Magician’s End (30 page)

The two Star Elves, the conjurer and the demon master, nodded greeting to the young woman. Tomas said to the assembled elves in the queen’s court, ‘We have much to discuss, but our newest guest is tired. We shall convene again after sundown for a meal and discussion.’ To the two visiting elves from E’bar, he said, ‘We would welcome your views on the news Lady Bethany has brought.’ They both inclined their heads in acknowledgment, and Tomas looked at Calin who nodded to him. ‘The war council will meet now.’

The elves who had been observing Lady Bethany as she had recounted her visit to E’bar began drifting away. Marriann said, ‘Come. Rest with us and we’ll return after sundown.’

Queen Aglaranna nodded. ‘Please, I know word from home will be welcome to the others from Crydee.’

Bethany was quickly escorted along with the two older women from the Far Coast down a series of circular stairs cut into the sides of boles, and once on the ground to the northern part of the great clearing. There they found a tidy camp where a series of quarters had been constructed using curtains suspended from wooden rods held aloft by stout wooden standards.

‘Not much privacy,’ said Duchess Caralin, ‘but they have been very kind.’

The refugees from Crydee gathered in greeting and Bethany saw they all had been well cared for, their injuries healed, and that they were well fed, clean and rested. A hundred questions were thrown at her until the duchess said, ‘Give the girl a moment. Let her get clean and then we’ll all sit and chat.’

Bethany was shown to the shower, which was a clever series of tanks with sun-warmed water high above that fed into a hollow wooden pipe and ended in a flat tray punctured by many holes. She was provided with a jar of apple-scented cream and soon her hair was as clean as it had been in weeks, months perhaps, and her body was free of every speck of dirt she had collected along the way. After drying herself with a wonderfully luxurious cotton towel, she found a lovely simple blue dress waiting for her, with plain but comfortable sandals.

Her mother said, ‘We’ll make sure your travel clothing is cleaned, dear. I expect you’ll be needing to run off soon and go somewhere else dangerous.’

Bethany smiled. Her mother never appreciated her love for hunting, tracking, and fishing as her father had; she preferred that Bethany endure the quiet ‘ladies’ arts’ of music, dance, needlepoint, cooking, and ‘more refined’ pastimes. She smiled. ‘We’ll all be leaving together, Mother.’

An impromptu reception was waiting for her. She indulged herself with some fresh food, knowing full well that supper with the queen and her court was just a short two hours or so ahead. The brothers from Ylith appeared, both far cleaner and more rested than she had ever seen them. They seemed to enjoy their momentary celebrity as people plied them with questions.

Bethany began with the retreat from Crydee and the traps Martin had set along the way, reaching the point in the narrative where they found safe haven in Ylith, and when she had finished she realized it was almost time to rejoin the Elf Queen. Her recounting of events had brought expressions of relief to wives, daughters, and sweethearts of garrison soldiers and volunteers who remained with Martin. Those few who had lost men in the early part of the siege still looked proud of the memory of their heroes, despite tears gathering and pain revisited.

An elf woman appeared to guide Bethany, her mother, and the duchess to the queen’s table, and before they left, Bethany motioned for a private moment with her mother. ‘I need to tell you something,’ she said.

Countess Marriann looked concerned, her face showing that she was ready for bad news. ‘What?’

‘I’m getting married.’

Now Marriann looked confused. ‘Married?’

‘Martin and I are to be wed.’

‘Martin!’ said her mother, her expression turning darker. ‘You were supposed to wed Henry.’

‘Did it ever occur to you and father to ask either Henry or me what we wished?’

‘We just—’

‘Assumed,’ finished Bethany.

‘What will Henry think of this?’

‘He thinks it’s just fine. Martin told him, and the Duke of Crydee has given his blessing.’

Use of Hal’s office was like a bucket of cold water in her mother’s face. Hal was now their liege lord, and for Bethany to enter any sort of state marriage, his permission and the king’s blessing were required. Fumbling for a last objection, Marriann asked, ‘The king?’

‘We don’t have one,’ Bethany said with a note of apprehension. ‘And, truth to tell, Hal doesn’t even have a duchy to call his own.’

Countess Marriann did exactly what her daughter anticipated: when in the face of defeat she changed the subject. ‘We should not keep the queen waiting. We’ll talk about this again when we finally rejoin your father.’

Bethany shook her head in resignation and realized that nothing short of a direct order from the king would change her mother’s mind about her becoming Duchess of Crydee some day.

The meal was far from festive, though everyone was at ease. Bethany had the opportunity to study the queen, her son, and her consort while attempting to keep her mother’s obsession over who she married at arm’s length.

The queen was the personification of grace and charm, but there was nothing practised or artificial about it. She was simply the loveliest being Bethany had ever encountered. After little more than an hour in her company, Bethany understood why Aglaranna was legendary, even in the human communities of the Western Realm. Despite the reassuring welcome, though, Bethany was unable to shake the feeling that the elves were as worried as she was about the news she carried from E’bar.

Tomas looked distracted. Occasionally Bethany caught sight of him staring into space, as if listening for something. And when he spoke, it was to ask questions of her, of the two elves from E’bar, or of members of the queen’s council – a pair of old elves, rather wizened in appearance, which seemed to be a rarity among the elves.

Towards the end of supper, Tomas said, ‘Lady Bethany, if you think it time, we will send escorts with you to Ylith, so that your people can be reunited. The Keshians stay south of the River Boundary now, so they will pose no risk. The duchess has been waiting for word from the Kingdom that it’s safe to leave.’

She considered only for a moment, then said, ‘I think it best, Lord Tomas. Ylith is struggling and more hands to help with the rebuilding would be welcome, and it appears that a return to Crydee any time soon is highly unlikely. As generous as you have been to us, we need to return to our own.’

Supper continued and when it was over, Bethany was escorted with her mother and the duchess back to the encampment. She had half-expected to spend more time with the queen and her council, but realized that during the course of the supper she had provided every scrap of information she possessed.

She found the goose-down mattress a welcome change from the hard soil she had called a bed for the last few weeks. She was asleep before her mother came to bid her goodnight.

After supper the queen had motioned for Acaila and Janil, her two eldest advisors, to linger, along with the two taredhel, Gulamendis and Laromendis, as she, Tomas, and Calin kept their seats. Acaila was the most senior of the Eldar, the ancient order of scholars, and Janil had risen to first among the Spellweavers when her most trusted advisor, Tathar, had finally left for his journey to the Blessed Isles.

Since the two elves from E’bar had arrived, the queen’s court had been discussing how best to deal with the events chronicled by the brothers. In typical elven fashion, there was no hurried decision-making, but a detailed examination of all choices. Tomas had postponed a flight to E’bar to see for himself until he was certain it was safe to leave Elvandar.

Of late he’d been troubled by more dreams, and the sense he got from his mental link with dragons was troubling. Something profound had changed and he was concerned there was a link that needed to be examined.

Tomas glanced as his wife, who inclined her head, indicating that he should speak first. ‘More grave tidings from E’bar,’ he said.

Janil was a worker of powerful elven magic, but her age was manifesting itself now in her white hair and a slender form now starting to wither. But her voice was strong when she said, ‘I’ve dispatched four of our best to E’bar. Do we send more?’

‘If numbers of magic-users are critical, we can do little,’ added Acaila. ‘Our cousins will need to reach out to the humans.’

‘Bethany of Carse has said it has been done,’ said Gulamendis.

‘Then we can do naught but wait,’ said his brother.

Tomas said, ‘You may need to return soon.’ He sat back, a look of concern on his face. ‘It may be that every Spellweaver we have must journey to fight what is contained within E’bar.’

Aglaranna said, ‘What do you make of our son fighting beside a moredhel?’

‘Calis is unique,’ answered Tomas, ‘as is his perspective. Perhaps there is a lesson here.’

Janil said, ‘The moredhel number powerful shamans among their clans.’

‘But Arkan is leader of the Ardanien,’ said Acaila. ‘What we know of moredhel politics tells us he’s in a faction despised by those in power.’

‘That may be less important than we think,’ answered Calin. ‘For if I remember the most recent rumours from the north, the Ardanien are still tied to the Hamandien, maybe even more closely.’

‘Liallan,’ said Aglaranna. ‘She’s been ruling the Snow Leopards longer than I have ruled in Elvandar. If she’s protecting Arkan …’

‘She is the only moredhel clan leader strong enough to oppose Narab’s bid to be their first king,’ said Janil.

‘The Ardanien, the Ice Bears, have a shaman by name, Cetswaya, who is counted as being among their wisest and most powerful,’ said Acaila.

‘Dare we seek out the moredhel?’ asked Aglaranna.

Calin said, ‘If nothing more than to warn them. This threat from E’bar is far worse than they might know.’

Aglaranna looked at her son. ‘I have one son at risk already, and you are heir.’

Tomas nodded. ‘I would go, but their reaction to me might not be much warmer.’

It was Laromendis who said, ‘We can go, Majesty. Our particular gifts do not bring much to aid our kin in E’bar, but as of yet we have no problem with the moredhel. If you can get us to the border of their land, we should be able to cross freely.’

Calin looked at his mother, who nodded, and said to him, ‘Escort them. Ensure they are safe until they make contact, but return here at once.’

Acaila said to the two Star Elves, ‘If you spend the day with me tomorrow, I will share what we know of moredhel clan politics. It may not be current enough to do you good, but it’s a start. There is one among the moredhel you need to speak with before any other – the woman I named, Liallan …’

Tomas smiled at his wife. Acaila’s briefing on the morrow appeared to be starting that moment. Then his smile faded.

Aglaranna rose from her throne and came to her husband’s side. ‘What is it?’

Sadly he said, ‘I have to leave soon.’

‘The dragons?’

‘Yes,’ he whispered back. ‘They are calling, and soon I must leave.’

Neither of them said what they both feared most, that it very well might be the last time he left Elvandar.

•
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
•

Clash

B
RENDAN PEERED INTO THE STORM.

He slammed the heavy wooden shutter closed and said, ‘Nothing.’

Sandreena said, ‘What did you expect?’

‘I never did well with waiting,’ said Brendan, grinning as he wiped water from his face.

Amirantha sat back in the big chair he had appropriated for his own use in what had become the de facto common room of the villa, a classroom containing several chairs designed for non-human students that was currently not in use. Amirantha’s choice looked like nothing so much as a massive pillow filled with tiny wooden balls, which made it a task to move, but it was form-fitting and very comfortable. Sandreena sat on a small stool, content to sit anywhere after a lifetime of mostly being on the ground or in the saddle.

Brendan said, ‘I’m still trying to fathom how they’re doing this.’ ‘They’ were whoever was unleashing this seemingly endless storm, and ‘this’ was the storm.

For days now the island had been reduced to inactivity because of the near-gale-force winds and driving rain constantly pelting it. The storm was intensifying, if Brendan was a judge of such things, and he had lived through his share of gales and squalls in Crydee. It was barely noticeable unless you were stuck in the middle of it, thought Brendan, and now he realised he never would have survived if the storm had been this intense when he’d first arrived.

‘It’s getting worse,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ agreed Sandreena, who had endured her share of foul weather as well. ‘Slowly, but it’s getting worse.’

And everyone was ready for the possibility of another attack.

Brendan had spent some time with most of those of importance on the island, until he realized that his rank was the only reason for not being told to go away and leave the adults to the planning. That and his willingness to leap into battle with the conjured monster.

He had found Sandreena and Amirantha talking with a magician named Leonardo, who had since left. Brendan had been politely included in the discussion though he had little to add.

Amirantha said, ‘If you discover how they are doing this, please feel free to share.’

Sandreena threw him a disapproving look. Amirantha quickly added, ‘I apologize, Brendan. We’re all feeling helpless. Gets on the nerves.’

Brendan sat down and said, ‘I know nothing of magic. My family used to have a magic-adviser, but somewhere along the way we stopped. Last magician I even saw before I left Crydee …’ He sat up.

‘What?’ asked Sandreena.

‘I just got a … notion. Where’s Ruffio?’

‘In Pug’s study, almost certainly,’ said Amirantha. ‘Why?’

‘Come on, if you want to know,’ said Brendan, hurrying off.

Curious, both demon experts followed him. Brendan knocked on the door to Pug’s study and when he heard Ruffio’s voice, pushed open the door.