As if reading his mind, a voice from behind said, “It is the ancient home.”
Gulamendis turned and felt a shock close to a physical blow. Tomas, the Warleader of Elvandar, stood behind him wearing a suit of armor, white and gold, but in a style alien and arcane. The golden dragon on his tabard captured the Demon Master’s eyes, and when he finally looked Tomas in the face, he saw something behind his eyes he had not seen before, when in the Queen’s Council. Within this being resided an ancient power, and now he let it show through.
The Demon Master felt himself tremble, albeit slightly, for instincts long-stilled in his people awoke, and he found himself in awe and terror of another being for the first time in his life. Generations of arrogance and a self-aggrandizing certainty of superiority fell away. If his experience with the Demon Legion had given him doubts about his people’s supremacy, one look at this being, this avatar of an ancient power, and he was humbled.
Almost whispering, Gulamendis said, “Ancient One…”
Tomas held up his hand and the Demon Master fell silent. “This demonstration is to cut to the heart of this matter, Gulamendis.”
“Master,” whispered the Taredhel magic-user. Even though he stood nearly six inches taller than Tomas, the Demon Master felt dwarfed in the presence of this icon of the ancient race that ruled over all elves.
Tomas said, “This is the Holy Grove. This is the heart of Elvandar, and the fundamental essence of your race springs from here.”
Gulamendis turned to regard the young trees and then he recognized it. This grove was where the saplings of the great trees the Taredhel called “the Stars,” were tended and nurtured. He had seen the majestic boles of the mature “stars,” but this was the first time he saw them being cultivated. He knew with certainty than when his ancestors fled from this world, this is where they uprooted the Seven Stars to carry them to Andcardia.
“Yes,” said the Demon Master.
“This is where the Edhel began,” said Tomas.
“Yes,” repeated Gulamendis.
“It is a time for plain speaking. Why are you here?”
The Taredhel looked away from Tomas and back to the grove. He said, “I have reasons for what I do, Lord Tomas.” As he spoke, his feeling of being overwhelmed by the presence of the man in ancient armor diminished, though it never fully left. He took a deep breath. “We are fleeing a horde of demons, beings who have swept across every world the Taredhel have taken as their own.” He looked at Tomas. “How many live here?”
Tomas thought a moment and said, “Within the heart of Elvandar, ten thousand and a few more.”
“Throughout the world?”
Tomas said, “We only guess, but the Moredhel to the north likely number more, perhaps as many as twice our numbers, but they are widely scattered and fight among themselves more than they trouble us.”
“Others?”
“Across the sea, perhaps four, five thousand of those we call Ocedhel. Down in Baranor, another thousand and some, most of whom migrated from here.”
“Perhaps thirty thousand among the scattered tribes of the Edhel,” said Gulamendis. He reached out and gripped Tomas’s tabard front as if needing to hang on to something. Hoarse with emotion, he said, “We were millions! We were the Eldar! We were. Acaila’s band were what we were when we left Home, but we made ourselves so much more than you can imagine, Dragon Lord.”
He let go of Tomas’s tabard and turned away, moisture in his eyes as he look around. At last he said, “This is like looking into the past, for me.” He turned, hands outstretched. “We can never be this.” He made a sweeping gesture. “We can never return to living in trees.” His eyes welled up and tears ran down his face. “No matter how beautiful or venerated those trees are. We have become something else.”
Looking directly into Tomas’s eyes, he said, “We will never wander into these woods to ask to be taken in, to have ‘returned,’ as I have heard tell. The Moredhel were the least of us—we call them the Forgotten, for they were those base servants who were permitted to serve us, the Eldar! They envied us, their betters. You remember!”
Tomas nodded. Since he donned the white-and-gold armor of a long-dead Valheru, memories came unbidden over the years, sometimes triggered by circumstances or a word, other times seemingly at random. His memories of the long-dead Ashen-Shugar were not complete, but many of the things said by Gulamendis he knew to be true.
Gulamendis made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “You permitted this, Lord. You and your brethren. This was where the elves arose, to serve the Valheru! Without this, we are nothing.” He turned and again looked directly into Tomas’s eyes, his expression almost defiant. “We took this with us! We uprooted seven saplings from this grove, bound their roots as a mother wraps a child, and we carried them across a bridge to another world.
“The foundation of our history was that journey. Before that”—he again waved at the grove—“may as well be myth, for we arrived on Andcardia with what we carried, seven saplings, a few tools, and our knowledge.
“We planted those seven trees, our Seven Stars, and we built our home around them. First, hovels of wood and animal hide, but we mastered that world, and now our cities make those of any other world look like rude mud huts. We are a prideful race, we of the Seven Stars, Lord, but we have earned that pride.”
Tomas nodded. “I take no issue with who you are, Gulamendis. I need only know your purpose in coming here. If it is not to take refuge from the Demon Horde, what is it?”
“To find a way to save what is left of the Clans of the Seven Stars.”
“Explain,” said Tomas, crossing his arms before him.
“We cannot survive if the Demon Legion follows us to Midkemia. None of us.”
Tomas said nothing, regarding Gulamendis coolly.
“We need you, and the humans and the dwarves. We need anyone who will resist the Demon Legion.”
Tomas said nothing for a long moment, then asked, “Why not simply tell us this when you first came to us?”
“I needed to…” Gulamendis paused, looked completely around the grove, then said, “This calls to me. It’s…powerful. I see you, Valheru, and fear, hate, and a dread all echo through my being. I thought…” He paused, gathered his thoughts, and said, “When my brother and I, and a few others, conceived of our plan, we knew we must quickly find those already on this world, our Home, who would unite with us should the Demon Legion come.
“So you understand clearly, when you remember the days before the time of chaos, when the gods raged across the sky, and the Dragon Lords rose to challenge them, in that time we, the Taredhel…we stood first among your servants.”
Tomas closed his eyes a moment, and then opened them to look at Gulamendis. “The Eldar were our most trusted servants.”
The use of the word “our” was not lost on the Demon Master. He said, “Acaila and his brethren are descendants of librarians. They were stranded on the world…”
“Kelewan,” supplied Tomas.
“Kelewan,” echoed Gulamendis. “One of the Dragon Host abandoned them there. What they achieved was remarkable given their limited resources.
“But we are the true Eldar. We were your housecarls, your ministers, your emissaries when you needed to negotiate with one another, and we were your lovers.”
Tomas again closed his eyes and memories of elven females of astonishing beauty kept near his throne—Ashen-Shugar’s throne—returned to him. He nodded. “Yes, you were first among our slaves.” There was a hard edge to his voice, and he didn’t fully understand why he felt the need to emphasize the elves’ position relative to the Valheru.
Gulamendis’s eyes narrowed and his expression was almost defiant. “We are more than what we were, Tomas,” he whispered and his tone was full of menace. “I have no doubt you could cut me down with your golden sword before I could take a step. I will not contest that, but should you face a dozen of us in the field, you would be challenged. And we number in the thousa
nds.”
“A threat?”
“No, a warning, perhaps not even that; let’s call it a courtesy. We do not come to you as lesser beings. We come to you as equals.” He looked back at the grove and said, “We venerated those who had the responsibility for these groves. They were the most fundamental of us, those closest to the soil of this world and the very life-giving things nature offered.
“But they were gardeners. Your Queen’s ancestors were gardeners, nothing more.”
Tomas said nothing for a moment, now fully understanding. “You view them as your inferiors.”
“They are rustics. They are farmers and hunters and fishers of the sea, nothing more. Those are honorable crafts, but they are not who we were or have become.
“We are the scholars, the academics, the explorers, the crafters of devices and weapons.” He pointed to Tomas’s chest. “That armor, that sword, my ancestors crafted it for you. The devices that let you fly to other worlds, they were our invention.
“How do you think we were able to flee during the time of madness and find safe haven on Andcardia? We were the builders of the translocation portals and we were the ones who took the tools and tomes, scrolls and books. We were forced to contrive the means to do by arts what you did through hereditary magic. It was the dragons who could carry you across the void to other worlds not your own. We bowed to your might, because we could not command dragons to carry us, but we found ways to achieve what you achieved, and we did it without you!” He looked back again at the grove. His voice softened. “And we took from here that which reminded us of our beginning.
“But we are not who we once were, and we have returned here out of need. But we will take what is ours, without asking your leave.”
“You present a troubling attitude, Gulamendis, if it is shared by all of your people.”
With a wry smile, the Demon Master said, “I am moderate in my view. The Regent Lord will look upon your wife as a threat.”
Tomas’s eyes narrowed as anger rose up, and he said, “You do your cause little good. Let any threaten my Queen and they will know the extent of my power, Gulamendis.”
“I am not a threat. But you should know there are others among my people who will see you as one.
“We thought it would be fairly simple. We assumed the elves remaining on this world would be in ascendance, as we have been for thousands of years, and that any other races we might choose to deal with would be an afterthought. Then my brother spent months exploring this land.”
Tomas said, “It was your brother then who was seen in the valley north of Dolgan’s holdings?”
“He was seen?”
“Humans number some gifted trackers and your brother was not adept at hiding his passage. A Ranger of Natal came across his spoor and was curious as to why there were tracks and yet he could not recall who made them moments after seeing your brother. So he followed and when your brother established a rift—”
“Rift?” said Gulamendis.
“His way home.”
“We call it a portal,” said the Demon Master.
“Ah,” said Tomas. “That is when your brother revealed himself. He was closest to King Dolgan’s village, and from there came to see my Queen. You can imagine the concern at the appearance of an elf unlike any encountered in the memory of any elf or dwarf.”
At the mention of Dolgan, Gulamendis’s features darkened. “We’ve had issues with the dwarves in the past, and they have never come to an easy conclusion.”
Tomas’s eyes narrowed. “Dolgan is among my oldest friends, a dwarf of gentle heart and iron resolve. I have placed my life in his trust on more than one occasion and he has proven stalwart. I trust him as I trust few others.”
Gulamendis inclined his head slightly as if to say it was of no serious concern.
Tomas said, “So then, to the heart of it. Why have you come here?”
“To seek an alliance should the demons come, and to help you understand that while you and your lady command respect, that is all; obedience will not be offered. We are no other race’s thrall.”
It was Tomas’s turn to indicate by a small gesture that this was not important. “Your ancestors fled this world before the one whose armor I wore took to the skies to tell all below that they were now a free people.
“We seek dominion over no one. The Moredhel to the north have declared us enemy, from time before remembering, and for reasons lost in antiquity, so we defend ourselves when they venture south, but those among them who choose to return to their ancestral home are welcome. Many among us spent their youth in the north. We welcomed the Ocedhel from across the sea, yet many remain in that land, unwilling to join us. We have no issue with them. And when we discovered the Anoredhel endured to the south, we also claimed no sovereignty over them.”
“The Sun People?” asked Gulamendis. “I have not heard of these.”
“The protectors of the Quor and Sven’ga-ri.”
Again, a questioning look. “I should know these names, but I do not.”
“A matter for another time,” said Tomas. “Very well, your position is clear. You seek our help but do not wish to serve. As we have no wish for your service, we are in accord.” His expression was reinforced in his next utterance: “But any attempt by your Clan of the Seven Stars to assume dominion over others of our people will be thwarted.
“Not only will I draw a sword, I have allies who will answer my call.”
“Dwarves? Humans?”
“Stout warriors and powerful sorcerers, Gulamendis. Do not let your past history blind you to this fact; they are your equal in many ways,”—he thought of Pug—“and some will prove your better.
“Consider this a caution. Midkemia may be your ancestral home, but it is home to many others, descendants of those who came here during the Chaos Wars, and their claim is perhaps even more enduring than yours. Your ancestors left, while theirs stayed.”
“We understand one another. Any differences between our people must be put aside until after the Demon Legion has been dealt with.”
“And keep in mind we will not trouble you so long as you do not trouble us, but should the day come when we are opposed, I will be without pity.” His expression left no doubt in Gulamendis’s mind it wasn’t an idle threat. “Is there anything else?”
The Demon Master said, “I and some others understand this world will be different than what we might wish it to be. But the Regent Lord, and those priests, magicians, and soldiers who make up the Regent’s Meet, they will not so easily come to understand that accommodations must be reached. Were you to bring them here, as you had me come, they would see this as a challenge, a threat, one to be answered and swiftly.
“The Clans of the Seven Stars cannot endure here unless we make changes and come to different accommodations with the other races on this world. We need a change in leadership to achieve that goal.”
“Treason,” said Tomas.
“Reason,” said Gulamendis. “The strength of our race is also a weakness, for we have never been vanquished until we met the demons. It is inconceivable to us that another mortal race might be our equal, let alone our superior.
“It would be better for all of us if we had a different perspective when the time came for us to aid one another.” He looked one more time at the grove. “We must return here and take what lessons we have forgotten, Tomas.” He then looked at Tomas and said, “Just as some of your people must come and learn from us. Only that way can conflict be avoided.”
“That sounds promising,” said Tomas. “Little else of what you said does.”
“I understand.”
“Come,” said Tomas, “we must travel.”
“Where?”
“There are others you must meet, humans, who are my friends, and, more important, who hold the safety of this world paramount. Perhaps after you’ve met Pug and his associates you’ll rethink your feelings of superiority.”
Gulamendis looked dubious but said nothing.
> Tomas closed his eyes and spoke softly, but the words were powerful and Gulamendis felt magic forming. For nearly five minutes they stood motionless, then the sound of gigantic wings came and a shadow passed over them. Gulamendis looked up and if his first sight of Tomas had visited a shock upon him, what he beheld now nearly forced him to his knees in awe and terror.
A great golden dragon hovered above, lazy beats of its wings keeping it aloft. In some speech only Tomas could understand it seemed to question the human-turned-Dragon-Lord, and Tomas spoke aloud in the same language.
“He’s agreed to carry us.”
“Carry us?” said the Demon Master.
As gently as a falling feather, the dragon touched down before them, lowering his head until it rested on the ground. “Come,” said Tomas, walking over to a portion of the neck where he could climb aboard. “Sit behind me and behold more of this world you call Home.”
Gulamendis was mute. He could barely nod and it took all his resolve to meekly follow Tomas and climb aboard the dragon behind him.
CHAPTER 15
PLOTTING
Sandreena awoke.
Before she was fully conscious she had her hand reaching for the haft of her mace and was about to attack whoever was standing above her. A strong hand grabbed her wrist and prevented her from finding her weapon, and she found herself too weak to break that grasp. A voice spoke softly: “Now, none of that. You’re safe.”
She blinked and realized there was no mace next to her. It had been taken by the…whoever those Black Caps were. She had a sword, but now it was gone. She blinked again, trying to focus her eyes and remember where she was.
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