Shadow of a Dark Queen (19 page)

The woman nodded. “We are.”

Miranda closed her eyes and shook her head. No wonder the woman was nearly beside herself. Those beings known through most of the world of men as elves gave birth rarely, and children usually grew up to adulthood decades apart from their siblings. Some elves lived to see centuries pass, and the death of one child was more terrible than humans could imagine, but twins were almost unheard of among the eledhel, as they called themselves. For these two little boys to be lost would be a tragedy beyond human imagining for an elf.

Miranda said, “I know what's at risk.”

“The entire village was slaughtered,” said the woman. “I took the boys into the woods to forage for food; we were to leave tonight. We were going to seek out the Jeshandi and ask for shelter there.” Miranda nodded. The Jeshandi numbered a high percentage of the long-lived among them and would likely have taken in this woman and her children. “We didn't think the raiders would be here for another few days.” Her eyes filled again and she said, “My man . . .”

Miranda removed her hand from the cut on her arm and inspected it. The cut had ceased bleeding and now a pink scar was the only sign of damage. She said, “If he was in the village he is dead. I'm sorry.” She knew how hollow that sounded.

Suddenly the elven woman regained her composure, and she said, “Then I must protect the children alone.”

“Damn,” said Miranda. “If we can get clear of this murderous mob, I may be able to help.” She glanced down at the two boys and saw enormous eyes staring up at her from tiny faces. No older than four or five years of age, they would be counted children for nearly another three decades by their race, and would not be considered mature for a century. But by either standard, human or elven, they were beautiful children. Sighing in resignation, Miranda said, “I will save your children.”

“How?”

“Come with me and be silent.”

Miranda moved away. The woman and the two boys followed, and while Miranda could have wished they had the legendary wood skills lore gave to their race—these three were villagers and were not adept at moving through the heavy undergrowth—at least these three were far quieter than a like trio of humans would have been.

Wending their way up the path from the village that they must have used to enter the forest, Miranda led the fugitives. After nearly an hour, Miranda said, “Is there any place near here where I might rest?”

The woman said, “There is a small clearing ahead, and on the other side the entrance to a cave.”

Miranda nodded and returned her attention ahead. The raiders might be combing the area for survivors or they might be enjoying the fruits of their looting. Small villages like this yielded little by way of valuables, and if there were few women of suitable age for the men's amusement, the captains might have sent men out on patrol simply to avoid conflicts over who could be among the first to rape the women.

The elven woman tried to lead onward the two silent boys, and after a moment, Miranda picked up one of the two. The woman nodded and picked up the other and they carried them. Miranda knew that any child frightened enough will go silent, instead of crying, and these babies were severely frightened. Without conscious thought, she kissed the child on the temple and stroked his hair before starting to walk.

Making their way through the trees, they stopped once
at
the sound of distant horses and waited. When the sound receded, they continued. Reaching a heavy growth, they moved through the underbrush to a clearing, on the other side of which stood a cave. “It's safe here,” said the woman.

Miranda put down the child and said, “Wait.” She advanced into the darkness, using her magic arts to see in the gloom. The cave was indeed empty, and showed enough signs of human use that it was unlikely any animal would attempt to use it as a den. She went back outside and said, “Come—”

Before she could finish, a man crashed through the brush, shouting, “I told you I saw tracks!”

Pulling a long knife from his belt, he said, “A couple of brats! But the women are young!”

Another man answered from behind, but whatever he said was lost as Miranda shouted, “Get inside!”

The woman grabbed her two children, each by one arm, and hurried inside the cave. Miranda pulled a long dagger out of her belt and waited. Another man followed the first into the clearing.

Both looked like common mercenaries. The first wore a ragged tabard over rusty ring mail, the design faded and unknown to Miranda. The second was a tall man, wearing a heavy gambeson cut off at the
shoulders, for it was obviously a size too small and would have confined his ability to fight otherwise.

Miranda waited as the two advanced. “What are you going to do with that?” snarled the second man, pointing at the dagger. He glanced at his companion.

“Put that away, girl,” said the first with a nervous smile. “We'll treat you good if you don't cause problems. Give us trouble and we'll make it rough for you.”

Miranda waited, and when the first man stepped close enough to attempt to reach for her, she took a quick step forward, faster than either man expected, and stuck the dagger into his throat.

She wrenched the dagger out as the second man jumped back in shock and the first died, his life gurgling out of his gashed throat. “Hey!” cried the second man, his quick moves marking him a dangerous foe, no matter his ragged attire. His sword hissed from its scabbard and he was ready for any attack before she could close, so she moved back.

A distant clatter of hooves, and the man shouted, “Here! Over here!”

Miranda cursed as answering calls rang through the air. While he warily observed her, she feigned an attack. His sword lashed out and he briefly exposed his arm to her. She flicked out with her blade, but it slid off the ring mail protecting his shoulder.

He laughed as he unleashed a powerful backhanded blow designed to remove her head from her shoulders, but she merely squatted. As the blade cleaved air, she thrust upward with her dagger, taking him in his unprotected groin.

A shriek of pain and he doubled up as Miranda yanked free her blade. A cascade of crimson told her
she had reached the artery deep in the groin and the mercenary was doomed to death in moments.

The sound of approaching hooves signaled that Miranda also had but a few minutes to live if she did not act quickly. Hurrying into the cave, she knelt before the elven woman. “What is your name?”

The woman, crouching before the two boys, replied, “Ellia.”

“I can save you and the children, but I cannot take you to the Jeshandi. Will you come away with me?”

Hearing the riders entering the glade, she said, “What choice have I?”

“None,” said Miranda. She leaned across Ellia, as if embracing her, and put her hands upon the boys' heads, then suddenly everything around them spun into darkness.

A moment later, the air shifted, and it was warm night. The woman gasped, and said, “What . . . ?”

Miranda fell backwards awkwardly and sat hard upon damp soil. “We are . . .” she began, and it was clear she was disoriented.

Ellia glanced around as Miranda fought the confusion of the transition. They were in a large clearing surrounded by thick forest, with a broad stream or small river hurrying through it. The merry sound of water splashing over rocks was a startling alternative to the sound of men dying.

Ellia stood and took a step to Miranda's side, bending to help her to her feet. The dark-haired woman shook her head to clear it.

A sizzling sound in the distance caught their attention, and both looked for its source. A faint glow of green appeared in the night sky; then it turned into a point of light.

“Quickly, into the water!” commanded Miranda, and without hesitation, Ellia turned and scooped up her two children, carrying one under each arm. The river was shallow but running rapidly, and the elven woman had to struggle to keep her feet on the slippery rocks. “Don't look back!” shouted Miranda, and Ellia obeyed silently as she waded hip-deep in the stream. The two boys clung tightly to their mother, remaining silent despite the sudden darkness and the cold of the river.

The searing sound grew louder and soon the boys had their faces buried against their mother's bosom, as if in refuge against the harsh sound. Ellia thought her ears would begin to bleed, and the children finally could endure it no longer and began to wail.

A shattering explosion hurled Ellia forward, and for a panic-stricken moment she thought she would lose the children. Water closed over their heads, but she rolled to her backside and forced herself to her knees, holding her children close the entire time. The boys sputtered and coughed as their heads came out of the icy water, but neither had let go.

The stumble and fall had turned Ellia around and she couldn't help but look where Miranda stood. A brilliant orange light fired down from the heavens, a long line of energy that engulfed the young woman. Miranda raised her arms as if warding off the harsh energies. A sudden blast of hot air struck at Ellia, hot enough to dry much of her head and shoulders above water. Miranda moved her hands suddenly, and a latticework of purple-tinged white energy appeared and began to spread along the column of orange light, racing back toward its source. As it passed up the length of orange energy, it burned brilliant white, too
brilliant to watch. Ellia turned as rapidly as she could in the water, shielding the boys as much as possible from the heat.

Wading forward, she reached the far bank and half lifted, half pushed the boys up onto the grass. Then she struggled to get herself out of the waist-deep water. Suddenly strong hands reached down and lifted her easily out of the river.

Three men in green leather watched the fierce display across the water. One leaned upon a longbow and spoke to Ellia in a language alien to her. She placed reassuring hands upon her boys' shoulders and said, “I don't understand.”

The man glanced at the other two and raised an eyebrow in surprise, then looked back at Ellia. “You speak Keshian, but not your own tongue?”

His accent sounded odd to Ellia, but she could understand him. “I speak the language taught to me by my parents.”

The harsh light suddenly vanished, leaving the clearing suddenly inky in contrast. Miranda swayed in the darkness, as if drunk, then she steadied herself and turned. Across the river, she saw Ellia and the boys standing with three elven warriors. “May I enter?” she called weakly in the King's tongue.

“Who seeks Elvandar?” answered one of the warriors.

“One in need of counsel with Lord Tomas.”

“Cross if you are able.”

Dryly Miranda said, “I think I can manage.”

She waded to the far side and the elven woman said, “What magic is this?”

“These are your people, Ellia. These are the eledhel, and this is the boundary of Elvandar.”

“Elvandar?”
She looked confused. “That is a legend, a tale told by old ones to children.”

The leader of the three warriors said, “I judge there are many questions to be answered, but this is not the place, nor is it the time. Come, we have two days of travel to reach the Queen's court.”

“The little ones are tired,” said Miranda, “and they are frightened.”

The elf looked down and saw the boys. His eyes widened slightly, a gesture that would have been lost on most humans, though Miranda marked his surprise. “Twins?”

Ellia looked at Miranda, who answered, “They are.”

Another elf warrior said, “I shall go now and carry word to the court.” He turned and vanished into the woods.

The first elf made a gesture and the remaining elf nodded once and followed after his companion. To Miranda the first said, “I am called Galain. My companions are Althal, who is returning to our campsite to prepare food for you, and the other is Lalial, who will take word to the Queen and her consort.”

He shouldered his bow, then, without asking leave, knelt and picked up the two boys as easily as he might have picked up two kittens. The boys looked at their mother, but neither child voiced protest. Miranda touched Ellia's shoulder, then motioned with her head that they should follow their guide.

Miranda used her natural sight to keep the others in view. Her arts were depleted by the battle on the riverbank. It had been a short struggle, but no less vicious for its brevity. Through her exhaustion,
Miranda felt the satisfaction of knowing that on the other side of the world the Pantathian magician who had thrown that tracking energy after her had not expected her counterspell. With grim pleasure, she knew he was now a smoldering corpse.

They reached camp without having spoken a word. The fire was burning brightly as Althal placed more wood on it, and rich smells of smoke and crisping game reached Miranda's nose.

The boys were now asleep and Galain gently set them down upon the ground. Softly he said, “It will be light in a few hours. They can eat when they awake.”

The elven woman sat heavily upon the ground, and Miranda knew she was exhausted, emotionally as well as physically. Her home had been destroyed and certainly her husband was dead, and suddenly she was in a strange place with people she didn't know, without even the most basic personal possessions to call her own. In the language of her homeland, she said, “Who are you?”

Switching into Yabonese, the language of the neighboring Kingdom province, and related to the ancient language of Kesh, the common ancestor of the language spoken by Ellia, Galain said, “I am named Galain. We are of the eledhel—as are you.”

“I do not know this word
eledhel,”
said Ellia, outwardly calm, though Miranda knew she must be terribly frightened.

“It means ‘the light people,' in our own language. There is much you will need to know. But to begin, ages ago our race was divided into four tribes, for want of a better term. Those who are eldest among
us, the
eldar,
are the keepers of wisdom. Those who live here in Elvandar and serve Queen Aglaranna are called
eledhel.
There are others:
glamredhel,
the wild ones, and
moredhel,
the dark ones. Some years ago we learned of your people, whom we call
ocedhel,
‘people from across the sea.' We are not sure if you are properly glamredhel or eledhel who have lost knowledge of their own race. But either way, you are welcome to Elvandar. We live here.” He smiled. “We are like you. Here you will be safe.”