Exile's Redemption Page 20

  “Since he still seems intent on using his men,” Lady Swiftbrook said, “they could be working on a mass protection ritual. Depending on the numbers and types of protections they’ve chosen to weave into the ritual, it could take several days to complete, but no more than three or four.”

  “They may not limit it to protection,” Kiat said. “That sort of ritual works well if you add in enhancements like speed, strength and density. It would also account for the additional time they’ve spent working the spell.”

  “Interesting,” K’hul muttered. Despite his earlier reluctance to get involved with the happenings on the mainland, the mention of the demons, and the apparent strength of the magi involved, had piqued his interest.

  “So let’s start laying out our options,” Lady Swiftbrook said.

  “Well, W’rath told us he could take care of the problem by himself,” Kela said despite Foxfire’s attempts to shush her.

  “Presumably he made that claim before he knew about the four magi,” Kiat said.

  “While true,” W’rath admitted, “it wouldn’t change my original plan should you decide to move forward with it. However, considering other things we’ve learned this day, I’m thinking we have more to gain by a massive show of force on the part of the entire Elven Nation.”

  “You originally planned to slip into the camp and assassinate the king, didn’t you?” Foxfire asked. He feared his original assessment of W’rath’s sanity, or lack thereof, might be true. Who blithely walked into a an enemy encampment and expected to stick a knife in the back of a king without having an entire army rip him limb from limb?

  W’rath shrugged, unfazed by the incredulous tone of Foxfire’s voice. “Provided someone could get me to the general area, there isn’t a camp, castle, or dragon-protected stronghold I can’t enter.”

  “That’s quite a claim,” K’hul said. He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the Shadow Elf as though he could discover all of W’rath’s secrets through conscious effort. Foxfire didn’t think even the stolid will of a K’hul could figure out the enigmatic Shadow Elf.

  “There’s nothing exotic about it,” W’rath said with a lazy shrug. “I’ve worked my entire life as an assassin and spy.”

  “I thought you were a psion,” Kela said.

  “Of course, my dear, I most certainly am. However, psionics are merely a tool, like your bow, or this enchanting table. You don’t rely entirely on your bow, right? You also have a large knife on your hip, I see. The same goes for me. I have developed many skills over the years. I’ve had the good fortune of surviving enough unpleasant situations that I’ve learned to diversify my knowledge. Rely on only one tool, and someday that tool will fail you. That day you die.”

  Kela grunted, and Foxfire knew W’rath had won her over with his straight forward explanation. Foxfire couldn’t help notice, though, W’rath hadn’t mentioned what diverse skills he possessed. Perhaps Kela could see something Foxfire could not. He hoped so.

  “That’s all very interesting,” K’hul said, his tone making it clear he found it anything but, “however let’s get back to the matter at hand. You seem to think your assassination plan isn’t such a good idea any longer.”

  “While I meditated last night it occurred to me, after the events at Second Home, the elves as a whole need to make a statement. Already, word has spread that the Elven people suffered a humbling, devastating defeat. With each retelling the stories will grow more exaggerated. We can ill afford to have the world see us as weak.”

  “We allow that and every greedy upstart will harass us thinking us easy targets,” K’hul said, slapping his hand upon the table with each word.

  Lady Swiftbrook nodded. “Already our trading partners have sent their regrets. For the time being, they no longer desire our presence in their harbors. They’re frightened that merely associating with us will draw the wrath of whomever attacked us.”

  “Cowards,” Kela spat.

  “Don’t judge them too harshly,” Foxfire said, spreading his hands, calling upon them to understand the world’s fear of the unknown. “Who wouldn’t find the idea of an enemy, powerful enough to rip the fabric between two worlds apart and flood your city with death, terrifying?”

  “So we hunt down the bastards who did this and make new boots from their hides,” Kela snarled.

  “Charming,” W’rath said, and Foxfire suspected he meant it. “But we get ahead of ourselves. First, we must remind the world what a terrible force we are when roused to anger. Your arrogant king has inadvertently provided the perfect opportunity for our demonstration.”

  Lady Culnámo nodded and pointed to several spots in the area surrounding the enemy encampment. “We set up several miles from the camp. With nature all around us we won’t find ourselves cut off from our elemental powers, and we’ll have plenty of time to call on our elementals—we won’t have a repeat of Second Home. We go in heavy, don’t give the humans a chance to react. The First Born should summon earth elementals and rain fire down on the enemy’s head. The Sky Elves can call down lightning and break up their camp with tornadoes and air elementals. Wood Elf sharpshooters will pick off any who try to escape.”

  Foxfire had never had any dealings with Lady Culnámo before. Her no-nonsense tactics style came across as typical for a First Born. That she stepped in without consulting K’hul, though, spoke of a confidence most wouldn’t possess. This trait alone explained why Lady Swiftbrook had chosen her to fill a seat on the council. Still, he doubted she’d had any experience with humans. Too often elves, even First Born, moved at a casual pace compared to humans. “Just so long as you mean hours and not weeks or years,” he warned. “Remember, we’re not fighting other long-lived beings. If we set this up in our usual methodical manner, they’ll have finished their ritual, taken the forest, died, and left a new generation to annoy us.”

  “So we need to decide on a final course of action right now,” K’hul said, “and implement it swiftly.”

  “A lot of how fast we act depends on how long we have until they finish their ritual,” Raven said.

  “We can’t possibly know the answer to that,” Lady Swiftbrook said. “They could finish in a month or an hour.”

  “We’ll have to assume the worst,” K’hul said. “We don’t have the luxury of taking our time to put together a huge campaign, but I believe with a small, powerful force, we could prevail against them.” He paused, his icy eyes spearing each of them with his fury. “We go tonight.”

  “Tonight?” Lady Swiftbrook gasped. “We need more time than that. A week at least—longer even.”

  “Normally, I would agree, madam,” W’rath said, “but if we give them time to finish their great casting, we could find ourselves up against an army impervious to much of our magic. Even the physical superiority of the First Born could be neutralized if their spell enhances the strength and speed of their soldiers. Therefore, we’re in a position where we’ll have to keep our strategy simple and overwhelm them with devastating force. “

  Lady Swiftbrook frowned fiercely at K’hul and W’rath. “I don’t believe this. You two agree on something? On this?”

  The two grimaced but nodded. Lady Culnámo added her perspective. “I agree, it’s rash, but it’s the right course of action. If these magi are of the same caliber as those who attacked Second Home, we could doom ourselves by giving them more time while we prepare the perfect battlefield.”

  “You told us over a week has passed since they started their ritual—that alone bodes ill. Is there anything else you can tell us that would help determine what they’re up to?” Lord Icewind asked Foxfire and Kela.

  The two Wood Elves conferred together for a few moments before Foxfire answered. “When we didn’t get the kind of detail we wanted from the birds, we risked sending a group of scouts to infiltrate the camp. They set off a magical ward, and alarms alerted the humans to their presence. Of the five, only one made it back. When the alarms went off, four of them tried to make a run for the forest, but
the humans have light cavalry, and our people couldn’t outrun them. The one who survived continued to head into the camp, and used the confusion to help him hide. He spied on the camp for some time, and clarified some things for us. He’s the one who determined only three of the magi perform the ritual while the fourth summons a few creatures and then rests. He knows where the mercenaries have set up their tent.”

  “All useful information, but it does nothing to tell us when we can expect for them to finish their task,” Lady Swiftbrook said.

  “It does give us some idea of the sort of men we face,” Lord Icewind said. “They’re well trained and disciplined. Humans don’t normally possess the stamina needed to perform such a long ritual—even with one of them resting. Also, it takes a great deal of skill to rotate individuals in and out of an ongoing casting. I don’t think I’m jumping to conclusions by suggesting a direct connection exists between these men and those who attacked Second Home. Regardless, I have to agree with Lord K’hul and Lord W’rath, and suggest we launch our assault as soon as possible; we do not want them to finish whatever they have started.” His piece done, the slender mage jumped as if remembering where he was and who he faced. He shrank down within his robes, trying to appear inconspicuous.

  “I see how this is shaping up,” Lady Swiftbrook said. She turned to Raven. “I suppose you support them in this as well?”

  Raven nodded. “I completely understand your concerns. After all, we’re still in shock from what happened at Second Home. It’s only been a few days since the attack and only one since we docked here.”

  “Precisely,” Lady Swiftbrook said.

  “However, we have one advantage, and we shouldn’t waste it,” Raven continued. “Word has spread quickly about our defeat at Second Home. If Lord Icewind is right, and the magi working for the king came from the same place that launched the attack against us, they have to think we’re in no shape to come to the aid of the Wood Elves—even if we wanted to. Up until now, we’ve shown no interest in wanting to help.”

  “That’s because no one did,” Kela grumbled.

  “The point being,” Raven said, ignoring Kela, “they’re not expecting us—period. When we pop onto the battlefield, ready to dump spells on them, we’ll take them by surprise. They won’t have a chance to mount a defense or retaliate. Their fancy magi, stuck in the middle of their ritual, won’t be able to help.”

  “Depending on the actual context of the ritual,” Kiat said, seeming to unfold like a flower, as his magical knowledge gave him a brief burst of confidence, “it might even prove dangerous for them to break it off before it’s complete.”

  “Very true,” Lady Swiftbrook admitted. She dropped down into one of the ornate chairs and tugged at the high-necked collar of her gown, perhaps wishing for more substantial armor. She glared at her fellow councilors as if they somehow shared fault for the poor behavior of human magi and kings.

  “Does that mean you’ve come around to our side of things, madam?” W’rath gently jibed.

  Lady Swiftbrook rolled her eyes, and gave up her attempts at defiance. “I suppose it does.”

  “I have to write a song about this,” Foxfire said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of an Elven council coming to an agreement so quickly.”

  “Assuming the Sea Elves don’t have some arguments to present,” Kela said, a devious gleam in her eye.

  “I don’t understand,” Raven said. “If they’re not involved why would they even have any input?”

  “She’s making a joke,” Foxfire said. “You see, the Sea Elves have so dedicated themselves to the K’hul family line, they generally don’t bother attending any of our sessions. They always accede to whatever choice the Voice of the First makes.”

  Foxfire saw W’rath’s right eye twitch. Given the Shadow Elf’s barely controlled temper, he didn’t think it would take much more to send W’rath over the table to kick K’hul in the teeth.

  “They’re not much better than T’sane and Reaper,” W’rath muttered.

  “What’s that?” K’hul said. True to form, W’rath’s words elicited a flare of hostility from the First Born.

  “Nothing at all, old boy,” W’rath said, his tall ponytail giving him the appearance of a combative little rooster. “It simply explains why so many asinine rules exist around here. Nothing gets done without the express approval of a K’hul. You come to the table with two votes already in your pocket. How lovely for you.”

  The two locked gazes, and it seemed Kela’s hoped for fist fight might erupt. Ever the peacekeeper, Lady Swiftbrook once again intervened. “Before this dissolves into another pissing match between you two, can we decide on our course of action?”

  Lady Culnámo jumped on the suggestion right away. “First, what is our ultimate goal? Do we intend to wipe them out to a man? Do we take prisoners? What about the magi? Do we take any of them for questioning? What about Lord W’rath’s initial assassination idea? Do we go through with that?”

  “Interrogating one or more of the magi could be helpful,” Foxfire said. “Tassilia, where they hail from, specializes in magic for hire. If their people attacked Second Home, it’s unlikely they did it for personal reasons. Someone with a grudge against us hired them.”

  “What a fascinating people,” W’rath observed. “Completely apolitical, without any moral standing, or sense of loyalty to anyone other than the highest bidder, and apparently completely unconcerned with any of the consequences associated with their mercenary work. I can’t believe they’ve been allowed to continue to exist for any period of time. I would very much enjoy the opportunity to question one of them.” He rubbed his hands together, anticipating the chance to get one of the magi alone. All the while, though, his eyes never left K’hul.

  “So, we’ve decided to capture one of the magi and attempt to gain information from him?” Foxfire asked. A chorus of agreement answered him. “Now … what about prisoners?”

  “No prisoners,” Kela said. “We only need the mage for putting him to the question. We don’t care about ransom, and we don’t use slaves, so they’d just get in the way.”

  “So … kill everyone?” Kiat said, shocked. His hands clutched at his robes in his distress over the imagined slaughter. Kela’s proclamation surprised Foxfire as well. He knew she didn’t care for humans, but he hadn’t realized how deep her feelings ran.

  “Those foolish enough to stand and fight, certainly,” Lady Culnámo said. “If we take them by surprise, utterly overwhelming them with a show of force, they should break quickly.”

  “What if we allow any who flee to escape the battlefield?” Foxfire asked, relieved Kela didn’t respond with one of her derisive snorts.

  “Only the regular soldiers,” K’hul suggested. “Anyone who appears to have any command standing should be finished off. We don’t want those with authority to rally the troops once they get a safe distance from us. You mentioned they have cavalry. That puts us at a disadvantage once we settle into one spot on the battlefield. We can’t allow them to circle around behind us and hit us with lances or spears.”

  He looked around to see if everyone agreed with him and saw W’rath’s confused face. “You have a question?”

  Foxfire guessed the proud psion disliked admitting he didn’t know everything. Satisfying his curiosity won out over his embarrassment though. “I am not familiar with the term Cavalry.”

  K’hul snorted in amusement. “You really have been living in a cave.”

  “Humans keep animals as slaves and force them to serve as mounts,” Kela said. They mostly use horses. When the humans ride them, they can move much faster than those of us on foot.”

  “Here,” Kiat offered. He recited a simple spell and with a few graceful motions of his hands, brought forth a shimmering image that hovered above the table. The image clearly showed a lightly armored human seated on the back of a powerful animal. The creature raced around in the air above the table, displaying its ability to make quick changes in direction. All
the while, the human sat, elevated above his fellows on foot.

  “They’ve made themselves into centaurs,” W’rath said, intrigued.

  “Actually, it’s believed they came up with the idea from observing centaurs,” Kiat said. He waved his hands, and the image dispersed into wisps of pastel smoke.

  “We have nothing to counter this?”

  “Large explosions should work,” Lady Culnámo said with a grin.

  Kela scowled at her. “It’s not the beasts’ fault. And no, we don’t have anything like it because it’s a vile practice.” This last she directed at W’rath, who made placating gestures with his gloved hands.

  “Peace, lass,” he said. “I only ask because surely intelligent fae creatures exist who would agree to assist us in battle, serving in place of these horses.”

  “Most of the truly fae have left this world with the sprites and the faeries. They didn’t like the changes the rise of the humans brought about, and they left to form their own pocket universe,” Lady Swiftbrook said.

  Lady Swiftbrook’s statement left W’rath blinking, stunned. Foxfire supposed, as an Exile, stuck underground for most of his life, W’rath might have reason to be ignorant about the exodus of the fae. His apparent dismay surprised Foxfire, though. Why miss what you had never known?

  “No wonder the world feels so mundane,” W’rath said. The perpetual fire in his eyes dampened.

  “There are still a few left,” Kela said. “The nymphs and the dryads live in our forests. A few Unicorns still walk the woods.”

  Foxfire tried to draw upon the persuasiveness Kela claimed he possessed. “We fight for them as much as for ourselves. When the Sky Elves, our ancestors, chose to make themselves into the first Wood Elves, they did it because they felt an obligation to the wild things that couldn’t speak for themselves. We still take that commitment seriously.”

  “All the more reason to make sure King Oblund, and anyone associated with him, learns that rising against us is a very bad idea,” Raven said. “Since the main force of our attack will probably fall on the heart of the enemy camp, what if we have the Wood Elves use the chaos as cover to get close in and make sure the cavalry can’t form up. That way we can spare the horses. If anyone actually manages to get on a horse, you shoot the rider and the horse can escape. With luck, the horses will panic and add to the confusion.”