David Dalglish - Dawn of Swords

It was decided that the two youths needed a break from each other. That had been twelve days ago, and Aully had neither seen nor heard from Kindren since. Her heart felt like it was breaking, and while she stood alone in her quarters in the East Garrison, gazing out the window at the nighttime fires that burned among the trees throughout the forest city of Dezerea, she considered leaping from the ledge and plummeting to her death.

Strangely enough, it was Ceredon who rescued her from herself. The beautiful, bronze-skinned Quellan knocked on her door that night, asking if she would like to talk. She did, and as they sat across from each other on her bed, tossing innocuous chatter back and forth, she felt an odd sensation of safety overwhelm her. The impetuous egotist she had met at the tournament was gone now, replaced by a man of dignity and respect who treated her like a beloved younger sister.

There were thankfully no romantic notions between them, certainly not on Ceredon’s part. Eighty-three years her senior, he acted a perfect gentleman at all times, just as he had during the entirety of her stay in the East Garrison. As their visits continued, she began to act flirtatious in her own immature way, compelled by his attractiveness and confidence. She’d nudge closer to him during his nightly visits, hold his stare longer than necessary, and when she felt particularly daring, she’d try to touch the skin of his hands or face, just to see how it felt. She felt guilty each time it happened, and without fail she would kneel and pray to Celestia for forgiveness when he left her room. Then she’d sit by her window, gazing at the emerald splendor of Palace Thyne, glowing beneath the light of the rapidly waxing moon.

On more than one occasion she would catch sight of a figure gazing out of a tiny porthole on the sixth story of the palace, the humanoid outline no bigger than that of the smallest ant. She felt a connection pass through the great distance between them, a wave of delicate energy that massaged her heart and made her sigh.

It was Kindren. She didn’t need the proof of seeing his face to know it was true.

It was dawn when they arrived from the northeast, where the low mountain chain separated Dezerea from the Gihon River.

Aully was awakened by footfalls and a series of rhythmic shouts, almost like singing, and she rolled from her bed, padding sleepily to her window. The blinding rays of the morning sun reflected off the East Garrison’s sparkling crystal walls, forcing her to shield her eyes with her hands. A cold wind blew in the window from the north, catching her unprepared, and goose pimples rose on her flesh beneath the thin nightdress she wore. Jetting streams of gray clouds passed over the low-hanging sun, granting her eyes a temporary reprieve. She took that opportunity to scan the expanse of ancient trees for the source of the noise.

They emerged from the forest, moving into the shadow of the East Garrison with dreadful speed. A seemingly endless parade of elves, Quellan all, marching in unison, bows slung over their shoulders and sheathed khandars hanging from their belts. An immensely large elf marched at their lead, his broad chest as wide as that of any two in his regiment combined. As he passed beneath her window, Aully saw his face, which was as large as the rest of him, his eyes too far apart, his lips constantly locked in a sneer. Unlike the rest of the elves, who were dressed in the traditional green tunic and brown breeches, he wore a glistening black top that looked like solid oil. It left his shoulders exposed, revealing the great musculature of his arms. He also differed from the others in that he carried no bow or khandar; instead, two long, thick swords were strapped to his back, so black they seemed to blend into whatever material made up his clothes. She only knew they were swords by the two handles that bounced on either side of his too large head.

She remembered the elder Iolas’s words when the four secret keepers had gathered in the crypts- Shen and the Ekreissarian will sail across the river a fortnight from now -and an instant later she was out the door, sprinting down the hall without getting dressed, shouting her parents’ names.

A few moments later, the family stood gathered together, first in Aullienna’s room and then in the abutting space where her nursemaid Noni slept, trying to get a better view of the force that was snaking its way down the packed-dirt lane toward Palace Thyne. Aully’s father snatched one of her hands and held it tightly, and her mother did the same with the other. All were silent-even Noni, whose tongue had a comment ready for any situation. It was only when the tail of the snake emerged in the form of the last few soldiers in the line, holding high pikes topped with a series of pointed barbs, that any dared to speak.

Lucius, a relatively young elf of seventy-two, who served as Cleotis’s bodyguard alongside his wife, Kara, came running up the stairs and careened around the corner, almost slamming into the wall of Noni’s room.

“Cleotis!” he shouted. “Do you see?”

Her father nodded, releasing his daughter’s hand after giving it a final, gentle squeeze.

“We have,” he replied, gesturing at the open window to his right.

“They’re Quellan,” said Lucius. “Are they the Ekreissar?”

“Possibly. But why are the rangers here? Have you any word from the Neyvar?”

Lucius shook his head violently. When he spoke, his words were rasping, hurried.

“They’re gone. All of them. No one is in the Neyvar’s quarters-not his advisors or his son-no one. The entire level that was housing the delegate from Quellassar has been abandoned.”

Aully glanced up, and her father’s eyes met hers. His lips quivered as if he wished to say something to her, but he abruptly turned to face Lucius again instead.

“I need you to wake Kara,” he said.

“No need, my Lord. She’s already awake.”

Cleotis nodded. “Good. The two of you head over to the palace, and find out the meaning of all of this. But be cautious. The Quellan may be our friends”-he paused for another quick glance at Aully-“but these are strange times. Be prepared for anything.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Lucius said, darting out of the room.

“Cleotis, what’s happening?” Audrianna asked. Aullienna hated the fear she heard in her mother’s voice.

“We’ll find out soon,” her father replied.

Hours went by, and still there was no word from Lucius or Kara. Aully feared for them. They had been a constant presence in her family’s home for as long as she could remember. Losing them would be tantamount to losing her sister, Brienna.

Slender fingers brushed her cheek, and Aully gazed up into Noni’s milky, aged eyes. Noni was indeed old-according to her father she was the oldest elf who’d ever lived, at almost seven hundred years-but her pale hair and craggy flesh had done nothing to diminish the strength of her spirit. Noni was as active as an elf a third her age, and on more than a few occasions she’d held her own when confronting belligerent drunkards who attempted to harass Aully during the nighttime walks she was fond of taking.

A folded turquoise dress hung from Noni’s other hand. She pressed the garment lightly into Aully’s chest.

“Your father told you to pack just in case we need to leave, and yet you stand by the window?”

“I’m sorry,” replied Aully, dropping her eyes. She grabbed the dress and walked over to the bed, stuffing it into a large, plain sack.

“You don’t want to leave, do you?”

Aully shook her head without looking up.

Noni sighed. “You love him, don’t you?”

“In a way, I suppose. I’ve known Lucius all my life.”

“No, child, I mean the Thyne boy.”