The Coming Storm

by Valerie Douglas

  When he judged it safe, he turned them west and set Aranath to speed with a care for Katar’s shorter legs.

  There was no need. Katar kept pace easily.

  For the horses of men such a journey at such speed would be perilous. It held no danger for Dorovan. When he was close to the castle again, he slowed to scout the trail.

  Once he’d been a Hunter and a Woodsman and he hadn’t forgotten his skills. Cutting trail was the simplest of them. So many men would leave a clear one.

  He hadn’t expected so one so straight. He’d thought they might make an effort to conceal it but they hadn’t. It was so clear he had to wonder if it was true but there was no doubt these riders came from the now-distant city at the right place and the right time. They rode as Guards did, some fore and aft, the others to each side with one solitary rider in the center. Still, he doubted and hoped he didn’t follow the wrong trail.

  It was past dawn before he caught sight of them and his doubts were cleared. They were still quite distant but he could see them clearly on the far side of the valley. They were still riding in formation. Eight riders and another, solitary, in the center. He didn’t need to see that one any more clearly, his heart and his blood knew her.

  He glanced upward but no hawk winged in the sky. It was early yet in the city behind him and they’d been passing through woods. Still, he kept a wary eye on the trees and sky and his senses open to the presence of magic. He should know if it was at work.

  The cool forests were behind them. This was high desert, barren and desolate, dusty, dry and sere. Around them rose-colored slabs of stone thrust out of the earth or had been cast down from the escarpments above them. It was hot but the air was thin and growing cool. Here little grew between the rough blocks of red and yellow stone except the sparse grasses and small shrubs. It was a forbidding place. The hot sun beat down upon Ailith’s shoulders, pressed like a weight. In her heart, through the bonds, Elon’s pain, Colath’s, and her own beat steadily.

  Ailith rode in silence. There was no point in speaking. The Leader of the Guard had made that clear before they mounted. He’d spoken to her once.

  He pointed to a pin on his collar. “This is all I’ll say. It’s spelled against magic, as am I. By Avila herself. We won’t speak to you except to give you instructions. If you speak to us we won’t answer. That was a condition of this service. Not one of us refused. You have no friends here.”

  Handing her some travel bread and a skin of water, he’d mounted his horse. With no other comment, they rode out.

  Abruptly, they now stopped. To break? She didn’t know. They’d been true to his words, they didn’t speak to her except to say go there or do this. When she’d needed to relieve herself, they gave no sign she’d been heard. Only when she stepped behind some bushes without comment did she know she had permission.

  Now they were here, wherever here was.

  “Get down,” the Leader said.

  She got down. What else could she do? She had thought once or twice of using magic but there was no point. Even less so now.

  He took the reins of her horse and set spurs to his own.

  “What, you won’t even leave me even a horse?” she called after them in despair.

  No head turned.

  They abandoned her to disappear down among the tumbled slabs of stone.

  Far above, a hawk turned lazily in the sky, circling, circling. There was no other sign of life. Otherwise, all was still and silent, with only the faint whisper of sand on stone. Already she was thirsty. She shook the skin of water she’d taken as she’d dismounted, thinking it this was only a brief stop. Not much there. She’d been sparing with it but they hadn’t given her much.

  There was little shelter except beneath the stones that tilted precariously against each other. Searching her memory for all the tales she’d heard and read, she could remember little of lands like these. It seemed to be a place for basilisks, salamanders and mandrakes. She sighed. She’d had enough of those. Above her she heard the faint and distant cry of a hawk. She looked up even as it winged away.

  Kneeling, she placed a hand in the dirt and dust, every sense alert to the slightest change in sound. Nothing. Of the creatures who lived in such a place? She didn’t know. Where to go? Which way to turn?

  For a moment the urge to weep was nearly overwhelming, that she couldn’t mattered little but she knew that in this harsh place she couldn’t chance the noise or give in to it. The pain of it would shatter her resolve to survive. It was as well she couldn’t. Still, if she gave in to that wrenching, terrible pain, she would be vulnerable and revealed. The things that lived here might know by it that she was quarry and prey, weak. She fought with it and then mastered it.

  The effort left her shaken and still uncertain.

  Pulling out a small piece of travel bread she’d stuffed in her pocket, she nibbled on the hard biscuit against the pain in her belly.

  A presence. She sensed it.

  To her astonishment it was a familiar presence, a familiar light in her mind and a familiar sound. The scrape of hoof on stone. She knew that presence but couldn’t believe it. Dared not.

  Nearby was a rock tilted so as to provide a little shade but not the deep shadows between the rocks. Those she mistrusted. If she was a creature of this place, those would be an excellent place to hide. Settling into the shade, she resigned herself to wait.

  The rider was concentrating on the trail, which was wise and then he sensed her. He raised his head.

  A familiar face, one she’d thought never to see again.

  “Ala, Ailith.”

  Their eyes met and her heart lifted a little. But still…

  “Ala, Dorovan. You shouldn’t be here,” she said.

  He bestowed on her one of his rare Elven smiles and her heart lightened even more.

  “Well I know it,” he said, lightly, in his own tongue.

  A thousand words had gone through his mind, all manner of things he might say to her. In the end, though, he thought these and the tone in which he spoke them were the best. Rarely did Elves speak of deep emotions, as he had to Elon and the others. It pained too greatly for those who couldn’t shed tears. It was best to speak lightly, to not deepen the wound.

  She shook her head and answered him in Elvish. “You shouldn’t be here. You risk too much.”

  The thought of him leaving again, of being alone again…

  It was foolish to feel so lost.

  Her words were light on Dorovan’s ears. It pleased him that she spoke the Elven tongue so well.

  “Be light, young Ailith. I’ve had a care for my journey here.”

  He glanced upwards, scanning the sky for watchers. He’d seen the hawk earlier and sought cover until it left. He dared not stay long, this wasn’t a good place for their people. Some of the creatures here would find a lone Elf a tasty morsel. That would do Ailith no good and cause her unnecessary grief. She’d enough of that. It was enough that she herself was in such danger.

  “No one knows I’ve come and I can’t stay long else be missed.”

  A moment of piercing pain, at the thought of leaving her in such a place, alone and friendless. He’d known he might feel such but not the depth of it. He was an Elf, though and the master of his emotions. He put it aside.

  He saw her at a loss for words and filled the silence. “I came to let you know you have friends still and they’ve sent you gifts.”

  His words made no sense. Bewildered, Ailith simply stared at him.

  Sliding off Aranath, he walked forward, her reins in hand Katar trailing him.

  “From Elon,” he said, gently. “A gift he meant to give you in better times.”

  Elon.

  That nearly broke her. Her heart wrenched. She looked from Dorovan to the horse. It lowered its head to nudge her knee and offer its nose to her. Tentatively, she reached out to stroke that silken softness.

  “For all he doesn’t look it,” Dorovan continued, “he’s Elven-bred. Elon chose hi
m for you. His name is Katar.”

  Her breath caught and then she laughed. Elon. He would have known it would make her laugh.

  “Katar. How fitting.”

  That laugh eased Dorovan’s own sore heart. He smiled again. “He said you would like it.”

  “Yes,” she said, softly. “We’re alike then. Both of us accidents of birth.”

  That pierced him. “Ah, Ailith, I’m sorry. This wasn’t my intention.”

  Her eyes came up to his sharply as a doubt and wonder were answered.

  “You knew?” he asked, surprised.

  A twitch of her mouth.

  Taking a deep breath, she said, “I guessed. It’s not the same as knowing. And therefore, not exactly a lie.”

  “How long?” he said, remembering that moment in the square, not knowing himself.

  That secret had been kept for so long. It had been a long moment. If she knew and was forced to speak…

  Giving him a level look, her tone was gentle. “As I said, I guessed. Which isn’t the same as knowing. I wouldn’t give them you as well, Dorovan.”

  It shook him. To have come so close to disaster. However, she’d found the exception and outwitted the question. She was quick, no doubt of that, but he’d always known that. He was sorry he hadn’t known her sooner for her blood. His blood. He should have, it was in her hands, the ones held her swords.

  “It’s good to know, though,” she said, softly.

  “I would have claimed you if I’d known.”

  “And name me Otherling?”

  “So many secrets,” he said.

  “All wrapped one within another. I only found out what I was by accident, a chance overhearing of something my father said.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Dorovan asked, finally. The question had worked on him. “I knew you were troubled.”

  She sighed. “When you last visited I had only suspicions. He was my father. The changes were small, my fears vague. I didn’t know. I could put no name to it and didn’t know my magic was warning me somehow. I didn’t know my magic well enough. I suspect I’m about to learn it better.”

  Experience was a harsh teacher, she allowed for few mistakes.

  Looking about him, Dorovan despaired. She would or die. Either way, he would know. She was his.

  “Learn quickly, little one. This isn’t a place for those of our blood.”

  How could he leave her here in this place? Yet, he must.

  “Do you know what this place is?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve been wracking my memories but I can’t call it to mind.”

  “The Escarpment. There are few places within the borderlands that are more dangerous to those of our kind than this. The Crown to the north, whence the goblins come. A few others. This place, though? Our race comes here rarely and for reason. The creatures here have a taste for magic and those who bear it. Particularly our people. It’s a place of salamanders and mandrakes and one creature we have no name for. It has a sense for us.”

  This, more than anything, spoke of their desire for her blood. They’d meant her to die here. It was nothing short of murder. Sanctioned by the Council but murder nonetheless. Did Eliade know of it? How could they with any honor have done this? It escaped him.

  “Be wary. Sleep with stone at your back and each side. Sleep during the day if you can, at night they roam. They are sly but not terribly clever. Nevertheless, don’t underestimate them. Get as far from this place as soon as you can. Katar will help you there, he has a good long pace, swift and sure. Here is a cloak, a good Hunters cloak, a gift from Colath. From Jareth, a travel pack. I’ve added water and some travel bread. I’ll forage on my return, so I won’t miss them. Ailith…”

  Taking the cloak, she held it to her face. The faint scent of Colath came to her from it. Her bond with him pained her as well.

  Jareth. The travel pack. He’d never been able to find a good place for his blankets. Once she’d had to share with Jalila, not that she’d minded.

  She sighed. “I know.”

  Taking a breath, Dorovan restored calm again. “Don’t think to return the way you came to escape this place. Your guard waits there with bows strung. The smell of magic is strong around them. They gave no sign they sensed me there but I suspect someone has spelled them against you.”

  “Avila,” Ailith said, shortly. “They didn’t tell me so much but they did tell me they were warded against me.”

  “I know you’ve spent time with the Hunters and Woodsmen. The spells though…”

  Her eyes grew distant.

  “I suspect there might be more to it even than that but it’s enough,” she said, softly. “You should go while you have the chance. The sun lowers.”

  Looking up, he saw it was true. He let out a breath.

  He looked at her, at eyes like blued steel and so like her grandmother’s. Delae. His heart ached. He looked at soft curls so unlike the straight locks of their own people. Her father’s legacy, like her height. The small stature of the Dwarven women. The grace and strength of his people, the stamina of her father’s. They would stand her in good stead, he hoped. She was his blood. Elves weren’t much for touching, which was reserved for only the most intimate contacts but also between close blood relatives.

  Reaching out, he touched her face, then leaned forward to press his lips to her brow.

  If only he’d known…

  Ailith closed her eyes, grateful for the gesture. She soaked up the contact as a flower would soak up moisture. It might be the last she would know for a very long time. As much as it pained her, it warmed her as well.

  Reluctantly, Dorovan turned to go. He’d known it would be hard, had tried to prepare himself but no amount of preparation could have steeled him to this. How could he leave her here?

  As much as Ailith wanted to beg him to stay, she also wanted him gone and safe. She saw the hesitation.

  “Go, Dorovan. This isn’t your exile. You did nothing wrong. It’s my punishment.”

  “For my misdeed.”

  “Yes? Did you plan it? I know there were times when I looked into Delae’s eyes, the eyes of my grandmother, and I would see them soften as her heart lightened. I knew she thought then of you. My mother told me tales of the man who raised her, the one she thought of as her father. From all she told me it wouldn’t have taken enchantment to make him a villain. He already was one. My grandmother didn’t choose that marriage. That’s not that uncommon among Men. You gave her heart ease. It wasn’t wrong to do that. I can find no fault with it. The circumstances of my birth were an accident and no fault of any, really. No one could foresee this. Not you, not even Elon.”

  That reminded him, with a shock. Reaching up to his cloak, Dorovan undid the charm and held it in his hand a moment.

  He shook his head. “Elon. He gave me this to give to you. It’s madness but he did it anyway.”

  He handed it to her.

  Looking at the charm, the pain was like a knife to her heart. She knew what it was, Jareth had one, she’d seen it on his cloak. Elon shouldn’t have sent it. If someone found it on her? Yet she knew why he’d had. It nearly broke her heart.

  “He said to tell you to use it if you have need. You may not ask for aid but it can be offered. Yes, it’s mad but I can’t fault him for doing it.”

  It was a gold cloak pin in the shape of a flower called Heart of the Sun for its color and many petals. She held it in her hand, closed her fingers around it.

  “I know. Dorovan…”

  He looked at her, seeing the pain and sorrow in her eyes.

  “I will. I’ll tell him.”

  Ailith’s throat tightened.

  “You must go back,” she said, after a difficult moment. Her mind raced. “Daran has said he values Elon but I know he values the Alliance more. Avila values neither but her own ambitions. She seeks to destroy him if she can and Jareth as well. If you brought these they’ll know you were last there. Your absence won’t go unremarked. Suspicions will be
raised if you don’t return.”

  “I know,” Dorovan said and there was anguish was in his voice, though not his face.

  He was Elven, he couldn’t let it show.

  “Then go.”

  Ailith spoke softly, her own sorrow, fear and grief wrapped tightly around her heart.

  Quickly, before he could think again, he swung himself into the saddle.

  “You made me proud,” he said, quickly. “You have as much honor and courage as any Elf could ask.”

  Then he was gone.

  Katar stood. His many colored mane and tail blew in the sere breeze.

  “Well, horse,” she said, softly. “Katar. Sport. We’re both that, aren’t we?”

  One pale eye, then one dark eye looked at her.

  “I’ve no one else to speak to, you’re my only witness. So I’ll talk to you. We understand each other, don’t we? And you won’t tell, will you?”

  Katar tossed his head whether over the close hold she had on his reins or in agreement she didn’t know.

  “We’ll be good friends you and I,” she said, looking around at the barren wilderness. “We’ll keep each other safe.”

  Elon’s gift. All she had of him. Yes, she would keep Katar safe.

  It struck her then, all that had transpired, all the pain and fear. The isolation. Exile. Banishment. The pain would have put her on her knees were it not for Katar and her hold on his bridle and saddle. He didn’t move while she muffled her sorrow in his neck. She couldn’t bear it and couldn’t risk that it might be heard.

  More, that Elon and Colath might sense it through the bond. It was cruel enough to them now. Elon, Colath, Jareth, Jalila, Dorovan. They counted on her to survive and somehow she would. Not this way. She was Elven and Dwarven and of the race of Men. She must not. She wouldn’t survive long if she gave in to this emotion, to this weakness. She was vulnerable here. The sky was darkening. She had to go.