by Lee Dunning
Raven glowered at W’rath. “I’m not trying to impress anyone. I’m angry.”
“Indeed? Everyone, aside from K’hul, has been shockingly cordial. What could you possibly find so upsetting?”
Raven imagined flames shooting out of her eyes to set the little male alight. While he didn’t so much as blister, his expression did turn to puzzlement as he realized her ire was directed at him. “Me?”
“Of course you. Ever since we met you’ve directed my every move. I can’t even get my hair cut the way I want anymore.”
“I didn’t say a word about your hair, lass.”
“You didn’t have to. You gave me a look.”
W’rath had the good grace to try not to laugh, but failed miserably. “How delightful. It would seem I have no need of my psychic powers. I need only look at people and they’ll bend to my will. If only I’d realized the extent of my talent years ago, I might have avoided a lifetime of unpleasant living conditions.”
Raven’s shoulders sagged. Her entire world had turned upside down. The last time she found herself this emotional her coming of age ritual had loomed before her. She’d grown so irrational she’d literally begged her father to help her, even though he shouldn’t have had any ability to aid her. That he’d turned out to possess undreamed of resources, still staggered her.
W’rath too gave every indication he was much more than an average Shadow Elf male. He had skills and knowledge that he could have only gained through leadership and combat experience. Despite his gender, he gave orders as though he expected people to do exactly as he wanted without question. Gods only knew how many millennia he’d lived, and what kinds of things he’d dealt with in that time. Certainly, he had more understanding of the world than a girl of twenty-one trapped in an adult body.
“I’m sorry,” she said at last.
W’rath’s brow knitted, mystified by her words. They’d come to a pair of closed double doors, where he pulled ahead of her and stopped. He turned to face her, blocking the way. What now?
Despite her new conclusions, she felt her frustration levels begin to rise again. “That not enough for you? You need me to spell out just how right you are and how wrong I am?”
W’rath shook his head. “No, lass. You have no reason to apologize. You speak from your heart. I admire your plain honesty. You needn’t hold back—at least with me.
“This,” he continued, gesturing at the empty hall they stood in, “is the first time we’ve had any privacy since we met. Once we go through these doors we’ll reunite with Lady Swiftbrook, her attendants and any number of other people. The coming days will be filled with council meetings, training, study and rebuilding. We have only these few minutes to come to an understanding, but we must do exactly that. Right now.”
Raven swallowed hard and nodded. “All right.” He wanted her to present all of her concerns right here and now, but she had no idea how to articulate so much pure emotion. She’d wanted to have her say, yet now that he’d offered to listen, she had no idea where to begin.
“You said that ever since we met I’ve been … choreographing every aspect of your life,” W’rath prompted. “I’m pretty certain this isn’t actually about your hair.”
Raven gave a sad little laugh and shook her head. “I’m just so frustrated. It seems like everything I want or believe in you trample on. I know I’m young, but I’m used to thinking for myself. Suddenly, I find I have control of nothing. I’m some state hero, I’ve joined a council I’m not qualified to sit on, and I’m supposed to put down my books and pick up a sword. I’m about the last person who you should expect to wade into battle. The hair … I’m angry with myself about that. You’re right, you didn’t say a word, but I saw your expression and I found myself changing to suit your desires, not mine. I wish you had use of your psionics so I could at least pretend you forced me, but I don’t have that for an excuse.”
Raven realized she’d started pacing and came to a halt, self-consciously lowering the arms which started to punish the air as her agitation found voice. She fell silent, wondering if W’rath could even begin to understand what she was experiencing. She had no skill as an orator, and nothing she’d said seemed to adequately convey the helplessness she felt. Did he have the capacity to empathize with someone so different from himself?
Leaning against the doors, W’rath had lost his usual sarcastic demeanor. Surprisingly, her words seemed to have affected him more than she’d expected. It was as if some long forgotten memory had resurfaced, triggered by her confession.
“In looking at you,” he said at last, “it’s easy, even for someone like me who knows the truth, to think of you as a seasoned leader. Until now, the concepts of duty and sacrifice, to a cause larger than yourself, have never had a place in your life. Circumstances have thrust a great deal upon you very quickly. Too much.”
Raven ran her hands over her armor encased body and shook her head. “I did this to myself. I thought of myself as a pacifist, but when I saw Linden die trying to protect me, I lost control. I forced this change, and now I feel like I’ve lost something I can never get back. I know I’m acting childish–thousands of people died a handful of days ago and I’m feeling sorry for myself.”
“It’s easy to know something on an intellectual level,” W’rath said. “It’s much harder to act in a rational manner when we have a strong emotional bias. Over the years, with a lot of practice, one learns to control behavior, but that doesn’t stop us from feeling. When you’re young, passion can completely overwhelm all logic and restraint. You did lose something, and I am sorry that happened to you. You’ve already done more for the elves than they could demand of anyone—no less a child.
“However, that does leave you with a decision. Lady Swiftbrook appointed you to the High Council, but it didn’t occur to her to ask if you desired to take on such a responsibility. You can walk away from this, but you need to decide now.”
“I can’t do that!” Raven protested.
W’rath silenced her with a sharp shake of his head, his sympathy for her dilemma locked behind a stony, uncompromising mask. “You cannot stand before the Shadow Elves of First Home as their leader and then later decide it’s too hard and abandon them.”
“Lady Swiftbrook is counting on me …”
“You must not worry about what Lady Swiftbrook wants. This isn’t about embarrassing her. It’s not about what you think I want you to do. You have this one chance to look deep within yourself and decide what you really want. Will you force your mind and spirit to match your body?”
Raven took a step back from him. She had dreamed that someday she would uncover some great hidden truth, something that would elevate and redeem the Shadow Elves. Now she had the opportunity to affect their lives in a much more direct manner. W’rath was right though, it would require even more sacrifice on her part, and the bookish little girl in her found that terribly unfair. She was bright and philosophical but inexperienced. She needed guidance, but resented authority.
“Let me ask you this,” W’rath said as she struggled with her inner debate. “When we fought at the gate, and you had to take control of the refugees while I meditated, how did you feel?”
“Terrified.”
“Yet those people depended on you. I depended on you. You took control of the situation and kept them fighting long enough to keep all of us alive. Then, you reached inside yourself and brought forth the power to save my life. In so doing, you saved every elf there. A frightened little girl did not accomplish all that. How did it feel to stand in defiance as that person?”
“You’re only asking me because you already know the answer. You’ve felt all those same things, haven’t you?”
W’rath allowed a smile to creep onto his face and nodded. “Spending one’s life as a shop keeper or a librarian has merit, but for every ten that pass from this world, twenty more wait in the wings to take their place. Leaders, though? True leaders who make a difference in the course of people’s lives? They�
��re more rare than the most precious of gems. You have the makings of one of those people, lass.”
“The makings?”
“You’re young and green. You will have more episodes like this of self-doubt. When I said earlier that Lady Swiftbrook and I will guide you, I wasn’t talking about just today. We’re here for you, for as long as you need us.”
Raven felt some of her calm return. She didn’t like admitting it, but having W’rath and Lady Swiftbrook help her fit into this new world was a comfort. However, one thing still bothered her. “All right, I’ll do this, but I need some things to change.”
“I see,” W’rath replied. Raven couldn’t help but notice his self-satisfied smirk had slid back into place.
“First of all, yes, I’m new at this, but quit treating me like none of my opinions matter. I will continue to think for myself and I expect to actually get my way once in a while.”
W’rath’s smirk turned into a full blown grin. “And second?”
“And second …” she said, shaking a finger at the little male. “And second … I’ll have to get back to you on that.” Blood rushed to her face.
“As you wish, lady,” W’rath managed, with only a hint of a chuckle. “Now prepare yourself. We are about to wade into the thick of it.”
With a heave, he pulled both doors open and a very startled Lady Swiftbrook nearly fell upon him from the other side. “There you are! I thought you managed to get lost.”
“Hardly, madam,” W’rath replied. “We merely wished to admire the exquisite portraits lining this hallway. The Swiftbrook family boasts its share of noble visages.”
Lady Swiftbrook gave him an exasperated look. “As if we have time for you waste sightseeing.”
“Has something happened?” Raven asked.
“Only the most surprising of things,” the Sky Elf said, turning on her heels and marching off in a hurry. Her entourage of ladies scurried to keep up with her. She only stopped again when she realized the two Shadow Elves hadn’t adopted her sense of urgency.
“Well? Are you coming? Aside from T’sane and Reaper, no one has seen a Shadow Elf for at least twenty years. They’ve come topside, and they’re asking for you.”
Chapter 7
None of the youngsters who had journeyed to the surface knew what to expect of the two Exiles replacing T’sane and Reaper. Most of them had never laid eyes upon a healthy Shadow Elf, so when the entourage of councilors entered the arena, straight backed and glittering in their armor and finery, Raven and W’rath’s race wasn’t immediately evident.
Six councilors turned to face them. Of those six, Caeldan and Ryld recognized Lady Swiftbrook, though enough years had passed since they laid eyes on her, their memories didn’t do her shining, ethereal beauty justice. The giant First Born male had to belong to the K’hul family. Every male of the family line looked so much alike, it was almost eerie. Beside him loomed a broad-shouldered female First Born neither of them recognized. Her close-cropped blond hair made her appear stern despite the simple beauty of her unpainted face. Next to Lady Swiftbrook, a male Sky Elf, completely unknown to them, pretended to fuss with his robes. Tall and willowy, like most Sky Elves, his hair fell down his back like a sheet of midnight. When he thought no one would notice, he peered at the young Shadow Elves with poorly hidden trepidation. Or perhaps, that was just his natural state of being, as his posture hinted at someone ill at ease with the world outside the quiet confines of his study.
That left just two elves. “Gods,” Ryld breathed, “are we supposed to look like that? Maybe we’re the normal ones and they’re the freaks.”
“They look like elves. We look like grey-skinned toads. I’m pretty sure they aren’t the freaks,” Caeldan whispered back. He had a sudden urge to flee back to the darkness of the caves. He hadn’t missed the flicker of horror that passed across nearly every face of the delegation. Only the little male Shadow Elf maintained a completely neutral expression. Surreptitiously, he touched the female’s hand and drew her gaze. He didn’t say a word, but shook his head ever so slightly. The female quickly schooled her face into a more placid expression. Their eyes betrayed them, though. They burned with fury.
“I think I’m in love,” Ryld said, going moony.
“Just a second ago you called them freaks,” Caeldan said.
“He’s still a freak. Look at him. Even in our condition, he’s still a shrimp compared to us. But she’s a goddess. Just look at her! She could snap my spine with her bare hands and I’d die a happy elf.”
“You’re such a romantic.” Caeldan shook his head in amazement.
Ryld swatted at his twin. “Hush—something’s happening.”
Lady Swiftbrook stepped forward to address the pitiful little group. “By now you’ve no doubt heard about the devastating attack that befell us at Second Home. I’m sure you have many questions, only some of which we have answers to, and all of which will have to go unvoiced for a bit longer. For now, know that councilors T’sane and Reaper perished trying to fend off the demonic invaders who flooded our city. Their courage and dedication to the Elven Nation was beyond reproach.”
Dubious, Ryld and Caeldan pursed their lips. Even living in isolation, they knew diplomacy when they heard it. “They may have dedicated their lives to the Elven Nation, but they sure as hells didn’t give a toss about us,” Caeldan muttered.
“Normally,” Lady Swiftbrook continued, “we’d raise two of you to the vacant spots left by T’sane and Reaper. However, during the assault on our city, two strangers, former Exiles, distinguished themselves by saving a great number of us, myself included. They have agreed to honor us by serving on the High Council.”
Even though the group already knew about the Exiles, and the fact they would replace T’sane and Reaper as their leaders, the official announcement brought forth murmurs and gasps. Raised since birth to think of Exiles as little more than demons in elf form, the idea of being handed over to a pair of them chilled the youngsters.
Ryld and Caeldan didn’t join in the chatter. Instead they turned their gazes from Lady Swiftbrook to the strangers—and froze. The male stared directly at them. Before he broke eye contact, his eyes narrowed and just the slightest hint of a smile passed across his lips. Free of his hellfire gaze, the twins started to breathe again.
“Traitor’s balls!” Ryld exclaimed. “What in the Nine Hells just happened?”
“Something about us caught his attention.” Caeldan swallowed hard and wiped suddenly damp hands along his tunic.
“Not sure I’m altogether thrilled about that.”
Lady Swiftbrook raised her hands and patted the air in an attempt to quiet the agitated youngsters. At last they calmed and she resumed her speech. “I realize this is a lot to take in. We’re elves—dealing with sudden change does not come naturally to us. But someone else has seen fit to force this upon us. In the end, I believe all of us will benefit from the addition of new blood. Now please, welcome your new councilors, Lady Raven and Lord W’rath.”
Lady Swiftbrook stepped back in line to stand next to the other Sky Elf councilor, and the two Shadow Elves stepped forward. Twenty-seven expectant pairs of eyes turned to them. The female shifted uncomfortably and cleared her throat. “You’ll have to forgive me,” she began, and her deep, smoky voice settled over them like a warm blanket. She started at the sudden widening of already too large eyes and the slight intakes of breath.
“Uh, right … As I started to say, I’m not used to giving speeches. But in seeing you here, I now find I need to address a few things. The elves as a whole have suffered a terrible tragedy these last few days. However, it’s plain that one segment of our society has suffered greatly even before this. The treatment you’ve suffered these past years is monstrous.”
The cluster of grey faces turned to the rest of the councilors and saw the discomfort filling their faces. All except W’rath seemed to wish they could sink into the stone beneath their feet. K’hul started to interject, but Lady Swiftbrook
laid a hand on his arm, forestalling an angry outburst.
“There will be changes,” Raven continued. “The first one will be the removal of those damnable collars from your necks.”
Instantly an eruption of chatter, gasps and shouts filled the air. “Lady Reaper herself insisted upon them,” someone protested.
“Shut up, Seismas,” Ryld snarled.
“Interesting,” Lord W’rath said, speaking for the first time. He moved toward the twins, and Ryld cursed himself for drawing the attention of the creepy little male. He had that mild look of amusement flitting across his face again, and he padded toward them in a disconcerting, predatory manner.
He stopped in front of Ryld and Caeldan, fixing them with an intelligent gaze. Despite their stooped posture, they still stood several inches taller than him, and yet, the aura of power he gave off made him seem to tower over them.
“What do you call yourselves?” he asked.
The din of the other young elves had completely subsided, leaving the twins feeling much too exposed. Ryld seemed to have lost his voice, so Caeldan finally answered, though not before glaring hard at his twin. “I’m Caeldan and the mute is my brother Ryld.”
“We assume we’re brothers,” Ryld corrected, finding his voice.
“Well, we do look exactly alike. We’re obviously twins.”
“Except that I’m far better looking,” Ryld countered, completely forgetting he wanted to avoid drawing attention to himself.
Lord W’rath cleared his throat and the two fell silent. “Now that we’ve established I made a terrible mistake in coming over here,” he said, “let me continue with my questions before I completely forget what I meant to ask.”
The brothers bit their lips, willing themselves into silence. After several seconds of quiet, Lord W’rath nodded, satisfied the two weren’t about to start into another round of banter. “Did I understand correctly that Reaper … ”
“Lady Reaper!” Seismis corrected from the back.
