Swords Over Fireshore Read online

  We are all right. I do not think we shall be followed.

  How is Luruthin?

  Weak. I have not had a chance to talk with him.

  If he has a message for Jhinani, I can ask Rephanin to pass it to Glenhallow.

  Eliani was surprised, struck for a moment at the realization of the power of mindspeech. Among the four of them—herself, Turisan, Rephanin, and his partner Thorian—they could send a message from Fireshore two realms away to the southernmost city on the land, Glenhallow, where winter must now be taking hold.

  I think that would be a great comfort to him. I will offer.

  She opened her eyes. Luruthin had leaned against a tangled root of darkwood, and a green-winged fly had settled on his brow. Eliani brushed it away, and the movement startled him into looking up at her.

  Green eyes, like her own, but sunken now and filled for a moment with fear. Eliani laid a hand on his arm.

  “A fly. It is gone now.”

  Luruthin seemed to relax, and sat blinking at her. Khi leapt to her palm where it touched him, telling her even through his sleeve that he needed healing. She moved to face him and raised both hands.

  “May I?”

  He hesitated, then nodded. The sharing of khi was an intimacy most ælven avoided except in private.

  Healing was a form of this, and from the little she had done so far Eliani had gained a great respect for those who devoted their lives to this kind of service. Jhinani was one of those, and Eliani could not help thinking of the golden-haired, gentle Greenglen lady as she now took Luruthin’s hands in hers.

  He drew a sharp breath at the contact, then closed his eyes. Eliani did so also, allowing her thoughts to focus on the khi that poured through her palms into his.

  Its source was all around, in every living thing and in the very air they breathed. Prime khi, Jhinani had called it. Eliani knew she was only a channel, a focus for this khi. Because she was healing no specific wound, it flowed through her hands to every part of Luruthin’s being. The healing humbled her, as always, reminding her that she was only a small part of the living world.

  Something troubled her—something was odd. She waited, holding her awareness open, hoping for understanding to come. As the heat of healing finally began to ebb, at last she recognized what bothered her. Luruthin’s khi felt strange.

  Having once been lovers, they had shared khi as intimately as was possible without mindspeech. She knew the tone of his khi as well as she knew her own father’s, yet now it felt different, less smooth than it should. Perhaps Luruthin’s distress had caused the shift. She had never heard of such a change, but she knew little of the study of khi. She would have to ask an experienced healer.

  She released his hands and opened her eyes to look at him. His face seemed more peaceful than it had, and he sat quietly for a moment before stirring. When he looked back at her she saw a spark of his old spirit in his gaze.

  “Thank you.” His voice was hoarse. “You are good at that!”

  Eliani smiled. “Turisan sends you his good wishes. He is with Rephanin, and can pass a message to Glenhallow for you.”

  “Glenhallow?” Luruthin stared uncomprehending.

  “To Jhinani.”

  A jumble of fleeting emotions passed through his face. Eliani could not read them all, but sensed his confusion and dismay.

  “Jhinani.” He blinked, frowning. “Yes. Tell her—”

  A stirring on the path ahead distracted him. Othanin was standing, preparing to move on.

  “Tell her I hope she is well.”

  Luruthin got to his feet. Eliani watched, troubled by his reaction. His affection for Jhinani could not have changed, could it? She carried his child. Eliani remembered the joy in his face when he had told her of it. Surely that had not changed.

  This was not the time to question him about it. The party moved forward again, single-file along the narrow path, making conversation difficult.

  For the most part they were silent, with only the murmur of the stream and the small sounds of the forest for company. Judging by the oppressive weight of the heat and moisture, and by the falling-off of activity among the living things dwelling in the forest, she thought it must be mid-afternoon.

  Othanin halted again and Eliani suppressed a sigh. They were not making fast progress, but that could not be expected, given Othanin and Luruthin’s weakened condition. The governor had been right that they should not travel on the road, for the alben would easily have caught up with them come nightfall, at this pace.

  She heard murmuring voices, glanced forward to see Othanin talking with Vanorin, then walking away. Luruthin had already settled himself to rest. Eliani stepped past him and went to Vanorin.

  “Where is he going?”

  “To his rendezvous. He does not want the rest of us to make his lady wary.”

  The guard captain frowned as he delivered this news, and Eliani could not help feeling a moment’s doubt of Othanin’s intentions. Could he have led them into a trap? Could he be planning to abandon them here, where their only choice would be to return to the danger of the road?

  She put these suspicions aside. Othanin had no reason to betray them. They had rescued him from captivity, and they wished to return him to his place as governor of Fireshore.

  It was he who was taking a risk, bringing them close to his lady and the Lost. It was possible that the Ælven Council would consider the Lost the same as the alben.

  How terribly wrong that seemed, but then, Eliani knew that she had a rather different view of Othanin and his lady’s plight than most. She must remember to share all her thoughts on this with Turisan, in case she did not get out of this forest alive.

  Eliani squatted and drank from the stream, then found a sapling darkwood that would bear her leaning against it, and sat back to await Othanin’s return. After a moment, she became aware of a broken sighing. Someone was weeping. Looking down the path behind her, she saw Onami, a Greenglen, crouched forward with her head on her knees, arms wrapped around herself as she stifled her sobs.

  Eliani got up and quietly went to her, wishing to comfort her but hesitant to intrude. Onami’s head turned slightly as Eliani knelt beside her to whisper.

  “What is it?”

  “Taharan. He was k-killed at the gates.”

  “I am sorry.” Eliani reached out a hand to touch her shoulder.

  Onami was still for a moment, then flung her arms around Eliani and collapsed against her, sobbing. Eliani held her, silently bringing the khi of healing to comfort her. Taharan had been Stonereach, a member of Eliani’s clan, a citizen of Alpinon, yet Onami who was a Greenglen grieved for him. Eliani’s escort of mixed Stonereaches and Greenglens had become one.

  They had also shrunk from twenty down to four: Vanorin; Onami; and two Stonereaches, Birani and Felahran who was a distant cousin of Eliani’s, were all that remained. When she had set out on this journey, Eliani had balked at Governor Jharan’s insistence that she travel with an armed escort, but she saw now that he had been right. Unforeseen troubles had reduced their number, and she had not expected to be fighting the alben. She wished now that she had brought twice as many.

  Ahead on the path, Vanorin rose. Eliani heard the sound of approaching footsteps. She gave Onami, who was calmer now, a gentle hug, then rose and went to join Vanorin.

  He glanced at her, but said nothing and returned to watching and listening. In a few moments, Othanin appeared. His face was filled with relief.

  “She is here. She was watching for me, as I thought. She has agreed to meet with you, Lady Eliani.”

  Eliani drew herself up. “Very well.”

  Vanorin stepped forward. “I will accompany you.”

  Othanin’s brows twitched together in a frown. Eliani turned to Vanorin.

  “That is not necessary.”

  “I am charged with your safety. I will accompany you.”

  His voice and manner were stiff and formal. Eliani nodded.

  “Lead us on, then,
Governor Othanin.”

  Othanin’s dark eyes rested on Vanorin for a long moment. At last he glanced at Eliani and a slight smile touched his lips.

  “This way.”

  The path turned away from the stream after a few paces, a change which made Eliani the more uncomfortable. She did not like this looming forest, with its twisted darkwood trees reaching toward a sky that could not been seen.

  High among the black branches the broad leaves were dotted with clusters of white flowers. Eliani wondered if her eldermother, Heléri, had ever seen darkwood blossoms, and if she knew of any benefit to be derived from them.

  They were approaching a darkwood that was larger than most, older than most by its breadth and height. Its highest branches twined away into the green canopy. Its trunk was broader than two armspans at the base and leaned sharply to one side, making Eliani wish to run up its slope to the first branching of its limbs.

  She saw from the polished shine of the smooth, black bark that others had so trod upon it, and realized that this must be Othanin and his lady’s rendezvous, the place where they exchanged messages. Eliani could imagine finding a crevice in the branching to leave a scrap of parchment in, just as she had hidden treasures in the highest branching of her favorite oak, back in Alpinon.

  As they approached the great tree a solitary figure stepped from behind it. This person wore a heavy hood, but Eliani could see into it. She gasped and took a small step back at the sight of a white-haired, black-eyed female.

  Alben, instinct told her as she recoiled. She had first seen such coloring only a few days ago, when the alben had captured Ghlanhras.

  The leather clothing the female wore, including the hood and the gloves that covered her hands, was undyed, the light brown of deerskin. Despite her coloring, something about the bones in her face made Eliani think of Clan Steppegard.

  Her pale hair was caught back from her face, and a small band of braided deerskin bound her brow. She carried a bow and quiver, and a long knife was slung at her hip.

  Othanin stepped between them, raising a hand in formal introduction. “My lady, I bring you greeting from Lady Eliani, daughter of Governor Felisan of Alpinon. Lady Eliani, I am honored to present you to Lady Kivhani.”

  “Kivhani will do.” The lady's voice was deep, quiet. “We are too few to be so formal.”

  “I am honored to meet you.” Eliani bowed slightly, her flesh tingling with fear at speaking to one who appeared alben. “This is Vanorin, captain of my escort.”

  Vanorin made a formal salute, at which Kivhani’s lips twitched slightly. She nodded to him, then gazed at Eliani again.

  “Well met. My lord tells me you seek refuge with us.”

  “We cannot travel quickly enough on the road to avoid pursuit from Ghlanhras. Othanin has told you—?”

  “He has told me.”

  She exchanged a glance with Othanin, and though both were silent, Eliani could see the intensity of feeling they shared. Not all couples needed mindspeech to communicate so.

  “Your bringing him out of Ghlanhras is all the claim you need on me. I owe you thanks and all the assistance I can give.”

  She stepped toward Eliani and offered to clasp arms. Eliani hesitated for the merest instant, then reached out her own arm. Kivhani’s khi startled her; it prickled, like the air before a thunderstorm.

  Eliani nodded as they let go. “Thank you. Is your camp very far?”

  “The main camp is in the mountains, three days’ march. A few of us are camped nearby. My loyal folk refused to let me watch here alone.”

  Kivhani’s lips twitched again in the hint of a smile. Eliani smiled back, beginning to feel kinship with this stern lady.

  “We need to go south.”

  “The camp is south and west of here.”

  Eliani bit her lip. She wanted to go to Woodrun, and she must also warn Bitterfield. She wanted to be far from Ghlanhras, and she wanted rest and healing for Luruthin. She could not have all she wished.

  At least she had sent warning to Woodrun. Comforted by this thought, she decided that her next priority must be the safety of her party.

  “We would be grateful to shelter with you for a while.”

  “Bring your people here and I will lead you to the camp. I have sent a message ahead to alert my friends. We have few comforts, but will gladly share what we have.”

  “Thank you. We shall have to h-hunt.” Eliani faltered as it occurred to her that hunting must have a different meaning for Kivhani’s people. “Perhaps you can advise us what game is to be had nearby?”

  “Small game and hard to catch, in this part of the forest. We have fruit and nuts you are welcome to share.”

  Eliani nodded, strangely comforted by the thought of the Lost eating fruit and nuts. “I will bring my people. Thank you, Lady Kivhani.”

  She bowed again, formally, then glanced at Vanorin and nodded to him to come with her. Othanin remained behind, no doubt to share a precious moment alone with his lady. He had talked of her with the pain of longing in his voice, the night Eliani and Luruthin had spent in Darkwood Hall.

  That seemed so long ago. Eliani marveled as she returned down the path to the stream. Had it really been only last night? So much had happened.

  Ghlanhras attacked and taken by the alben. The rescue, costly but absolutely essential. Impossible to leave the governor of an ælven realm in captivity. She could see that Othanin would be useful in communicating with the Lost.

  And Luruthin ... Luruthin.

  He was still sitting with eyes closed when she reached him. She was dismayed anew at how unhappy he looked. A dark wish for revenge woke in her heart, a thought she knew was unworthy and against the creed. She tried to forget it as she came to stand beside Luruthin and softly called his name.

  He looked up. Eliani smiled and offered a hand to help him stand.

  “Othanin’s lady will shelter us. Come.”

  He smiled back and reached up to take her arm. As she pulled him to his feet she felt a shock of recognition.

  Luruthin’s khi—the khi that had felt so unfamiliar—had the same prickle to it as Kivhani’s.

  Highstone

  Turisan rode into the public circle at Highstone with a weary sense of satisfaction. He had not been here since his first visit, back at Autumn Evennight, and was somewhat surprised to see the city blanketed in snow. The year had turned; Midwinter was upon them now.

  Moonlight threw a blue cast over the steep-roofed stone houses of Highstone, making the windows, lit by glowing candles, lanterns, and flickering firelight, look all the warmer. As on the first occasion of his coming here, those warm windows seemed to welcome him.

  Rephanin reined in beside him. “How small it is.”

  Turisan turned to look at the magelord, huddled in his cloak and leaning forward over his saddle. He smiled, remembering that he, too, had been unimpressed with his first sight of Highstone and Felisanin Hall.

  Turisan’s escort of five Southfæld Guardians looked around with curiosity. Some thirty-odd Stonereaches from Alpinon’s Guard had accompanied them from Midrange, and these turned anxious eyes toward the houses of the city. A door opened in one and a female let out a muffled cry of joy as she ran to one of the guardians.

  Turisan dismounted, and the others took this as a signal to do likewise. The Stonereaches turned from an orderly column into a chattering mass, laughing with relief and the pleasure of being home, fast melting away down the streets that radiated from the public circle.

  The five Southfæld Guardians stayed close to Turisan and Rephanin. Attendants came from Felisan’s stables to take charge of their horses. Turisan retrieved his saddle packs, then stood by while Rephanin slowly lowered himself from his own mount.

  “Welcome, Lord Turisan! Is the fighting over at Midrange?”

  Turisan turned to the attendant holding his horse. “It is over for now.”

  “That is glad news. How fares Lady Eliani?”

  A somewhat impertinent question, bu
t understandable. All Alpinon loved Eliani, and it was natural for her people to feel protective of her.

  “She is well. Has Governor Felisan retired for the night, think you?”

  “Oh, likely not.” The attendant flashed a grin. “Minstrels are here from Clerestone, come to play at the Midwinter feast tomorrow. He is sure to keep them playing as long as there is strength in their fingers.”

  “Then I will dare to intrude. Thank you.”

  He glanced at his escort and saw that they were ready. He led the way across the trampled snow of the public circle to the stair that was cut into the hillside and led up to Felisanin Hall, eager to see Eliani’s home again.

  Her home. He frowned slightly. If Hallowhall was not to be their home together, could Felisanin Hall be so? He could not see himself living here, much as he liked Highstone. He was his father’s nextkin, and would one day assume the governorship of Southfæld. It would not be possible to govern from the seat of another realm.

  Well, they would know if they came here together and their handfasting ribbons came loose. Until the ribbons, bound by magecraft, loosened, their future home was a mystery.

  Dismissing the thought for the present, he led his party through the open front doors of Felisanin Hall and into its spacious hearthroom, where a fire crackled merrily on the welcoming hearth. He rang the visitor's chime and a youth appeared through a curtained doorway.

  “Lord Turisan!”

  “Good evening, Curunan. Is the governor receiving guests?”

  “He will certainly receive you, my lord! Welcome! Let me take your cloak.”

  “Thank you. This is Lord Rephanin, master of the Magehall at Glenhallow.”

  Curunan bowed gravely. “Welcome to Highstone, my lord.”

  Turisan helped the magelord remove his cloak and handed it to Curunan, who disappeared through a side door, then returned and led them with due ceremony into the hall. The room was wide and doubly long, about half the size of Hallowhall’s audience chamber. Its ceiling was high and vaulted, its windows of colorful glass depicting scenes of hunting and battle along with more placid images of gardening, woodworking, a scene that must be of Clerestone’s crystal mines and an image of the Three Shades, the great waterfall near Highstone.