The Coming Storm (46 page)

“Even so,” Talesin said.

In moments, he was gone, waving a salute to them before he rode off into the darkness.

Knowing what she knew of him and guessing how it had happened, Ailith made certain his trail was clear.

“Ailith?” Elon asked, seeing her faraway look.

“They don’t move and I’ll watch to be certain they don’t,” she said, firmly.

He caught something in her voice.

“What is it?” he said, gently.

“They took him, Talesin, you know,” she said, softly. “The trackers. He was of the ones they tormented.”

Slowly, Elon nodded, as he took a slow breath. “I guessed as much.”

Jareth looked at them and then out into the darkness where Talesin had gone.

He hadn’t seen that, hadn’t guessed it. Now he understood the air of sadness in that Elf, which always hung about him. As if he’d seen too much. He had. To have seen it once, to have suffered through it, survived it and then to see it come again…

Jareth couldn’t imagine it.

“Rest,” Ailith said, “I’ll watch.”

“You should rest yourself,” Elon offered.

She shook her head. “I’ll be well enough. If need be, I can sleep in the saddle. I’ve done it a time or two before riding with Gwillim.”

There was still plenty of night left and the dawn yet to come.

Colath and Jalila sought their bedrolls, to take what rest they could.

Wearily, Ailith had just started to doze off when she saw them move, those gray stars in her mind.

“Elon,” she said. “They come.”

Bitter anger. “I misjudged. It’s gone on too long, they grow impatient.”

The attack, when it came, was not at them.

The trackers went for the horses.

Once more their speed and strength were nearly enough but Elon, Colath and Ailith raced to meet them and were there first. This time Jalila had her bow in hand. One tracker died with an arrow in him and the others fled.

“That,” Jalila said, with satisfaction, “is more like it.”

“Enough,” Elon said. “We’ll get no rest tonight and likely not again until we reach Dwarven lands. We ride and hard. Where are they, Ailith?”

“Moving toward their horses.”

In short order they struck camp, mounted and were away. Their precipitous departure bought them some precious time and distance, while the long legs of their mounts bought them more.

As the day wore on, the distance between them and the gray riders lengthened steadily but not for long.

Ailith gasped in amazement and frustration. Days of little sleep had left her weary. The exultation of the day before had eased some of it and had carried her through much of the day but the constant watching drained her. She was getting tired. Now this.

“That’s not possible.”

“What?” Elon said, alarmed at her tone.

She looked at him. “I believe they’ve dispensed with their horses. They move on foot and they’re regaining the distance.”

“How?”

With a shake of her head, she said, “I don’t know.”

He glanced at the others. “We ride through the night. This grows tiresome but we can’t allow them the chance to do damage.”

The gleam in Ailith’s eyes had dulled and her smiles were few. The near constant watchfulness was taking its toll, he could feel it, sense it. Her weariness was apparent. She’d had little sleep since they left Talesin’s Enclave, her sight the only sure means to watch the trackers and prevent a surprise attack.

“Ailith,” he said, “come up behind me. Rest as you can. We can see them well enough in the light, we’ll need you tonight.”

As tired as she was, the suggestion was more than welcome.

Sliding a leg over Smoke’s back, she took Elon’s hand and swung up behind him.

With her arms wrapped around his waist she wove her fingers together to keep herself securely in place and laid her head against the long, strong muscles of his back as if they were a pillow. There was a comfort in it she didn’t examine closely as her eyes closed and she fell asleep.

Once Ailith’s light weight was settled comfortably at his back, Elon signaled the others. Her breathing settled, steadied and he knew she slept.

He wouldn’t have asked so much of her, it was she who asked so much of herself. He knew that about her now and couldn’t fault her for it.

They kept riding.

For all it should have felt odd to have someone ride pillion behind him, Elon found her presence there wasn’t uncomfortable.

They rode up into the hills, into the rocky defiles and stony lands that Dwarves so loved. Stark, it was still oddly beautiful.

“How will we know when we have reached Dwarven lands?” Jalila asked.

“We’re already in them,” Jareth answered. “This is the buffer zone for this cavern.”

A buffer similar to that around Elven lands, meant more to put distance between themselves and men, who had in the past encroached too closely sometimes, straining the relations between the races.

Elon looked at Ailith.

Ailith, back on her own horse, nodded agreement.

If she felt the least fear, the least bit of concern, he didn’t see it.

The sleep Ailith had gotten so securely at Elon’s back had restored her. There had been an odd reluctance within her to leave but she resolutely put it behind her.

“I’ve been here before,” she said, with a look to Elon. “The wards are just ahead.”

Knowing they were there made it easier for Elon to spy them. Not knowing, as with Talesin’s Veil, made them harder to find unless you were close enough to feel the magic. Now Elon could see it, the faint haze of magic on the air.

What their people called a Veil, the Dwarves called the Wall.

Ailith rode ahead, seeming to disappear among the rocks and boulders. Without qualm, the others followed her. To find Ailith facing a massive Dwarf, one that stood almost as tall as Elon. His axe was couched, though, and rested on his shoulder as he greeted her with narrowed eyes.

“Ailith of Riverford, Geric’s daughter. Child of Telerach’s child,” he intoned. “You are known here.”

Gravely, she inclined her head.

“What brings you to this place?” he asked.

“I come in service to Elon of Aerilann, Councilor, to speak with the Lore Masters and deliver dire news.”

In service.

Elon kept silent but the phrasing was interesting. Well done, also. In one sentence she’d declared she hadn’t come as King’s daughter or as a child of Dwarves, although she was both, but instead on his behalf.

The Dwarf  looked at her for a long moment, then at Elon. “Come.”

At a wave of his hand the entrance to the Cavern appeared from behind the magic that concealed it.

They passed through it into the Cavern itself.

It was impressive, a great vaulting hole in solid rock that arched up into darkness high above. At the lowest level the Dwarves had hewn large semi-circular entryways that ringed the chamber all the way to where it arched upward to form the roof. They would lead to the mines far below. A long ramp spiraled upward around the walls, ring upon ring of walkways. The walkways were pocked with the openings to each family’s dwelling. Glowing stones, the Dwarven equivalent to elf-lights or mage-lights, marked each level and at places around the levels. There were hundreds of entryways. With the lights at the same spot on each level, it was as if the cavern were rimmed with light. The floor was made of some smooth stone, polished and gleaming.

Tapestries and banners hung in various places on the walls to mark the family or families who lived on that level. Their brilliant color brightened the gray sameness.

With a shock, Ailith recognized her mother’s work among them.

A younger Dwarf ran to take their horses as they dismounted.

From one of the large semi-circular entryways a Dwarven woman approached.

Like most Dwarven women, her expression was generally lighter than that of the men, although this one seemed graver than most. Her hair was lush, as thick and wavy as Ailith’s, although much darker and caught back with jewel-encrusted combs on each side. She was small but gave an impression of immense strength, both physical and mental. She wore a long, heavy straight velvet robe with a weighty gold chain that rested on her shoulders to hang down her chest. Suspended from that chain was a reddish stone that glowed brilliantly.

From that chain of her office, Elon knew who and what she was.

Lore Master.

He was more than a little surprised to have them agree to speak to them so quickly.

It was not usually the Dwarven way. There was Protocol and there were Rules about such things.

An Exception had been made.

The Dwarven woman looked at Ailith first, then Elon, then at the others.

“Ailith of Riverford, Geric’s daughter. Child of Telerach’s child. We welcome you in her name.”

Her eyes rested on Elon for a moment. She nodded slowly.

“Elon of Aerilann, Elf and Councilor, we know of you. Your reputation precedes you. Know you are welcome here.”

With a slight bow and a spreading of her hands, she said, “I am Ondelak, Lore Master. The others gather. You wished to speak with us. Follow.”

They entered a huge room occupied by a single large table carved of a solitary slab of marble. Stone chairs, amazingly light, seemingly carved from alabaster, were set around it. Some were occupied, certainly all those at the far end of the table. Ondelak waved them to chairs at the near end as yet another Dwarf appeared through a different door. She and he went to join those at the far end.

These then were the Lore Masters, the Healers, the Artificers, planners and such among their folk. Here was the magic of the Dwarves concentrated, unlike among Elves.

Like men the majority of Dwarves, even Goras, the Third of the Three, had very little magic. Only the most basic. Unlike most men, they did have some. Like Elves they didn’t suffer illness as Men did, the magic in their bodies Healed them of all but the most grievous injuries, which was when the Healers were needed. Like Elon’s own folk, too, they were empathic, a necessity for those who traversed the dark reaches beneath the earth. Among these here were those who had the sense for certain types of rocks or metal, who could sense the rifts or faults in the stone.

Elon sat, taking center place with Colath at his right, Ailith to his left and Jareth and Jalila to either side of them.

“What is it you wish of us?” Ondelak asked, as all Dwarven eyes fixed on him

“Nothing,” Elon said.

This was delicate.

If he asked aught of them it would be a Contract and then the negotiations would begin. That could take hours and sometimes days. If they offered, it was one thing, but another entirely for him to ask. He also didn’t want to be indebted to them, and perhaps give Goras a loophole to escape the Agreement.

“I ask nothing of you. I came to ask if you have sensed anything amiss within or beyond your borders?”

There was a sharpening of looks.

“Explain,” Ondelak said.

“The creatures of the borderlands are troubling the borders. Some few of you know I have the gift of Foresight. There is a sense of a darkness rising. I would know if you have seen this, too?”

They didn’t look at one another but he had a sense they all knew what the others thought. And what he spoke of.

Ondelak nodded slowly, her face troubled. “We have. A shadow we can’t name. We too have found the creatures of the borderlands where they should not be.”

Elon nodded.

“I would show you a thing,” he said. “I would like you to understand I had no wish to bring such a object among you. It’s ancient and evil. There are such things loose again in the world that shouldn’t be. This is one of them.”

Tension rippled through those at the other end, a look was exchanged.