The Coming Storm

by Valerie Douglas

  The enemy drew ever closer. Remembering the thing from the Dwarven Caverns, Ailith worried about what was hiding behind the cloud of dust. What was Mornith concealing? What didn’t they know?

  As she rode back she could see beyond Marakis to the long line of refugees. Olend was evacuating the city of everyone but the most able-bodied. They would try to hold if they could but the flight of the defenders was already planned. More holes in the sand in wings on each side of the city, each filled with pitch and tar. Itan and Jareth would be in the towers closest to the battle to fire mage-bolts and then to fire the pits. A rope would be let down the other side where their horses would be waiting and they would be away.

  What wasn’t she seeing? What hadn’t they planned for? What had she missed?

  That was her secret fear, the worry that ate at her. What hadn’t she seen that might cost lives?

  She walked into her room abstractedly.

  There was a thrum in the bond.

  She spun and her heart leaped. Her breath caught as she looked up into a familiar strong face, into stern dark eyes that warmed as he looked at her.

  Her heart lightened just to see him. It took a moment before she realized she was holding her breath. That wouldn’t do.

  The figure in the white burnoose had been unexpected. Elon almost hadn’t recognized her with her vibrant hair covered.

  Sensing him standing in the corner, she turned, uncovered her mouth and tossed back the hood so all that lovely chestnut hair tumbled over her shoulders.

  Her blue eyes were shining.

  “Elon!” she exclaimed, smiling.

  “Have you gone Marakisian on me?” he asked and his heart lifted as he clasped her arm.

  “It’s more practical.”

  “Ah, that’s my Ailith,” he said, “it’s good to see you.”

  He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed her until this moment.

  “And you, Elon,” she said, taking in his face with her eyes. “Does Colath know you’re here? Or Jareth?”

  Trust her to think of Colath and Jareth. He smiled a little.

  “I’ve sent for Colath to let him know I’ve come and Jareth was out watching. As you were.”

  “That’s what you sent me here for.”

  “It is.” Which reminded him of something else. “Have you been watching over me every night?”

  “Of course,” she said and then looked at him. “Do you mind?”

  He shook his head. “No, especially when you warn me of potential assassins.”

  Ailith went still. So, she’d been right, it had been an assassin.

  In her eyes he saw the shadow of her alarm and fear.

  “You warned me in time. Daran had more guards posted afterward.”

  It suddenly occurred to her. “Elon, what are you doing here? You were with the army. Not that I’m not glad to see you or that I’m complaining in the least, but why are you here?”

  “When you reported the size of the army I think Daran believed you exaggerated. He doesn’t know you well. So he sent me to see.”

  They heard running footsteps, the bond telling them who it was before Colath was through the door.

  The two clasped arms tightly.

  “Elon,” Colath said, “what are you doing here?”

  Ailith grinned. “That was my question, although don’t think that either one of us is complaining, Elon. Don’t think we’re not very glad to see you.”

  “As I told Ailith, Daran thinks you exaggerate, though I told him you wouldn’t. Your daily messages went a long way toward convincing everyone there is indeed a problem.”

  The messengers, their urgency clear in their disheveled state, their sweat-stained horses and the speed with which they rode had done as much to convince the army as the messages they’d brought.

  “Between us we laid out a battle plan that should work so he might be prepared if there was need. The ground is good. The problem with Daran, though, is he was a heartland King, he hasn’t as much experience with those things of the borderland that those in the outlying lands have. I can’t convince him there are things that are a greater threat than what we faced at Colbreath. His dislike of magic makes things difficult and Avila makes it worse.”

  Especially when she worked at cross-purposes with him. If there was one thing that had come out of Colbreath, more than a few of the Generals had complained about the poor number of wizards. There was little doubt among them there would have been less loss of life had more been sent. On that point, Elon agreed. It was one of their few points of agreement. Despite all attempts at reason, he couldn’t convince Avila or Daran not to put all their wizards at the front lines, seeing magic as their best weapon.

  He put that aside for now, there was this battle to fight now.

  The three of them rode out once again to see what could be seen and for Elon to see it for himself, picking up Jareth on the way.

  Surprised as well, he asked the same question and got the same answer, in a little more detail.

  Jareth shook his head. “She won’t understand, Elon,” he said, of the situation with Avila. “For her it’s a personal affront that you won’t allow us onto the Council, not just an affront to wizards.”

  Holding up his hand, Jareth forestalled Elon’s denial. “You know I agree with you, Elon and not only for history. We warded the Council Chambers together. It’s not necessary. Magic is only a tool or a talent, like your ability with a sword. Avila doesn’t see that.”

  “I suggested she spread the wizards out through the forces, to make the best use of them. She thanked me for my advice and walked away.”

  Dismayed, Jareth sighed. “After Colbreath, she’ll feel the need to redeem herself, she badly underestimated there. She’ll throw all of us at the front and try to win the war herself, battle plan or no battle plan, to prove to Daran that he needs wizards. She’s heartland born as well and spent little time outside of it so she doesn’t know what we face. Witness the number of wizards she sent north.” The last was said in disgust. “If she’d sent more we wouldn’t have had half as many dead.”

  “That’s a point all of us agree on,” Ailith said, remembering the pitiful few people she’d brought back from the front lines at Colbreath. “You did your best, Jareth, but we lost too many.”

  Names and faces came back to her, those that hadn’t returned from the fight.

  He sighed, too, remembering.

  Looking across at Elon, seeing his familiar face and with Colath riding at his side as always, Jareth next to her, only Jalila was still missing of the original five.

  Seeing her expression, Elon said, “Jalila’s on her way with more archers. She should be here in the morning.”

  She smiled. “You read my mind, Elon, I didn’t know you counted mind-reading as one of your gifts.”

  “Like minds,” he said, his grave eyes lightening. “It will be good to have us all together again.”

  The four of them reached their vantage point. The invading army wasn’t so distant now, slowed somewhat by the harassment but not much.

  Looking back over her shoulder at the city, Ailith said, “They should be close enough to see from the ramparts of Marakis by mid-morning. There are pits in the sand all through there.”

  She gestured across the sand beside and before them.

  “They’ll probably hit them by mid-afternoon tomorrow at the pace they keep. The Elves, Hunters and Woodsmen will continue to harass them.”

  “And the city?”

  “It depends on Mornith and his intention. Attack the city that night or wait until morning so we know they’re there to let anticipation and fear do some of his work for him. Either way, there are more pits dug along the sides of the city out in wings. We’ll defend from the walls as long as we can. When they reach them we run. Itan and Jareth fire mage bolts at the pitch in the pits on each side to slow them down even more. Then we run, harassing them as much as we can as we go, hit and run.”

  “It’s a good plan
.”

  Some of the weight lifted from her shoulders.

  “Between Olend, Itan, Colath and I, we’ve been over it a thousand times it seems. If you find a hole in it let us know.”

  “For now,” Elon said. “I would like a bath, since I didn’t take the time for one yet. Then, I think I would like some exercise. We may not get another chance for some time.”

  As one, both Colath and Ailith turned to look at him. Ailith smiled.

  They were waiting in the garden for him when he was ready, swords in hand.

  As pleasant as the bath had been, this was what he truly needed.

  Watching Elon walk down the steps from the upper verandas with his swords in hand, Jareth ran to get Olend and Itan. This they would have to see.

  The three formed up in the center of the garden, Elon in the center this time.

  As one, without the need to speak or prompt, they began.

  Their swords rose and fell in the slow smooth movements of attack and defense, like the sands of the dunes as they blew and shifted. There was a rhythm and a cadence to it the three seemed to know without speaking. Side by side, turn and shift, their swords glittering and shining in the sun, sending coruscating shimmers across the garden to spark light off the sandstone walls. Breathing as one they moved as one. Faster, their movements still smooth, still flowing gracefully. Faster as they found their harmony, spirits merged, souls met, as their hearts beat a slow even rhythm.

  Elon stepped forward as Colath stepped back and Ailith stepped forward to complete the circle and the first ring of sword against sword chimed, to echo off the sandstone walls, then another and another until the swords rang like a chorus of bells. The pattern shifted and a different melody would ring out before another would begin. Faces serene and at ease, their bodies shifted and swayed in automatic response of one to the other. The pace quickened, going faster and faster, their swords blurred and the sound merged until it seemed there was not six swords ringing but only one chord. Harmony found and balance achieved.

  They slowed and it slowed. The sound separated. Six bells rang, one after another, a slow regular tolling, it slowed and stopped.

  They looked at each other, each content and at peace.

  Elon sighed. He’d needed that.

  On the balconies above Olend, Itan and Jareth stepped back to give them privacy.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Olend said, on a long, slow breath of awe. “You said it but I didn’t believe it.”

  “You were right, Jareth, it’s magic,” Itan sighed.

  With an enemy army approaching, they shared a quiet dinner over maps and discussed the battle plan once more, looking for holes, something they’d missed or hadn’t considered, taking advantage of Elon’s fresh eyes.

  “So, Elon,” Colath said, “do you see anything we’ve missed?”

  Considering it, Elon shook his head slowly. “Not that I can see. It remains only to see what Mornith will do.”

  “Battle plans,” Ailith said, with a wry smile, “being only good until first contact with the enemy. Who had their own plans and haven’t consulted yours.”

  Olend chuckled. “I hadn’t heard that amendment before.”

  Amused, Elon gave Ailith a glance askance. Her eyes twinkled.

  “It’s true enough, though,” Elon said.

  With a wistful grin, Ailith said, “I can’t take credit for it, it was one of Gwillim’s favorite sayings.”

  She still missed him intensely. He’d been a friend. The thought that she would never see him again still pained her.

  Remembering the man he’d known, Elon nodded. “It has the sound of him.”

  He looked at Ailith.

  She met his gaze, took a breath and smiled.

  A runner came with a message for her.

  Young and eager, he said, “Commander’s respects, my Lady but we’ve some stores gone missing. He wants to know if you’ve any idea where they might have went.”

  Ailith sighed. “That sort of thing is inevitable with so many on the move. Tell the Commander I’m coming.”

  Bobbing his head, the young man took off running.

  With a sigh and a shake of his head, Jareth said, “That young man has too much energy.”

  “I’ll be back shortly,” Ailith said, fastening her longsword in place. “It shouldn’t take long.”

  The streets of the city were nearly and eerily deserted since most of the population had left. It seemed odd for it to be so quiet. In all the days she’d been here, the streets had always been full of hustle and bustle, full of noise, voices calling and shouting. Looking around her at the darkened windows, with empty wash lines still strung across some streets, it seemed a city of ghosts, dead and lifeless.

  If they succeeded, it would be brought back to life again. She couldn’t consider the alternative.

  Ailith wasn’t watching the stars in her mind in a mostly empty city.

  When they came, they came in a rush and they hit her hard.

  The bond to Ailith shrilled, shrieked. Elon felt it and was up to run after his swords, Colath a second after him. Both felt the pain shoot through her head.

  Startled, Olend and Itan stared.

  “Something’s happened to Ailith,” Jareth said, even as he scrambled to follow.

  It was the only explanation.

  A chill went through him.

  “Something bad, something very bad.”

  Olend grabbed for his sword, hung by its scabbard from his chair and went after them with Itan behind him.

  At a gesture a servant ran to summon the Guard. Olend’s own Guards were on his heels.

  They found a dead man in the street along with Ailith’s swords. Named swords, they hadn’t been able to take them.

  Ailith’s swords and blood. Nothing else. She was gone.

  Elon looked at Colath, his jaw tight, fighting despair and a terrible fear as he cast about, looking for something, any clue, hint, trail or indication of where they might have taken her.

  The streets around them were empty, dark and lifeless, with not even a glimmer of light.

  He saw a matching despair cloud Colath’s eyes.

  Olend sent one of his guards running.

  “Close off the city, “ he ordered. “No one leaves.”

  Those who had taken her wouldn’t take her anywhere near the barracks, Elon knew, there were enough folk there who loved Ailith that would kill them for what they’d done.

  Itan cast about, trying to find Ailith’s mind.

  There was nothing.

  She didn’t want to say it but she knew she must.

  She looked at Elon, saw the grim look in his dark eyes, looked to Colath and saw the bleak apprehension there.

  “I can’t find her,” she said. “she’s either unconscious or drugged.”

  Bending down, Jareth touched the small drop of blood on the stone, rubbed it between his fingers. It was fresh and new, still wet, but no longer warm. There was a fierce anger in him. He knew Ailith, knew her blood. This wasn’t a magic he had tried in a while. He hadn’t much needed of it.

  He couldn’t conjure her, one didn’t conjure the living. There was something else he could do. It wasn’t only dark wizards who knew blood magic.

  He whispered an incantation.

  The blood started to glow in a long trail.

  “I can,” he said.

  At first Ailith was stunned. They’d hit her all at once, taken her down by sheer numbers. Even as she was swiftly bound and gagged, she tried to fight, then squirmed, bucked and struggled as they carried her through the narrow streets.

  They ducked into a noisome alley, down some stairs into a cellar or basement, some big dark room a little below the level of the street and dropped her on the floor. Four of them pinned her down. She fought as they untied her and retied her wrists and ankles to huge wooden pegs driven into the dirt floor.

  Spread-eagled, she was exposed, vulnerable.

  Braziers burned, there were irons
in them.

  Then she felt it, something even more frightening.

  Discordant magic.

  Her stomach churned.

  She’d felt this before.

  Frantically, she glanced around, searching the walls for signs of the Door.

  And found it, a shimmer, an un-making. Coldness formed in the pit of her stomach, sent out tentacles through her limps.

  On the wall, the Door formed, took shape, shimmered on the rough stone.

  The Door to the South, except it led somewhere much closer now.

  Far too close.

  “Lord Mornith wanted to see you, you have something he wants,” one of the men hissed. He had a mask on, but she could see his eyes glitter behind it through the eyeholes. “He wants to know what your plan is and you will tell us. He says you have magic and a big heart. He wants them both. He’ll take your magic and drink your soul.”

  Remembering that dark form standing in that Door, watching as they tortured and tormented Elon and Colath, she believed it, but silently swore he’d get nothing from her without a fight.

  The man smiled. “Your heart is ours, he says, he’ll use it to make us trackers.”

  Leaning close, his body heavy over hers, his mouth so close to hers she could feel his breath against her lips, he said, “I can make it easier on you, quicker. Tell us what we want to know, otherwise I’ll have to persuade you.”

  She pressed her lips together and refused.

  The walls were stone, the floor earth. Twisting her wrists inside the tight bonds, Ailith fought to get contact with it. Even as she did, she could feel the dark magic swell, grow stronger. She laid her hands as flat as she could and willed the walls to stay the same. She could feel Mornith trying to get through but she held.

  The man’s hand spread on her stomach, pressed her to the floor.

  Something cold and sharp pushed against her, pierced both shirt and shift. The pain was sharp as the blade touched skin, pressed against it as he twisted the knife a little and pressed a little harder. Ailith bit back a cry as she felt her skin gave way, felt it part beneath the blade, the pain sharp, an exquisite agony.