The Coming Storm (56 page)

A rider broke loose, galloping up the length of the column to join them. Big, with a fresh, round face, he looked every bit of a shepherd’s son with a thirst for adventure.

Now that round face was creased with worry.

“My family is out of Raven’s Nest. I can get you through.”

It was probably the shortcut he took to go home. Like many, he’d misspent his youth exploring the Rift.

A good many had died there in that same pursuit. He’d either been smart or lucky. Ailith hoped he’d been smart.

“Good enough. Ailith, you have your answer and another ahead.”

Colath awaited, with a host of Hunters and Woodsmen. Following Elon’s example, they, too, blended men and Elves together.

It did her heart good to see him.

“Lady Ailith,” Colath said, formally, so the men among his folk would know who she was.

She straightened, back in royal command, and nodded briskly.

“This is Captain Catra, Colath, commanding the garrison. They’ll follow at speed. We go on ahead to harry the enemy as well. Do they know?” she said, looking at Colath.

One of the Elves nodded as did the leaders of the Hunters and Woodsmen.

“Then, on behalf of Raven’s Nest and for my own sake, I thank you. For those who have Elven-bred, follow me. Those who don’t stay with the column.”

Colath rode up beside her.

“May I unbend?” she asked, in a quick aside.

He allowed himself a small smile. “Unbend. These folk are known to me.”

With a look back to the others, she met as many eyes as she could, then nodded once.

“We ride.”

The outer wall had fallen. Literally in some cases. The defenders held the gates for a time but then ogres appeared to pound and tear, with firbolgs to dig beneath the thick walls to undermine them. They’d pulled back to the third ring and fired the second some time before.

Night had fallen. The fires illuminated the darkness with uncertain light, where they didn’t Jareth had put mage-lights to light the third ring. It pained him to do so little but he knew the wisdom of Elon’s advice.

It would be soon now,  they were fighting hand-to-hand in the streets. There remained only the third level and the gates were giving way. On the inner ring but one were the refugees and all those who couldn’t fit elsewhere.

Then there was only the castle.

Jareth looked up at the castle walls.

Elon stood as he had all day, his arms crossed, where people could see him. As Aranoc and others came to consult, he gave orders and watched the flow of the battle. Faer, his horse, waited, saddled and bridled below. The time was coming and soon, when Elon, too, must join the fight. Jareth went up to stand alongside him.

As he watched, trolls and goblins leaped to the top of the wall. Arrows took some but others got through. The gates shook under the assault of more of the ogres.

Elon said, “It won’t be long now. I’d hoped it would be longer. I’ll need my swords.”

That Jareth could do.

Opening his hands, he conjured and Elon’s swords appeared in them.

With a lift of an eyebrow, Elon said, “Thank you, old friend.”

“It’s little enough,” Jareth said.

“There will be more than enough, soon. When I leave, go up in the tower, it has the best view. Give aid where it’s needed. Conserve your strength, we dare not run low against dire need. I need you there.”

Jareth nodded. “I’ll be there.”

There was a pause.

“Where’s Jalila?” he asked.

“The last I heard, on a roof in the second ring.”

Flames rose from the second ring.

There was nothing Elon could do but trust her to know what she did. Jalila was wise in the ways of battle, a Hunter of old.

Something caught his eye.

With a touch to Jareth’s shoulder, Elon nodded. “Look.”

As his head turned, Jareth saw the distant gate give way.

Without another word, Elon was off. Jareth ran for the tower in time to see him swing into the saddle and ride out, Aranoc with him, with Aranoc’s men running behind.

Conserve strength, keep something in reserve. Jareth ran for the tower. Picking his targets carefully, Jareth took a breath and fired mage-bolts.

He knew somewhat where Elon was only by following the elf-light that floated somewhere near him. Elon was too smart to cast it directly over his head and make himself a target but he was somewhere around it Jareth knew.

The unearthly cry of the goblins and other borderlands creatures rang out to cut through the night. Screams echoed. Another gate was down and they were pouring into the streets. The flood became a torrent as the second ring fell. Goblins, trolls, ogres, a wave of them poured through the opening. Jareth threw mage-bolts down, aiming for the ogres if he could. As large as they were, they were more than a match for most men and many Elves. Given enough time, Elon could probably have handled the one in the ruins alone but they hadn’t known how much time they’d had then.

The screams continued.

Jareth dreaded that, it reminded him of all he couldn’t do.

Something moved out of the corner of his eye, caught his attention.

A string of lights streamed across the valley from the direction of the rift. His heart lifted.

Elf-lights, a good number of them and moving fast. Help was coming.

He had to let Elon know, but how? He couldn’t see him down in the streets.

Jareth gestured and sent a mage-light to burst above the heads of those nearest the Elf-light below. Elon would see it.

Heartened, Jareth started picking more targets.

Elon, Aranoc and the men with them were at full speed when the gate before them fell.

With a shout they hit the mass of trolls and goblins even as they poured through.

Some of the goblins and trolls were trampled beneath Faer’s hooves to be finished by those behind as necessary.

The wedge and their speed had taken a number of them down. Then it was just battle, swing and parry, thrust off one and backswing. Elon carved a path for those behind him as the gates to the level behind swung shut again with a crash. It was stop them here or not at all. An ogre, with three men trying to fight it, so he rode in. Men scattered as he rode past, putting all his arm into the swing. The ogre went down, its head lolling uselessly on its shoulders.

He shouted orders, redirected people.

Aranoc found him again, got instructions and rode off.

Of Gwillim he’d seen no sign for some time and feared the worst. He was a good man. Elon wouldn’t think of him in the past tense. Not yet, not until he knew for certain.

A goblin came at him, his long-jawed face in a permanent grin. Faer took the hellhound in the face with his teeth while Elon took the goblin’s head.

As hard as he fought, he was still there more so people could see him fighting beside them and know someone led and that someone fought beside them.

High above his head a mage-light burst in a shower of sparks.

Jareth.

It could only mean one thing.

“Help comes,” he shouted above the roar

The word echoed down the streets. It heartened the embattled fighters and they threw themselves with a will into the fight.

So did he.

A city in flames, that’s what they saw as they rode out of the Rift. The outer wall was a shambles, tumbled down in places, collapsed in others, and the gate they could see was shattered. The first ring was dark now, lit only by the dying embers and flickering flames of the few buildings that still burned. More brightly, the second ring was still aflame in places but the flames were dying. The third ring…

The third ring hadn’t fallen. Not yet.

Elon. Jareth. Jalila. All those people Ailith led here to this place. Her heart cried out for them.

The Elves looked to her, the Hunters and Woodsmen. There was no time for recriminations or guilt. Only to fight.

And win.

Colath.

His eyes on her were steady. And so was she.

“Colath, go with your people, I’ll take mine. Harry their rear, give them another enemy to fight, pull them away from those within. Running battles only and choose your targets. The third ring must hold until the garrison gets here. Stay alive, make them dead.”

Reaching out a hand to clasp her arm, Colath nodded, his hand tight on hers, a salute of its own kind.

In a low voice, she said, “Stay alive, Colath. Elon will kill me if you get hurt. It would wound me terribly as well.”

“Yourself, too, Ailith,” Colath said, as intently. “No more arrows.”

“I make no promises I can’t keep but I’ll try. Go.”

A brief tightening and then they parted.

They were off, the Elves, streaming across the valley.

Ailith looked into the eyes of the Hunters around her, lifted an eyebrow.

“You know the orders. Keep to them. No heroics, I need living people to fight, dead ones do me and them no good. Hit and run. We’ll take a gate and hit them. Kill anything you see that isn’t Elf or man.”

Heads nodded.

“Let’s go.”

They rode into the streets of the city through the nearest opening at full speed. Two groups sped off at her signal while Ailith herself led the third.

The destruction was devastating but there was no time to gauge how deeply the city had been wounded. It was the people who mattered now.

Attacking from the rear they fought their way through haunted and fire-lit streets to the next ring. Leading with arrows, they decimated those before them. Charging with swords and arrows they fought their way through. A goblin arrow ripped through her sleeve and Ailith mentally apologized to Colath as she slew it and turned to face the next.

It was harder to ignore the lights going out in her mind, the lives snuffed out. Too many to count but it was as if she had double vision at times, the sparkling lights fading or blinking away. Shouts and screams rang in her ears. One of hers went down to a boggart, two arrows took the creature down.

There was a sting in her shoulder. Elon. It wasn’t a serious wound but she felt the pain of it. He was still alive but fighting. Relief made her eyes burn.

Elon shouted at a group of fighters getting in each other’s way and set them to better use. He wheeled Faer around. A flash burst over his head, Jareth warning him of something. He looked. An ogre at a gate to the next level. He shouted at some of the men and set Faer at it. It turned as he came, snarled at him as those with bows on the rooftops on that level filled it with arrows. He saw a flash of familiar face among them, Jalila, only for a second but it was a relief to know she was still alive.

The arrow took him in the shoulder and rocked him.

Without a second thought he ripped it out as the goblin that fired it went down in a hail of arrows. It hadn’t hit lung but it hurt and blood soaked his shirt. He wasn’t bleeding badly, so he ignored it.

A mass of trolls and goblins tried to push past the gate, push through the gate. Some were crushed against it, while others attempted to crawl over their fellows. It was too tempting a target.

Colath glanced at the others and they sent a hail of arrows into the seething mass. With some using arrows and others swords they sent the horses crashing into the creatures, trampling some, while the force of their attack sent the rest scattering.

Then it was simply fight and keep fighting, his swords like extensions of his arms, thinking of Elon on the other side of this wall, this gate, somewhere. Jareth and Jalila.

Somewhere Ailith fought as well.

He didn’t glory in the killing but he did it with the skill that kept himself and others alive.