May 3.
Soft sheets. The scent of flowers. Something cool and damp against her forehead. Raven hin'Elric opened her eyes and blinked, trying to make sense of her surroundings. There was someone else in the room -- she could hear them walking around -- but their scent was unfamiliar. Reaching up, she felt a wet cloth resting on her forehead. Sitting up in the bed she found herself lying on, Raven rubbed her sleep-fogged eyes and looked around again.
The room was small and round, perhaps twelve feet in diameter, with unpainted wood for the walls and floor. The roof had support beams radiating out from its center, and looked to be covered with some kind of treated animal hide. Small round windows gave Raven a view of branches and tree trunks, which didn't really tell her very much about her surroundings. Other than the bed, the room housed a nightstand, a small table, a chair -- and Raven's unfamiliar companion.
She had the look of a woman in her teens, young, slender, and delicate. Her clothes were simple and sparse, a halter top and loincloth of some unremarkable brown material, ornamented with beads in a few places. The necklace she wore was a simple leather cord strung with beads, shells, and a few gold rings. Her hair was reddish brown, long, and braided, with small white flowers woven into it. She had dark eyes that were both bright and serious, well-defined and beautiful features-- And, Raven suddenly realized, pointed ears.
"You're awake," the girl said. Her voice was as melodic as a birdsong, but there was an evenness to it that tempered its beauty -- the voice of civility.
Raven's ears twitched. "You speak Common," she said.
"Aye, some of us still have the talent," the other replied, sitting down in the chair beside Raven's bed. "My people, more so than others. That's why I was chosen to tend to you."
"Your people?" Raven echoed. "You are an Elf, are you not?"
"Half-Elf," the girl corrected. "My name is Tessariel."
The priestess smiled. "A fair name."
"It means Willow," the half-Elf replied, extending a hand in greeting. "If it pleases you, you may call me Tessa. Everyone else does."
"Very well, Tessa," Raven said, taking the girl's hand. The gesture was, again, civil and polite, but lacking any sort of real warmth. "I suspect that you know who I am."
"Raven hin'Elric, the priestess of Metamor," Tessa replied, nodding once. She studied Raven closely, her eyes showing a mix of reservation and curiosity. "I suspect _you're_ wondering what you're doing here."
The priestess's lip twisted ironically. "The thought had occurred to me."
"I must apologize for our poor manners when you arrived," the half-Elf girl said, her eyebrows lifting in what seemed to be an expression of genuine regret. "Our lord the king is very wary of outsiders, and though we sought your help, he did not want you to be able to disclose our location to others."
Raven nodded, rubbing at her left temple where a dull ache still remained from the anesthetic. She understood the Elves' reasoning, even if she didn't care for the side effects. "Where are we?" she asked.
"On the outskirts of Taralas, the capital city of Quenardya," Tessa said. She drew her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, her feet perched on the edge of the chair. "You have an audience with His High Majesty, as soon as you feel ready."
"I see." Raven climbed slowly off the bed, walking over to a window and staring out at the trees. From the look of things, this hut was on a wooden platform some fifty feet in the air. "And what is this danger, for which you have summoned our aid?"
The girl's aura darkened considerably. "I'm not sure," she admitted, sounding uncomfortable. "I'm only a servant girl, and though I belong to the royal house certain things are unknown to me."
Raven turned to look at her. "You are a slave?"
"Bondservant," Tessa corrected, speaking the word politely but quite deliberately. "My grandmother was human, the concubine of an Elven prince."
The Lightbringer frowned, but passed over the issue for the time being. "Do you know anything about this danger, this darkness?"
Tessa remained motionless for a long moment, eyeing Raven carefully. There was something going on behind those impassive dark eyes, but she couldn't read it for the life of her. "... I'm afraid not," she said at last, averting her eyes to gaze out the window. "As I said, I've not been told much of anything."
"Nothing?" Raven frowned. Something about the girl's aura was not right -- she was shielding her emotions carefully, as if she knew how the Lightbringer might read her and was doing everything in her power to prevent it. "You serve at the royal court," she said. "Have you not heard anything said that might give us some notion of what we are up against?"
The half-Elf's eyes flickered back to the wolf-woman. "It's not my place to go spreading around court rumors or speculations," she said coolly. "I'm sure His High Majesty will tell you all you need to know."
Raven closed her eyes and sighed. She obviously wasn't getting anywhere. "All right," she said. "Your king has summoned two clerics, so I can only assume that the danger is one for which our kind is desperately needed. Tell me, are there any priests still left among the Elves?"
"Aye, there is one -- but he is very old, and his health is frail."
"The Elves do not grow old."
"He is only Half-Elven, as I am," Tessa said, her gaze sharp. She sounded offended by the accusation implied in Raven's words. "And he is over four hundred years old. He has not the strength to challenge this threat ... or so I have heard." She turned and looked away again, apparently having said more than she had intended.
Raven paced slowly across the room, considering what the girl had said. Whatever the nature of their enemy, the Elven king apparently believed that the power of a holy cleric would be of great help in defeating it. And if the priesthood had fallen into such serious disarray after the departure of the last Elven Lightbringer, roughly a hundred and fifty years ago, it was understandable that the Elder race should break its longstanding silence and ask for human help. Which really left only one major puzzle unresolved.
"Why us?" Raven asked. "There are other Lightbringers, strong ones, much closer than we. Why Metamor?"
There was silence for a long moment. Raven could almost feel Tessa weighing her words. "You live in the house of Kyia," she said. "His High Majesty feels sure that if she has accepted you, then your motives must be pure. But the High Council is largely corrupt, and we dared not trust anyone else."
Raven wheeled on the girl, sudden fire in her eyes. "What are you talking about?" she growled. "How would you know that the Council is corrupt?"
Tessa returned the gaze for an instant, a glint of steel in those dark eyes. Then her expression softened into a strange mix of sorrow and pity. "Why do you think the Elves left the Order to begin with?" she asked softly.
There was another long silence, and the flash in Raven's eyes dulled as quickly as it had arisen. In fact, she had suspected that there was trouble in the High Council for months -- ever since she had found the Starchild Prophecy in the Lightbringer Archives last autumn. But she had never guessed that such corruption had been present for so long, that it could, in fact, have been directly responsible for severing the final link between humans and Elves. If that was the case, then the Order's hands were dirty indeed. She swallowed, forcing that thought aside. "Where is Merai?" she asked.
"In another house, not far from here. Worry not, she's fine."
"Take me to her, then," Raven said firmly. "Once she is ready, we shall go to see your king."
Merai was still asleep when Raven entered the hut, located on another platform a short distance from the one where she had awakened. Other platforms appeared on most of the larger trees in the vicinity, stretching out through the forest canopy as far as the eye could see. Long rope bridges and wooden ramps connected the platforms to each other, uniting them to form an entire city in the air -- albeit a fairly diffuse one, at least in this area. Tessa had mentioned that they were on the outskirts of town, so Raven was not surprised that she saw only a few people walking about.
There was a guard at the entrance to the hut, and Aldarion sat by the younger priestess's bedside. He looked up and smiled -- a little sheepishly, Raven thought -- as she walked in.
[Good afternoon, Raven,] he said.
Raven blinked in surprise. [Aldarion, you speak the Old Tongue?] she asked, replying in the same language. By now she had figured out that the language Aldarion had been speaking all along was, in fact, Elvish -- the original language from which Old Tongue had in part been derived. Or, more properly, it was a form of Elvish, a "common" dialect rather different from the ancient written language Raven was familiar with; evidently Elvish speech evolved over time just as human speech did. That accounted for the similarities to Old Tongue that Raven had noted when Aldarion spoke, while also explaining why she could not understand him.
[Little,] he conceded. [Enough. Much sorrow I feel, that I not tell you. Was secret ... um, mission. Was needed.]
[That is debatable,] Raven said, a little more harshly than she had intended. She softened her expression, adding, ['Tis all right. I understand. How is Merai?]
[She sleeps,] he said, smirking a little. [Looks well.]
[May I wake her now?]
He nodded, stepping back from the bed. Raven gently woke the younger woman and, once she had recovered from her initial disorientation, gave her a quick briefing of the situation, or at least as much has she had determined so far. Merai seemed unhappy to learn how little Tessa had been willing to reveal, but she resigned herself to wait for the explanation from the king himself.
It took them another thirty minutes to prepare for their visit to the royal court -- Tessa advised them that they would do well to look their best, and she and Aldarion provided all of the water, soaps and scented oils that they needed for the task. They exchanged their scout's apparel for long, flowing white robes provided by Tessariel. The robes were very similar to their own Lightbringer robes in many respects, but they were made of a lighter fabric and seemed to shimmer and glisten from within. Raven asked why they could not simply wear their robes of office, which they had brought with them for such an occasion and had (fortunately) not lost in their flight from the forest. Tessa hinted rather pointedly that wearing Lothanasi robes in the Elven court would not do anything to improve their reception. The wolf-woman gritted her teeth at this, but chose to let the matter drop.
By the time Raven and Merai emerged from the hut, ready to leave, an honor guard was waiting for them outside: eight Elven warriors, dressed in ceremonial gold-plated armor and wearing the emblem of Quenardya on their chests, stood rigidly in two square formations of four each. Each of the soldiers carried a gold-plated sword that was as ceremonial as the armor, though none the less sharp because of it. Raven noted silently that there had been a time, long ago, when the weapons and armor would have been mithril rather than gold; but though mithril was virtually indestructible, the shrinking realm of Quenardya had been unable to hold on to it. Most of it had found its way into the hoards of the gods and daedra, or the secret treasure caches of any number of mortal conquerors -- where it was then forgotten about when the miserly tyrants passed from the earth. Very little mithril was left in the world, at least in any place known and accessible to man or Elf, and the honor guard's swords and armor quietly echoed this sad fact -- yet another symptom of the Elvish empire's decline.
The first group of honor guards went ahead of them, the second group behind, with Raven, Merai, Tessa and Aldarion in the middle. Raven was unsure of what direction they were heading, since she had no real knowledge of where she had awakened, but her innate wolfen navigational instincts told her that they were travelling roughly northeast. They walked for a long time, over countless platforms, ramps and bridges. Gradually the city became both denser and more crowded, with people walking everywhere around them along platforms that were much larger than on the outskirts. The buildings grew taller, as well, with many of them stretching up for several stories around the trunks of the trees. The overall effect was something like Glen Avery, but far more polished and constructed with a great deal more thought and attention -- which was rather unsurprising for a race that was perfectly capable of living forever. Indeed, most of the buildings in this "downtown" area were decorated with beautifully ornate carvings, intricate painting and illumination, and other artistic touches. The entire city was a work of art, its form stemming as much from aesthetics as from function, and as they traveled ever closer to the heart of the capital the sheer beauty of the place became utterly awe-inspiring. About thirty minutes into their walk, they arrived at the royal court -- and nothing that they had seen so far could have prepared them for it.
"Mae govannen," Merai whispered, eyes transfixed.
Silently, Raven echoed her protege's words. The building, if it could be called such, was a tree -- a tree like none other that the world had ever seen. It was, by Raven's rough estimate, at least two hundred feet wide, and it stretched far, far above them until it disappeared into the clouds. Its surface was a pale golden white, and it shone like something between alabaster and mother-of-pearl. The bark, if indeed it had bark in the ordinary sense, was as smooth as marble, or so it seemed as they looked upon it. Huge, massive branches bearing golden leaves stretched out from the tree on all sides, beginning about a hundred feet above the platform where Raven and the others stood. Long bridges extended out from the tree like spokes from a wheel, connecting it to the surrounding city of Taralas. Most surprisingly to Raven, she noticed doors, small windows and balconies spaced intermittently all around the tree; a massive pair of ivory- colored doors stood facing them on the far side of the bridge. "...Do your carvings into the tree's body not do it harm?" Raven asked, at last finding her voice.
"The Amanalda is our first home, given to us by the Iluvatar," Tessariel answered, her aura radiating a sense of profound reverence. "As you see it now, it has ever been. Like the Elven people, it shall never grow old, nor fall sick, nor perish, until the day that the earth itself passes away."
*Were such a day ever to come,* Raven added silently. She had read much about the Elder race in the Lightbringer Archives, and had long since given up trying to understand Elvish theology. The Elves were a complex, often inscrutable people, and though they had once been partners in the Lightbringer Order they had always remained detached from its human members. They acknowledged and reverenced the gods, and Order doctrine stated that they joined the gods beyond the Veil after passing from this life ... but the Elves themselves never confirmed such notions, nor engaged in discussions of the gods' true natures or the identity of the All-Father. Indeed, the Elves always seemed to act as if they knew something that the rest of the Order didn't, some secret that it was their duty to protect as the firstborn of Iluvatar's children. Of course, if the old stories were true, Elves behaved that way about a great many things, in all aspects of life.
Tessariel said something to one of the guards, and they began moving forward again. The bridge was a rope one, like the others they had crossed before; but unlike those more mundane structures, this bridge was elaborately decorated. The ropes from which it hung were silvery-white, the planks a finely polished golden wood. There were Elvish words carved in the planks, some of which she recognized -- tree, light, Iluvatar; her Elvish vocabulary was not large, though, and without a translation dictionary the overall meaning escaped her. For now she simply noted the beauty and skill with which the calligraphic script had been written. Below the bridge, Raven noticed a carpet of white lilies growing all around the Amanalda; the flowers grew nowhere else in the forest that she had seen, but they seemed to cluster tightly around the Blessed Tree, as if reveling in its warmth and light. Somewhere up above them, the sound of wind-chimes floated lightly through the forest.
The guards at the far side opened the doors without a word, without even looking at Raven and Merai. They entered a small, circular entrance hall -- its walls, ceiling, and floor all the polished wood of the tree itself -- then followed the honor guard to a spiral staircase that led down from the right side of the room.
"I would have thought the royal chambers should be at the summit," Merai said quietly. "Nay, 'tis too much walking," Tessa explained. "Though the view up above is wondrous, the chambers near the earth are highly prized." They walked down the stairs past three heavily guarded landings, which Tessa said were the royal chambers, at last coming to the bottom. More guards awaited them at the heavy wooden doors, but these stepped aside and allowed the honor guard to pass without a word. The doors were swung open, and the priestesses and their escorts entered the court of His High Majesty, The King of Quenardya.
A long blue carpet with gold trim ran from the doors to the dais at the far side of the chamber, flanked by decorative columns that reminded Raven of the Oracle's sanctuary. The large, ornate throne -- one of the few items in the palace still plated with mithril -- was flanked by smaller thrones on either side, and a dozen additional chairs lined the chamber on either side of the dais. There were carvings, sculptures, veils and curtains all around the throne room, augmenting the simple beauty of the tree itself, but Raven paid little attention to any of them. Her eyes were focused on the people who awaited them inside.
It was difficult to guess the age of Elves, since their bodies did not deteriorate over time, and there was little to indicate the relationships between the two men and one woman who occupied the dais. The man in the middle, obviously, was the king, but the woman to his right could have been his wife, or the queen mother, or his daughter. Similarly, the man on his left was probably the eldest prince -- but whether he was brother, cousin, or son to the king was impossible to tell. The chairs along the walls were filled with a fairly even mixture of men and women -- advisors, possibly, or respected elders of the realm. All were dressed finely, in clothes of beauty and obvious quality but without the excessive gaudiness so common among human royalty. None of the men wore beards, and though some had white or silver hair, that was no particular indication of age among the Elvish people. Many Elves, it was said, were born with white or silver hair.
One man did not sit in any place of authority; rather, he stood at the foot of the dais, and turned to face Raven and Merai as they entered. Unlike the others, he was an obviously ancient man, with a long gray beard and worn, wrinkled features. He was dressed in a white robe much like the one Raven herself was wearing. The old man caught her eyes and smiled as she approached.
As they drew alongside the columns nearest the dais, the honor guardsmen turned and took up positions to either side of the blue carpet. Trained by long experience, Raven knelt before the Elvish monarch, Merai and the others following suit.
The king said something in Elvish to the old man -- his voice was regal and strong, but also gentle -- and he responded in kind. Then, coming to stand in front of them, he placed his hands on Raven and Merai and said something else. Raven felt a familiar tingle of magic pass through her body, then looked up.
[Can you understand me?] the old man asked.
Raven nodded. The sensation was strange; she knew the language spoken was not Common, and yet she suddenly understood it as naturally as her native tongue. [Good.] The man turned again to face the king. [Your High Majesty, I present these two clerics, whom I have summoned here at your command: Raven hin'Elric, High Priestess of Metamor, and Merai hin'Dana, until recently her apprentice and now a full priestess herself.]
[You may rise,] the king said, gesturing with one hand. Raven noticed that he had no scepter -- apparently such a symbol of authority was unneeded among the Elves. [Do you understand why you have been summoned here?]
[I am afraid not, your High Majesty,] Raven replied, meeting his gaze directly for the first time. There was curiosity in those eyes, but also wisdom forged in long years of trial and hardship. This was likely the same king who had ruled Quenardya when the Elves at last withdrew from the Outer Midlands, abandoning the open country to the younger races. It had not been a happy time in their history. [We know only that we have been called to assist you in the battle against some great darkness. If such is the case, we pledge ourselves to your service.]
Apparently, the king's counselors had not been expecting this. What came next was a sound roughly akin to a choked gasp by nearly a dozen people in unison, followed by a number of voices trying to speak at once. The king raised his hand, cutting off their words. [There will be order,] he said firmly. [Baranor?]
One of the advisors stood. [Your High Majesty,] he said, [what is Sindafan proposing? Are we now to summon aid from the Tainted Order in our hour of need? Is this the depth to which we have fallen?]
[The daughters of Elric and Dana are pure, your High Majesty,] the gray-bearded man -- Sindafan -- insisted. [They are children of Metamor. The lady Kyia has accepted them.]
[But must you bring them here, Sindafan?] Baranor looked almost nauseated at the whole idea. [No human but our own servants has gazed upon his High Majesty in over a hundred and fifty years! Yet now you bring us these ... creatures, these beasts, these children of a twisted council, to save us from the dark power to the north?]
[Enough of this!] The words leapt from Raven's voice with a snarl. Tessariel quietly put a hand on her shoulder, but Raven ignored her. [We have traveled through hardship and danger for nearly a month -- followed no more than a prophet's guidance -- because we believed that we were needed. That our sacred oath compelled us to give aid. Now, at last, we arrive here -- coming in good faith! -- only to be mocked, insulted and disparaged.]
Raven took a step closer to the dais. The guards to either side lowered their hands to their swords, but did not move to draw them ... yet. She stared piercingly at Baranor, eyes flashing with anger. [We came here to offer help and extend friendship, but you have answered our kindness with pride and disdain. I once believed the Elves to be greater than humans, somehow better than us. I see now that you are guilty of the same failings as we ... and I am severely disappointed.]
She paused, forcing herself to stop, collect her thoughts and catch her breath. The voice of the Oracle echoed quietly in her mind, reminding her of the dangers of forgetting her place. Turning back toward the king, she made herself kneel again before him. Despite her words, she found it somehow easier to bow before the Elven lord than before a human nobleman.
[Your High Majesty,] she said, [I know not how my Order has wronged you -- what crimes we have committed -- but I swear to you by the blood of my father that I shall do all in my power to root out such wrongs and correct them. If that is enough to satisfy you, then we dedicate ourselves to your service in the fight against this evil. If not, then I pray you to release us to return to our homeland.]
[Your pledge satisfies us, Raven of Metamor,] the king said gravely. [Please forgive the ingratitude of some in this court, for we do not share it. By our solemn word, you and your fellow priestess are welcome in Quenardya, as is your aid. You may rise.]
[Thank you, your High Majesty,] Raven said, rising to her feet and taking a few small steps backward to again stand beside Merai. The younger woman's aura bore a distinct sensation of relief.
The king gestured to Sindafan, and the gray-haired man -- obviously the half-Elf cleric that Tessa had mentioned -- stepped forward again to address them.
[You have come to us in an hour most dire, Raven hin'Elric,] Sindafan said gravely. [The darkness you have spoken of is all too real. Quenardya is under attack by a Turguroth.] Raven's blood ran cold. [A Death Master,] she murmured.
Merai leaned in closer to her, frowning. [You know something of this, Sister Raven?] she asked softly.
The wolf-woman nodded. [Aye. 'Turguroth' is a title the Lightbringers once gave to wizards who practiced the magic of death. They were not allied with the Necromancers of old, but they had the power to control the undead ... and perform various other spells of evil and darkness. It was difficult to become a Turguroth, but those who did were often amazingly powerful.] She sighed, closing her eyes. [We had thought the breed extinct by the end of the sixth century. Obviously, we were mistaken.]
[Gravely so, I fear,] Sindafan said. [The Death Master has come over the mountains from the Forest of Darkness and built a tower in the northern outskirts of our kingdom. Much evil magic has gone forth from that place, and several villages in its vicinity have been destroyed.] He shook his head in frustration. [We do not know how he built the tower so quickly, but it was almost certainly done with magic -- or at least hidden with magic as the work proceeded by hand. However it was done, it stands there now, and it is already heavily guarded.]
Raven frowned. [What do you know of this Turguroth?] she asked. [How powerful is he?]
[Very,] Sindafan replied. His voice sounded even graver than before. [Priestess, do you know aught of the Bales?]
The wolf-woman felt another cold chill run down her spine, even colder than when she had first heard Sindafan speak the word Turguroth. [... Aye,] she said. [Elven vampires. Terribly strong, terribly powerful.]
[And terribly magical,] the old man added. [This Death Master is a Bale, albeit a young one. He was barely two centuries old when he was turned, as near as we have been able to discover. That was perhaps another century past, no more. His inexperience is the one balance we have against his power.]
Raven nodded, quietly cutting off the ironic voice in her head. *Three hundred years old, and the creature is inexperienced? Gods help us all if the world should ever see a veteran Bale!* [What is his intent?] she asked.
Sindafan looked briefly to his king, who gave an acknowledging nod. [A number of strange and unholy magics have been detected in the vicinity of the black tower of late,] he said. [We believe he may be attempting to open a new Nexus here in Aelfwood.]
If Raven had thought her spine could not grow any colder, she was wrong. Aelfwood was a wonder of wonders, a realm imbued with the richest, purest magic the world had ever seen. To think of that power and beauty twisted, corrupted, perverted by the forces of Lilith -- she shuddered bodily at the thought. [You are right,] she said, straightening herself and clenching her teeth in determination. [The circumstances are dire. Show us what you want us to do.]
Within the hour a war council had been called in the king's library, two floors above the entry hall in Amanalda. Those in attendance included Raven, Sindafan, four of the king's top generals, and the king himself. The strategists hunched around a large table with a map of northern Aelfwood stretched across it, noting the locations of troops and defenses as established by the Elven rangers and military scouts. Merai and Tessariel stood off to one side and tried to be inconspicuous, which basically amounted to not getting in anybody's way.
Perhaps unsurprisingly for a vampire-necromancer, the Bale didn't have much in the way of living troops. Oh, he almost certainly had living beings in his tower -- three whole villages full of people didn't just disappear into nowhere, after all -- but these were more likely to be food than soldiers. Or, more correctly, food first and soldiers later: most of the Bale's troops were undead skeletons, supplemented with a few packs of dire wolves and other predators from the dark forest to the north.
As one of the Elven generals pointed out, this produced an unusual tactical situation in any attempted assault on the tower. Skeletons were brittle, and thus highly sensitive to any sort of blunt trauma -- but swords were much less effective than maces, and arrows were practically worthless against them. Furthermore, these undead troops were almost incapable of complex tactics -- but they attacked in mindless droves, totally without any sense of fear or self-preservation. Only a cleric could conceivably frighten the undead, forcing them to turn and run ... and that was one of the ways in which Raven and Merai could prove invaluable.
Far more troublesome than the undead troops, however, was the Bale himself. Vampires of any sort were notoriously difficult to kill, and Elven vampires even more so.
Fortunately, all types of undead were vulnerable to mithril, and the Elves agreed upon examining it that Elemacil was one of the finest blades in existence. The difficult part would be surviving in close-quarters combat long enough to strike a fatal blow.
[Merai and I can defeat him,] Raven said firmly. [We faced down a circle of Moranasi and survived. My greatest concern is that he may try to overwhelm us with sheer numbers.] She exchanged a glance with the head general. [If you can draw his forces out of the tower and somehow insert us behind them -- perhaps from the roof, here -- provided that you can hold his minions outside, we should be able to entrap him in a two- to-one battle and vanquish him.]
[I may be able to play some small part in this,] Sindafan said. [If I could be placed here, at the front gate, after the enemy forces have been driven out onto the battlefield, I should be able to compel any returning undead to keep their distance.] Merai found herself speaking up. [But how can we be placed on the roof, or you at the gate?] she asked, puzzled. [It seems impossible.]
[It might well be, in ordinary circumstances,] the old cleric admitted, [but the Fates have smiled on us. The great eagles have had their nesting grounds disturbed by this Bale's troops, and have pledged their support in our battle against him. The eagles will carry you in and insert you in the proper positions.]
The cat-woman frowned. [What about archers?]
"When was the last time you saw a skeleton who could use a bow and arrow?" Tessa asked, her expression ironic. "They have not the coordination for that."
There were yet a few more details that had to be worked out, mostly concerning the deployments of the Elven troops and the tactics they would use to draw out and entrap the Bale's army. Most of these concerns, and the contingency plans that accompanied them, were dealt with over the course of the next two hours, and the plan was looking firm when the translation-spell Sindafan had cast finally began to wear off. The king adjourned the session, noting that it would take a full day to rally the army and another day to place everyone in position. At dawn, three days hence, they would attack.
Tessa stepped off of the staircase about six floors above the main entrance, nodded at the two guards on the landing, and opened the door to reveal a corridor that seemed nearly as long as the Amanalda was wide. Three doors flanked the hall on either side, and Tessa gestured to the nearest one on the right.
"Here is your room, Priestess hin'Elric," she said. "If you have need of anything during the night, don't hesitate to ask me. My room is the third on the left." Raven thanked her, walked inside, and shut the door behind her. Tessa beckoned to Merai.
"We have an additional bed in my quarters, Priestess hin'Dana," she said as she continued walking to the end of the corridor. "I'm sorry we couldn't provide a room for you, as well, but most of the Amanalda is filled to capacity. As I'm sure you might imagine, we do not have many visitors here, so we had only the one guest room available."
"No apologies necessary, Tessa," Merai said, stepping into the room behind her. Inside it was clean and comfortable, with two small, soft-looking beds, a night-table, a wardrobe, a looking-glass, and a few decorative curtains. There was one circular window perhaps one and a half feet in diameter, and welcome, cool night air drifted in through the open portal. "In the last month, I've endured far worse. Compared to a bed of dirt and rocks, this seems like the Ninth Heaven."
"I'm glad it pleases you. Our home is yours."
There was something oddly stilted in the half-Elf's words, and Merai threw her a curious glance. "You aren't very happy about our presence here, are you?" she asked, probing the woman's aura for clues. "There's something about us that unsettles you."
Tessariel sank down onto her bed, head held low. " 'Tis not your fault," she said, sighing heavily. "And 'tis nothing about you, personally, that troubles me. I am grateful for your offer of assistance -- more so, now that I know the full extent of the danger." She looked up at Merai, confusion and frustration mixing with sadness in her eyes. "But as much as I try, it is difficult to overcome my prejudices. Even though the lady Kyia approves of you, I find it hard to trust a Lightbringer."
"But why?" Merai asked, her voice mirroring the confusion she saw in Tessa. "What did the Lightbringers do that wronged you so?"
Tessa sighed again, her eyes distant. " 'Tis a long story, and an unpleasant one."
"I have all the time you need," Merai assured her.
The other woman nodded, pushed back a lock of red-brown hair, and then looked back at Merai. "It began a little over a hundred years ago," she said. "Have you ever read of a Lightbringer priest named Haless?"
"Haless the Apostate?" Merai had seen the name in one of the old historical tomes of the Lightbringer Archives.
"Aye," Tessa agreed, her voice sour. "Do you know why he was branded a heretic?"
"No, the history books never mentioned."
"Unsurprising. It doesn't matter, the charges were fabricated -- somehow he had angered the Lothanas of Kelewair. My great-grandmother was an acolyte in his temple at Salinon ... and his wife."
"Oh, no," Merai breathed.
"Aye," Tessa said again. "They were just recently wedded, she no older than I am now. They had not yet had any children when the Inquisitors arrived in Salinon." She was silent a moment, and averted her gaze. When she looked up again, her eyes were moist. "The trial was a mockery of justice. Haless was executed, and my great-grandmother was imprisoned with the rest of his so-called 'collaborators'. They would have been killed, as well, but one of the younger Inquisitors was appalled at what had taken place and helped them to escape." She chewed at her lip. "I'm certain the boy was executed for his 'betrayal.' "
Merai swallowed back the lump that had formed in her throat. "What happened to them after they escaped?"
"Most were probably hunted down and killed," Tessa said with a shrug. "My great- grandmother and a few others managed to escape to Aelfwood -- even then no Midland soldier would enter this forest, Lightbringer or not. They threw themselves on the mercy of the king, and he granted them asylum. They found a home in the kingdom's servant class, joining the other humans who had accompanied the Elves when they returned to the forest."
"Are all humans in Quenardya servants?"
Tessa nodded. "Some receive more important positions than others -- many teachers and master craftsmen are humans -- but all are bondservants, like myself. The same is true of half-Elves -- even Sindafan is technically the indentured servant of the royal family, though he is highly respected throughout Quenardya."
Merai rolled that around in her head for a minute, then asked, "What happened to your great-grandmother?"
The half-Elf woman smiled sadly. "Eventually she stopped grieving for Haless, though it took a long time. She remarried, to a half-Elf man who served as the king's cup-bearer. When she was about twenty-five, she gave birth to my grandmother."
"That would make your grandmother ... what, a quarter-Elf?"
"No such creature," Tessa said, shaking her head. "The innate magic of the Elves is never reduced to less than half -- 'tis a quirk of their nature that defies the mundane laws of heredity. If a human and an Elf produce a child, it's a half-Elf. If a half-Elf weds a full- blooded Elf, all of their children are half-Elves, as well. But if a half-Elf weds a human, their children are human -- though they are very fair, healthy, and long-lived, truly exceptional members of your race. My grandmother was one such woman, and when she came of age she caught the eye of the crown prince, Luinthol." "The crown prince married your grandmother?"
Tessa laughed, showing the first genuine smile Merai had seen so far. "Nay, of course not. The Elven prince and a human woman? It would have been scandalous. But he came to love her very much, and purchased her as his concubine. She is still alive, and well for her age -- and he treats her as well as he would a wife. In all these long years since, he has not taken an Elf-maid for a wife; in fact, he has promised that he will not wed until after she dies."
"I'm glad that he treats her so well," Merai said, genuinely impressed.
"So am I," Tessa agreed. "We rarely speak, but I am proud to have him as a grandfather.
My mother is their only daughter, but she has given them many grandchildren." She
smiled again, her dark eyes sparkling. "She gave birth to me at fifty-two, the youngest of five sisters. My father is one of the court musicians -- a half-Elf, like me and my mother, but his line has carried Elven blood a good deal longer. In fact, his great-grandfather was Sindafan's elder brother."
"Ah, so you and Sindafan are related."
"Aye. He has also served as my tutor for the last year or so." She seemed almost shy about it, as if she felt like she was boasting. "They recently discovered that I have some clerical aptitude, and he has been training me to become his successor." A cloud passed over her eyes, and her smile abruptly grew sad again. "I fear for him terribly, with this new threat from the north," she admitted. "He feels that he has some great role to play in the coming battle, but I do not know if his old body can bear the strain."
Merai reached out and put a comforting hand on Tessa's. "His life is in the gods' hands," she said soberly. "He will not depart from this world until he has accomplished the work he was sent here to do."
Tessa's lip twisted. "You're a believer in destiny, then."
The priestess laughed. "Tessa, if you were in my place, you would be, too! Listen to my story, now, and we'll see if you agree..."
They talked long into the night, their discussion beginning with a recounting of Merai's recent adventures and continuing on to wander among many things. When at last they turned out the lights, they embraced each other good-night like sisters or old friends. Merai slept peacefully that night.