It hurt so much.
She looked at Colath, who knew and understood.
“That’s what it is with us,” Colath said. “Elon and I are true-friends who can share all things, as are Ailith and I. I’d thought maybe she was true-friend with Elon as well, one who could ease his sorrow at not finding his soul-bond. That would be rare enough given her blood. I think, though, a part of me has always known they share a soul-bond but couldn’t recognize it either knowing what it would mean for them. Soul-bonding should be joyous and it would be but there would be pain and sacrifice, too, that shouldn’t be.”
“Some part of Elon knows and some part of him hopes, too, but he fears what will come if it is,” Ailith said. “At least he has hope. He’ll have that. Still and always.”
Talesin added, “To hand him the truth and then take it away? It will kill him, Jareth.”
“You’ve never soul-bonded,” Jareth said.
As far as he knew the old Elven wizard had always been alone. There’d never even been the rumor of a mate.
The Elf’s old eyes looked at him with an even more ancient sorrow.
“My soul-bonded mate waits for me in the Summerlands. She was too wounded by the wizard wars to stay or she would have died, truly and for all. I couldn’t join her. I’m the only Elf and wizard, as such my honor won’t let me go until there is another with such power, someone to take up my knowledge after me. I wait, longing to see her, to touch her beloved face. If I should die before I reach her, she’ll die, too, for all time. But like Elon I have hope that someday we can be together.”
There was silence at that.
Finally, Jareth said, “What about you, Ailith? Can you live with this?”
“For him, yes,” she said resolutely, and then she smiled so sweetly it broke his heart, “and bring him as much pleasure as I can until he decides or it’s decided for us. In the way of the race of men I love him, in the way of the Elves and Dwarves I love him as well. I’m soul-bonded to him, I love him and I’ll endure.”
There was no other choice, nor did she want one.
Colath added, tightening his fingers around Ailith’s, “And I’ll help all I can.”
For the sake of both of these people he loved.
Waving impatiently, Daran High King shooed the usual flutter of secretaries and ministers away. There was a cut across the bridge of his nose. It was healing but it would leave a scar. So, he had at least gotten out of that tent and among his army for at least one sortie.
“Elon,” Daran said, impatiently. “You know Olend, talk to him, he’s asking for reparations.”
The Treasury, the precious Treasury, Elon thought and restrained a sigh. You would think it was his own gold and Daran Dwarven, he hoarded it so well.
“Daran High King,” Elon said, with a nod of his head. “How much? How much for allowing his Kingdom to be laid waste?”
A narrow-eyed look from Daran.
“It’s only truth, Daran. As you well know. If the army had moved sooner and faster, the invasion might have been stopped on his doorstep, rather than on yours.”
The truth wasn’t the answer Daran wanted to hear.
That was the thing with Elon, that he told him these things. It was irritating in more than one way.
Unfortunately, Elon did know Olend and what he would accept.
Elon looked at him. “It’s reasonable, Daran, as well you know. Why do you do this? He and his people took the brunt of this war or else you would have someone else sitting on your throne. Give him what you will but you should give him something.”
It wasn’t reasonable, Daran thought querulously, none of this was reasonable, not this war, none of it.
They still didn't know why it had been fought, why they’d been attacked.
It didn't matter. At this rate the Treasury would be drained.
“What about the northern Lords, if they ask as well? If I give to him I’ll have to give to them as well. I’m considering consolidating those that remain, then sharing out the lands to those around them who survived. Of those who fell, only a few left with surviving heirs and one claims to be a bastard.”
This was a term with which Elon wasn’t familiar. He gave Daran a questioning look.
“Born out of wedlock, Elon,” Daran said, seeing his look, “not recognized officially by whoever fathered him.”
Not recognized? A child of an Alliance. Elon shook his head. There were times when he couldn’t comprehend the race of men.
What honor was there in producing a child and then spurning it? What man would sire a child and then not care of its fate? He couldn’t comprehend this.
“Is there justice to his claim? Would he serve well? If so, give it to him.”
There was that, Daran thought. The man in question looked enough like his sire to leave little doubt. For all that, he seemed as capable if not more capable than some of the heirs of the current Kings. The ones that survived.
“As for your other plan, to share out the lands of those that fell to those that survived? If they can govern them, it’s better than naming one who couldn’t.”
“Some of the other Kings are less than pleased with the notion,” Daran said, in disgust. “Most of them want their spare heirs to lay claim. Some of them would be more than pleased to have their blood ruling more than one Kingdom.”
Elon thought of Westin and his plans for Ailith. To have his heirs sit on two separate thrones, though neither was worthy of it. Neither had stirred from his chambers during the length of the battle there.
Not who would lead best but whose blood. It made no sense.
“Did any earn the right? Of those who answered your call, could you name one who deserves it? If so, give it to them. If not, put them in the hands of the ones who did. Do it on merit, Daran, then none can argue your choice.”
Oddly, Daran hadn’t mention Riverford, which now also had no King and no heir. With Ailith disowned and none to recall her, what would happen there? Elon debated asking but decided against it. That Ailith stayed with them was no secret but it served little purpose to draw Daran’s attention right now and it might work against her rather than for her.
As the door closed behind him, he realized one other thing hadn’t been mentioned.
The dragon that had appeared on the battlefield and turned the tide. It seemed an odd omission.
What are you planning, Daran? Elon wondered.
He put it aside. There was nothing he could do about it, save wait. For now the peace they’d hoped for was here, finally.
This was the merely the first summons, there would be more as the aftermath of the ravages of war made themselves known. He’d learn Daran’s thoughts soon enough.
He would also have to return to Aerilann sometime soon, to see to affairs there. Although the war hadn’t touched it directly, indirectly they would have had incursions, the area around the Enclave would have suffered.
It would have to wait. For what little time he could, he would enjoy these few days of peace.
Ailith was in the garden with Jalila when he returned, their two heads bent over an arrow as Jalila showed her how to fletch. Observing, Colath leaned a shoulder against a tree. Downwind, Jareth smoked his pipe, his back against the sea wall and the drop there.
Peace.
Elon sighed, watching them. There was peace for the moment. Soon enough the troubles of the world would overtake them but for now, there was only this. As this morning with the forms. It would be good to do nothing today but enjoy good company.
As he drew closer, Jalila showed Ailith the feathers she was using.
Ailith bent her head close to see how she laid it.
Chestnut head and raven-black bent toward each other.
“There are left and right wing feathers,” Jalila explained, “it’s best to always use the same feather on the same arrow. So, Ailith, what now for you?”
“She’s considering joining the Hunters or Woodsmen,” Jareth said. “We talked about it a time ago.�
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On the way to Marakis. Ailith remembered. It seemed such a long time ago. A lifetime.
“It would be a good use of my skills. I have experience, thanks to Gwillim.”
Colath said, “I would recommend you. There’s no doubt of your sword skills, as we know.”
Elon considered it. It was a good solution.
“She’s good enough with a bow as well,” Jalila added, “once she has more practice.”
With a laugh, Ailith said, “I’ve had more practice of late, don’t you think?”
Jalila nodded her head a little sideways, conceding the point. “You hit most of what you aimed at that I could tell. Since that’s the purpose, it’s good enough. Where, then?”
“We could use you in the north, there’s never enough good people,” Colath said.
She would be near at hand, as well, Elon thought, not so far away. If she joined their own folk, he would see her often. The thought eased him a bit.
“Could we use her among ours?” he asked as he joined them.
Ailith looked up, her eyes brightening at the sight of him. His heart lightened.
“Ala, Elon,” she said, smiling.
Continuing, he said, warming to the idea, “Ala, Ailith. I would commend her to ours, if you could use her, Colath.”
“Always,” Colath said, relieved. This would do well on many counts. “We have followers in plenty but leaders are harder. I wouldn’t have to train her, either, I know well enough that she knows how to do it.”
It would work. Perhaps they could go north sooner than Elon had planned.
He wanted to return to Aerilann with an intensity that was almost painful. Taking Ailith among them would lighten the journey. To know she was close would ease him.
It wasn’t without its dangers but Ailith was wise to such things now, wiser perhaps for all they’d been through. Unless she was out on patrol or he was here in Doncerric he would see her as often as he did Colath.
That lightened him even more.
“Look, Ailith,” Jalila said, “here’s the difference in the feathers.” She pointed to the small ridges. “You see.”
Leaning her head to look more closely at the feather, the sun caught Ailith’s hair and sparked red and gold highlights from it.
There was a moment when Elon wanted to reach out and touch it, but he didn’t.
They couldn’t leave for some days yet, it was likely Daran High King would want his services again.
Soon though.
It wouldn’t be so dangerous once they got her north. Out of sight, out of mind. Folk would forget.
Stretching out in the grass, he watched as the lesson progressed.
It could work, she would be close at hand and as safe as he could make her. They could still do the forms now and then.
As soon as he was certain Daran would let him go, they would head north.
Avila watched Jareth leave from the windows of her apartments here in Doncerric. Though folk thought she didn’t hear it, she knew that after these last few months and after the battles, some proposed Jareth for Master at the next vote of the Collegium. She had her own ideas on that.
She couldn’t be seen to touch him, though. That would go badly for her. His friendship with Elon also set him out of her reach. That Elf’s well-known integrity marked Jareth blameless as well.
Nor had she found the one responsible for what happened that day on the battlefield and it irked her in more than one way.
Such power, wasted on illusion. What she could have done with it…
She wanted it.
With that much power at her command and in her control she could do a great deal. And to deliver to Daran High King the one who had created it and delivered his forces from disaster would make things much easier.
Except she couldn’t find them.
Jareth rode out of sight. She needed to bring him back in check or give him something else to think about other than cozening other wizards. With Elon at his back, that would be hard.
Then she remembered the day they’d left the battlefield and who had ridden behind Elon of Aerilann.
Now, that was a different thing entirely.
Both Jareth and Elon seemed attached to her.
She was vulnerable. Her father had disowned her but he’d also turned traitor. Save for Jareth and Elon, she had few friends. There was a chance, perhaps, to keep them both well occupied.
It was a Marakisian style house, in the Marakisian quarter, and so walled with an inner square of living quarters. It wasn’t as big as the castle in Marakis but it wasn’t small.
Olend came out of the main doors with his arms held wide in welcome as always.
It wasn’t home, it wasn’t his castle – now in terrible disrepair – but it was a roof over his head and a place to host his guests.
“Welcome,” he said, “Ala to all.”
Without a second thought, he lifted Ailith down from her horse.
“She’s light for being so strong.”
Ailith smiled up at him fondly as he set her on her feet. “Ala, Olend.”
“Ala, Olend,” Elon said, nodding to the servant who took Faer and the other horses to the stables.
Itan came out of the house to greet them, too, as lovely as always, smiling. “Ala, friends and welcome.”
They’d all come, even Jalila, who hadn’t had much time in Marakis but they treated her as they treated everyone, as another old friend come to visit.
Supper, time to spend with friends.
“Has Daran given you the money, yet?” Elon asked.
Olend shook his head. “Not yet, though I see signs of progress.”
“Have you been back?” Ailith asked, “How was it?”
“Not as bad as I feared, worse than I’d hoped. We’ll rebuild, one way or another. We have no choice.”
“Daran will give it to you,” Elon said, “he just has to convince himself to do it.”
They went inside to the cooler veranda that overlooked the typical Marakisian garden in the center, where a table with food and drink had been laid out. They picked at the food as the conversation continued.
“The bazaar was bad but that was to be expected, so close to the gates,” Olend continued. “They did no one a kindness there. The castle Itan had warded so they couldn’t get in easily. We think this Mornith tried to get past the wards, without much success.”
Elon said, “Much of Mornith’s power is stolen. He has some practice using it but very likely he hasn’t run into wards much, to know their purpose.”
“So, the castle was spared, save some scorching. The desert wall took some damage, the gates were mostly destroyed on all sides and much of what lay nearby. There was some fire, as well, but all in all, there we escaped lightly. What didn’t were the olive and fig trees. Many have been knocked down, uprooted, probably by the basilisks. I’d like to know where he found some so large. Of course, who knows what lies in the deep desert? That’s what we need the money for, the time to grow them back again. Much of our livelihood in Marakis depends upon them. That and our horses. Some of my folk also fear to go back until things are put to right again.”
“If you need help, Olend,” Elon offered, “ask.”
With a sigh, Olend said, “I may take that offer. Much needs to be done and many are afraid to go back for fear of what awaits. There’s a chance that trolls or such have taken up residence in some parts of the city. We’ve seen signs.” He waved his hand. “No matter, we’ll abide. Now, for myself, would you show me these forms you do? I find them fascinating.”
Elon looked to Colath and Ailith, who both smiled. Neither was ever much averse to doing the forms, nor was he.
So, Elon, Colath and Ailith took Olend out into the garden to show him the steps.
While they were otherwise occupied, Itan drew Jareth aside, watching those in the gardens with a smile that was shadowed by concern.
“Jareth, what is Avila up to?”
He looked at her. “What do y
ou mean?”
Pensively, she said, “I’ve heard rumors she’s going about talking to people, and not just wizards. Since she’s not social by inclination, I must wonder what it is she says, but no one will speak to me of it.”
Looking out at the four in the garden, he was puzzled and wondered, too.
“I’ll ask around. See what I can hear.”
“Do that, would you?” she said and then smiled and winced a little as Olend missed a step.
The scimitar he used had a different balance than the longswords but he adjusted.
It didn’t take him long before he had adapted fairly well.
Watching him, listening to Ailith laugh, seeing Colath patiently walk Olend through the step and strike he had missed, it was enough for Elon to be in the presence of those he loved and good friends. Daran was being difficult but that was Daran. Times like these were precious and rare.
Elon stepped in to demonstrate with Colath the parry Olend had missed, so he could see it done as it should be, and match it with Ailith.
Looking at them, dark and dark, with Elon’s smooth grace, his body shifting to show the stance and Colath watching Olend’s attempt, making small corrections, Ailith couldn’t help but feel content. She glanced over at the veranda where Jareth smoked his pipe with Jalila watching with interest from the sidelines and Itan curled up in a chair to do the same and smiled.
This, today, was all.
It was the third time a story like this one had come to Daran’s attention. As such things went, the rumor changed, shifted, become something darker. What had happened on the plain began to take another shape. Wild rumors, wild magic. Old fears blended with new. Questions had been raised that demanded answers. Those answers raised new questions. The answers to those questions raised new fears and reawakened old ones.
The Coming Storm Page 68
