The Coming Storm

by Valerie Douglas

  That wasn’t natural to kobolds but Elon didn’t doubt Colath’s evaluation.

  “Let’s change the measure then,” Elon said. “ ‘Ware above, keep your eyes sharp so they don’t take you by surprise from behind.”

  He glanced along the row of backs before him, Elven and men both and urged his horse between.

  “Jalila, you, I and Colath being the best bowmen, will hold our arrows. For the rest, on the next rush a volley only, try to kill them of course, but mostly try to keep them from getting near. On that rush, Colath, you take the left, I’ll take the center and Jalila the right. Whichever way they come, we aim for where we think they might go. Our only thought is to see them and shoot.”

  The waiting was, as always, the hardest. He felt the change in the tension as one of the men shifted, his senses alerted somehow. Like mottled black nightmares the kobolds sped through the dense foliage, fluttering it, aiming straight for their center. One twisted one way, one another, even as he drew a bead on the one and let fly. It caught that one in the hindquarters and it screamed in fury before Jalila’s arrow took it in the chest.

  From his left he heard a swift intake of breath. He’d already nocked another arrow and turned to let fly. His arrow wasn’t alone.

  Colath’s first shot had struck but only lodged in the creatures shoulder. Infuriated, it swirled around itself, snapping furiously at the arrow piercing its hide before it hurled itself at them. Three arrows struck true and it fell dead at Colath’s horse’s feet.

  As one, a breath was released.

  *****

  “What,” Elon asked, once they were safely returned home to Aerilann, “were kobolds doing so far east of the borderlands? I could understand if we’d come upon them to the west and north but at least part of the reason we were taken by surprise was that they were so far from where we should have expected them.”

  Shaking his head, Colath said, “I know and wonder as well.”

  “I wonder something else. Does it seem to you as it does to me that we’ve been getting too many reports such as this of late?”

  Colath considered it.

  “As you say it does seem much. There’ve been more boggins and there was that boggart not too long ago. And the troll we chased back into the borderlands, what, less than a moon past? Also rare here.”

  Clasping his hands behind his back, Elon stepped out onto the broad open gallery to look out across the lush green vale.

  “I could understand it if the winter had been harsh but it wasn’t. More attacks by boggins and boggart. Kobolds hunting in pairs. Trolls where they shouldn’t be and venturing so close to an Enclave.”

  He shook his head. It worried him. His Foresight twitched oddly.

  “Ala, Elon!” a familiar voice called, from a well-known figure striding along the pathways below.

  Jareth. Plain of face as his own folk judged him, he had a trueness of spirit that was rare among the race of men.

  The gangly wizard took the steps two at a time to join them.

  There was no grace in the man at all, Elon reflected with some affection. For all else, though, he might have been Elf. He was tall enough, nearly standing eye to eye with Elon, not that usual among men. Perhaps that was the reason for the gracelessness. It wasn’t the first time Elon had wondered it. Still and all, he considered Jareth a friend, more so than any other man he’d ever known.

  “Ala, Jareth. Welcome. You answer my thoughts. I’d hoped to speak with you.”

  As a wizard and a man, he would have news from beyond Aerilann’s borders.

  Jareth settled himself as was his custom, sitting on the rail where it joined the bole of the tree, his back against that broad trunk. It was so common a place for him the rail and the bole both bore signs of wear.

  Not that Elon minded.

  With a sigh, Jareth glanced out around the Enclave.

  Simply being in Aerilann was soothing, he thought. It was something about it, the peace of it. Perhaps it was being among so many Elves. Their stillness and calmness was as much a part of them as the shape of their ears and the straightness of their hair. There was the Enclave itself, too, a bastion of serenity.

  Whether through magic or skill the Elves had built these wonderful places, these colonnaded galleries that wrapped around the base of tall trees, stairs ascending the height, with graceful curving arches to support the wide balconies the circled among the branches above. A city of and among the trees, Aerilann was draped with trailing vines and flowers. Wherever you turned the air was softly scented. Outside the borders it might be snowing, but within there was a drift of flower petals.

  “How is that, Elon?” he asked, in response to Elon’s statement.

  The warmth in Elon’s eyes was his only indication, other than words, of his welcome.

  As a rule, Elves didn’t smile much or show emotion at all. Despite what some of Jareth’s own folk thought, they did feel it, they simply didn’t show it except among their own folk and then only in private. Elon more so than others. Many of Jareth’s people found the tall, dark-haired Elf intimidating. He tended to look stern, his dark eyes rarely revealing what he thought or felt.

  In all ways, Elon was Jareth’s closest friend, the one person he knew he could trust implicitly.

  One of them, anyway, he thought, as Colath appeared from an upper chamber.

  As tall and fair as Elon was dark, some named Colath Elon’s bright shadow.

  In face and form Colath was as beautiful as Jareth’s folk expected Elves to be. His straight pale hair, the rich color of ripe wheat, was drawn back Elven-style. His pale eyes, an indeterminate shade that could be green or blue or gray depending on what he wore, warmed also at the sight of Jareth.

  “Colath! Ala.”

  “Welcome, Jareth. Ala. So, what brings you so far from the Collegium?”

  “A visit to old friends from whom I’ve been away too long.”

  “Ah, then we’re glad to have you.”

  Jareth, perched on the railing, looked up at the landings above him with their drapery of flowers like bundled grapes dangling above his head. Their soft scent perfumed the air. Pale purple and white, they softened the lines and blurred the difference between tree and structure.

  “So, you were saying, Elon? I heard something about a kobold from one of the Hunters.”

  “Two, Jareth. Hunting in a pair.”

  Jareth went still, a chill going through him.

  “Kobolds don’t do that.”

  “These did,” Colath said quietly. “It was a very close thing. We had one injured.”

  “They were south of us,” Elon added. “We’d considered lesser beasts and were prepared only for that. That won’t happen again. We were lucky.”

  Not an idea with which any Elf was comfortable. Luck was intangible, preparation rendered it unnecessary.

  South of here. That was leagues from the borderlands where such things dwelled.

  Jareth leaned back a little against the tree, his mind working. “Odd you should say that. It’s not the first I’ve heard of something like it.”

  Elon’s eyes sharpened. “Isn’t it?”

  His Foresight hummed lightly and more urgently.

  Slowly, Jareth nodded.

  “Now that you mention it, it brings to mind a few strange tales that’ve come my way. Oddities. Far enough apart I hadn’t thought to put it together as one thing. There was small horde of trolls to the east where trolls aren’t usually found. A pair of Woodsmen tracking a report of a pack of wolves came across the trail. They called in the Hunters and followed to find a small hamlet under attack. The folk there were pressed hard and they lost one of the Hunters to the things. The Hunters chased the trolls for a little more than two days before they reached the borderlands and the trolls escaped across it. The hamlet lost six people, men and women defending the children as best they could with axes and such. Only one man there even owned a sword.”

  Thoughtfully, Elon paced quietly across the balcony, his head sl
ightly bent.

  It reminded him of the bear. A feint, to draw them out.

  “More than two days? That far?”

  “The wolves the Woodsmen were tracking had pups with them. Young ones,” Jareth added.

  Elon looked back at him sharply.

  “That was what made it so alarming. Wolf packs don’t usually travel far with pups so young. Those tales I’ve heard in plenty. Farmers in the valleys are complaining of the deer in their crops and more than one has lost lambs or calves to wolves or bear far out of their range. The Woodsmen are complaining. They’re being drawn so far into the interior they can’t adequately patrol to keep them out.”

  Even Colath eyed him in some concern, as much as any Elf would show. The look that passed between Elon and Colath was only another sign of their unease.

  “I mislike this, Jareth.”

  Elon’s Foresight sang a warning.

  Considering it, Jareth didn’t like it much either but he didn’t know what it meant.

  He was also fairly certain Elon didn’t either, which worried him.

  Like all Elves, Elon was long-lived, centuries by the standards of men. Wizards aged more slowly than their native race but he still wouldn’t live as long as Elon. In all that time, Elon should have seen or heard of something like this but he hadn’t.

  Something about it had Jareth’s mage-sense prickling as well. It was as if tiny alarm bells rang deep within him.

  “Now that I think of it, I heard tell of a firbolg far out of its range. That was a month or so ago, although it’s early for them to come down out of the mountains. I didn’t think much of it then, those things do happen now and again. You said the kobolds were hunting and in a pair?”

  It wasn’t that he doubted them and thankfully they knew it, although there were some Elves who would’ve taken exception at being asked to repeat such a thing. These two, though, knew him and knew him well.

  Colath nodded.

  “It was almost,” Elon said, pensively, “as if they tried to draw us in. Perhaps not us, specifically, but Hunters certainly.”

  The more Elon thought about it, the more likely it seemed.

  The Woodsmen had brought reports of a loss of game from that section of forest. A wounded deer in a field had been found dead, having run itself into the ground in fear. It was the duty of Woodsmen to deal with the natural creatures of field and forest. They drove out bear, hunted down wolves or the occasional mountain cat. If the deer were becoming a problem for the farmers, they would beat the nearest woods to drive them out.

  No Woodsmen worth his salt wouldn’t, however, know the other creatures that occasionally came out of the borderlands as well as he knew those that lived in the wild. Not and live long. The pair that had reported the absence of game had known it was unusual at that time of year. Both were experienced and wise enough to call in the Hunters when there was sign of something odd. Like Elon himself, they’d thought it was a boggin, or its larger and more vicious cousin, a boggart.

  Colath hesitated, for the same thoughts passed through his mind as well but still…

  “Kobolds are clever…but not that clever.”

  “No, they aren’t,” Elon replied. “Or shouldn’t be. We were deep in that forest, though, too deep to escape easily or quickly from something like a kobold. With all the other game fled, what was that bear doing there? Her cubs weren’t young. That kobold circled behind us, Colath, remember? To cut off our retreat.”

  His breath catching at the implication, Colath nodded.

  Watching the two, Jareth caught a trace of their concern. “That sounds like more than normal cunning from a kobold.”

  “It does. Or perhaps I’m only seeing shadows where none exist,” Elon said. “I don’t like the feel of it though. Colath? Would you take a troop of Hunters and scout along the borderlands? Go carefully. Watch only.”

  Colath nodded. “What am I looking for?”

  His dark eyes on the far distance, Elon said, “Nothing.”

  Tilting his head and raising an eyebrow, Colath repeated, “Nothing.”

  Nodding slowly, Elon spoke carefully, “Nothing. How much nothing is there? Look for sign of anything. The creatures that should live there and the ones that shouldn’t. Take no action. Send messengers only in pairs. Stay watchful. I need to know how much nothing there is.”

  Jareth watched Elon’s still face.

  It was a stern and striking face to be sure, the long, dark, straight hair caught back from his high forehead Elven-style, clasped at the sides today. In Council he wore a filet of gold as well. Those intense dark eyes with their winged brows. He was a commanding figure. Now, with his brows drawn slightly down in as much of a frown as an Elf would allow, he was forbidding. Not frightening by any means but certainly daunting. He was so focused he drew the eye.

  “Aye, Elon,” Colath said, eyeing the other calmly. “When should I leave?”

  Letting out a small breath, Elon gave him a lighter look. There was almost something of apology in it.

  “As soon as you may, with proper preparation.”

  Colath nodded. “I shall see you soon, Jareth?”

  “When you return, hopefully.”

  Then Colath was gone, moving lightly down the stairs and the path in that smooth trot that an Elf could maintain for days as necessary.

  Jareth looked at Elon. “Perhaps I should be going as well? I think I have some questions I need to ask here and there.”

  A small rare smile lightened the grimness of Elon’s features. “As always, my friend, you answer my thoughts before I speak them.”

  “That’s among my duties, is it not?” Jareth said, with an smile. “Oh, high Councilor.”

  Elon shook his head but his tone was lighter. “As you say.”

  Then he grew more solemn again. “Go carefully, Jareth, something…”

  His eyes became focused on something more distant than sight.

  Jareth knew that look well, although he hadn’t seen it that often.

  As with many Elves Elon had magic and not least among his gifts was Foresight. As with such talents, it wasn’t always specific.

  “Something…stirs.”

  Something about how Elon said it sent a shiver down Jareth’s spine and the prickling of his mage sense grew stronger. Indeed, there was something…stirring…although he couldn’t put a name to it.

  That disturbed him.

  “Warn the Hunters and the Woodsmen you meet,” Elon said, his voice stronger. “Tell them to tread with even more caution than is their wont. Don’t make much of it but warn them. I tell you now, Jareth, I don’t like this.”

  The uneasiness within him grew greater the more he thought about it.

  “Nor do I, Elon,” Jareth said, “but it’ll take time, two months or a little longer perhaps to cover all that I must at speed, before I can return.”

  Elon lifted an eyebrow. “What will your Master say to that?”

  Grinning irreverently, Jareth said, “Well, as I’m not in her good graces at the moment, not much.”

  With a slight air of amusement, Elon asked, “What have you done this time?”

  “Ah, you know Avila, Elon, it doesn’t take much for her to take offense. It will pass. She’ll be quite satisfied if I stay well away for a time though. This will give me a chance to visit with my fellow wizards in far postings. I haven’t had a chance to see many of them lately.”

  Yes, Elon knew Avila – knew her and didn’t like her. He didn’t tend to strong feelings about most men but Avila was the exception.

  Jareth wasn’t the first to speak of her taking offense at some imagined slight. Elon couldn’t imagine how the College of Wizards had elevated her to a position of such power. That she had a wizard’s skills in full measure wasn’t in question, nor her knowledge, but power hadn’t improved her. Just the opposite. It seemed only to make her thirstier for it.

  It wasn’t enough for her to have dominion over all wizards, Avila wanted more.

  Elon
disliked and distrusted her, which were strong emotions for him. For many reasons but highest among them was she had little or no sense of Honor, or what she did have was very fluid. For all she was easily offended, she was most likely as well to give offense as to receive it. He put those thoughts away for now. Those were problems for men and for Jareth, but not a problem he, Elon, could solve.

  “Send word as you may, Jareth. Take what you need and go about it as quickly as you dare. Something tells me we have not much time.”

  Jareth raised his head in surprise and then nodded. “I’ll be off then.”

  A pause.

  “I would have wished to spend more time speaking of better things,” Elon said.

  Jareth hadn’t been wrong when he’d said they saw each other more rarely than desired. For a painful moment Elon was reminded of the brevity of human life.

  There was no help for it.

  “I, too, Elon,” Jareth said. “Perhaps when I return.”

  Elon nodded. “When you return. Safe journey, Jareth.”

  Colath wasted no time on his way through the vale, moving quickly along the central pathways where such things were expected. He moved fast enough to get where he was going but not so quickly as to raise concern. A few folk called greetings as he went past, mostly the artisans and artificers that worked down here among the pathways, potters, smiths and such, whose tasks couldn’t be performed up above among the branches. Most of his people traveled the pathways there, on the myriad bridges that linked one dwelling to another.

  The gathering place for the Hunters and Woodsmen was to the west and north. Most lived on the outer fringes of the vale for quicker access to the borders, as needed.

  A few patrols of Hunters were out, scouting along the perimeter of the vale to watch for untoward visitors of any kind. Occasionally uninvited men got lost amidst the mists of the Veil – the ward spells that held the borders of Aerilann safe. As well, the Woodsmen would drive off any of the woodland creatures like bear and mountain cats that might cause difficulty for those who lived within.

  There were always a few of each about, though, in case of need. Some drilled, others practiced bow skills or sparred with swords. A group sat together mending tack, honing swords, the basic maintenance that kept them alive. As a rule, Elven steel was lighter, sharper and more durable than the blades of men or even Dwarves, those makers who were masters of metals. Past quarrels between Elves and Dwarves had driven Elves to learn the art for themselves – they were too dependent on swords as well as arrows for their defense.