The Coming Storm (70 page)

His claws were poor weapons against an angry Elven master swordsman with his swords in his hands.

Tolan had no time for spells or magic, Elon made sure of it.

The Dark wizard darted away, grabbed one of the trackers and slit the man’s throat even as he snatched for the tracker’s swords. He spun with them in hand, barely in time to meet Elon’s attack.

A moment, only, for Ailith to draw power, a little more strength from the earth, enough to carry her for a little longer.

The other trackers leaped to protect their wizard but Colath was in the way and then so was Ailith beside him.

At his side once more, they two guarded Elon’s back. The bond between them hummed, shimmered, as their swords clashed and rang in the music of the swords.

They all heard it, joining them once again.

With his stolen Elven strength from that stolen Elven life he’d taken, the eel-like speed Tolan had stolen from the basilisk and the blood magic he’d raised at Elon and Colath’s expense, Tolan was strong and quick. The problem for Tolan, Elon knew, was that all of it was stolen, it wasn’t his nature. Nor had he ever sparred as Elon had, with two of the best swordsmen he knew, Colath and Ailith.

Tolan rained blows on him as Elon parried, learning the dark wizard’s measure and gauging his strength and speed, looking for weaknesses.

 A gesture from Tolan.

Hot irons flew across the room. Elon evaded, dropped his shoulder, rolled and ducked away from the onslaught as he parried Tolan’s attack. He dropped his guard a little, drew Tolan in. Tolan’s blade flashed in answer. Elon slipped backward, caught it. Tolan was good but Elon knew it was only a matter of time.

In fact, it would be now. Swords rang as he drove Tolan back.

A discordant hum of magic distracted him.

The far wall shimmered even as Colath took a tracker’s head.

Tolan called for his Lord. Elon had him nearly cornered. If that one came through though…

“Colath, take them,” Ailith cried, feeling the magic before running another Tracker through, then she sheathed her swords and ran to the wall.

She braced her hands against it, reached desperately for the power to will it to stay stone. Dwarven magic and Elven magic. Otherling magic. Her magic.

Against Mornith’s.

She could feel Mornith pound against it, battering against her will. It took all  of her resolve and strength to hold, to battle him back.

Elon felt the magic, both the discordant opening of the Door and the sweet whisper of Ailith’s magic as she willed it shut, and held.

She was vulnerable, though, her back undefended.

Colath was almost finished with the other trackers.

Outside there were shouts and screams.

The Door was the only escape and Ailith the only barrier to it.

Elon saw Tolan make the break. The Dark wizard darted backward. The tip of Tolan’s sword swiped across Ailith’s back. She arched away from  the pain but held even as Elon caught Tolan’s blade with his own, forced it up and away.

Desperate, Tolan spun and Elon drove his short sword up under Tolan’s ribs.

Hissing, the Dark wizard staggered backward as Elon ripped his sword free.

Tolan  looked at the black blood pouring from him in shock.

It didn’t last long.

In one swift slice of his longsword Elon took his head.

The last tracker fell to Colath’s blade.

Just as abruptly, the Door to the South shut. Mornith was gone.

Turning, Ailith sagged against the wall and then slowly slid down it to sit, leaving a small smear of blood behind her. If it hurt she gave no sign of it.

Wearily, Elon walked over to join her, settling down on the floor beside her.

“Ala, Elon,” she said and then added in Elvish, “I told you I would come.”

“Ala, Ailith,” Elon said, in his own language, “I’d hoped you wouldn’t but I’m not sorry you did.”

“If it had been the other way around, you would have come for me.”

“True,” he admitted.

“I could do no less.”

No, she couldn’t, it wasn’t in her any more than it was in him. As they both knew.

“Ala, Ailith,” Colath said, settling down on her other side. “That was well done.”

“Thank you, my friend. I’ve had good teachers. I would that I could’ve come sooner. I would Heal but I don’t have the strength left.”

There were burns, cuts and bruises on them that made Ailith’s heart ache.

Elon touched her cheek where the purpling bruise was.

“It would seem you have your own hurts.”

She smiled, wryly, and echoed his words from Raven’s Nest with a shrug. “It’s nothing, it will heal.”

He smiled back, remembering the last time it had been said. He regretted as well not having the strength yet to soothe or Heal it himself.

There was a sound on the stairs leading down to this place – footsteps.

Ailith shook her head at their start.

“It’s all right,” she said, softly.

Jareth, Jalila and Talesin were followed by Elves from Aerilann, all of whom looked at the three by the wall with relief and more than a little shock.

None of the three were unmarked. Both Elon and Colath had more than their share of cuts, slices and burns, while Ailith had collected a few more bruises, a wound to the head and her shoulder had reopened.

The Elves took in the scene, the dead trackers, Tolan, the instruments and the blood grimly.

Some remembered another time like this one all too clearly.

The Elven Healers settled quickly by Elon and Colath, to ease their pain and Heal their wounds. Lend them strength.

They wouldn’t and didn’t touch Ailith.

It pained Elon and Colath both, but though Elon might be First among equals at Aerilann, he couldn’t ask them this.

Leaning over a little to be a little closer to Elon, she whispered, lifting an eyebrow in question, “Perhaps it’s best not.”

He looked at her and remembered how he’d discovered the truth of her. There was that.

“I think I would rather take that task on myself,” he said, gently.

Ailith smiled.

Much of her own pain eased with the Healing of theirs but, being free of their own made them far more aware of hers.

There was pain in her shoulder and the bruise on her face ached.

Elon couldn’t ask the Healers to break the code, although he would’ve made exception here, as was his right as First, but there was the danger of her nature being discovered. Even without it, it would raise too many questions if he did.

Just the same, Elon thanked the Healers and the others that had come but told them he couldn’t yet return and sent them back to Aerilann.

With none to see but those who wouldn’t care, he laid a hand to Ailith’s face, to the bruise there.

She closed her eyes as relief washed through her, a surcease of pain, along with some of his strength and his gentle harmony. Which gave her the most ease she couldn’t say. For the first time in days, though, her shoulder didn’t pain her. It had been healing but it had pained her. The trackers reopening the wound hadn’t helped.

“Well,” Colath said, “at least Tolan is gone.”

Elon saw the look Ailith, Jareth and Jalila exchanged.

With a sigh, Ailith said, “That Tolan is gone. There are others in the north, two that we know of. I fear Mornith will simply switch horses in mid race.”

That name pierced Talesin like a blade.

“Ailith,” Talesin said and his voice sounded gravely concerned, “how do you know that name?”

She went still as she remembered Tolan telling her he would take them, Elon and Colath,  and then the terrible things he’d had done to them. Remembered watching. Her heart wrenched.

Sitting so close, Elon felt her shudder. He laid a hand on hers, as did Colath on her other side.

With a glance first to him and then to Colath in thanks, she answered, “Tolan Summoned me to tell me he was going to take them, Elon and Colath. He wanted me to know, to anticipate. The Door to the South was open and Mornith was in it. I’ve heard him speak before but I never understood much. It always sounded like I should but I couldn’t.”

Before, so she could anticipate.

More and more, Elon was glad the man was dead. No one should glory in a true death but that particular life was well ended.

“Was there anything else?” Talesin said.

The rest of it came back, parts she hadn’t understood then but did now.

“He said this is only the beginning, that he was returning.”

“Ah,” Talesin said, going still.

“Who is he, Talesin?” Ailith asked, looking into his ageless eyes.

Looking around at the walls, he took a breath and shook his head.

“This is not a place to discuss such things.”

Elon said, “We should leave this place, anyway, I mislike it.”’

“I can’t imagine why,” Ailith murmured as she looked at the overturned braziers, the chains and instruments of torture.

Elon gave her a look.

She smiled in return and shrugged.

Three sets of hands reached out, three sets of hands clasped and pulled them to their feet, Jareth to Ailith, Talesin to Elon, Jalila to Colath.

Elon laid a hand on Jareth’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you, old friend. That was well done.”

With a smile, clasping Elon’s arm, Jareth said, “It’s good to see you as well. As for being well-done, it was Ailith’s plan.”

“As I said, I’ve had good teachers,” Ailith said, “and I learn from my mistakes.”

Talesin said, “So long as you survive them, you’ve won.”

Reluctantly, Elon found the piece of tattered Elven-silk and wrapped it once more around the soul-eater.

“Talesin,” Ailith said, “how far underground should that thing be so it would be safe?”

He looked at her. “Far enough no plow can turn it up.”

“Do you need it any more, Elon?”

He shook his head. “I loathe having to carry it.” It was clear in his voice how very much he detested it.

“Then leave it,” she said, gently. “You shouldn’t have to bear it.”

He looked at her for a moment, at the clarity and warmth in her eyes, and left it where it lay.

Up and out of the hole, they climbed the stairs out of a long forgotten castle dungeon.

At the top Talesin looked up and around as if he remembered what had been here once and didn’t like it. Nothing remained of what had once been save a dark hole in the earth.

Nearby Faer, Chai and Smoke cropped grass with the other horses. No one questioned or explained how the horses had got there, they simply were.

“Wait,” Ailith said, as the others started toward the horses.

It felt right.

She dropped to one knee. There was no one but them to see. She threaded her fingers through the browning grass. Once again, she reached and the earth answered. Her heart seemed to soar.

There was the sound of a deep groan, a burst of dust and then the hole in the earth was gone as if it had never been.

“So they can never use this place again.”

“Wild magic,” Jareth said.

She shook her head, looking up at them and smiled sweetly.

Looking at that brilliant smile, at the fading bruise and her tattered clothes, Jareth’s heart broke.

“No, Jareth, that was a thing of the earth and the Dwarves. This is wild magic.”

From where her fingers curled in the turf a rush of green spread across the open space where a castle had once stood. The air freshened to springtime sweetness and a perfect fairy ring of flowers appeared, such as marked the graves of Elven dead. The ones who didn’t pass to the Summerlands but waited to return again.