Not Magic Enough (13 page)

There was that about Ailith that folk did such things.

Now she watched them, young Ailith a perfect mirror to Dorovan as he walked her through the movements of what he called the ‘forms’, as he’d taught Delae herself all those years ago.

For a moment her eyes burned, before she leaned a shoulder against the door to just watch them in silence. If there was grief in her for what she couldn’t tell Dorovan, she buried it deep beneath the joy, the pleasure of watching them together, child and Elf. His granddaughter.

Whatever else, that child was the best of all of them. She could see touches of herself and Telerach in her, in the glints of red and gold in Ailith’s chestnut hair, of them and Dorovan in the color of her eyes and now, mirroring his movements, Dorovan’s grace, his strength and her father, Geric’s. There was a stillness to her, too, that Selah must have inherited by way of Dorovan and passed down to her daughter. 

Ailith became aware of her first and came running, putting the fireplace poker carefully aside first, to Dorovan’s approving nod. “Delae! Look who I found!”

It was so like Ailith, as if she’d discovered an unknown country all by herself.

“I see you’ve met, again,” Delae said, her gaze lifting to meet Dorovan’s, her friend of the heart.

As always, she saw the love there and if it wasn’t the depth of the soul-bond he sought, she could give him this much, everything she had. Including this. It seemed to be enough.

It was enough and more than enough for her.

“He’s teaching me how to use a sword,” Ailith said, excitedly - her little face aglow.

“I saw,” she said. “You couldn’t have a better teacher. He taught me.”

Coming up to her, Dorovan slid an arm around her. “She’s a natural, Delae.”

She gave him a look askance and then Ailith, seeing the question in both their eyes. “Yes, you can keep teaching her but Ailith it must be a secret. Promise me you won’t tell your parents.”

“I know, Delae,” Ailith said, almost in disgust, then she grinned and tried to hug them both.

It was an amazement to him. Curled up in bed around Delae, drawing his beloved friend-of-the-heart into his arms, Dorovan said, in astonishment, “I’ve never had a student as gifted.”

It was his second year teaching Ailith and he was finding more reasons to visit than just to see his beloved Delae, as much as his friend-of-the-heart eased his soul and delighted him. There was Ailith, now, too, her joy and her wonder, her passion and curiosity, her intensity. Her focus. At first he’d been enchanted and charmed but love had come almost instantly on their heels, just to see the expression in Ailith’s quick, intelligent eyes, the brightness she’d inherited from Delae.

A little surprised, Delae looked at him. “But you teach Elves.”

“I know,” he said, “but even among my folk, there are those who simply have the talent. I was one, but Ailith…she’ll be much more.”

His eyes went distant.

“For her blood,” he said, in stunned astonishment, “she could be a Master Swordsman.”

So few men truly cared to learn the sword, counting on their numbers more than skill. It was skill, though, that had saved Dorovan’s race.

Just at the thought, at the responsibility of it, his breath caught.

“Like Elon of Aerilann?” Delae asked, startled.

Slowly, he nodded. “Like him. Like his true-friend, Colath.”

Bright shadow to Elon of Aerilann’s dark, with Colath at his side the two elves were legendary for their sword work, Delae knew. Dorovan had mentioned Elon before. Now as advisor to the High King, the new Council and teamed with the human wizard Jareth, they were a force to be reckoned with.

“That good?” Delae said, a little awed.

He nodded.

Slowly he rolled her over onto her back. Even now with silver threaded thickly through the rich fire of her hair, she was lovely to his eyes, he thought as he pierced her. Her eyes and her smile widened as she sighed with pleasure. She wrapped her legs around him as he pressed deep into her.

“I love the feel of you, Delae,” he breathed, stroking into her, shifting his hips to feel every inch.

“Do you?” she whispered, her body shifting to take him.

She wasn’t questioning, wasn’t searching for validation - she simply echoed the emotion in him. She smiled as she always did when he filled her, her body arching as pleasure rushed through her as his own ecstasy emptied into her.

“I love this,” she sighed, trembling.

As did he. She was a delight and a joy to him.

Steel clashed and rang through the forest, the sound oddly musical, especially when done this way, moving from the forms to sparring. It was pure pleasure for Dorovan to do this with Ailith, especially to watch the laughter in her eyes, to see the delight she took in the movement of sword against sword. She had grown, and not just in age, but in skills. It was such a pleasure to watch.

“Watch,” Dorovan cautioned in Elvish and she rolled her eyes, not in consternation, but at herself.

“Forgot,” she said, in the same tongue. “I don’t get to spar with anyone the likes of you much, Dorovan.”

“Hmmm,” he said, amused. “It’s a problem. Don’t get careless Ailith. Ah and your grandmother told me to tell you that you’d best come up to visit her, too.”

There was a hesitation in Ailith’s next stroke that was uncommon in her.

“Speak,” he said, fairly certain he knew what it was that troubled her, “there is nothing you cannot ask me, Ailith.”

“You love Delae,” she said.

He nodded. “More than my life.”

It was no more than the truth, if it came to that.

A breath went out of her. “But it’s not a soul-bond.”

“No,” he said, stepping back and away.

It was too serious a discussion for sparring.

“If I could have that with Delae, I would,” he said with a sigh, “but I can’t.”

He did wish it.

With a nod, Ailith put up her sword, too, to come sit beside him on the rock.

“Because she’s not Elf?”

Dorovan took a breath and shook his head. “No. I can’t explain it. I know what I have with Delae is a true bond, just not a soul-bond although I love her deeply. So it’s not that. With a soul-bond, it’s…different… In what way I don’t know, as I haven’t found mine, it just isn’t. But know this, I love Delae deeply and her company stands in place of that bond.”

“I know,” Ailith said, clearly more at ease.

“And I love you too, little one,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead in a rare show of affection.

She was growing so fast, as all children did, Elf or man. In a way, it pained him. He wished to keep her young, keep her safe. It would be hard to watch her grow old and die as he watched Delae age.

“Thanks, Dorovan,” she said, “I love you, too.”

“I know,” he said, mimicking her tone.

She smiled.

“Forms?” he said and she jumped down from the stone.

They took up position side by side, moving nearly as one, smoothly, from guard to attack, from parry to thrust, in the rhythm of the forms.

Riding to Delae’s homestead, Dorovan had felt an odd…presentiment…a shadow of sorts. Although some Elves had stronger magic, Dorovan knew he had only such as all Elves were born with, the strength and resilience of his body, the empathy of their race, the ability to create Elven lights in the darkness, and a trace of Healing. His own truest magic was in his skill with his swords, in his ability to pass those skills on to others. Like Ailith.

He had no ability to foresee…and yet…

Now he delighted in Delae’s body, in the pleasure she took from him and what he took from her, in her quick responsiveness, in the way her body trembled and quivered. He loved the taste and the feel of her.

The feel of his long silky hair brushing over her stomach as his mouth did wonderful things to her drove all thought from Delae’s mind as heat built within her and her breath came short. Her body went limp, twitching helplessly at the touch of his tongue, his warm mouth on her.

Her hands fell away as her body quivered.

Dorovan surged up, impaling her on him and she cried out, locking around him as she trembled wildly, her body closing around him, stroking him. With a cry of his own he poured into her, shuddering, his body rigid as he emptied himself into her.

It had been true when Ailith had asked it and it was true now. If he could have had a soul-bond with Delae, no matter what race she was, he would have.

Curling around her, he drew her body close to his. So precious to him, this life.

“Ailith is troubled,” Delae said.

Nodding, worried himself, Dorovan said, “You are, too.”

“There’s a darkness…” Delae said.

Startled, he rose on an elbow to look down at her. “Yes. You feel it, too?”

“It’s growing,” she said and shivered.

Dorovan nodded, pulling her close, wishing he could protect her - could protect all of them from what was coming.

“I think even Geric senses it, he’s been acting very strange lately,” she said, curling into the warmth of Dorovan’s long, strong body, running her hands over the muscles of his chest.

Dorovan cradled her against him, wishing he could bring her with him to Talaena where she would be safer, but he couldn’t.

“I gave Ailith the swords,” he said and smiled. “I wish you could have seen her face, Delae.”

The timing had just been wrong, Delae unable to return to the homestead before Ailith had to leave. 

Knowing Ailith had the swords was an ease to Delae’s fears. And to her heart.

Named swords.

Rare even among the Elves, as close to unbreakable as Elven magic could make them, they were made with Elven steel, on an Elven forge with Elven magic, usually by the teacher for the student - for an exceptional student and keyed to  student and  student alone. To be wielded only by them.

Dorovan had told Delae what he intended to do. It was dangerous in a way for him to forge them, dangerous too in giving Ailith Named swords - swords that were bound only to her, forged by him with his own hands - but Dorovan had felt driven to do it, as was true with all Named swords.

Perhaps this had been why.

With a sigh, Delae smiled and said, “I wish I could too but I’m sure she’ll show them to me when I see her next.”

Not that Dorovan hadn’t shown her the swords already, both long and short - and they’d been incredible pieces of art, steel become sculpture and weaponry, beautiful and deadly - but that hadn’t been the point.

They’d both felt strongly that now was the time to give them to Ailith. Whatever was coming, they wanted to give Ailith the best chance they could to survive.

Worriedly, restless and heartsick, Dorovan drew Delae close, holding her tightly.

The Alliance and the Agreement had brought them peace for a time, but something loomed over all of them.

The pounding on the door to the homestead in the night reminded Delae dimly of a fateful night so long before. The night she’d met Dorovan for the first time. She scrambled from her bed, still caught up in the dream-memory as she threw on her robe before running down the hall in her bare feet.

She could almost hear Dorovan chiding from behind her, although he wasn’t there. “Put your shoes on, Delae.”

Her lips curved in half a smile at the memory.

A familiar voice, muffled by the door, with panic and fear running just beneath the calm, cried, “Delae. Wake up. Delae. Hurry.”

Ailith?

Snatching up a lantern, Delae lit it from a twig in the fire and hurried to the door.

“Delae,” the voice shouted. “It’s Ailith. Hurry.”

Ailith? At this hour? And with fear in her voice? What in the world
?