Exile's Redemption Page 13

  “Yes,” Ryld and Caeldan said simultaneously. They looked at one another, and Ryld shrugged, letting Caeldan finish for both of them. “She felt we carried the taint of Umbral’s sin. Only through dedicated servitude to the nation could we hope to redeem ourselves.”

  “I see …” Lord W’rath said. “How exactly did she expect you to accomplish this when she kept you isolated underground, unable to access your gifts because of your collars? It seems to me Reaper and T’sane set out to make certain you couldn’t do much of anything, no less ‘redeem’ yourselves.”

  “Let me guess,” Lady Raven said, joining them. “Reaper thought that, as males, you carried the same flaws as Umbral. She considered you unclean and prone to weakness. She didn’t trust you to use your powers responsibly, and since she didn’t have any psionic ability to help thwart any aberrant behavior, she insisted on the collars. How close am I?”

  For a moment Caeldan could do nothing but stare at the beautiful creature towering over him. He gaped at her like a cave fish, and it wasn’t until Lord W’rath snapped his fingers in front of his face, that the boy came back to himself. He felt his face burn with embarrassment. Ryld had the right of it, goddess indeed—a goddess in want of an answer. “How did you know?”

  Lady Raven tossed her head in disgust. “I’ve seen it all before. That’s how the females of my birth city view males. They tend to use more unpleasant means than collars to keep the males docile and powerless. A favorite method is to hammer a small magical spike into the front of the skull. It’s jokingly referred to as the Third Eye.”

  “Very clever,” Lord W’rath mused. “The magic in the spike negates the victim’s regenerative abilities, so he stays lobotomized. If for some reason it’s decided he needs all of his faculties back, they simply remove the spike and let him heal.”

  The murmurs and gasps of horror, which had started up because of Lady Raven’s words, grew louder and angrier now. Lord W’rath cocked an eyebrow, seemingly surprised by the emotional display. His attention finally settled on Ryld and Caeldan’s stricken faces. He shrugged. “I didn’t say I considered it a civilized or proper way to treat one’s people. However, it is a practical means of controlling a large population of potentially dangerous psions. Cheer up, lads, apparently you’ve gotten off easy all of these years.”

  “What’s that old saying?” Ryld asked his brother.

  “If you don’t think things can get any worse, you lack imagination,” Caeldan replied.

  “That’s the one.”

  W’rath turned to regard the other councilors. “While less barbaric than a spike in the brain, these collars still need to come off.”

  Raven’s attention shifted to Lady Swiftbrook. “You told me two councilors have to do something to get the collars to come off?”

  “Of course, K’hul, please assist me.”

  K’hul scowled. “I agree our cousins have suffered, but decent food and fresh air will heal them. I’m not at all comfortable releasing a pack of psions to spy on our thoughts. The collars should stay on.”

  Beside W’rath, Raven’s fists clenched. The young First Born she’d merged with had a strong sense of honor, and his passion fueled Raven’s anger, overcoming her youthful insecurities. Once she had more experience, that would come in handy. For now though, a heated outburst would just make her a target for K’hul. He already sees me as a threat—let’s keep his hostility focused on me. “Either you view us as allies, or you do not,” he said, making sure his deep voice projected and echoed throughout the arena. No one could mistake the challenge.

  W’rath suspected few stood up to the councilors directly descended from the First. Based on his brief encounter with the dying Lady Reaper, a great many years had passed since a Shadow Elf opposed the will of a K’hul. Oh, you’re really going to come to loathe me, nephew.

  “Of course you’re our allies!” Lady Swiftbrook said, moving quickly to insert herself into the discussion before it deteriorated further. “I’m sure Lord K’hul didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”

  There was a snort of derision and the group turned as two new elves arrived. “Your pardon, Lady Swiftbrook, but the K’huls have a fine tradition of mistrusting any and all Shadow Elves, as if each one were perchance Umbral reborn,” the male newcomer said.

  “Wood Elves,” Raven murmured, just loud enough for W’rath to hear.

  “Really?” W’rath replied, surprised. They were nothing like he’d imagined. He had learned, while on the ship, that after his banishment, and the world had stabilized, a segment of the Sky Elf population had taken it into their heads that the wild places of the world required guardians; champions who would stand as a defense against the many enemies of the natural order. They had transformed themselves as a means of adapting to their new role.

  The changes they’d wrought upon themselves were far more substantial than he’d expected. While the Sky Elves were very tall and willowy, the Wood Elves stood much shorter, on par with Shadow Elves. Though still slender, a wiry strength rippled through their taught muscles, replacing a Sky Elf’s ethereal grace. The Sky Elves had skin so pale, ancient humans had thought them undead. The Wood Elves’ skin shone a tawny brown. Even their hair color differed. The male Wood Elf had dark red hair and his companion had a strange combination of umber and forest green tresses. Both had brown eyes.

  “You don’t need him, councilor,” the male continued. “Both Kela and I have our rings. We can assist in deactivating the collars.”

  “You don’t have the authority to decide that on your own,” K’hul said, brushing past Lady Swiftbrook. He encroached on the smaller elf, trying to intimidate him. Either the Wood Elf hid his fear well, or he didn’t care about having K’hul’s massive frame tower over him.

  “I suppose you want to put this to a vote?” the female, Kela, said. Her accent startled W’rath. Not only did it differ greatly from the rest of the elves, it bore no resemblence her companion’s. W’rath frowned. He hated not knowing everything.

  “Yes, we should put it to a vote,” K’hul said. “We have a council for a reason. We debate the pros and cons of a situation and then proceed based on the will of the majority. The council instated the collars by that method. It stands to reason we should deal with their possible removal in the same manner.”

  Again there was a snort, and W’rath realized it came from the female, Kela. “Everyone except the Sea Elves are here, and since they vote whatever way the descendant of the First votes, it’s pretty clear how things will fall out.”

  The male nodded. “We’ll vote for the removal of the collars, as will the Sky Elves. You and the Sea Elves will vote to keep the collars. That’s a tie until you figure in the votes of our two new recruits here, and it’s pretty clear how they feel about the situation. So … the collars come off.”

  “Not that something like this should have come to a vote,” Lady Swiftbrook said, ruefully. “When Reaper came to us with her plan, we should have removed her from office and replaced her with someone who didn’t hate her own people. We all share in this shame. Let us not draw it out any further.”

  K’hul’s mouth worked as though he might wish to argue further, but at long last the female First Born spoke up. “I’m new to this post,” she said, “but I must admit I find it distasteful for us to argue in public, especially about something so blatantly wrong. I agree this collaring of fellow elves should never have been allowed to come about in the first place. Insisting on putting it to a vote just prolongs the injustice, and speaks ill of us as a people. Let us be done with it.”

  “The day continues to bring surprises,” W’rath said under his breath. Apparently, not every First Born subscribed to K’hul’s view of things. From the look on K’hul’s face, his counterpart’s little speech had taken him by surprise as well.

  “Bah, enough of this orc shit,” Kela snarled, “Foxfire, let’s put an end to this idiocy.”

  “Already done,” the male Wood Elf grinned, holding up a black ring he�
��d pulled from his finger.

  Kela pulled a similar ring from her hand and the two said, “Vaes’tyl si tylas.”

  “Ancient Elvish,” W’rath said to Raven. “A phrase of unbinding.”

  “So … why aren’t the collars unbinding?” she replied.

  She was right. The collars remained intact, locked around the necks of their victims. The Wood Elves blinked and turned to Lady Swiftbrook in confusion. As baffled as her smaller cousins, she could only lift her shoulders in answer. Only K’hul seemed unsurprised. W’rath’s eyes narrowed. “Something you’d care to share with the rest of us, K’hul?” The words barely came out through his tightly clenched teeth.

  “My father did not trust that all of the councilors would stand by the results of the vote. He and Reaper agreed a First Born councilor should be required in order to release the collars. Since Councilor Culna’mo hasn’t received a ring yet, that means you need me to do the unbinding, and until we have a proper majority vote I’m not doing it.”

  A stunned silence settled over the arena. W’rath continued to glare at K’hul. Either he enjoyed dragging things out as a means of forcing his connection to the First down everyone’s throat, or he had a means of gaining more votes, and keeping the Shadow Elves collared. While that seemed impossible, given Foxfire and Kela’s analysis of the votes, K’hul smug face led W’rath to conclude he had some way of adding more support to his side. Lady Culna’mo, the female First Born, opposed the collars, so that left the other new councilor, a male Sky Elf no one had bothered to introduce. All of them had assumed he’d feel the same way as Lady Swiftbrook, but W’rath now realized that was a naïve assumption. Lady Culna’mo had surprised them with her views, why couldn’t the new Sky Elf possess an equally surprising outlook?

  W’rath switched his attention to the Sky Elf. The fellow worked hard to remain inconspicuous. He kept his eyes cast down, refusing to insert himself into the volatile situation. So, he was in K’hul’s pocket. He appeared ashamed of the association, but obviously wasn’t strong enough to break free. Where in blazes had Lady Swiftbrook found this creature? Ah, madam, later you and I shall have words. But for now …

  He waved for Foxfire to make space for him near K’hul. The Wood Elf complied, backing away, his face full of curiosity. For his part, K’hul appeared bemused as the small Shadow Elf stepped right up to him. “I would have a private word with you, K’hul,” W’rath said, managing to sound almost conversational.

  “I have nothing to discuss with you, Exile,” K’hul replied.

  Using a trick he’d learned when still just a child, W’rath ducked his head, as if intimidated, and spoke so quietly K’hul couldn’t make out the words. The ploy worked and K’hul, confident in his superiority, bent down close to W’rath’s head. “What did you say, runt?”

  W’rath raised his head so his lips rested close to K’hul’s ear. “I said, you will come and speak with me in private or I shall turn you over my knee and paddle your arrogant behind in front of everyone here.”

  K’hul’s eyes widened and he straightened so abruptly he had to take a step back to keep his balance. “Impossible,” he hissed.

  “Are you absolutely certain? There isn’t even the slightest bit of doubt in your mind? So much to risk over such a simple request.”

  “There’s a private sparring room over there. We’ll talk there,” K’hul finally said in a voice loud enough for all to hear.

  W’rath bowed and gestured for the First Born to lead the way. K’hul complied, but W’rath caught the flicker of apprehension that crossed his face. He didn’t like turning his back to W’rath. Oh, what fun.

  As W’rath and K’hul departed, Foxfire whistled in amazement. “Just like T’sane, eh?” he said to Kela. Once again she responded with a very unladylike snort—apparently her preferred method of stating an opinion.

  Foxfire turned his attention to Raven. “We haven’t been formerly introduced,” he said. “I’m Foxfire, and this she-badger is Kela. You must be the famous Lady Raven.” He thrust out his hand to her.

  “Famous?” Raven said, staring at the hand, at a loss as to what he expected her to do.

  “Stop that!” Kela said, coming to Raven’s rescue. She pushed Foxfire’s hand down. “You spend too much time away from your people. You’re always behaving strangely.”

  “If more of us mingled with the rest of the world, maybe we wouldn’t have gotten caught with our pants down at Second Home.”

  The conversation had the sound of an old and oft repeated argument. While Raven wasn’t privy to the whole of their debate, it did shed some light on the reasons for the two Wood Elves being so different from one another.

  Kela was much like the other Wood Elves Raven had met when she had first come to the surface. Dressed in leathers, decorated with feathers and beads, she looked the part of a wild forest dweller. Even her abrupt, aggressive means of speaking sounded much like what Raven had come to expect of a Wood Elf.

  Foxfire had a much more worldly air about him. He wore a shirt made of fine cloth, with puffed and slashed sleeves. His tall boots, nothing like Kela’s soft moccasins, looked like something made for one of the fine gentlemen in her books. Or, Raven mused, spying the lute strapped to his back, something a bard, used to playing in front of a well-heeled audience, might wear. That also explained his more gregarious manner. Though how a Wood Elf had ever come to lead such a life struck her as quite the mystery in itself.

  Her curiosity could wait for the moment, Raven decided. She turned back to the young Shadow Elves standing in a tight, nervous cluster, unsure of their fate. Only a couple dozen or so had gathered in the arena. The others must have stayed below. Then something dawned on her, and she examined them more carefully. They were so desiccated she had trouble determining their sex, but every single one of them wore a containment collar which implied …

  “Are all of you male?” she asked.

  A brief bout of shifting and twisting of heads commenced, but in the end they confirmed Raven’s suspicions. The one called Caeldan responded for them all. “Seer started to come up, but she gave up early on. T’ara wouldn’t even try. She’s too strong a follower of Reaper’s beliefs, so she didn’t want to have anything to do with meeting you. She and Seer both took Reaper’s death hard. They’re less than thrilled to have an Exile stepping into her position.”

  “That’s just two. Couldn’t any of the others make it up? Are they too ill?”

  Caeldan and Ryld shared a glance. “There aren’t any others, Councilor,” Ryld said. “Seer and T’ara are the last.”

  Raven’s breath caught in her throat. Behind her, she heard the others make various noises of shock and disbelief. Rather than take comfort in knowing they hadn’t been privy to the devastation of the Shadow Elves, she felt her anger burn hotter. She spun around and let her fury wash over each of the councilors. “We didn’t know,” Lady Swiftbrook said, her voice almost a whisper. Her hands fluttered at her sides like frightened birds trying to escape.

  “That’s not good enough!” Raven snapped. “You had to suspect something terrible was going on down there. You admitted you hadn’t even seen any Shadow Elves besides T’sane and Reaper for years.”

  She swung back to the young males. As one they flinched, ready to bolt at what they saw in her face. She trembled violently, and felt like the only thing keeping her from flying apart was her armor. Losing herself to her fury wouldn’t do the boys any good. For their sake she reined in her and Linden’s rage. She still had one question, though. “How many total are you?”

  “Including you and Lord W’rath?” Caeldan asked. He wouldn’t raise his eyes from his nervously shuffling feet.

  “Yes?”

  “The last I counted … that would make us fifty-three in all.”

  Raven gaped. With only two females and forty-nine males left to them, the Shadow Elves of First Home were as good as extinct. They couldn’t possibly recover from this without finding additional people elsewhere.
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  This much destruction to the population had to have been deliberate. Reaper must have planned it this way. She’d kept the Shadow Elves below ground, out of sight and easily dismissed by the others. T’sane’s involvement was unclear. Had he willingly participated in the slow genocide of his people? Or, like so many of the males Raven had known in her home city, had he suffered so much abuse by the physically superior Reaper, he couldn’t stand against her?

  Raven shot a glance toward the small dojo W’rath and K’hul had entered, her face set in a terrible mask of pain and fury. If W’rath wasn’t able to make the First Born see reason, she’d remove the damn ring from his hand herself—with a sword.

  Now that they were away from the others, and any possibility of public humiliation, K’hul’s confidence reasserted itself. He faced W’rath, arms crossed, his face hostile. “You have me here now, Exile. What do you plan to do? Chew on my ankles?”

  “Really, lad, short jokes? Even among the Shadow Elf population, I’m shy several inches of average. I’ve heard every possible insult in existence. You’ll have to work much harder if you wish to provoke me. Oh, I know, threaten to keep my lads helpless and labeled as inherently evil. That will get my attention.”

  K’hul raised an eyebrow. “You’re lads? Until a few days ago, you didn’t even know they existed. Until a few minutes ago you’d never laid eyes upon them. How can you call them ‘your lads’ when you don’t know a thing about them? Their own councilors wanted them collared. You just strut in and decide they should have full access to their psionics without first finding out why your predecessors thought it was a bad idea?”

  “Interesting.” W’rath cocked his head. “That actually came across as a coherent argument.”

  “So we’re done with this, then?”

  W’rath chuckled. Ah, so young, so naïve. “Of course not, lad. Those collars will come off. But since you went to the effort to put together a logical reason for your obstinacy, it’s only fair I do the same.”