The Coming Storm (19 page)

The sound of hoof beats coming hard in the night was more than a little alarming.

“That’s Elven-bred,” Elon said.

The pattern was unmistakable, too fast and too heavy to be that of the horses of men – even their draft horses – but there were no Elves here.

“Who rides at that speed at this time of night?” Jareth said, frowning.

“It’s madness,” Jalila added, as she strung her bow.

Ailith pulled Smoke up shy of the camp, seeing the figures that stood beyond the fire, putting it between them and her. The horse beneath her was neither sweating badly nor blowing, for which she was grateful.

“My Lord Elon,” she called.

Startled, Elon looked at the others and then at the small young woman perched precariously on the back of the Elven-bread cull. Her hair was tousled from the wind, her clothes simple but good. Aside from the short sword on her hip, undrawn, she seemed little enough threat.

Why though was she out in the night? And where had she gotten the horse?

“Who are you,” he asked, “and what are you doing riding like that at this hour of the night?”

Taking a breath, Ailith tried to calm herself, getting her pounding heart and shaking hands to settle. There wasn’t much time. She looked into those piercing dark eyes, that calm Elven demeanor and mirrored it.

“I’m Ailith of Riverford, Geric’s daughter and Heir,” she said. “You must leave here and quickly.”

For a brief moment Elon studied her.

She’d come from the west. Geric had said his daughter was in the highlands to the east.

Colath said, mildly, “Geric’s daughter? You don’t look like a King’s daughter.”

It was a thing of men, he noted, that they liked their titles and fancy dress, like the robes Avila insisted Jareth wear. Standing at Elon’s side at Daran High King’s court he’d watched the people there with their fancy and frequently useless dress.

Those words calmed Ailith like a dash of cold water. It wasn’t the first time someone had said such.

Given her small stature and her workaday clothes – more practical for her purposes – she’d been mistaken a time or two for everything from a merchant’s child to a servant. Over time she’d grown accustomed to it and found it mildly interesting, sometimes useful and more than a little amusing. She glanced down at what she was wearing. Of course, there was that. Knowing what she was riding into, she’d dressed in working clothes. They weren’t those of a King’s Heir but that hardly would have been appropriate for riding out at night. Then again, weren’t Elves supposed to judge on better things than height and dress?

Dorovan never had.

“Ah, well then, what does one look like? Tall, pretty, wearing a crown? You must have seen Dyfna, Daran High King’s daughter,” she said, with a wry grin but some asperity, then added, “then again, yes, she’s very nearly as pretty as you are. I do hope you are somewhat… wiser.”

For a moment, Colath simply stared nonplussed and then Jareth snorted rudely – a muffled laugh.

“Oh, she has you there, Colath,” Jareth said, chuckling.

The quick wit of her response even brought a small smile to Elon’s face as well.

Abashed and amused, Colath allowed himself a small smile also.

He’d met the lady in question, she was very like a butterfly and almost as engaging. There wasn’t a thought in her pretty little head. Give him one like Jalila any day over that one.

Watching, Jalila liked the girl, she showed spirit. It amused her to see Colath brought to task. He should’ve known better than to make such a judgment.

“As for these,” the girl continued, with a gesture at her clothing, “I daresay bards and minstrels would have me wearing those lovely draperies of Elven cloth such as Dyfna wears – dear as that stuff might be, however fair the cost – but it would scarcely be practical for a night ride across the hills on a borrowed horse.”

She had a point.

Jalila looked to Colath, who bowed to their unexpected guest.

“I find myself properly rebuked. My apologies.”

“No need, no insult taken. But there isn’t much time, you can’t stay here, you must go. This place is indefensible.”

“Indefensible? Against what? Why must we leave?” Elon asked.

He’d watched the exchange with interest.

Her urgency and impatience were clear, though well controlled. Her face was flushed but it was outwardly nearly as calm as an Elf’s. Her steel-blue eyes were steady and intent.

Relieved  he would even listen, Ailith said, “I must ask you to trust me, though you have no reason to. This place is too exposed, vulnerable against any numbers and I have reason to believe  you may need to defend it.”

They all went still.

Elon looked at her. Those steel-blue eyes met his evenly. She let him look and judge. There was no reason to trust her or not to trust her. Geric’s daughter by that King’s own words was supposed to be somewhere in the highlands. Yet, there was a resemblance certainly in that tumble of wavy hair, blown somewhat free of the leather thong with which she’d bound it. Geric’s hair had been much the same, though cut somewhat shorter. Her forthrightness impressed him. That and the fact she’d ridden through the night to get here, alone.

“Leave the fire,” he said.

They’d laid it carefully and well so it wouldn’t burn out of control, and as damp as it was still so early in summer it wouldn’t spark a wildfire, something every Elf feared.

Perhaps it would draw the enemy, buy them time.

The other three quickly gathered and packed their bedrolls.

“You have a place in mind?” he asked.

Nodding, Ailith hid her astonishment. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Elon. A King’s daughter should not address me so.”

Briefly, a shadow moved in her eyes. A sadness she offset with a twist of her mouth that would have been a smile were it not for the pain.

“Once, my father spoke of you with great respect. He told me you should give honor to those to whom it’s due.”

It was hard for her to remember those days of late.

Her hands moved, turned the horse. That the cull had even let her mount it said much. He shook his head in amazement and caught his sleeping roll when Jalila tossed it to him. The girl had ridden it with neither saddle nor bridle, nor even a halter.

Ailith of Riverford, Geric’s daughter, looked back once to be sure they were ready and then they were off, weaving through the trees out across an open field toward a narrower band of trees beyond. He could see moonlit skies between and beyond them. A windscreen, trees such as men grew to cut the wind that blew around their houses.

He couldn’t have said why he trusted her but he did. As with Jareth, he sensed there was no guile in her as there was in some.

A shriek came out of the night, the sound faint, a little distant but unique. He knew it well, as did the others. Boggart. As did Ailith, apparently, whose head shot up to glance back worriedly into the darkness behind them before leaning forward to urge her horse to more speed.

Darkness didn’t seem to deter her. With only the light of a thin sliver of moon they sped between the trees and came upon a tumble of stone, before dodging around the shattered remains of a wall. Ailith guided her horse around and through them with sure knowledge, toward the greater shadow of what appeared to be the partly tumbled ruins of an old manor.

Without pausing, Ailith turned her horse and ducked her head as she passed through the arch of a doorway.

“Did you know this was here?” Elon asked in a quick aside to Jareth.

Jareth shook his head, curious now. “No, but I haven’t spent that much time in this domain.”

Few did, these highland Kingdoms were an independent lot, and in the higher reaches even more so.

Ducking, too, Elon passed beneath the doorway with the others close behind.

Elon conjured a sphere of elf-light to light the place as Ailith turned her horse to face them.

“There are only a limited number of ways for them to come,” she said, tilting her head at the doorway. “There and that hole up there. The arrowslits in the walls will give those with a bow a clear shot. It was the best place I could think to bring you in the time we had.”

“You knew about the boggart,” he said.

There was no accusation in his voice and for that Ailith was grateful.

“Yes,” she said, simply. “I knew.”

“How?”

She shook her head. “It’s a long story. That’s for later. For now, it’s not only one boggart. There may be more.”

“How many more?” Colath demanded.

Again she shook her head, this time clearly helplessly. “I don’t know. They said many.”

“Who?” Elon said, insistent.

A deep, centering breath, as she willed herself to calm. “Tolan and my father.”

Four pairs of eyes met hers. Ailith looked back at them squarely. It was nothing but the truth – despite the ache it caused her and the dishonor of their act.

Elon looked at her, her face as still as if she was one of his race, her chin level and her gaze firm. There was pain there, deep and piercing, but her honor and dignity wouldn’t allow her to turn her gaze away. It caught at him. Looking in those eyes he didn’t doubt it was true but there was more to this story, far more it was clear. As she’d said, though, that was for later.

As a reminder, something howled in the distance. Closer than the boggart’s shriek. Still distant but closing.

Stepping beside her horse, he lifted a hand to her. It was a long way from there to the ground for her.

For a moment, she looked at it and he saw the gratitude in her eyes.

Ailith bowed her head for a second, nearly overcome at the gesture. It had been a long time since she’d dared accept a kindness. Knowing as well that Elves didn’t touch any of other races much. Then she took a breath and reached for the offered hand.

“My legs may be unsteady,” she warned him. “I’m not used to riding something so large for so long.”

In fact, she could barely feel her lower legs, they’d been bent and clenched for so long. She slid off the horse carefully yet she still staggered a little when her numb feet touched the ground. He steadied her. She looked up into his even gaze.

“Thank you,” she said.

It had been apparent on the horse that she wasn’t tall but now Elon realized how small she was. The top of her head would only reach his shoulder and yet she was clearly at her adult height. She had strength, though, it was there in the grip of her hand and the pressure of her arm. When he looked in her eyes he caught a touch of self-deprecating humor. A matter-of-fact acceptance of her slightly diminutive stature.

“How did you get up there?” he asked, eyeing the horse.

Her quick grin surprised him.

“I jumped. High. How else?”

Jareth snorted laughter again. “You’ve got to give her that, Elon.”

It also surprised Colath into a small chuckle.

With a shake of her head, Jalila led the horses to the back of the room.

“I do indeed,” Elon said. “You are an intriguing person, Ailith of Riverford.”

With a sigh, she said with mock resignation, “So I’ve been told.”

“No doubt,” Elon conceded, intrigued and amused. “What is this place?”

Looking around she said, “Once upon a time, it was the original lands of my mother’s family before my father’s took it. Not all the family fell in that conflict but their status changed to landowner instead of lord. So this place was abandoned.”

At another howl, this one closer, Colath took up position next to the door.

Unslinging her bow, Jalila strung it and nocked an arrow loosely before she stepped to one of the arrow slits.

Jareth considered it. His skills with a sword were only fair…

“How many?” he asked, again.

Taking a breath, Ailith said, “They wanted to be sure of you. Many.”

“I think I’m better off with magic, Elon.”