The Coming Storm

by Valerie Douglas

  He was immaculate.

  They’d called him away but there was no sign of it.

  He was dressed in full robes, the outer coat fell flawlessly to his feet, the fine embroidery of dark thread wound with silver on the dark silk glittered in the sun.

  It was his manner, though, as always, that was so impressive. No more than any other Elf, he showed no sign of emotion and yet he commanded the Chamber and the Square with his mere presence. His spirit was so sure, his confidence and certainty unquestionable, paired with his indomitable will and his poet’s soul.

  She loved him so much and dared not let a whisper of it show, on her face…or through the bond between them.

  Even so, for the first time since she had been taken, Ailith allowed herself a breath of hope.

  There was no sign of the hard ride they must have made.

  It had chafed at Jareth but Elon had insisted.

  “We can’t go before them like this, filthy from the road. They’ll see us as penitents, petitioners. The moments we take now will matter. Trust me on this.”

  They had and did, clearly.

  Foolish as it was, appearance mattered to some, especially to those of Jareth’s own race.

  There had been instant respect the moment they stepped into the Square.

  Elon was dressed as befitted his station among his people and on this Council. He wanted them to make no mistake on that. Among Elves, Eliade was only their representative, not a queen. A leader but not the leader. An Equal among Equals. There by the nature of her ability to lead. As was he. She didn’t speak for all of them, nor did he, but speak someone must.

  For honor, as it should be. For justice, if for nothing else.

  For Ailith, above all.

  “Ailith of Riverford. Otherling. So called. Name me one person she has harmed,” Elon said.

  His voice rang out over the Square.

  Elon looked out over the crowd, all of them of the race of men.

  “Name me one soul which by magic or sword she has damaged.”

  He stood still, his eyes going over them, meeting theirs, challenging them. He didn’t look at those behind him.

  “I am waiting. Name me that person.”

  Silence swept the plaza, no one dared mutter, not in the face of that stern gaze.

  “Name me then those lives she saved by her actions. Those who stood on the plain below and faced the horde. Those who stood beneath the fell gaze of the basilisks and lived to tell the tale. Brave warriors all.”

  From deep within the crowd there was a crash of steel on steel.

  A solitary voice shouted, “Aye. Name me.”

  Another voice called and then another, from all around, a clattering of knife-hilts on sword hilts, an irregular and angry drumming. Hunters and Woodsmen. A few, not many. Most had returned to the lives they had known before the war.

  There hadn’t been time for the others to come back. Some, certain that their voices would not be heard, hadn’t even tried.

  “How many lives would have been lost had the tide of battle not turned?” Elon asked evenly. “Is this the thanks we give for courage? She had to have known that if she acted, she would reveal herself. And yet, she did it anyway.”

  His eyes swept over her, over Ailith, her brilliant hair glowing in the sunlight, her beautiful eyes shadowed and he remembered her as she had stood in her shift in the sunlight to bid he and Jareth farewell. His soul shivered, need called to him. Ailith called to him, though she tried not.

  He couldn’t think of it now. Dared not.

  “A moment of choice, to save herself or to aid others. One second of hesitation would have made the difference between a chance of victory or near certain defeat. She made her choice. Wild magic. You want to speak of madness, that was madness.”

  His words silenced the crowd.

  “She’s Otherling and she knew it. By her act she made it unmistakably known. Would there be a penalty? It didn’t matter. Only lives mattered. So how do we reward her for such courage? With this?”

  He gestured at the Council.

  With an effort, Ailith drew her eyes from Elon and looked at those around them.

  At those who had spoken and condemned her.

  On the dais, each was still but not unmoved.

  Goras was livid, his jaw working furiously. Eliade had moved not a fraction of an inch but her back was so rigid you could have laid an Elven sword along its length and not passed a hair between it and her robes. So expressionless was Daran’s face she knew how deeply he struggled against his rage.

  Among the wizards Avila stood still but her lips moved, saying something to someone. Ailith saw Jareth’s eyes cut to his Master then look defiantly away.

  “How can we condemn a person for what they may do? Is this the justice we seek from this place? Knowledge, justice, compassion and wisdom, the four pillars, all overseen by the light of reason. Is that what we seek here today? Where compassion? Where reason?”

  Of the others who had spoken, Faran glared futilely but Lilianne’s brow creased.

  Almost, Ailith could sense something pass between her and another.

  “She’s Otherling,” Goras roared.

  Elon turned. “What of it?”

  “They go mad,” Goras shouted, rising to his feet. “All of them. It’s their nature.”

  Although his tone was quiet, yet still Elon’s voice carried. “Is it? How do we know? Ailith has passed her majority, has lived far longer than any other and gives no sign of madness. How do we know?”

  “Is it your risk to take?” Goras demanded. “Do you have the right to ask us to wait to see if she might? We waited with those others and our people died.”

  There was a muttering, a small susurrus from the crowd at her heels.

  “That’s right,” someone called. “Remember the tales…”

  Ailith heard that voice clearly.

  So did others.

  “They all go mad,” someone cried. “It’s their nature.”

  The crowd muttered uneasily.

  His voice rising, Goras said, “There were those among us who cautioned, who pled for mercy. And hundreds died. Children. Mere babes in arms. Our children. Will you risk her among your own?”

  His words cut deep among the Elves. Their children were too few, too precious. To lose one was to lose too many.

  Ailith could see it in their eyes.

  “You don’t know,” Elon said, calmly, in the face of it. “We can’t condemn her for what she might do, only what she has done. Sacrifice everything for this Alliance.”

  “She isn’t one of us,” Faran shouted. “She isn’t one of any race. Not of the race of Man. Nor of Elves or Dwarves. She isn’t of us. She’s Other. She shares no blood of any race, or ties to any. She’s Otherling. Perhaps it was madness, not courage, the first stirrings of madness, that set a dragon where all could see. It had to be madness, or she wouldn’t have done it.”

  Talesin’s words echoed in Elon’s mind, Faran’s that cut at his heart.

  The muttering behind them grew. Faran’s tone had been so reasonable. Like Tolan in that. So reasonable, even in unreason.

  Jareth’s eyes scanned the crowd.

  They grew restive.

  In Jareth’s look Ailith saw something she couldn’t deny, dismay and concern.

  They were echoed in Elon’s eyes as well.

  A voice whispered behind her. “Damn Elves. What right do they have to interfere in the business of men? They think they’re better than we are.”

  Ailith heard it clearly.

  From the dais, came another voice. Unexpected.

  Eliade said, “Tell me, Elon. You have the Sight. What see you of her fate?”

  There was a pause.

  Elon had hoped no one would think to ask. He couldn’t lie, nor evade, it went against his honor. The truth was all that would convince them. But in this case, the truth would not set Ailith free.

  “I can’t See it.”

  That shocked Ail
ith to the core. She hadn’t thought he’d even tried.

  As clearly, it startled the Elves. It had been the one certainty that they’d had, that Elon did what he did from his foresight, not merely his trust.

  “So,” Eliade said, “even you don’t know what she may do. You offer us no surety, nothing from Sight or knowledge.”

  Elon’s blood went cold. Yet he couldn’t in honor answer otherwise.

  “No. Nor more than you. I only know, as all do, what she has done, not what she may do. As do any who have not the Sight.”

  Ailith scanned the faces on the dais and those among the council. There was little welcome there. No friendly faces.

  The growing murmur from among the crowd now sounded vaguely like a growl.

  Perhaps Elon might continue, perhaps he might yet find the words to sway them.

  But at what cost? Behind her she could feel the pulse of the crowd throb. They hadn’t come for this, they had come for something else.

  They hadn’t come for justice, although they told themselves that, but retribution.

  Before her was the Council and she could see Goras’s fury. What would happen to Elon, to Jareth, if this went on? If Goras and his people didn’t get their satisfaction?

  The Alliance would fracture as Daran feared.

  This defense would drive a further wedge between them. One they wouldn’t easily forgive. More so because they felt themselves inferior to their more magical cousins.

  The Dwarves hated her for what she was while the Elves feared her for what she might become.

  The unspoken enmity of Dwarves for Elves would grow.

  If the speaker behind her was any example, the long resentment of men for Elves would also.

  She had become the touchstone for it.

  Among Men, only wizards were born with magic. For Dwarves, as with the Elves, there were ranges but most had very little save for the Lore Masters. Elves were magical in and of themselves. They simply were. It came as naturally to them as breathing, from the lights they used to illuminate the darkness to the breeding of their legendary horses. Their long lives, their strength, their ability to Heal. For some, their beauty as well.

  Envy soured many, both Men and Dwarves alike.

  Neither would be happy with the Elves interfering in what they saw as their affairs. Her resemblance to the race of men would make them see it so.

  Particularly this Elf.

  Old grievances would be resurrected.

  Foresight. She had only a touch of that. A glimmering.

  There would be retribution.

  It chilled her.

  Elon would pay the price. And Jareth.

  No.

  Daran had been right, Elon and Jareth would pay for this.

  She couldn’t allow it, both bond and vow tore at her, ripped her heart to ribbons.

  “Enough,” she said, softly, and then added more strongly. “My Lord High King, you made me an offer.”

  She took a breath and then said the word.

  “Exile.”

  It wasn’t death, although it would be like a death to leave Elon.

  To leave Colath.

  Never to see Jareth or Jalila again.

  To be alone in the borderlands.

  At that one word, so softly spoken, Elon went still.

  He turned.

  The bond thrummed.

  He looked into her eyes, into her brilliant eyes, the color of good steel, and knew both her sorrow and a terrible grief.

  Exile.

  Daran had offered it.

  Exile. Banishment.

  The pain in his heart was sharp. Separated from her again but this time by her own choice.

  No, Ailith.

  But he knew she would.

  For he saw it, too.

  The Alliance shattering. The Kingdoms divided, Elf, Dwarf and Man.

  Startled, stunned by that unexpected betrayal, Jareth spun to stare at her, at Ailith.

  Daran, too, turned to look and Ailith caught the quick glimmer of satisfaction in his gaze. And then it was gone. He’d won.

  All eyes were on him, now, as he stood.

  All except Elon’s. His eyes were on her.

  She saw the pain in them, the heartache to match her own. He knew what it was she did and why she did it.

  Of the others, those on the dais and spread in the wings around? Only a few seemed surprised.

  In that Daran hadn’t lied.

  Not Eliade. Her expression was as serene as any Elf. Goras looked at Daran sharply, suspicious, wary and angry.

  “Exile.”

  One word. It was all Daran said.

  Ailith could see triumph glitter in his gaze.

  How could she say it with Elon watching, with his dark, stern eyes on her?

  She swallowed hard, her throat dry and her heart aching.

  A whisper, “Yes.”

  Behind her a rush of voices swept across the square, that word echoed, passed from one to another. From those that had heard to those who hadn’t or needed to hear it again.

  Those sharp crow’s eyes were fixed on her.

  Daran, High King.

  There was triumph in his look but she cared little. His concerns weren’t hers, save where the Alliance was concerned. He had been right in that. The fractures showed. If this didn’t end, and soon, the Alliance would break. The enemy they’d fought so hard to defeat, the one who had ensorcelled her father and taken her mother’s life, would win and he had laughed that day on the plain.

  Mornith wasn’t truly gone, only the most foolish believed he was. He would return.

  Without the Alliance, the next time they would fall.

  There was, always and also, Elon. He would recover from this, they would see his defense of her as brave, perhaps, an example of his integrity and strong sense of justice.

  Not, however, if this continued.

  He hadn’t made enemies yet but he was very close to it.

  Goras had touched on fears no Elf would want to chance. If Elon – his sense of rightness and fairness violated – continued as he did, he would alienate many and offend others of his own race. Perhaps forever. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, allow them to use her to destroy him. Never.

  Even so, the look on Avila’s face shocked her. She hadn’t wanted this defense. Hadn’t expected it. Furious disappointment and a searing glance of dislike swept over Jareth and Elon. The intensity of that look told Ailith far more than the Master would have wished if she’d known what Ailith saw. She knew now who had begun the whispers.

  Ailith was quick to move her eyes away but she understood now.

  A glimmering of foresight came to her.

  Jareth, standing where Avila was, his face and form tenuous – this moment was the key.

  Avila had her own agenda. She wanted a seat on the Council. Jareth had said so. By preference, she wanted a place on the dais. Not a triumvirate but a quartet. She longed to put wizards on equal footing with the three races, although wizards came from all.

  An equal.

  To accomplish that goal, she had to remove two obstacles. Elon and Jareth. Both were well regarded.

  Jareth might be haphazard in dress and demeanor but not in his compassion, wisdom or skills. There were some who spoke of him as the next Master. Which made him a threat to her.

  As for Elon, his integrity had never been questioned.

  He, however, made no secret of his determination to keep that from happening, his dislike for Avila, for her scheming or ambitions clear. Avila was too arbitrary, too harsh and too quick to take offense and retaliate. There was something else as well, something in her very nature that disturbed him in some way Ailith couldn’t define.

  Avila used this and would continue to use this to their detriment. She manipulated it all to achieve her own ends. To accomplish them, she would sacrifice anyone, destroy anyone, Elon, Jareth or anyone else who stood in her way, no matter the consequence to any or all.

  Elon was the most vulnerable.
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br />   That bond between them, the one that was and the greater one that might someday be, hummed.

  Her heart ached. Elves smiled so rarely and Elon more rarely still but she’d seen it. She’d even made him smile a time or two. She had hoped to do it more, and forever. It wasn’t to be.

  Soul-bond.

  Even without it, she loved him with a fierceness and intensity she nearly couldn’t bear. Although she hadn’t known it then, she’d loved him from the first moment she’d come to him in desperate need and he hadn’t turned her away.

  Even after he had discovered what she was.

  Elon, I’m so sorry, she thought. Would that she could tell him the truth and end the pain and the loneliness he’d borne so long.

  The pain was so great, so great.

  But she couldn’t, not without condemning him to an even worse fate.

  A different tie joined her to Jareth.

  She’d guarded his back and he hers, raised her sword alongside his. They were friends and more than friends. Shield-mates.

  To lose the homely wizard she loved was to lose another friend nearly as true as Colath.

  Behind her, the crowd murmured as Goras rose to his feet to roar in protest and denial, “No!”

  Among those of the Council, a dozen voices spoke in a babble of comment, concern and outrage.

  Over that and the murmuring of the crowd no one could hear what was said between her, Elon and Jareth.

  Most especially what she said to Elon.

  “Please forgive me, please. They meant for this to happen as it has. Avila will use me to destroy you, Elon, to hurt you and harm you and I swore I wouldn’t do that. Remember? I can’t do that, I can’t. They’ll use this to destroy you and Jareth both. The Alliance will fall. Because of me. Everything you struggled to build, all we fought for these long months. I fought for this Alliance, fought for all of it. I won’t be the means of destroying it,” she said. “This can’t go on. It will destroy everything.”

  Looking into her eyes, Elon saw what she knew and accepted, as his own Foresight laid it on him.

  It was true, he couldn’t deny it.