We’re just finishing up the details of the translocation spells and we’ll be ready.”
“I had some visitors this morning. Conn, Artur and a dozen others straggled in from the swamps. Jakop’s Crossroads’ women and children are continuing south to Sezeny. He’s promised to shield refugees until this is finished.”
Dara was elated they still lived. “That’s just what the other clans said. They offered weapons, food and shelter for survivors.”
“Cheerful thought,” he grumped. “Well, we just need a day’s notice. We’re three days march from Safehold Keep.”
“Moira’s four. We’re…” She looked to Loren, but it was Gwendolyn who answered.
“One. We can gate to the edge of the Great Marsh.”
Dara blinked. “You’ll need a head start on us, Sire.”
“Just tell me when to leave,” Hengist said.
“I promise. Try to sleep. Good-bye.” When Hengist disappeared, Dara turned to First. “Thank you, little friend. Go now.” The salamander also disappeared. Dara pulled in a little fire energy, then rose and turned to the others. “I guess we wait on Aletha.”
Loren lingered as the others showed themselves out. Dara shuddered with dread, and when he held his arms open to her she was only too glad for his comfort. “It’s really happening,” she whispered. “We’re almost there.”
His arms tightened around her. “Aye. It was a good idea—that twist on the spell. We shall see your people freed once more.”
“I’m scared,” she confessed. “Everyone seems so sure we can do this, but—” His lips captured hers in a kiss that silenced her words, and she lost herself in the taste and heat that was uniquely Loren. She shivered as the wet velvet of his tongue stroked hers, and his arms pulled her against him. Hot. Hard. She whimpered, arching into his strength.
He broke off the kiss, nipping lightly at her shoulder. “You can do this, vertenya. Guardian. You are a daughter of queens, dragon. Fire mage. You are not alone in this, Dara. We can do this, if we all work together, as it should be.” He fingered the torque around her neck. “Feel their strength. Do not fear it. Channel it. Use it.”
“You did not see them…the ba-pef.” She shuddered. The voices hissed.
Loren brushed the hair back from her face. “Without fear, there cannot be courage. No more despair.” He tucked her head under her chin. “I apologize for my absence. You were never far from my thoughts.”
And he’d never left hers. She clung to him, never wanting to let him go. How had it happened? When had he become as important to her as breathing? Was this love then? Could it be, if she had to ask? Surely there was more certainty to that emotion?
Too many questions. Not enough answers. Dara closed her eyes and breathed in his scent, his warmth, letting the steady beat of his heart soothe her.
“There is irony for you,” he murmured.
“What’s that?” She dared to look up at him.
“The very thing that brought us together is the very thing now keeping us apart.” His eyes blazed. “Do you think anything less than the fate of mankind would keep me from your side? From your bed?”
She thrilled at his words. “When this is over—”
“When this is over, I expect to make up for lost time, elingrena.” He dipped his head for a long, slow, heated kiss that melted her very bones. The blood pulsed with heavy leisure through her veins. Her knees weakened, forcing her to cling to him. She gasped into his mouth as he swept her up into his arms and carried her over to a nearby lounge. He laid her on the cushion and knelt by her side. “You should rest while you can.”
“Stay with me,” she whispered.
Loren shook his head. “Soon. Not now. Sleep.” He rose. “I shall see you later.”
Her eyes closed as she heard footsteps retreat and the door open—and shut.
***
It was near dawn when a heavy-eyed Aletha, followed by Everett, stumbled into their midst. Dara awoke with a start and sat up. “We have it,” the priestess declared. She turned to Lorelei, who struggled to rub the sleep from her eyes. “Contact Cianan. Tell him to get those spears south.”
When had Lorelei joined her? Was it to keep her company— or stand guard?
Lorelei left the salon at a commendable run.
Aletha turned to Dara. “Tell Hengist he marches at dawn.”
Dara rolled off the lounge and staggered to her feet, stiff and fuzzy-brained. She met Verdeen at her rooms. “Draw a bath and find me something comfortable.”
“At once, my lady.”
Dara knelt in front of her hearth. “Little friend?”
“Greetings. How may I assist?”
“I need to speak with Hengist again.”
After a dizzying path through a variety of fires, First located Hengist’s camp, just on Riverhead’s southernmost border. Slumped over his work table, Hengist stared at Dara with reddened eyes and yawned. “What news?”
“Trystan’s on the march. Leave at dawn tomorrow.”
He nodded, straightened his shoulders. “So it begins. I’ll see you soon.”
“Take care.”
“Return to me, little friend.”
First flickered on her fingertips. “I offer our help, sister of fire. We would go with you. We can work with the air sylphs to give you a pillar of flame that will not die. On that you may draw without depleting any of your own strength.”
“I’ll have to ask Anika. They must agree too, but I thank you.” First vanished, and Dara hurried through her morning routine. “I’m getting something to eat. Verdeen, bring me Anika as quick as you can.”
Lorelei met her in the informal family dining room and handed her a hot spiced khaffa. “I know I need some.
” The water mage yawned. “I feel my age more every year.”
“Where’s Loren?” Dara took a sip and moved to the table, where fruit, cheese and rolls had been set out for them.
“With Elio and Pahn at the academy, where all the rangers are gathered. Pahn is explaining and distributing her secret weapon.” Lorelei picked up a cheese-stuffed roll. “A formidable ally.”
“The salamanders suggested working with the sylphs on a pillar of fire in the battle.”
Lorelei frowned. “An unstoppable elemental force. Thou may not be able to control it.”
“I don’t want to control it. ’Tis time Jalad found out he’s not the only one with power.”
***
Much to Anika’s displeasure, the sylphs not sworn to communication duties threw in with the salamanders. Trystan and Hengist’s forces marched for two days. At last it was the elves’ turn to go. Pari and Cedric saw them off.
Anika and Aletha clapped their hands and a shimmering, sparkling column of light appeared. When they separated their hands, the column split into two halves like a torn garment. The view on the other side was of an abandoned Jakop’s Crossroads, beyond the edge of the Great Marsh. Anika stepped through with her sylphs, and the two women held the gate open at either end while a thousand warriors and horses marched through ten abreast.
There was no way to keep such a blatant display secret. The elves reformed the lines as they passed through. Dara moved Gloreriell to the front lines with the other mages. Loren drew Justice and kept Hani`ena close to Gloreriell, where he could aid the mages—and protect them from physical retaliation by Jalad’s forces. The rangers had arrows notched in their bows and scanned the horizon as the last of the infantry crossed over. Aletha brought up the rear and closed the gate.
A distant roar sounded. “They’re coming,” came a whisper on the wind.
Dara’s heart pounded in her throat and she tried to swallow down the lump of fear. This was what she’d dreamed of and planned for, and now it was here she could barely move. Please, Lady, let us see the next sunrise a free people, she prayed as she opened the lamp in her hand. “Little friends, come,” she called. Salamanders streamed through the lamp and unbound sylphs chased them in a whirlwind that grew into a pillar of screaming wind and flame a hundred feet high.
Power surged through her, and the blood torque crackled with black fire. A terrible elation filled her, a murderous glee at the upcoming conflict. Her human half wrestled down the pulsing draconian demand for retribution, swift and savage. Loren shot her a quick glance full of concern, then turned his attention toward a crescendo of sound. A black mass of humanity surged over the hill at them. Dara sense-cast toward them. She saw Jalad’s Boar standards on rough-faced, scarred men with blond hair and berserker eyes, and gasped at the sheer number of them. “Northern rievers. He’s doubled his force with hired mercs.”
Gloreriell half-reared. “Easy, Flamebearer,” she soothed. “Our time is not yet. We must wait.” The torque burned in not-quite-silent protest. She ordered the voices into stillness, drawing a little on the pillar of fire to reinforce the strength of her mental command. She shuddered at the riever’s wild cries, the stomp of their boots that shook the very ground. Ground that would run red with blood in moments. Half in dread, half anticipation, she waited. A muscle ticked in Loren’s jaw, and his knuckles whitened around Justice’s hilt.
“Archers,” he called. His standard bearer waved the pennant, and the archers came forward through the horse lines. As soon as the Boars came within range, he dropped his arm. “Loose. Loose. Loose.” Three volleys from elvish longbows decimated the front lines of Jalad’s shock troops, but Dara watched, appalled as they came on by sheer force of numbers.
“Elio, take charge of the horse,” Loren ordered Lord Elio. “Swing left along their flank and join up with Hengist.”
Milisena wheeled away with the agility of a much younger animal. “Riders to me,” Elio called as he galloped away to the aid of the ousted king. A thundering white column of two hundred war mares followed in his wake.
An icy wind blew over Dara from the north. “The clans are besieged,” Anika called to her. “The demon did not just change men. Strange creatures attack to the north. They need the nirrti archers.”
Horror clawed at her as she sense-cast northward. “Lord and Lady,” she gasped. Hellhounds. At least they used to be. Jalad had taken already oversized, overly aggressive, half-mad creatures and twisted them beyond all recognition. Dara sense-cast at them. All the beasts knew was Kill. Blood. They tore through the clan spears like heated knives through butter, Moira’s people crumpling before the onslaught. Tears burned her eyes. “No!” she screamed. She had to stop them. The voices roared, the torque flaring in response to her unspoken command. A pulse of power slammed from her toward the distant battle. Not strong enough to reach the clans, it leveled rievers and shattered trees in a burst of black malice.
Loren grabbed her arm, strong enough to tear her mind from the red haze that drowned her. “Stop it!” he yelled. “Stay with me!”
Dara shook. Rufus’ counsel reared up, familiar as her own shadow. Clear mind, still heart, clear eye, steady hand. She reached for the battle trance, and located Cianan fighting for his life atop Kikeona. The mare leaped and twirled like a child’s top as his sword slashed again and again at the savage predators. Stay alive, she willed him. Tegan needs you.
Where was Trystan? Her mind soared over the northernmost fringe of the battlefield. Pleasepleaseplease. She found him farther down the broken line, but a strange thing happened. Shimmering guardian spirit animals winked in and out of her sight, wolves, bears and badgers. One moment human, the next animal. The guardian spirit within her roared with the burning need to join them. Niadh had one changling hellhound by the throat, bearing it to the ground. Ealga plunged to rake the eyes of another. A clan axe dropped, severing a demon-hound’s head from its neck.
Thank you, Lady. They could be killed. Dara shook her head and took a deep, shuddering breath. Urgency crackled through her veins, and she ground her teeth at her own inactivity. “We’ve got to save the star-stone for the ba-pef,” she told Anika. “The clan spirits will aid their own. Stick to the plan.”
The rievers were now close enough to fire their own arrows, and were using their shields to better effect. The elven archers dropped back, the longbows no longer effective, and the regular infantry drew its swords.
Loren forced Dara back as well. “Charge,” Loren yelled, pointing Justice. The elven troops ran at the Boars. Gwendolyn helped, using fallen logs, rocks, uneven ground to throw the enemy off stride and slow them down.
“Burn them,” the voices demanded.
Not again. Dara choked on the urge to charge the rievers. “Nay, we wait for the ba-pef, and then Jalad. They must come—we’re his greatest threat.” Beneath her, Gloreriell snorted and half-reared, wanting to join in the fray. “Hold,” she ordered. “Stay with me, Flamebearer.”
A strange crackling and thunder sounded in the distance. Lorelei and Anika strode over to Dara. “They come,” the air mage stated.
Shadows in the dark. Lost souls. The voices roared. Dara shuddered, struggling for breath. It’s time. I can do this. Her eyes and sight swept the battlefield, where men and elves and war mares fought—and died—to free her people. I have to do this, or they’ll all die. Pahn followed behind Aletha with Gwendolyn. The dwarf mage could have passed beneath Gloreriell’s belly without ducking, but her voice carried to the far edges of the company. “Nirrti archers to us.”
The chosen rangers came forward, black arrows notched in their bows. To Dara’s sense-sight, the arrows smoldered with an ominous lethal smoke. She tore her mind away. The rangers glowed with the Lady’s Light, protecting them from effects of the deadly star-stone.
Dark clouds boiled across the sky to block the sun. A roar of wind split the trees, kicking up dust and debris. Dara turned to Anika.
The mage shook her head. “It be not me nor mine.
The ba-pef come.”
A sense of impending doom roiled down on them. Loren held Justice higher, and it gleamed like the pillar of fire itself, a bright beacon of Her Light in a land covered with choking blackness. “Fear not this darkness. Warriors of the Light, stand your ground. The Lady is with you. She shall not fail you.”
His voice rang out with utter certainty. Glowing with the Lady’s Light, his pure masculine beauty took her breath away. Her heart swelled with pride. She’d never loved him more than she did in this moment. This was what he was meant to do—lead, inspire. He was all that was Light and good in this world, and she would make him proud.
Another roar sounded through the trees, and the first ba-pef shambled into view. Dara’s breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t just the size of the creature, although it towered at three times the height of the elves and was twice as broad as a door. It wasn’t their ruined, vaguely human appearance. It was the black flicker of pure evil deep within, the crushing despair it projected afore it, that caused her to pause, to tremble. She’d faced the Other afore and lost. What chance did she stand now, tiny insignificant mortal?
Gloreriell trembled. Dara clamped her legs more tightly around his sides in case his training gave way to his prey instincts and he tried to bolt. Not that she’d blame him. She clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering.
The torque flared around her throat, hot enough to hurt, to tear her mind away from the psychic onslaught. “Focusss,” the voices hissed. “Thou art a child of earth and fire. Remember.”
Tears of fury streamed down her cheeks. No wonder full humans had cowed so easily from the horror of the darkness. No more, she vowed. It ends here. Now. “Nirrti One, loose,” she yelled, anger boiling so black fire crackled from the torque to her fingertips. She reached for the pillar of flames roaring aside her with a life of its own. It fed on her rage, and she fed on its power.
The longbow twanged, and the arrow buried itself in the throat of the ba-pef. Light flashed in Justice as, with the touch of solid flesh, the wards on the star-stone disintegrated.
