Not Magic Enough and Setting Boundaries Boxed Set (The Coming Storm) (18 page)

And Aerilann’s, his own Enclave.

Talaena, spared by its mountains and its proximity to the independent Kingdom of Marakis, was virtually undisturbed but unlikely to remain so for long.

All three grew more alert as they completed their circuit of Alatheriann, leaving a trail of markers embedded in the earth around it, before turning north into the unclaimed lands between it and the Dwarven Cavern beyond. They skirted to the west of one of the lesser Kingdoms, bringing them dangerously near where the Borderlands drew close and where the vicious, magically enhanced creatures of those lands held sway.

In such a place it could be fatal to let your guard down. Nor would they.

They camped at the location of the last marker, knowing the lands they were about to enter. It would be better to be well-rested before they reached them.

The country was wild and rough, thickly forested in some places while in others the bones of the earth broke through the thin skin of the earth in rocky outcroppings. Little grew in such desolation - mostly lichen, tall, sparse grasses and scrubby trees.

As the leader of Hunters - those who defended Elven lands from the predations of the creatures of the Borderlands -  Colath was well familiar with those creatures. As was Elon. He rode with the Hunters regularly as part of his duties as First among equals.

Both loosened their swords in their scabbards as they rode out and eyed the concealing brush around them.

Jareth, who’d stripped off his wizard’s robes and stuffed them into his saddlebag at the first opportunity, shook back his sleeves and drew up power. Elon could feel it drift over his skin.

“This is good territory for boggins and boggarts,” Colath said softly.

The small, quick and incredibly powerful animals were thickly furred and appeared vaguely man-like but possessed teeth like razors and jaws that could break even Elven bones like matchsticks. Smaller but more savage, boggins were cousins to the larger boggarts.

“Firbolg, too,” Jareth offered.

At a surprised glance from the two Elves he added, “I served for a time with the Hunters.”

It wasn’t required of the general run of wizards - although Jareth personally thought it should be. Such duty
was
required of itinerant wizards, those who moved about the Kingdoms at random, serving where they were most needed. That was how Jareth wanted to serve and so he had prepared appropriately.

With a nod Elon looked to Colath and then to Jareth, impressed and encouraged.

“Well enough,” he said, satisfied.

None of the creatures was stupid, the larger boggarts and firbolg having intelligence close to that of man. It was unwise by far to underestimate them or their cunning.

The attack when it came was still an unpleasant surprise.

With reflexes not unlike that of the great hunting cats they somewhat resembled, firbolg exploded out of the cover of the brush, one leaping from concealment in the branches of a tree - the group hunting as a pride, not as solitary males.

So quickly Jareth’s eyes could barely credit it, Elon and Colath were back to back, their horses spinning on their back hooves. Swords lashed out. Blood flew as they struck.

Then he was too busy to watch.

He sent a mage-bolt flying past Colath to fry a firbolg in midair as it leaped from another tree at Colath’s head. The creature fell to the ground, the stench of burnt fur and scorched meat filling the air.

Beneath Elon’s knees, his horse spun and kicked in tandem with Colath’s as he cut another of the firbolg in two and Colath took the limbs of another. Jareth sent mage-bolts flashing into the underbrush.

In an instant - faced with fierce opposition - the firbolg vanished, to skulk and hunt them from cover.

Elon knew the sounds of battle and the scent of blood would likely draw the boggarts as well. He looked to Colath.

Sliding his longsword into his scabbard, Colath reached for his bow, strung it swiftly. While the bow wasn’t his best weapon as a Hunter it was still one of his better skills.

Nocking an arrow Colath let fly into a thick batch of brush and was rewarded by a yowl of pain. There was a flurry of movement away from them as they kicked their horses into a gallop that wasn’t quite flight, keeping their weapons to hand.

Young Jareth turned in his saddle to send a burst of mage fire along their back trail to discourage pursuit.

The pride of firbolg hadn’t given up - Elon knew - they’d simply gone to cover, looking for another opportunity to strike.

Sure enough, a firbolg burst from the brush, going for their horses’ legs. Elon swung low from the saddle to take it with his shortsword as Colath loosed another arrow at those concealed in the brush.

In an instant it was clear it had been a feint as much as a strike and Colath’s blood went cold at the threat to his true-friend.

He saw the firbolg erupt from cover, its claws rake for Elon’s throat as Elon straightened, his sword coming up to parry the thing. His heart in his throat in fear, Colath knew the angle was wrong; he couldn’t get a clear shot at the thing in time. As fast as Elon was, it would still be close.

There was only time for Elon to see the firbolg’s claws rake for him, to feel Jareth draw magic as Elon whipped his sword up to block the claws. A burst of searing heat blew past him to take the firbolg in the face and send it spinning away. Wizard’s magic.

Giving a nod of acknowledgement and thanks to Jareth, Elon pulled himself up into the saddle.

Heart hammering, Jareth nodded.

It had been a near thing.

Camp was set at the very edge of the rocky, mountainous Dwarven domain. Miners and builders of stone, the Dwarves rarely took a step out of their burrows of rock, their deep Caverns.

It was a barren land to be sure; sere, gray and brown, but the layers of stone and rock had their own stark beauty. Here was the coppery rust of iron, there a sparkle of quartz and the thin white line of marble, the golden shimmer of sandstone. It wasn’t hard to see why the Dwarves loved it.

Leaning a shoulder against the tall boulder that shielded one side of their campsite Elon looked out over the green valley stretched out far below them.

In all his life he hadn’t been so long away from the towering trees and lush greenery of Aerilann, of home, and he missed it sharply. He sighed, knowing as only he could that in the years to come it was likely he’d be away from Aerilann nearly as much as he was there, if this fragile peace that he and Daran had wrought between them was to hold. It was a price he’d been willing to pay, knowing it from the beginning, warned by his foresight.

Across from him, perched on a rock with one knee up on the other the young wizard coaxed a pipe alight with sparks generated by magic and then sat to smoke contentedly.

Something about that sight spoke to him.

Behind them Colath banked the fire for the night.

They’d left the firbolg behind but there was still the chance of another attack. There was no sign of boggins or boggarts. It wasn’t unknown for them to follow a back trail in the hopes of catching their quarry off guard. It was dangerous territory riding so close to the borderlands.

It was, though, pleasantly surprising to find they’d fallen into habits quickly and easily, with little need for talk. After unsaddling their horses, Elon set up the camp while Colath fetched wood for the fire and Jareth water - although in this place Jareth had done so under Colath’s watchful eye, with Colath’s bow strung and an arrow notched and ready.

Game was taken along the way but they also had journey-bread and whatever fresh fruits or vegetables they found along their path. Once the meal was cooked and done they took their ease while they watched the sun set, as now, Jareth smoking his pipe discreetly downwind, before those not on watch curled up in their bedrolls to sleep.

There was only the matter of the bedrolls, Elon thought with some amusement. No matter where Jareth set his there was always a rock beneath it so he awoke sore and grumbling to Elon and Colath’s mild entertainment, his brown eyes indignant. He was proving to be good company.

It was a companionable silence and Jareth found he enjoyed it as much as the Elves appeared to.

Truth be told, most people wore on him quickly. They talked too much. He had no need for the constant noise most of his folk seemed to enjoy.

Knocking his pipe against the stone, Jareth was careful to make certain it was empty and then crushed the dottle from the pipe thoroughly to make certain the fire was out - not that there was much to catch fire here except the thin scrubby grass.

In the sky above them the moon rose in a thin crescent.

Each of them took turn standing watch at the entrance of the little cup of stone where they made camp.

Colath came to take Elon’s place at the mouth of the little bowl of tumbled boulders for the first watch of the night.

After the fight and the flight of the day, it was a pleasure for Elon to curl up in his blankets - knowing Colath would rouse him if there was a problem. Elon could see his old friend standing at the entrance to the camp, his arms crossed. Across from him Jareth slept restlessly.

The horses browsed the thin grasses at the back of the bowl where they would be safe from the attacks of firbolg, boggin or boggart. It wouldn’t do, to lose the horses in these lands. It would be their lives if they did - slowed by two up or, far worse, caught on the ground.

Resolutely, Elon put such things from his mind and set himself to sleep.

A light mental nudge from Colath awakened him, the barest touch. It took little more than that. True-friends for more than two hundred years as men measured such things they knew each other’s ways well.

With a nod and a touch to the shoulder, Elon shrugged into the harness for his swords and took Colath’s place.

Jareth was a long huddle beneath his blankets. He would take the third watch, just before dawn, breaking up the darkest hours of the night between them.

It was calm and quiet, serenely beautiful, the pale moonlight casting a faint argent glow over the rocks, stones and boulders. Not far away an owl called softly to its mate. In the sky above him the thin crescent moon had reached its apex and begun its downward journey. Stars glittered like ice in the vault of darkness above him. A soft breeze rustled the thin grasses, a faint whisper of sound. He listened to the sounds of the night and became aware when they went silent save for the sound of the grasses.

The owl took silently to the wing, swooping into the night and not by choice. Something had disturbed him.

Cautious, Elon drew his swords.

They came out of the night, the firbolg, their pale fur mimicking the moonlight as they rushed across the ground. Nor had they come alone. A boggart leaped for him.

A feline scream drew Jareth out of sleep with a rush. For a moment, he could only stare in breathless astonishment…and in wonder.

He’d never seen anything so swift, so strangely beautiful or so very deadly as watching Elon of Aerilann fight off firbolg and boggins alone in the moonlight.

The Elf moved like water - smoothly, gracefully - his swords swirling around him almost as if they, too, were fluid, as if the steel bent like reeds in the flow of his movement. Yet where they touched, blood flew. There was no sound save for the cries of the firbolg and boggins. Bodies littered the ground around him, as steel flashed like lightning in the thin moonlight. Every movement was graceful and sure as he wove a web of steel around himself, denying entrance as Colath took up his swords and went to join him.

There was no pause, Colath simply stepped into the flow of Elon’s movement and became part of it. It was as if they were one person; extensions of each other, one stepping in where the other wasn’t.

Jareth saw the firbolg leap and scramble to the rocks above him and them and fired a mage-bolt, sending it spinning out into the night as he rolled to his feet, calling up power. Energy flared around him, gathered in his hands.

A boggart leaped to one of the rocks and then toward Colath. Jareth picked it out of the air.

It wasn’t his first fire-fight, but he felt the same mixture of terror and exhilaration as he spun and turned in response to the motion he saw at the edges of his vision as Elon and Colath defended the entrance to their little shelter.