The Coming Storm

by Valerie Douglas

  Chapter Six

  The castle of Riverford had fallen behind them and was now hidden behind a rise in the land. Around them, the country itself was quite beautiful, not unlike the hills that surrounded Aerilann, rising upward toward the eastern foothills, blooming lush and green. Horses grazed on a distant hill, while white sheep drifted across another like low hanging clouds. There was the sweet perfume of growing things but few people to be seen on the roads.

  “Well,” Jareth said, “that was awkward.”

  Elon nodded. “It was.”

  “Not even an excuse, a polite fiction. They simply didn’t acknowledge it. Not even a bow to custom or even the barest hospitality. Some wine and water, that’s all.” Jareth shook his head, bewildered. “Not quite insulting but almost. Yet, he seemed to have no objection to us. Not like old Queen Marta, who likes neither Elves nor wizards but remains civil about it. She doesn’t disguise her dislike but at least she maintains the forms and courtesies.”

  Surprisingly, Jalila spoke up. “At least she was honest in her aversion, there is some honor in not disguising it. Perhaps there’s something I missed but did it feel to any of you as if something wasn’t quite right in that place?”

  Taking a deep breath, Elon nodded. “I doubted I was alone in it but I wanted one of you to confirm it.”

  He’d wanted to verify his impression without tainting theirs.

  From the moment he’d ridden through the gates and beneath the portcullis, he’d sensed something. It was something about the way some guards would look at him almost hopefully and others wouldn’t look at him at all. The folk there had seemed strangely uneasy.

  “It seemed uncommon from some of the other places we have visited. A tension I couldn’t name. Even in Mountainhold, with Queen Marta, her people didn’t seem as… unhappy. ”

  Colath added, “Some folks seemed oddly wary and anxious. The stablegirl who took my horse seemed frightened although I could find no reason why. I thought it might be she was one of those raised to dislike our people but she met my eyes without flinching.”

  “That whole meeting was odd,” Jareth said, on reflection. “As pleasant as they were, it seemed as if currents ran beneath the surface that I couldn’t see. Perhaps it’s simply the concern everyone has in the highlands these days. Geric may not want to admit his people are overwhelmed.”

  “Perhaps,” Elon allowed. “Still, there was something there that was different. Did anyone else sense eyes watching? Not threateningly but watching.”

  Slowly, Jareth nodded. “Yes, it was odd, I could put no name or place to it.”

  “Nor I,” Colath said. “As Elon said, I felt no threat, though, so I put it aside.”

  Thoughtfully, Jalila added, “For all his heartiness, there’s something about King Geric that seems at odds.”

  “There was that as well,” Elon said. “I expected a warmer greeting. The man I met some time ago would have given it. He seemed too jovial, even so. Times change and men with them. I’d hoped we might spend the night, though. We’ve been on the road a long time and the horses could have used time in a stable under proper care.”

  He glanced at Jareth.

  “So could we.”

  Jareth grinned. “I was about to add that. I was looking forward to a night in a real bed, without stones in uncomfortable places.”

  “I did warn you, Jareth,” Jalila said with a shake of her head.

  “I’ll listen next time.”

  The horses moved at a steady walk. Elon considered it best to leave it that way. There was no need to push as yet and he was loath to do so without need. Marta of Mountainhold had at least offered a place to rest but the folk in the town had been less chary. They’d stopped in other Kingdoms and had been hosted at the last.

  It had been a few weeks of riding since then, though, with one close call in between. A young orc had come out of nowhere and charged them. Orcs could be quick and lethal. It had been a short battle but intense. It would be safer down here near settled lands but once in the high country? It would be foolish to push the horses to a greater pace when they might have need of that strength later.

  “Sadly,” Elon said, “it seems we’ll be sleeping in the open again tonight.”

  With a sigh of resignation, Jareth said, “I thought as much.”

  Jalila offered some consolation, “We’ll try to find you a place with fewer rocks, Jareth.”

  He gave her a look then waved around him in disgust. “In these hills? There’s nothing but rocks.”

  There had been no summons to dinner, for which she was grateful. Ailith didn’t miss it, in truth. Another silent meal with Tolan staring at her didn’t make her any hungrier. Her stomach was in such knots she feared if she’d eaten it wouldn’t stay long and if she didn’t eat, they would know something was wrong. It was a relief not to have to worry about it.

  Light faded from the sky, brilliant color washed across the few clouds.

  This would be her best chance to slip out of the castle. The guard would change soon, with everyone occupied exchanging of pleasantries, she might have a chance to get by unseen. The light was uncertain, dim. It was getting hard to see and it would be getting harder. If she could move quickly and quietly enough, they might not notice her escape.

  Stealing down the back stairs, she found the kitchens nearly empty but for the baker preparing the breads for the morning. He was intent on kneading the pile of dough on the table, punching it down so when he returned in the early dawn it would have risen again and be ready to bake. Other loaves awaited his attention. The fire was banked, so the light was low here, too. On light feet she darted across and slid out the kitchen door. To stand for a moment in the shadow of the wall and let her eyes adjust to the shift in light.

  Most of the folk of the castle were done for the day and had retired to their quarters or their homes in the village. The guards on the wall looked outward, not inward, walking along, talking softly in low voices and waiting for their relief to arrive.

  Her heart pounded madly. Keeping her short sword pressed tightly against her side so it wouldn’t clatter against the stone and betray her, staying close in the shadow of the wall, she quickly covered the short distance to the base of the stairs that led up to the parapets and the narrow door concealed beneath them. Quickly, quietly, she eased the door open and slid through.

  This side of the castle was entirely in shadow now, encased in the settling darkness. She could see very well in the dark but the contrast in brightness from the fading brilliance of the sky above to the shadows below rendered the light uncertain. There was so little time, though, she didn’t dare go slowly although she couldn’t see the end.

  A breath of unblocked breeze, a slightly brighter space, or the paleness of the rope, whatever it was, something warned her just shy of stepping out into nothingness. A chill slid down her spine at the close call but she had no time to give to it, dropping the rope over the side and shimmying down, dropping lightly to her feet at the end. Looking up, she could see no sign of notice nor hear the sound of alarm.

  Rarely did a guard look down this way. To reach here one must either cross the river at one of its most dangerous points or come around beneath their eyes. The walls of the castle blocked another side and the Hunters and Woodsmen’s camp another. She hoped that would continue as she started across the little field that served as paddock and pasture for the Hunter’s horses. Darker and larger shadows. As usual, one or two followed her.

  Only one nibbled at her hair.

  Smoke.

  She stroked his nose and he sighed the way horses do.

  Now for the part of which she couldn’t be certain. Giving him a pat, she leaned in by his ear as he lowered her head so she could rub between his eyes.

  “Will you carry me, Smoke?”

  There was no answer but she hadn’t expected one really, she thought with a wry grin at the fancy. No saddle and no bridle but then most Elven horses were bred not to need them. Gwillim had told h
er that. The hardest part would be getting up there. Smoke was huge, much larger than the horses she was used to riding.

  “Forgive me,” she said, and clutched tightly at a handful of mane near his shoulders and vaulted up, scrambling at the last to get her leg over far enough that she didn’t fall back down.

  Surprisingly, he took this abuse without complaint, his skin twitching a little at her weight. With a shift of that weight, she urged him forward and nearly fainted with relief when he obeyed.

  Once more she glanced up at the castle. The guards were black shadows against the last of the light. The evening star appeared to be perched above the top of the castle. The shadows of the guards moved, one passing the other. The changing of the guard. Other shadows, clouds passing across the moon, moved too. With luck, all they would see was Smoke being his usual self and escaping again. She would merely be part of the odd patterns of his coloring.

  Even if they did spot her, she was dressed in her usual working clothes, there was always the chance they would think she was a Hunter riding out, although everyone knew from Gwillim’s complaints that every single body he could raise was out in the field. All she could hope is that if she was spotted, no one would bring it to Caradoc’s attention. He would surely know all the Hunters were out.

  Ailith urged Smoke faster, her hands wrapped in his mane, her knees tight against his back. It was a small hop for him to clear the picket line and trot lightly across the field, slowly picking up speed. If there was no outcry, she was clear. She kept waiting for it, that moment when her heart would leap into her throat but it didn’t come. Then they were over the ridge and out of direct sight of those on the parapets. She dared breathe again.

  If Elon and his party had turned east, they hadn’t taken the road. She needed to find their trail while there was light enough to see. If not for the brilliance of the sky earlier, it wouldn’t have been so difficult to get down the stairs. She had very good night vision and the moon would be bright enough to light her way.

  There. The last of the light pooled shadows in the indentations of hoof-prints. Leaning almost to the point of falling off, she was fairly sure there were four different sets. It was unlikely anyone else had taken this way. Travelers and traders kept to the road.

  The trail kept straight as far as she could tell. In her mind she had a sense of Elon of Aerilann, of where he would be likely to go. This seemed the most likely track.

  She’d have to chance it. Putting Smoke’s nose along the center of the trail, she urged him to speed and set heels to his ribs.

  At the gesture his head came up and his ears pricked, he tossed his head a little and then she felt his muscles bunch. She clenched her hands in his mane just in time, as he launched himself forward.

  Rarely would he have been permitted to run like this. He didn’t spurn the opportunity.

  Ailith clung to his back, astonished at the speed with which he traveled. She knew Elven-bred were fast but she’d never ridden one before this. She was grateful for it, though. She would need it. There were hours to make up and little time in which to do it.

  All of Gwillim’s tales came back to her, his worries and concerns. There were things loose in the night in the high country. The creatures from the borderlands. She remembered the trolls. Vaguely man-like, with hunched backs, peculiarly jointed legs and warty faces. They had ridden odd creatures Gwillim had called hellhounds which vaguely resembled dogs the size of small ponies and ran in bounds. She’d killed one when it had leaped at her. She’d hunted boggins and boggarts, too, and killed more than a few. Not alone, though, never alone. Tolan had hinted it would be creatures such as those which would attack tonight. She knew how to fight them and she would do it alone if she had to. The travelers had to be warned, she simply couldn’t let them die out here.

  She held fear in abeyance by sheer will, turning her thoughts away from her fears. It was enough to be moving at this pace, trusting Smoke not to lose his footing or step in a badger hole.

  As the moon came up she thought she’d lost the trail, her heart pounding as she scanned the ground ahead of Smoke’s hooves. There was that light in her mind, though, one that said, here. Once she’d found a small child that way. She would trust it for that. It was all she had.

  Then she saw a glimmer of flame through trees on a far hill. She knew this place, knew it well. It was a good place to camp, with trees for shelter from weather and wind. Not tonight though. She turned Smoke’s head to that distant flicker of fire and urged him faster.

  Elon looked up at the sound of hoof beats, Colath and Jalila only seconds behind him, with Jareth startling as well. All of them got swiftly to their feet.

  The sound of hoof beats coming hard in the night was more than a little alarming.

  “That’s Elven-bred,” Elon said.

  The pattern was unmistakable, too fast and too heavy to be that of the horses of men – even their draft horses – but there were no Elves here.

  “Who rides at that speed at this time of night?” Jareth said, frowning.

  “It’s madness,” Jalila added, as she strung her bow.

  Ailith pulled Smoke up shy of the camp, seeing the figures that stood beyond the fire, putting it between them and her. The horse beneath her was neither sweating badly nor blowing, for which she was grateful.

  “My Lord Elon,” she called.

  Startled, Elon looked at the others and then at the small young woman perched precariously on the back of the Elven-bread cull. Her hair was tousled from the wind, her clothes simple but good. Aside from the short sword on her hip, undrawn, she seemed little enough threat.

  Why though was she out in the night? And where had she gotten the horse?

  “Who are you,” he asked, “and what are you doing riding like that at this hour of the night?”

  Taking a breath, Ailith tried to calm herself, getting her pounding heart and shaking hands to settle. There wasn’t much time. She looked into those piercing dark eyes, that calm Elven demeanor and mirrored it.

  “I’m Ailith of Riverford, Geric’s daughter and Heir,” she said. “You must leave here and quickly.”

  For a brief moment Elon studied her.

  She’d come from the west. Geric had said his daughter was in the highlands to the east.

  Colath said, mildly, “Geric’s daughter? You don’t look like a King’s daughter.”

  It was a thing of men, he noted, that they liked their titles and fancy dress, like the robes Avila insisted Jareth wear. Standing at Elon’s side at Daran High King’s court he’d watched the people there with their fancy and frequently useless dress.

  Those words calmed Ailith like a dash of cold water. It wasn’t the first time someone had said such.

  Given her small stature and her workaday clothes – more practical for her purposes – she’d been mistaken a time or two for everything from a merchant’s child to a servant. Over time she’d grown accustomed to it and found it mildly interesting, sometimes useful and more than a little amusing. She glanced down at what she was wearing. Of course, there was that. Knowing what she was riding into, she’d dressed in working clothes. They weren’t those of a King’s Heir but that hardly would have been appropriate for riding out at night. Then again, weren’t Elves supposed to judge on better things than height and dress?

  Dorovan never had.

  “Ah, well then, what does one look like? Tall, pretty, wearing a crown? You must have seen Dyfna, Daran High King’s daughter,” she said, with a wry grin but some asperity, then added, “then again, yes, she’s very nearly as pretty as you are. I do hope you are somewhat… wiser.”

  For a moment, Colath simply stared nonplussed and then Jareth snorted rudely – a muffled laugh.

  “Oh, she has you there, Colath,” Jareth said, chuckling.

  The quick wit of her response even brought a small smile to Elon’s face as well.

  Abashed and amused, Colath allowed himself a small smile also.

  He’d met the lady in quest
ion, she was very like a butterfly and almost as engaging. There wasn’t a thought in her pretty little head. Give him one like Jalila any day over that one.

  Watching, Jalila liked the girl, she showed spirit. It amused her to see Colath brought to task. He should’ve known better than to make such a judgment.

  “As for these,” the girl continued, with a gesture at her clothing, “I daresay bards and minstrels would have me wearing those lovely draperies of Elven cloth such as Dyfna wears – dear as that stuff might be, however fair the cost – but it would scarcely be practical for a night ride across the hills on a borrowed horse.”

  She had a point.

  Jalila looked to Colath, who bowed to their unexpected guest.

  “I find myself properly rebuked. My apologies.”

  “No need, no insult taken. But there isn’t much time, you can’t stay here, you must go. This place is indefensible.”

  “Indefensible? Against what? Why must we leave?” Elon asked.

  He’d watched the exchange with interest.

  Her urgency and impatience were clear, though well controlled. Her face was flushed but it was outwardly nearly as calm as an Elf’s. Her steel-blue eyes were steady and intent.

  Relieved he would even listen, Ailith said, “I must ask you to trust me, though you have no reason to. This place is too exposed, vulnerable against any numbers and I have reason to believe you may need to defend it.”

  They all went still.

  Elon looked at her. Those steel-blue eyes met his evenly. She let him look and judge. There was no reason to trust her or not to trust her. Geric’s daughter by that King’s own words was supposed to be somewhere in the highlands. Yet, there was a resemblance certainly in that tumble of wavy hair, blown somewhat free of the leather thong with which she’d bound it. Geric’s hair had been much the same, though cut somewhat shorter. Her forthrightness impressed him. That and the fact she’d ridden through the night to get here, alone.

  “Leave the fire,” he said.

  They’d laid it carefully and well so it wouldn’t burn out of control, and as damp as it was still so early in summer it wouldn’t spark a wildfire, something every Elf feared.