The Coming Storm (79 page)

In the center of it all was an enormous garden, with tall grasses and towering palms that swayed high above them in the desert breeze.

Ailith had only seen Olend once and that briefly at some Court ceremony when she had been young.

He wasn’t a man who was easily forgotten.

Snapping black eyes were sunk deep above high cheekbones, he had a high arched nose above full lips and hair as black as a raven's wing that framed a strong-boned face before falling to his shoulders in waves. He was tall, a strongly built man dressed in the loose white clothing his people seemed to prefer.

All in all, he was an impressive man.

The majordomo handed him her warrant and left.

Olend looked at it quickly then looked up at her in surprise.

Ailith knew what he saw when he looked at her.

She was dressed for battle in fairly common clothing, only a loose shirt and vest over trews. Her longsword was in its harness over her shoulder, her shortsword on her hip. Those were the most remarkable things on her.

Jareth, she knew, looked little better than she did but then he never did.

She’d left her people in the courtyard.

“Do you know how to use that thing?” Olend asked, arching an eyebrow and looking over her shoulder at her sword.

He had a marvelous voice, deep and very resonant.

Tilting her head, she said, “Which one, the long or the short one? I can use both, sometimes even at the same time.”

Amused, Olend smiled.

“Truly?” he said. “Let’s see.”

Elon had said there would be a test and that she would enjoy it.

Now she understood what he meant as Olend called for his own sword.

A servant brought it, a deeply curved sweep of steel, tasseled and gleaming.

She grinned and drew her longsword.

“Jareth, why not find a better place to watch?” she said.

Seeing the smile on her face, Olend’s eyes sharpened and there was a flash of very white teeth as he returned it. Eyeing her stance and her grip on the sword, his eyes narrowed a little further as he took her measure.

Then he struck.

At first he tested, tapping against her blade to test her hold and strength.

Her grin widened.

Then he pushed a little harder and she met him, blade to blade.

Surprised and pleased, Olend stopped testing and began the true sword dance.

The curve of his blade had thrown her off a little bit at first but she adjusted, balanced strength for strength and made the lie of her much smaller frame.

It wasn’t quite like sparring with Colath or Elon but it was still a challenge, and Ailith enjoyed it immensely. Their swords rang and if it wasn’t quite like the singing she heard when she, Elon and Colath met, it was still a music of its own. One that she and Olend made.

There was a light of pleasure in his eyes as they circled each other, swung, struck, parried.

Jareth found a place under the veranda where it was cooler and the hot sun wouldn’t beat down on his head. This was Ailith’s command, Jareth was only following to lend her a hand, so he followed her play. He’d met Olend before on visits with Elon, and of course he knew Itan from the Collegium. This promised to be entertaining.

A soft, mellifluous voice spoke at Jareth’s elbow.

Itan
.

She’d come up behind him so quietly he hadn’t even sensed her presence. As always her subtle beauty stunned him for a moment.

“Hai, Jareth,” she said, “has my husband found someone new to play with? She’s quite good or they wouldn’t still be sparring.”

Her voice was as cool, refreshing and smooth as a cup of water.

Jareth looked over. “Itan. I have it on good authority, not my own of course, that Ailith is very good. Elon spars with her as often as he can. You should see it, Itan. He and Colath and her. All three, at the same time. It’s like listening to bells ring.”

“Has she told Olend this?” she asked.

Jareth gave her a glance, smothering a smile. “He didn’t ask.”

“Ah,” Itan said, appreciating the qualification and watched the two with amusement. “He wouldn’t.”

It had gone on for some time in the hot sun however. This Ailith, however skilled she was, would be hot and tired after a long ride, although she did seem to be enjoying herself quite a bit to judge from the smile on her face. It wasn’t good hospitality, though.

She clapped her hands sharply twice. “Olend, enough. This is no way to greet a guest.”

Olend stepped back, bowed a little before he saluted Ailith with his sword and smiled at his wife. In turn Ailith bowed to him, saluted back and sheathed her sword.

“Excellent!” he said, enthusiastically, and gestured her ahead of him. “My dear, this is Ailith, sent by High King Daran. My wife, Itan. She’s quite good, isn’t she, Itan?”

Itan was remarkable, everything the Queen in the north had wanted to be and more. One couldn’t substitute stolen beauty for real, nor real character where none existed. Itan had beauty and character in bushels. Her hair was a shining black and hung straight to her waist, caught back at the nape of her neck in a clasp of gold. She had sloping black eyes, refined cheekbones and high-arched brows, a slight arch to her nose and a high straight forehead. Her skin was a golden brown, lighter than Jalila’s.

“Yes, she is,” Itan said. “Jareth here tells me she spars regularly with both Elon and Colath.”

“Simultaneously,” Jareth added.

Olend blinked. He glanced at Ailith in surprise. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

 “You didn’t ask,” she said, evenly.

Amused, he replied, “You could have said.”

Giving him a level look back, she said, with a grin, “But then there would have been no surprise.”

He barked out a laugh, and smiled. “True.”

“I have people with me in the courtyard,” Ailith said.

“That has been taken care of,” Itan said and gave a nod to a man who waited down the corridor.

“So, what is it we can do for the High King?” Olend asked as he gestured Ailith to a chair.

Cups and pitcher of water stood on a table. Moisture beaded on the side of the pitcher. He gestured for her to pour herself some.

She took a sip before saying, “Too much, I am afraid. I understand you’ve been having incursions of the creatures of the borderlands.”

He gave her a sharp look, then glanced at his wife. Her expression, so light moments before, had become grave.

For a brief moment he was silent.

To a nearby servant he said, “Bring Talik and Aron.”

The man left in a hurry.

“We have. So much so I’ve pulled them in, our losses were too great. We sent to Daran, to no avail. Now no one goes out to harvest the olives or the figs any more without guard, they were attacked too often. Then Daran sends me a company, but they know nothing of the desert, so I put them to work guarding those who harvest, freeing up some of our people. A company! Even so, my people are tired.”

“My sorrow to tell you but it’s about to get much worse.”

“Explain.”

“We’ve had incursions in the north as well. Raven’s Nest was attacked. Four days ago we fought a battle in the highlands against a host of borderland creatures.”

Olend lowered his head and folded his arms, chewing on his lip as he considered it.

“I heard Daran High King had taken the army north. I didn’t know why. It’s not necessary always to know what Daran High King does but I should have known of this.”

Mentally, she shook her head. Daran should at least have sent a messenger.

Two men appeared in the doorway. She would have known them for what they were anywhere although the clothing was different.

“There are Hunters and Woodsmen in the courtyard,” the first said.

“They’re with Ailith,” Olend said, with a nod to her. “Talik of my Hunters and Aron of the Woodsmen, although here we say Men of the Desert. Sit.”

She nodded at both of them. They looked her over with interest and some curiosity as they all found chairs.

Both men were of average height and the same golden or olive colored skin that was common here. Talik had the black eyes and slightly haughty look, while Aron had greenish eyes and darker skin.

“Continue.”

“We think these incursions are directed but we have no proof who directs them. We fear you may be the next attacked. So, Daran sent me to secure the garrisons and bring them here to help prevent that.”

Talik interrupted, “The creatures of the borderland can’t be directed.”

“I’ve seen it, as has Jareth, there’s no other explanation for it, Talik. The first time by boggins, boggarts and an ogre. The second time a mass attack by drows. Just a few days past, we fought a whole army of them, trolls, goblins, boggins, boggarts, the lot.”

He went silent, his eyes hooded.

Itan listened and heard more. “My dear Ailith, don’t you think we should know all?”

“Itan is a wizard, Ailith,” Jareth put in, “and uses mind-magic.”

Soberly, Ailith looked at them both. That could be very dangerous for her. She would have to be very cautious here. Elon had spoken of Olend in warm terms. He trusted them, so would she.

“Itan, I speak in terms I know to be true. Elon believes these incursions are being directed and always have been.  They were designed to test our borders and wear us down in preparation for worse. He’s been trying to prove that for some time. The attack on Raven’s Nest was enough to convince Daran High King to raise the army. Elon thinks the original plan was to have a wave of borderland creatures sweep through the north into the heartland and then for another attack to come through from the desert into the south to take Doncerric.”

They all looked at her, caught off guard by her bluntness.

“We stopped the attack from the north. The army of the Kingdoms is still there although it’s making its way south  to come in defense.”

For a moment Olend was stunned.

“You’re saying you expect an invasion to come through here,” Olend said.

“Yes and soon.”

“How soon?”

“We don’t know.”

Itan asked, “Who directs this?”

“There’s no proof and no one has any sure knowledge of it, Itan. What we do know comes from a source we can’t  explain. I can answer but I may not.”

Not with others around, a secret only remained a secret when no one knew of it.

Their eyes met.

Slowly, Itan inclined her head.

When Olend started to speak, Itan laid a graceful hand on his arm. “Don’t ask, Olend. She has told us what she can.”

Ailith nodded, relieved.

“The High King asked me to take command of the garrisons. Elon thought it would be easier with your backing, Olend.” She smiled wryly. “He thought I might have some difficulty alone. Something to do with looking too young for it, I imagine.”

“Why you?” Olend asked. “You do look a bit young for taking command.”

“She’s old in soul, though,” Itan said, abruptly.

Not knowing what to say to that Ailith was speechless for a moment.

Jareth echoed Elon’s words to Daran, “She led the relief at Raven’s Nest, took command of a forward company in the battle only a few days ago and survived to tell the tale. Elon trusts her to do the job. I follow her.”

A glance passed between husband and wife.

Elon trusted her. That Elf they knew so well trusted few easily. Jareth, a wizard, another they trusted, followed her. It was enough.

Olend nodded. “Since we don’t know when it will come, Talik, you and Aron take some men and scout out into the desert. We need eyes out there. We need to know what’s going on. Send regular reports but don’t engage.”