Dockalfar (53 page)

“We will move quickly,” Ashara said sternly. “And the hunt will not follow on our trail. They will be quite occupied with this keep. As to what we move towards. We go to a place far safer than this one ever was. The Vale of Vohar.”

There were not even any immediate gasps of surprise. Her most trusted merely stared at her in shock. Gradually her announcement sunk in. The explosion came soon after.

“By the Four, Ashara!” Mendalah exclaimed. “You intend to send us from one death trap into another. You have lost your mind.”

Half of them echoed Mendalah. Half of them looked at Ashara as if they did doubt her ability to lead them. Okar could stand it no longer. He stepped to her side angrily, glaring at the bunch of them.

“What choice do we have? Should we hold out in this keep while the enemy lays siege to it? Will we allow ourselves to be starved out? What one of you thinks these walls will hold up against attack? This is not a fortress! It was never meant to be. And Vohar is a Seelie place. It will welcome us more than Azeral and his.”

“You’ve no more sense than to side with her,” Mendalah accused. “Vohar is a place of ghosts, and ghostly runes that no one in living memory has tried to pass. It will welcome us no more than Azeral.”

“The operative word, Lady,” Ashara said quietly. “Is ‘tried’. No one has tried. Neira’sha knows its runes. She knew the last of the last of those who lived in that vale.”

“She never lived there! She is on the brink of void herself this very moment. What if she never comes back to us, Ashara? Then even your slim hope will be for naught.”

“What might you suggest, lady?”

Mendalah gazed at her. There was nothing on her face but honest worry. Fear for what lay at their gates and what Ashara suggested they do to avoid it. No more fear that Okar felt himself. But badly voiced before the council. It did nothing but compound their nervousness and belittle Ashara in their eyes. Finally she said.

“I know not, Lady. I know not. But I fear in your desperation you lead us astray.”

“I pray not,” Ashara whispered, barely heard. “For at this moment, I can think of little else to do.”

~~~

A great shield went up about the white keep. It started at the inner gardens and circled the Seelie court. It was magical in nature and the result of a dozen powerful sidhe working in concert to enforce the older wards that protected the keep. It was built layer by layer throughout the long night. Thickened to an almost visible shimmer when the morning’s mist floated down upon it. It was most certainly strong enough to hold back a hundred ogre and goblin troops.

One did not expect it to hold the combined force of the great hunt for any prolonged amount of time. It might be hoped that it would hold their attention though.

One place did the shield thin and repeatedly flicker into non existence. A tiny area to the extreme east, off the regular paths of egress gaped to admit refugees into the forest. Scouts went first, marking a path free of lurking enemy. They covered themselves in illusions of nature.

Fluttering birds, scurrying squirrels and rabbits. The rustling of the wind through the trees. An ogre looking straight at them would have seen nothing more than a frightened animal. A sidhe would have no reason to scry through the illusion, no reason to look further than the rabbit unless otherwise warned.

When the children came, in the company of more scouts and some of the elders, the illusion was strengthened.

Others followed. The women that worked in the kitchens, the few bendithy that dwelled in Ashara’s keep. The lesser sidhe who found her court more to their liking than their own communities. Those who had no strength for fighting or magic.

The weak. The injured. They took little with them. Hastily gathered food. What weapons that could easily carry on their persons and pack on their horses. Few small treasures that might easily fit in a pocket or a pack, that could not be borne left behind for the benefit of their enemies.

And anger and fear. That traveled with them aplenty.

They trickled out under the disguise of well-crafted illusion. And to the north and west, the enemy pounded at the too thin walls of their home’s last barrier of protection. And those that held that barrier stayed to keep it up long enough to involve the Unseelie court well and truly in its destruction.

At the edge of morning the ragged line of over a hundred sidhe, young and old, and various others of their keep crossed the invisible boundary where Neira’sha’s grove ended and the Eastern forest began. The trees were older, and the wood rougher, lacking the taming touch of sidhe magic. The path was cut by hand, for they feared to use magic and alert their enemy to the silent escape.

Those afoot had an easier time than the mounted. The horses had to be eventually led through vine-encrusted pathways barely wide enough to admit a man.

And the smell of Lake Mirikii was strong in the air. The greatest body of water within the land bound continent that was their home. It sat in the midst of the nameless Eastern Forest like a sparkling jewel of mist-shrouded mystery. Things lived in the lake that the sidhe knew, and things lived there that they did not. Had never known and probably never would.

Skirting about its shores was possible, but promised harsh travel through the unfriendly wood. Land travel would also take time. Time enough for Azeral to break the shields and discover the duplicity. The hunt traveled fleetingly in the worst of terrain. Over land the Seelies were no match for them.

Over water – that was another matter.

No magic could spy them there. No hunt could follow them without the aid of those that dwelled within the lake. And Ashara had a treaty of sorts with her closest neighbors. A means to cross the water safely and quickly and reach the forest on the other side and the vale that nestled silently within it.

With evening, the first of the scouts broke through the veil of tangled limbs and vines and beheld the vast expanse of the great lake. Mist hung heavily over it, swirling with shapes and figures that might have been imaginary…might have been real. The sound of gently lapping water overshadowed even the song of crickets and frogs. It permeated everything. The water, in the evening light, was almost black. Fading into the fog it might have continued forever.

The slope down to the sandy shore was steep and tangled with roots breaking out of the earth and twisting vainly towards the water. Okar navigated a path down the embankment, followed by the shadowy form of his brother. The scouts and the gathering crowd of the others peered down from above, shielded by the arms of the wood.

Alkar caught his brother’s arm when they stood on the shore, boots sinking into the soft, sandy ground. He leaned close, where none could hear him but his sibling.

“Are you certain this is wise? We’ve no control over the creatures of water.”

Okar stared out into the fog. “I am aware,” he mumbled, concentrating on discerning forms in the mist over his brother’s unease.

“Water things are cruel,” Alkar warned, eyeing the lapping water at his feet with mistrust.

“They have their own ways,” Okar differed.

“Ways that include the drowning of land dwellers.”

“There are allies here,” Okar said calmly.

“Ashara’s allies and she is not here.”

That got Okar’s attention. Blue eyes snapped to green with pent up irritation.

He knew very well Ashara was not with them. It had been with much protest and finally threat on her part that he was here now instead of at the keep holding the shield together long enough to allow them time for escape.

“Silence,” he hissed and Alkar’s lips tightened. But he kept his fears and his tongue quiet. He crossed his arms and held his ground as his brother took a step forward, until his toes touched the furthest creeping wave. He crouched and placed a hand under the cool water, fingers sinking into sandy silt. He could barely see his hand even through such a shallow depth.

There was no sight of the bottom. It might have plunged to Annwn a foot past where he crouched for all he knew. Alkar’s fears were not singly felt. Okar feared this course to the depth of his being, but there was little choice. Ashara trusted some of the denizens of this lake. He could do little more than support her beliefs. If he drowned in the process, so be it. But he trembled inside at the thought of a watery grave nonetheless.

There was a disturbance in the rhythmic lapping of water. Something broke the hypnotic melody. His magic extended out over the water with difficulty. He was afraid to try to hard to see what was out there. Water creatures took offense easily. And their good will was desperately needed.

After a moment he needed no spell to clarify the sounds. A dark shape skimmed across the water a dozen feet out. A round black lump that slowly drifted across from him. Another shape joined it. And another.

Soon there were almost a dozen of the bobbing forms. Behind him Alkar made a sound of surprise and Okar could sense him laying hands on weapons. Mentally he sent a sharp warning and knew his brother reluctantly relaxed his stance.

After an interval of silence with only the water sounds to break the tension, the first of the forms rose up out of the water.

The evening light shone through the mist to reveal the form of a white-skinned woman. Ladies of the lake. Water nymphs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A silence had come over the keep.

Dusk felt it through the walls of stone he was trapped within. All the presences that filled a place and gave it life had fled. His senses told him that. Occasionally the walls shook and he would stop in his pacing, knowing intrinsically that something momentous took place without.

But not what. His magic ability was nonexistent. He had no skill to let his senses roam outside of this room. No talent for searching the minds of others.

Intuition had always served him just as well. It told him now that this keep was falling. And it told him that despite the suggestion of battle, the Seelies were long fled and Victoria with them and he was left in this place for the victors to find.

He gathered his weapons and carefully placed them about his person.

He drew up his cowl. A comfortable routine when his nerves were close to shattering.

He should have killed the girl. The thought occurred to him and his laughter crowded out the silence of the room. The gulun looked up at him from its nest in Victoria’s bed. Kill the girl and none of this might have happened. Kill Victoria.

He could not picture how he might have done it, although his body would have known the best course if he had so chosen.

He thought of her dead on this floor and shivered. Better that she had let her Seelie comrades kill him. Azeral might not have noticed and let his soul slip away. Dusk thought it might work that way. He was in no wise certain of the complexities of possessing another’s soul. He had not even the experience of possessing his own.

His body shifted reflexively as the keep shook around him. It was a violent strike. The worse yet. Slowly it subsided and the air turned dead. The very walls seemed to bleed energy and grow cold.

The gulun kit whined and lowered its head.

It was over, he thought. The defenders had lost. He backed to the wall next to Victoria’s bed and slowly slid down to the floor. There was nothing left to do but wait.

~~~

The gardens were trampled under the stampede of ogre feet. The green grasses and delicate cultured flowers were ground into mud and dirt, the sculptured trees broken and smashed, the pathways violently broadened as fringing hedges were toppled. The ogres and the goblins swarmed the keep first, gleefully invading pristine hallways and passages. They destroyed as they went, leaving a blackened, war-torn landscape behind them. They were disappointed in finding no living victims to vent their rage on.

Gardens and stone cried out not at all at their destruction.

They found no sidhe. No single one.

They ravaged the kitchens and pantries and looted to their heart’s content, but that which their master desired was no where to be found.

The captain of Azeral’s ogre guard lumbered afoot to the approaching company of his master’s hunt. Zakknr shuffled from foot to foot, waiting for Azeral to acknowledge him. The Unseelie lord’s attention was fully fixed on the white keep he had taken. His blue eyes glimmered. One could not ignore an ogre for long, though, especially when an ogre’s head reached almost one’s own when the ogre was not even mounted.

Azeral looked down to Zakknr with a single arched brow.

The ogre did not mince words.

“Gone. All gone. Nothing living in keep.”

Azeral nodded. His expression did not alter. “Fine. Secure it. Get your troops out and camp them on the grounds.” He turned to the sidhe behind him.

“Send out scouts ahorse. They cannot be far gone. I want them found.”

He urged his mount forward, brushing past Zakknr. The hunt followed. What they did was of no concern to the ogre. He had been given his instructions. With a bellow that likely traveled out of the forest altogether, he begin to organize his command.

Azeral traveled into the keep that Ashara had made. Its every line spoke of her. It spoke of Seelie docility and standards. It had been pure and unadulterated, but his forces had taken care of that. The scar of ogre boots marred the white marble floors. Goblin urine colored the fountains and ponds. He searched the keep with his own magic and found Zakknr’s proclamation to be true.

Nothing lived in this keep. He searched the surrounding wood and found no trace.

Illusion. It would take a more thorough search to uncover their trail. He would find it.

A crash and a chorus of chattering laughter drew his attention. A pair of goblins was busy pulling down a gold embroidered tapestry from a far wall.

Their claws had already rent great slashes down its lower half. It was a lovely work.

The artist had rendered his subject well.

A lovely sidhe woman sitting under a sweeping willow. Strands of pure gold had been woven into her hair, making it glitter with reddish highlights. Her eyes seemed to look right at him.