The Coming Storm (61 page)

There was nothing to do but go.

With the Rift behind them they saluted those of the garrison and sent the others on their way back to Lothliann.

It was only them now, the five who’d begun this journey. Elon felt more than a tinge of regret. He had also wished to have one more bout of the forms, that amazing sparring, that sense of peace. He didn’t know when it was likely to happen again but he was determined that it should. Weeks only.

Did he need to say it?

Ailith did it for him, looking from him to Colath. “Be wary of the Trackers, both of you.”

“I didn’t forget,” he said, his eyes on her.

Leveling her gaze on him and Colath, she said, fighting a grin, “I’ll be watching, so be sure you do.”

Elon looked at her. Watching through the stars in her mind.

“Will you?” he asked, amused.

This time her look was solemn, her eyes intent on his. “Always.”

Her eyes went to Colath, before they returned to his.

There was some comfort in that thought. He allowed himself a small smile and nodded.

“Then we will.”

“Have no fear, Ailith,” Colath said, “we’ll keep as safe as we may.”

One last look, at her, at each of them and a clasp of arms and then Elon turned Faer’s head south with Colath beside him. There were no words, nor were any needed, there was nothing to do but go. It pained him more than he wanted to admit.

They rode at speed, putting the north further and further behind them.

For a moment Ailith watched them go, one dark, one light. Her heart wrenched but she quelled it. Duty called and she must answer. She looked to Jareth and Jalila. They met her eyes squarely and nodded.

It was an effort but Ailith didn’t look back. Pushing, she set them a steady but not hard pace. They had a lot of ground to cover.

The further north they rode the more the leaves changed. The snows of winter weren’t that far behind.

All three of them felt the absence of Elon and Colath acutely, Ailith knew.  Certainly she did.

Riding north, it was impossible for them not to notice the number of those that rode south. Almost all of those they passed seemed closed in on themselves, drawn tight. They huddled close to each other. There was little laughter and what there was sounded strained.

Jareth nodded as they passed some travelers. “Look at their eyes.”

With a sigh, Ailith nodded. “I noticed it, too. That look of fear and uncertainty. Caution.”

“I saw it when I passed through here weeks ago but it’s much worse now,” Jareth said.

They spent most nights at inns, not needing to talk among themselves as most folk did, and so they were mostly silent listening to the talk around them.

Most of the inns were crowded, which was unusual at harvest time when the weather was mild. Not many folk these days chanced on breaking their trip in the open, even to save some coin. Most spoke only in whispers as if afraid of being overheard by someone or something while others spoke openly.

There was much to talk about. Travelers and merchants had disappeared in the higher reaches, the bodies sometimes found and sometimes not. Some simply never reached their destinations. No one knew how many had disappeared unremarked. And what of the Marakisian traders? None knew. Travel in the north had abated with many fearing to pass that way.

Some of these were from the north and now headed south, away from homes they and their families had occupied for generations. The yard outside the inn was full of wagons and horse carts drawn in behind the walls.

To their surprise, once darkness fell the innkeeper barred the door. One of the nearby merchants told another in a hushed voice of a small inn further north that had been attacked by a firbolg. It had burst through the unbarred door. Unprepared for such an assault, a number of the patrons had been killed and more wounded before they’d been able to kill the thing.

On the third night out, they stopped in a small public house in a small town.

Ailith looked at Jareth. “They isolate the north even further with these predations. Those kingdoms in the outer reaches rely on merchants, traders and travelers for news, not just for the goods they bring. Without it, they have little idea whether they’re the only ones suffering.”

He nodded. “If it gets bad enough, trade will stop altogether. Look around, there are few merchants and traders, far more are folk from the north escaping south as they may.”

“Travel is difficult enough in the winter even in Riverford, which is more south. It was a brave trader who pushed so far out from the heartland even then. Most times, we hoarded our food against need if the snow and weather grew too heavy. The landowners and homesteads of the farmers must be suffering as well, with supplies diminished.”

“With no visitors,” Jalila remarked, “there will be none to notice if they fall.”

Ailith looked to Jalila. It was a chilling thought. Whole families dying, unnoticed.

Her sleep each night was mostly untroubled.

There had been one brief glimpse, Tolan’s voice saying, angrily, ‘
They can’t find them
’ but then it was gone.

Who couldn’t find who? Had he’d loosed the trackers again, was that it
?

Elon and Colath were headed south, through more heavily traveled areas, which would obscure their track and trail.

She did have one other dream.

Elon, at ease if not at peace. He lay on his back at the foot of a tree, looking up through the leaves at the stars. For all that Elves kept their thoughts to themselves and revealed so little of them on their faces, she’d learned to see the subtle signs and differences. He was clearly thinking, considering, calculating, his stern, dark eyes troubled. Beyond him was Colath, keeping watch. He had his back to stone so he couldn’t be surprised from behind.

It soothed her aching heart a little to see them safe and well.

Among the stars in her mind their two she followed now and then, seeing them on their way south. It was not much contact but better than none.

Cautious of her own warning, she scanned for the gray ones but couldn’t see them.

If the trackers were searching, they hadn’t found either set yet or they were hidden among the multitudes of bright ones. That was her only fear, that she simply couldn’t see them.

More troubling were the lights that went dark. They brought Jalila’s words back.

Over the years she’d grown accustomed to the ebb and flow, to seeing some small part of her internal sky go dark here and there. The long constant glow of the Elves and the Dwarves were dependable constellations in that sky. She mourned the rare times when there was a gap in that steady glow, one she’d grown accustomed to seeing. Among the lands of men there were always some lit and some that went out, so it always seemed to be sparkling, an endless cycle. Some passed of illness, some of age, some born too young. In times of pestilence or attacks by bandit or trolls, they disappeared in small groups. She’d become used to but not inured to it, especially the young ones.

Sometimes they died violently as well.

That part of her heritage was, as Talesin pointed out, somewhat prone to such things. Sadly. That bright star she also found, amid those in Aerilann.

What troubled her now were the patches of darkness high in the mountains that grew even as she watched. A few here, one there, but more of them each day.

She said nothing of it to Jareth and Jalila, but she knew what it meant.

They rode out the next day, among the few who still went north. Many, many more were going south. Those that could or those that were willing to take the risk of leaving everything behind for the safety of the south. There were still many bright lights in the north, of those that wouldn’t, didn’t dare or couldn’t afford to, take the risk of leaving everything behind. Some, too, who were determined to stand and defend what was theirs.

“This is Crag’s Head lands over the next few hills. Do you know Queen Esbet, Ailith?” Jareth asked.

Ailith smiled. “Only once and that only a little but the lady has a formidable reputation that matched my experience with her at that one meeting.”

With a sigh, she brushed off her clothes and then she stopped. “Oh, bloody…”

“Ailith?” Jareth asked.

Another sigh. “I forgot the circlet Doril lent me.”

“It that all?” Jareth asked and held out a hand. He’d picked it up from where she’d tossed it on the bed, played with while they’d talked that day, he knew it from that. It was a simple fetching. He conjured and the ring of gold appeared in his hand.

With a flourish he presented it to her.

“Your crown, milady?”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “Thank you, Jareth.”

Jalila gave a shake of her head.

“Come here,” she said and straightened Ailith’s hair before Ailith settled the circlet over it.

Where
, Jalila thought in amusement,
was the regal woman from Westin’s hall
?

That one reappeared once the gates and Crag’s Head’s Hunters were in view. As one the Hunters bowed to her and took them to the castle.

Queen Esbet was indeed a formidable woman. Not tall but powerfully built, with iron gray hair pulled back tightly beneath a silver circlet she clearly wore every day. Her eyes were dark brown, long and narrow. She received them in her office, the Great Hall reserved for more formal occasions it appeared. Her expression was tired and more than a little worn. Lines had been engraved deeply around her eyes and along the sides of her mouth.

Their warning was received with a fair amount of consternation and more than a little concern.

“A few of my homesteads have come under attack,” she said, her eyes now gravely worried. “You say the creatures of the borderlands attacked Raven’s Nest in force?”

Ailith nodded, thinking of the town spread out like a skirt below the castle.

Most were like it, towns growing out around the castle of the reigning King or Queen. Raven’s Nest’s walls had been built mainly to keep out the occasional raid of trolls and goblins and wolves. Its isolation had required it. The town below had but one wall and had spread far beyond it. From its height and strength that wall had been built to keep out the occasional bands of raiders and thieves, trolls or goblins that sprang up now and then. The primary purpose of the Guard here and the garrison further north and west had been to catch such, by Daran’s decree. Neither Guard nor wall nor garrison were prepared for such an attack as had occurred at Raven’s Nest. Only high castle walls offered protection enough.

Esbet saw that clearly, her face paling. “I can’t shelter all that live in the town below in the castle, there isn’t room enough. You say you think such an attack could occur here?”

With a nod, Ailith said, “Yes, we’ve reason to believe it could. There have been signs all across the northern borders, invasions of creatures not native to that region. A salamander attacked one of my easternmost villages, far north of its range, setting several buildings afire before it was stopped.”

“We’ve seen manticores in both the west and east as well,” Jalila added.

Her memory of that trip with Colath was sharp. The death of Iric had affected her deeply. If he hadn’t been up behind her, it would have been she who died that day. Truly died, with no passage to the Summerlands for her, only another circle of life.

“Here in the north but more to the west.”

Manticores were more creatures of legend than anything to be accepted as fact. Jalila was Elf, though. Esbet never thought to question it.

“I’ve had a number of homesteads report small attacks, my Hunters and Woodsmen are hard-pressed. I’ve had to conscript men out of the villages and sentence a few to service with them. One of my northernmost homesteads was found empty of everything living.”

For a moment she was silent and then she nodded. “Take your ease here, rooms will be made for you. If you’ll forgive me, it seems I have much to do. Do you know when?”

Ailith shook her head. “Not for certain. Only that the walls must be up or strengthened before the snow flies in earnest.”

She could almost see that sturdy woman’s heart quail at the thought, as Esbet got to her feet and summoned a servant to escort them to their rooms. The Queen was shouting for pages, her voice echoing, as they walked down the hall to their rooms.

They left the next morning, early.

Ailith glanced back once at the castle before it went out of view. It nestled up against a mountain, a pretty scene on such a bright and beautiful fall morning. The leaves were turning brilliant shades of gold, amber and scarlet, the colors making it appear the mountains were on fire. She hoped the illusion was only that.

“They’re so vulnerable,” she said, looking at the village below.

Esbet had sent out her Hunters and Woodsmen to call in all who would to come. The workmen on the walls were evidence of her other orders. Anyone not bringing in the harvest was set to work. The dungeons and jails had been emptied, the taverns as well. If they had leisure to drink, they had time to work.

From their vantage point she could see the men and women who’d been conscripted to work on the walls. They were hard at work.

“It’s all we can do,” Jareth said.

It was little comfort.

The Commander of the Garrison, another one such as Belac, was inclined to scoff.

It wasn’t surprising, really. They’d been at peace for a hundred years or so. After the wizard wars it had taken some time to recover before men felt the need to do battle once again among themselves, they’d lost much of their taste for killing during that awful time. It wasn’t until most of the survivors of that war had grown old or died before men found their quarrels with each other reason enough to do battle once again.

The Elves and the Dwarves had left them to it, save for those times when Men had pushed their boundaries and they’d been forced to fight back.

King Faelen, then, had set himself to take the lands of men in hand, through negotiation and treaty, or now and again at the point of a sword. So it was that a High King was named, that one being Faelen, and he’d set the first treaties between the lesser Kingdoms, the contracts and the standing army, to which all the lesser Kings would send men. He set the forms for deciding a successor, that being largely the ability to convince a majority of the lesser Kings to grant one among them the power to rule over the rest in convocation. The fractious squabbles between the lesser Kings had, however, taxed Faelen until his death. Unfortunately, he hadn’t felt the need to stop their incursions on the other races, for it lessened the need to attack their own.