The Coming Storm (21 page)

That explained much of what felt ill in Riverford.

“Tolan’s a wizard?” Jareth asked.

Ailith shrugged and sighed. “That I don’t know.”

“We need to speak to this Tolan,” Colath said, shortly.

Ailith shook her head. “It will do no good and you’ll never see him. Not as he is. Think about it, Colath. What would you say to the Lord King of Riverford and all its domains? That his daughter overheard him plot to kill you? What do you think they’ll say? They’ll deny it, say I’m mad. It will be my word against theirs.”

“But,” Jalila said, “we were attacked, as you said.”

Closing his eyes, Elon saw it. “Yes. We know this. What proof have we that they had anything to do with this? Ailith, do you know how he did this, commanded the creatures of the borderlands?”

Just the idea it was possible explained much and set his Foresight to jangling wildly. Here then was the answer to much, and yet as always it only raised more questions. This, though, was the moment it had anticipated.

She met his look and shook her head. “No, I don’t. I only know what he said and that he didn’t doubt he could.”

“Is there anything here,” Elon said, his eyes going from one to the other of them, “in proof that this Tolan had any hand in this? Those creatures don’t wear badges. Do we know of any way he could have done this? Jareth?”

Slowly, Jareth shook his head. He saw the problem as well. A cold chill went through him as the idea took root. In all his years, all his studies, no one had ever suggested it was even possible.

“No, I know of no way the creatures of the borderland can be commanded.”

“There is Ailith,” Jalila said. “She heard him say it.”

“Think of what was said as if you weren’t here this night,” Elon said. “If you couldn’t see the evidence around you. If the person you accused of having a hand in this was a King, one of his trusted councilors and his Captain of Guard. Who would you believe?”

Jalila’s face went very still.

Ailith nodded. “Do you see? They’d say I was mad. Think of the words he used. There’s no open threat there. Inference, yes. Perhaps it was merely a coincidence you were attacked. I was eavesdropping, not a very honorable thing to do, I admit. There would be many who wouldn’t think well of me for spying on my own father. As for him being under the influence of Tolan? There’s no proof, you saw him. So far you’re inclined to believe as much because I was right about this. Were it not for this, would you have believed me at all?”

With a shake of his head, Colath said, “No. Are you sure about it, about all you say?”

Her own doubts and fears swarmed up. That dream. Had it only been a dream? That soft so-reasonable voice. The changes in her father. Mother. There was no doubt her mother was gone, and there had been no word of her since. Nor had anyone dared ask.

Pain and grief wrenched at her. In her mind’s eye she could see the figures in the tunnel and all the rest that had followed.

“Yes.”

Her voice was so soft that even to Elon’s sharp hearing it was barely a whisper. There was on her face an expression of unutterable sorrow, terrible tragedy and some deep grief. What had happened in Riverford, what was it she didn’t speak of?

She sighed and repeated it more strongly. “Yes, I’m sure. You didn’t see Tolan’s true face while you were there or hear the odd sing-song way he talks. It’s like listening to a basilisk if the power that’s in their eyes were in its voice. I would show you a thing. Perhaps you know what it is.”

Reaching into her pocket, she drew out a wad of elven-silk, its bright colors somehow incongruous here in this gray ruin. It looked to be a piece of a scarf or something. Her fingers trembled as she picked at the knots.

“I’ll warn you, don’t look too closely at it. Don’t touch it. I don’t know what it is but it holds you.”

Those words were enough to alarm Elon.

As her fingers loosened the knots, he stiffened. Something…something ill, something Dark, had been loosed in the room. He could feel it.

Across from Elon, Jareth became alert as well. As each knot loosened he could almost feel his scalp crawl, a prickling that ghosted across his skin.

Carefully, Ailith spread the folds of silk on the stone floor to reveal the little pendant. Freed from the silk the mindless buzzing of it made her shiver.

A sharp intake of breath as Elon stared at it. Horror speared through him.

He knew it, knew it from the histories and from the pictures the Elven bards drew in the mind when they spoke of them.

Jareth gasped outright at the sight. He’d only seen a drawing of one, he’d never seen one in truth.

 Revolted, he said, “That’s not supposed to exist. They’re gone, they were supposed to have destroyed them, all of them, centuries ago.”

In his history lessons at the Collegium, they’d spoken of things like this with horror. A year had been spent on it, making certain every student knew just how terrible these things were. The very idea had given some of them nightmares. He’d been one of those.

“Where did you get this?” he demanded, sharply.

She looked at him with eyes so haunted he instantly regretted the harshness of his tone.

“What is it? Please tell me,” she said, softly.

Taking a slow deep breath, Elon said, “Ailith, it’s a thing of darkness. Of evil. It’s a soul-eater.”

Darkness and evil.

Tilting her head, Ailith looked at him. A soul-eater. She thought of her father and mother, and was heartsick.

“It’s an amulet,” Jareth said. “From the dark days of the wizard wars. In those days Men were scattered in individual Kingdoms, the heartlands were barely settled. There were terrible wars between men and between the other races. Elves and men weren’t friends and were sometimes enemies. If you know your histories you know it was a terrible time. Wizards dabbled in darker magics, blood magic and soul magic. This is a relic of that time, something created then. It traps the soul of the wearer.”

Traps the soul.

Just the idea was enough to make anyone shiver.

Jalila leaned closer to get a better look at the thing, hearing something in all their voices that chilled her.

There was definitely something about it, a buzz or a hum of magic that made her uneasy and yet was strangely beguiling. She knew something of jewelry, being an artisan of it herself. There were a fair number of her folk that wore her work. To look on it, it didn’t seem so dangerous in truth, simply a poorly made little charm with a bland gray stone in it. Almost like a child’s work. At first it seemed as if that plain round stone was only a shiny dark dome of some gray-colored gem or crystal but on closer examination it looked as if there was an oily liquid or something inside it that shifted and slid in strange patterns just below the surface. It was a little like watching fish swim in murky water, giving one just a flash or a glimpse of back or fin. In an odd way it was fascinating and a little curious.

She shifted a little to get a better look at it, unaware of her thoughts grew dim, hazy…

“Elves weren’t impervious to it but it takes longer to have effect and take hold,” Elon said, and then saw Jalila lean a little closer to the object on the silk. “Jalila.”

Abruptly Jalila sat back, shaking her head. Those patterns.

Her head felt thick and foggy. Her skin felt odd for a moment, as if it didn’t fit her right, as if she were filmed in oil. Soiled.

She took a shaken breath.

“You had good instincts, Ailith, to wrap it so,” Elon said even as he tossed a corner of the silk over it to lessen its effect. Even at arm’s length he could feel the pull of the terrible thing. “Elven-silk was originally spun as a shield against such things. It’s not a good conductor of magic.”

“Where did you find it, Ailith?” Jareth asked, more gently.

Her face grew still, calm.

Very quietly she said, “My mother wore it.”

None of them missed the past tense or her stillness.

A soul-eater, and her mother had worn it.

There was deep grief in her voice.

His voice careful, considerate, Elon said, “Ailith.”

A gentle prompting. There was no doubt this would hurt. That couldn’t be avoided. It wasn’t difficult to guess what had happened.

“I believe she’s dead,” Ailith said, carefully, remembering. “I had a dream. They gave me the same story they gave you. She’s away. There’s no body, no evidence I can point to and say – that’s it. There is only that…thing. My father wears one like it always. I think Caradoc now does as well. There may be others.”

Jareth looked at Elon, his expression grim and stricken, sick at heart.

“Those things were supposed to be gone,” Jareth said. “At the end of that war they were all supposed to have been taken away and destroyed.”

That had been ages past, when Elon had been little more than a child himself. He remembered much of it, it had been a dark and terrible time.

“Our histories say the same. They were taken away, destroyed or buried where none could find them.”

“Someone has,” Colath said, bluntly, with his usual clear vision. “What can we do? There must be something.”

“Against a lesser King, without proof?” Elon said. “Nothing. As yet.”

“What of Ailith?” Jareth asked.

Elon looked at her. “She comes with us. I can’t imagine there’s any place safe for her in this Kingdom.”

“I have to go back,” Ailith said, flatly.

They stared at her in shock.

“Why?” Elon said.

She sounded so certain.

“I’m three weeks shy of my majority.”

Jareth closed his eyes and swore softly. He felt sick. “No.”

Even Elon didn’t understand this, he looked to Jareth.

“What is it?”

Jareth looked at her and she looked back at him with helpless resignation. She shrugged and he sighed.

“It’s the Law, Elon. Until Ailith reaches her majority, she’s the ward of her parents, in and under their sole custody and control. In a case where the parents are both absent, the King stands in their stead. In this case in the absence of her mother it’s her father who has custody. As her father… and as King. Even if we were to take all we know to the Council, she must be returned to his care until the case is completed. We also can’t forget she’s the Heir to Riverford’s throne. Geric’s
sole
heir. He would have just cause to complain about her removal from his domains and jurisdiction. Even Daran can’t supersede that. That’s the Law.”

“And what if this Tolan decides to hang one of those things on her?” Jalila objected.

The very thought of it made her ill. The way it had entranced her thoughts still left her feeling soiled and unclean.

Already she liked Riverford’s heir, liked her courage and strength. She was a worthy person.

“Elon, we can’t do this,” she said. “We can’t allow it.”

Colath shook his head. “No, we can’t. That thing should be proof enough she can’t be returned.”

They couldn’t, not in good conscience, not with any honor.

Elon looked at the charm sitting in the center of the silk. It chilled him to think such things were loose in the world once more.

He looked at Jareth, who shook his head.

“We can’t, Elon,” Jareth said, heartsick. “We must send her back. By the Agreement, Geric has that power. He would have all right and warrant to send his Guard after us to take her back by force. We would have to fight the Guard, breaking the law and violating the Agreement or give her up.”

He hesitated but it had to be said, “There are some among men who aren’t fond of Elves, even on the Council. As you know. They’ll wonder why Elves interfere in the affairs of men. Others, with coarser and baser notions will wonder what Elves want with the heir to Riverford.”

The ignorant among those who feared and hated Elves for their difference would believe almost anything of the Elves. Some of them had power.

That last was one of the many reasons, and not the least of them, that some of Elon’s people had no liking for the race of Men. Being attributed to the same kind of debased, crude and degraded behavior some men enjoyed was an insult many Elves couldn’t tolerate. That any people would condone or ignore acts of violence against others of any kind only confirmed to many Elves that Men were a lesser race.