Swords Over Fireshore (13 page)

Ehranan stopped short when he mentioned Woodrun. “Spirits!”

“Yes.”

“We must march at once! Can Felisan provide us with supplies?”

“I am sure he will do all he can. You may ask him yourself. He sent me to bring you to Highstone.”

“No, I cannot take the time! We must make all haste...”

Turisan gave him a moment to realize that the army was unlikely to reach Woodrun before the alben. The mounted force could arrive there in thirty days, possibly less. A fast rider from Ghlanhras—no, not a rider; horses feared the alben—but nonetheless a runner from Ghlanhras would be there in ten. A force of warriors might take longer, but not much longer, if they were ready.

“Felisan asks your presence in Highstone. Rephanin can assist us to speak with Jharan. He wants us all to confer before the army marches.”

Ehranan nodded. “Very well, let me get my horse.”

Fireshore

 

T
ucked beneath a darkwood bough in the small clearing where the party had stopped to rest, Eliani fretted. Her chance mention of Woodrun, and her father and Turisan's reaction to it, had set her thinking.

Of course the alben would seek to control Woodrun. That would secure their hold upon most of Fireshore's darkwood cutting areas, saving only a few smaller places like Bitterfield.

Woodrun must be defended. She should go there herself, not merely send a message, but it must be after her visit with Kivhani was concluded. She would not endanger the tentative friendship they had formed by leaving abruptly. And in any case, she dared not return to the road until she was farther from Ghlanhras.

She gnawed her thumb. How many days to travel to Woodrun? They had come south for two nights, but their progress was slow. It would be at least four days, she thought, and that was probably too hopeful.

The bloom of warmth in her brow was never more welcome.
I am here.

Ehranan and I are with Rephanin. Your father is on his way to join us.

And Thorian?

Rephanin is seeking to contact him. It is not easy for him.

While they waited, Eliani shared her reflections with Turisan. He agreed that she should not leave Kivhani at present. She suspected he did not wish her to go to Woodrun, but left that discussion for later. He would see that it was important for her to go there, she trusted. She would have to ask Othanin to tell her more about the town.

Felisan is here. Rephanin has reached Thorian.

Very well.

Without further ado, she sensed Rephanin's presence, followed by all the others, a confusion of khi that made her squeeze her eyes shut. Bad enough that she was touching Rephanin in thought, though that was not as distressing as she had expected. The anger he had shown when they first met was gone, burned away by the war, perhaps.

Thorian's khi was new to her; she shyly greeted him, then her father took charge of the conference and summarized their concerns for Jharan. After a slight pause, Thorian replied that Jharan understood and agreed. He would come to the Council, and meanwhile he would send another two hundred of the Southfæld Guard north.

Thank you, my friend. Ehranan will no doubt find use for them.

They will be of use.
Ehranan's tone was grim.
For now, I will send the mounted forces ahead to Woodrun. There are some three or four hundreds, mostly from Eastfæld and the Steppes. Turisan will command them.

Eliani sensed her partner's surprise. A moment later Thorian responded.

Your pardon, Lord Ehranan, but Governor Jharan asks if another might as easily command.

No, it must be Turisan. Not only will he inspire the guardians, but he will be able to communicate to us through Eliani, once she returns south. Lady Eliani, if you would consent to join the main army...?

She is to attend the Council in Highstone.

Turisan's response made her smile. Ehranan, in turn, became haughty.

I hope by the time the Council convenes, she will indeed be there. I have need of her first, however. She can inform me of Turisan's progress, and Rephanin can keep Governor Jharan likewise informed.

Eliani swallowed.
It will take me some while to reach the army.

She did not voice the thought that all might be over at Woodrun well before she could do so. Instead she listened as hasty arrangements were made for the army to march. Riders would be sent ahead immediately to towns along the trade road, warning them of the army's approach and its needs. Her heart sank as she realized the hardships they would suffer, marching as swiftly as they could.

Her father's khi recalled her attention.
I must go—it is nearly time for the Midwinter ceremony.

Midwinter! She had forgotten!

She made her farewells, including a tender one to Turisan, who promised to contact her later in the evening. As Rephanin released them, she opened her eyes and gazed up at the forest canopy overhead.

Yes, the daylight was waning. She stood, and went around to each of the party, rousing them.

“It is Midwinter. We should honor the ældar.” She turned to Othanin. “Will you lead the ceremony, my lord governor?”

He nodded, then held out a hand to Kivhani. “If my lady will assist.”

She hesitated, then gave a curt nod. Othanin led her to the center of the clearing, and Eliani and the others gathered around them.

Othanin moved to the east, raised his arms and looked skyward. “Ældar guardians, we greet and honor you on this longest night of all the year. From now until Midsummer, the days will lengthen. We welcome the return of light and all its blessings.”

Together he and Kivhani paced the boundary of the circle, pausing to honor the guardians of each direction. Eliani followed with her party. In their faces she saw peace along with solemnity, and was glad that she had asked for this ceremony.

Returning to the center of the circle, Othanin raised his hands again.

“May the blessings of the coming light be with us all in this dark time. Ældar guardians, please watch over us and help us find our best path.”

All were still. Eliani glanced down at the ground, thinking of her father conducting his own ceremony in the public circle at Highstone.

At home, and in every ælven town, the Midwinter ceremony would be followed by dancing and feasting. Her little company had no means for such—indeed, their provisions were running low—and she could not summon a merry mood.

Kivhani surprised her by beginning to sing. The song was simple, one that every child learned. It praised the spirits and thanked them for watching over those in the realm of flesh. Kivhani's voice was low and resonant, and Eliani found herself breathing more deeply, feeling uplifted, as she sang along in thought.

The song's end signaled the end of solemnity. The company began to talk, quietly but with enthusiasm.

Eliani went to Kivhani. “Thank you! That was beautiful, and perfect.”

Kivhani smiled. “You are kind.”

“Many a year she sang that in Ghlanhras's circle.” Othanin's voice was filled with sadness.

Eliani drew a breath. “My lord and lady governors, I have a message for you from my father.”

Othanin and Kivhani exchanged a glance. Kivhani's eyes hardened, and with a nod of her head she indicated they should seek privacy. They walked a short distance into the woods, then Kivhani turned.

“Your message came through mindspeech.”

“Yes, from my lord, Turisan. He has just left Highstone.”

“Highstone. That is many leagues away.”

Too many, Eliani thought. She pushed aside her desire to see Turisan and concentrated on her message, seeking the right tone of formality in which to phrase it. Diplomacy was not among her strengths. She cleared her throat.

“Governor Othanin, Governor Kivhani, my father Governor Felisan has summoned the Ælven Council to meet at Highstone on the first day of spring. He bids you both attend if you are willing.”

“Both of us?” Othanin sounded surprised.

“As governors of Fireshore.”

“I am not a governor.”

Othanin glanced at his lady. “You were.”

Eliani looked from one to the other of them, watching the doubt in their faces. Governors of Fireshore, though they stood in the midst of a forest, fleeing their own seat of government. Othanin might accept her father's invitation with little fear, though he would face uncomfortable questions about the loss of Ghlanhras.

Kivhani turned to Eliani. “I should travel to Highstone, to meet with a Council who may regard me as no different than the alben?”

“Felisan will give you the protection of his hospitality.”

Othanin coughed. “If the Council's mood turns hostile, even Felisan may face reprisal.”

Kivhani nodded, then fixed Eliani with her dark gaze. “What think you? How will I be received if I go to the Council?”

Eliani thought back to Jharan's Council in Glenhallow, remembering those who attended and which of them had been most hostile and afraid of the alben. She feared Kivhani would have a difficult task to convince them that her people were not the same as alben.

“Governor Pashari will oppose your acceptance, I am almost certain.”

Kivhani nodded. “I expect that. Pashari never was fond of me. Will others support her?”

“Some may. That is all the more reason for you to attend. You can argue for your own people more strongly than any of us could, even I, and I most certainly will speak for you. But let them see you....” She hesitated, fearing she had offended, but Kivhani gave no sign of it. “Let them meet you, hear your petition from your own lips. That would be the best way to make them consider you seriously. The courage you show merely in coming to Council will not fail to make an impression.”

Kivhani pressed her lips together. “And if I am rejected?”

“Then you would be formally exiled, I suppose. Little loss.” Eliani shrugged, glancing around at the forest. This was already Kivhani's way of life.

“Except that we would lose our chance to be accepted as ælven.”

“We are approaching war. The longer you wait, the higher feelings of bitterness against the alben will rise, and the less rational folk will be.”

Othanin, who had hitherto been silent, spoke up. “What if the Lost could assist in this war?”

Eliani looked at him, pleased that he had made the suggestion. His face, though drawn with sadness and care, held more determination than it had when they had supped together in Darkwood Hall. Truly, Kivhani was his strength. Despite his sufferings, he seemed more like a governor now than when Eliani had first met him.

Kivhani nodded. “We cannot field great numbers, but we know Fireshore well. We could provide guides, and observe the alben's movements.”

“You would fight the alben?”

Kivhani bent a stern gaze on Eliani. “With our last breath. The alben are opposed to all that we value.”

Eliani smiled. “Then I think the Council will have no choice but to welcome your aid. In fact, you may wish to petition them for recognition of the Lost as a new clan.”

Kivhani's eyes widened. “An ælven clan?”

“It would assure you a rightful place among the ælven.”

Kivhani blinked, then looked at Othanin. “We shall have to consider this.”

“We shall have to consider many things.” Othanin turned to Eliani. “I am honored by Governor Felisan's invitation, and of course I will attend the Council, but first I must go to Woodrun.”

Eliani's heart sank. “You would be in danger there.”

“Yes, but my people are there. Those who escaped Ghlanhras should be there. It is my task to lead them, if they will still permit me the honor.”

She was tempted to go with him, and almost offered to. Kivhani spoke before she could do so.

“Lord Felisan honors us.” Kivhani's voice was low. “I hope he will pardon me for not answering at once. I think I should discuss this with my people. It is a decision that will affect them all.”

“I cannot get a message to him now in any case. When you have decided, I will pass your response to Turisan and he will send it to Highstone at the first opportunity.”