The Coming Storm (38 page)

A smile, quick and bright. “It does, so hush.”

The energy was there, it ran through her in a torrent. It made her blood sing, her nerves hum.

Ailith knew his rhythms, knew it from when he’d done this for her. The harmony that was Elon. It flowed through her, from her. Warmth came in a smooth rush to her hands.

“It seems,” she said, wonderingly and lightly, “I’ve learned more from you than swordplay. It’s only fair then to return the favor.”

The terrible pain eased. Elon felt his muscles knit, flesh close over the wound. Relief. In time, with enough time and with rest, it would have healed on its own but without a Healer it would have been days at least. Days they clearly didn’t have.

The pain faded but he was still weak. Blood loss, something no Healer could undo, what was gone couldn’t be replaced, the body had to do that on its own.

“Can you stand?” Ailith asked.

Elon nodded.

She let him go and he watched as she ran to Jareth, dropped to her knees beside the injured wizard.

Jareth was gasping, bent,  braced on one arm, his forehead nearly on the ground as he tried to draw air into his lungs past the pain in his cracked ribs.

Bowing her head next to his, Elon could hear her, her voice soft and reassuring.

The pain in Jareth’s ribs was terrible, he could feel shattered bone scrape against shattered bone, a dozen jabs each time he breathed. Breathing came harder and harder. Then Ailith knelt beside him, laid a gentle hand on his back. Pain diminished as warmth flowed into him.

Carefully, she lifted his arm over her shoulder, helped him sit up so he could breathe easier. He let his head fall back as his breath came back to him.

“Ailith, can you Heal?” he asked on a gasp.

“It seems so,” she said, with a wry smile and a sigh.

Gently, she settled him into a more comfortable position against a tree.

“Rest for a moment.”

Colath. She’d so seldom seen him sit. It seemed Elves preferred to stand.

He waved her off. “Scratches, nothing more, Ailith. And tired.”

Still leaning on his sword against the weakness, Elon looked around at the mass of drow bodies on the ground around them. Movement deep in the ravine caught his eye as something crept out from the shadows beneath the trees. There was something down there among the trees. Another fed on the remains of a drow. It’s very wrongness drew the eye. He had only Colath’s description of the thing but it fit.

His blood chilled.

“Get the horses, Colath,” he said, softly.

At the sound of what they heard in his voice both Colath and Ailith followed his gaze.

“What is that!” she asked, horrified, her eyes widening.

“Manticore,” Colath said on a breath.

A whole pride of them.

The sides of the ravine were steep but not that steep, Elon saw. The deepest part was far below them but the sides were sloped somewhat and ragged. It wouldn’t keep those things there for long. There was other movement, as other creatures of the borderlands crept out from cover to feast. Kobolds, a number of them slinking out from beneath the bushes and rocks. Boggarts and boggins, all of the lesser creatures.

All around their party were the bodies of the drows they had killed, more carrion. Food for those below. Sooner or later they would come for it. They couldn’t stay here to recover.

Colath saw it, too, and Ailith.

Both moved swiftly to the horses.

It was an effort but Elon made it into the saddle. He was as weak as a kitten. Ailith might Heal but no one could replace blood he had lost.

Between them, Ailith and Colath got Jalila and Jareth mounted as well. Each of them took reins in hand. With so many horses and the riders so weak, it would be easier for them to lead them on foot.

“There is a place. It’s not far,” Ailith told them, “if you can hold on for a bit, there’ll be food and shelter soon. In a shelter proof against even manticores.”

“I didn’t ask, Ailith. What about you? Are you all right?” Elon asked.

Her clothing was in tatters and visible through the tatters were thin runnels of blood. There were more on her arms and legs.

She shrugged. “Bruises, some scratches, they will heal.”

There was something in her eyes, though, a haunted look.

 “Ailith, what is it?”

“They had the chance to kill me. As they were so obviously trying to kill all of you. They didn’t. The first held me up like a trophy. The others held me down but didn’t harm me much. I think Tolan sent them to kill all of you but not me. I think he wants me back.”

“He shall not have you,” Colath said, firmly. “We beat him back this time and we will again.”

Glancing at the others, at their injuries, she answered, “Yes, but at what cost?”

His pale eyes settled on her. “At any cost. Knowing what we know of this Tolan, we’re honor bound to aid you. Were it not for the circumstances before, Elon wouldn’t have allowed you to return  nor would any of us. It was difficult then, it would be impossible now.”

Elon, listening, said firmly, “At any cost. Hear me, Ailith. Colath has the right of it. At any cost.”

It had pained him to let her go then, there would be no repeat.

Looking back at him, she saw the determination in his dark eyes.

“For myself,” Colath said, “I owe you a life. My own. Had we been caught out that night as Tolan intended, we would none of us have survived.” He shook his head when she started to speak. “We wouldn’t have been here to stand with you if you hadn’t come. It does you credit that you won’t claim it but it’s there all the same. You fought bravely and well when you could have stood back. You could have warned us and fled. You didn’t. You stood beside us at risk of your own life. For that alone I would fight for you. Whatever else you may be, Otherling or not, for that I would fight beside you.”

He glanced at Elon for confirmation of what he felt through the bond then turned his eyes back to Ailith with a small smile.

“You hold a sword as if you were born to one. I would see the time when you match Elon stroke for stroke. But I’ll make you work hard to best me.”

She smiled. “I’ll never best you,” she said and both knew she didn’t mean in swordplay.

Ailith was true to her word.

It was a fairly large structure, made of stone to keep out all but a very determined ogre. Across one side were stalls for horses and a hayrick. On the other were bunks, the bedding rolled up and hung from the ceiling to air, and to keep rodents and vermin out. A large fireplace dominated one end of the building.

“What is this place?” Elon asked.

“Gwillim had it built, with my father’s consent. It’s a waystation for the Hunters and Woodsmen and for travelers in need. There are only three ways across the Gorge. The Bridge, the ford at the River and some twenty leagues up in the mountains there’s a trail that cuts through it at a shallower point. He lost three people who were stranded on this side by a storm. The Bridge is nearly impassable in winter, more so if there is ice. We found them in their  travel shelters after the storm passed. It had been very cold.”

It wasn’t a pleasant memory, you could hear it in her voice.

“He wanted to be sure anyone in need would have a place to go in the future.”

Soon dried salted beef and vegetables had been made into a stew, with travel bread softened by the moisture added as dumplings.

Jalila and Jareth were soon asleep. Since Ailith had cooked, Colath had taken the chore of bedding the horses down.

The next time Ailith went by, Elon caught her hand and stopped her.

“What is wrong?” he said, quietly. “You’re uncharacteristically quiet and your smiles are in abeyance.”

She took a deep breath. “My head hurts. But more, Elon, I don’t like this. I can’t complain that I can Heal, nor say I wish I couldn’t. I… It frightens me, this magic.”

Relieved, he sighed. “Is that all?”

Narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously, she said, “What do you mean, is that all?”

He gave her a level look back. “The headache is a reaction to using that power. You did too much when you aren’t used to it. As for the other? Being frightened of it isn’t wrong, Ailith. If you fear it, it’s because you fear misusing it. I would be more concerned if you weren’t.”

Some of the tension drained out of her. She gave him a small smile.

“Better,” he said. “Now, get some sleep.”

Colath came up behind her. “I’ll keep watch. The door is barred, so we’re safe enough for the night. You can take the second watch.”

“Are you certain?” Ailith asked.

“Yes,” he said, firmly. “Go to sleep, Ailith. Things will look better in the morning.”

Her head pounded. She smiled gratefully. “Well, if you’re that certain.”

Pointing, he raised an eyebrow.

Her smile became a grin before she went obediently to her bed.

He and Elon traded satisfied glances. That was more like it.

The truth was, the pain in her head was bad and Ailith was exhausted. She didn’t so much as fall asleep as it took her. Sleep. Rest. Oblivion claimed her.

For a time.

Darkness. Rough stone walls with mold that blotched them like a pox. Shadows slipped and swayed across the walls. Glimmers of light, like firelight dancing. Dark dripping walls. The sound of water. From out of it rose a voice. A so-even, sing-song voice.

No, Ailith thought. Denial. Shaking her head. No.

Firelight gleamed on dark and damp stone walls, walls that dripped but it wasn’t water now. It was blood as if the very walls themselves bled. There was even the coppery stench of it to breathe.

She caught her breath. No.

The iron door. No. The door. Light spilled out of it, flickering firelight. Please no. She fought it but she was drawn to it inexorably. No. Clawing at the walls, she tried to keep herself out. Fear turned her legs to water. No. The door. A figure stood by the wall, sandy-haired, nondescript, average height. No, oh no.

He turned as she spun to flee but the door slammed shut behind her.

Ailith turned back.

Tolan stood there, smiling at her. He had never smiled much and now she knew why. She also knew why his thin mouth always looked as if he were sucking lemons. Those teeth, pointing inward, were narrow and sharp.

No fear. She wouldn’t let him see her fear. Keeping her expression as impassive as an Elf’s, she watched him as he walked slowly closer.

“It’s wrong to spy, hasn’t anyone ever told you that,” Tolan chided, his voice mild. “Haven’t they? It’s wrong to spy.”

Ailith stayed silent, watching him warily, keeping her face still and unrevealing.

“You,” he said, finally, “are a thorn in my side. Yes, a thorn in my side. You pain me. You have caused me difficulties, yes you have. Yes you have. For that you must be punished. You will be. You will be, oh yes. The drows failed. Do you know what I asked? Do you know what I asked them? They were to make you watch. Tear your Elven friends and that wizard to bloody little pieces. You defeated the drows. You may wish you hadn’t. They would have had a much easier death. I’m getting very angry, very angry, Ailith. Angry with you, angry with your friends. Very, very, angry.”

His voice boomed off the walls but he wasn’t shouting, his voice didn’t rise. It continued that so-even sing-song tone. That so-reasonable voice. The sound of it resonated.

“Yes indeed. Very, very angry. The punishment must fit the crime. Oh yes, it must. Spying, disturbing all my carefully wrought plans, making me work harder than I should. You must be punished, you must. Shall I tell you what the punishment will be. Shall I? Oh yes. I shall. I will have you. I will have you. Yes. It’s only a matter of time. You must be punished.”

As she watched in a horror she wouldn’t let show on her face, she saw his face melt again. His eyes became hard and glittery, the pupils slitted like a snake’s. His head lowered so that he stared up at her from beneath his rigged brow. The resemblance to a lizard or snake grew more pronounced.