Douglas Niles - The Kinslayer Wars

“How have you fared? Not without some trouble, I see.” Sithas indicated the pile of dead wolves, and Kith told him about the attack.

“They must have heard you coming,” Kith speculated.

“Let’s get back to the city. A whole winter has passed!” Sithas urged. Kith turned toward the cave, suddenly spotting One-Tooth. The giant had observed—at first with interest, but then with ill-concealed concern—the exchange between the brothers.

It surprised the elf to realize the depth of the bond that had developed between them.

“Three-Legs fly away?” One-Tooth looked at Kith, frowning quizzically. Kith didn’t try to explain. Instead, he clasped one of the giant’s big hands in both of his own. “I’ll miss you,” he said quietly. “You saved my life today—and I’m grateful to have had your friendship and protection!”

“Good-bye, friend,” said the giant sadly.

Then it was time for the elves to mount the griffons and to turn their thoughts toward the future . . . toward home.

The forestlands of Silvanost stretched below like a shaggy green carpet, extending to the far horizons and beyond. Huge winged shadows flickered across the ground, marking the path of the griffons. The creatures flew in great V-shaped wedges, several dozen griffons in each wedge. These formations spread across more than a mile.

Kith-Kanan and Sithas rode the first two of the mighty beasts, flying side by side toward their home. The forest had stretched below them for two days, but now, in the far distance, a faint glimmer of ivory light appeared. They soared faster than the wind, and swiftly that speck became identifiable as the Tower of the Stars. Soon the lesser towers of Silvanost came into view, jutting above the treetops like a field of sharp spires.

As they left the wilderness behind, Kith-Kanan thought fondly of the giant they had grown to know. One-Tooth had waved to them from the snow-filled valley until the fliers had vanished from sight. Kith-Kanan still remembered his one tusklike tooth bobbing up and down in a forlorn gesture of farewell. They followed the River Thon-Thalas toward the island that held the elven capital. The griffons streamed into a long line behind them, and several of them uttered squawks of anticipation as they descended. Five hundred feet over the river, they raced southward, and soon the whole city sprawled below them.

The creatures shrieked and squalled, alarming the good citizens of Silvanost so much that, for several minutes, there existed a state of general panic, during which time most elves assumed that the war had come home to roost via some arcane and potent human ensorcelment.

Only when the two blond-haired elves were spotted did the panic turn to curiosity and wonder. And by the time Sithas and Kith-Kanan had circled the palace grounds and then led their charges in a gradual downward spiral toward the Gardens of Astarin, the word had spread. The emotions of the Silvanesti elves exploded into a spontaneous outpouring of joy.

Nirakina was the first to meet the twins as the great creatures settled to the ground. Their mother’s eyes flowed with tears, and at first she could not speak. She took turns kissing each of them and then holding them at arms’ length, as if making sure that they were alive and fit.

Beyond her, Sithas saw Tamanier Ambrodel, and his spirit was buoyed even higher. Lord Ambrodel had returned from his secret mission to Thorbardin. Loyally, he had stayed discreet about what he had learned. Now he might have decisive news about a dwarven alliance in the elven war.

“Welcome home, Your Highness,” Ambrodel said sincerely as Sithas clasped the lord chamberlain’s shoulders.

“It’s good to see you here to greet me! We will talk as soon as I can break away.” Ambrodel nodded, the elf’s narrow face reflecting private delight. Meanwhile, the griffons continued to descend into the gardens, and across the gaming fields, and even into many of the nearby vegetable plots. They shrieked and growled, and the good citizens of the city gave them wide berth. Nevertheless, each griffon remained well behaved once it landed, moving only to preen its feathers or to settle weary wings and legs. When they had all landed, they squatted comfortably on the ground and took little note of the intense excitement surrounding them.

Kith-Kanan, with a barely noticeable limp, took his mother’s arm as Hermathya and a dozen courtiers emerged from the Hall of Audience. Lord Quimant walked, with a quick stride, at their head.

“Excellency!” he cried in delight, racing forward to warmly embrace the Speaker of the Stars.

Hermathya approached a good deal more slowly, greeting her husband with a formal kiss. Her greeting was cool, though her relief was obvious even through her pretense of annoyance.

“My son!” Sithas said excitedly. “Where is Vanesti?” A nursemaid stepped forward, offering the infant to his father.

“Can this be him? How much he’s changed!” Sithas, with a sense of awe, took his son in his arms while the crowd quieted. Indeed, the elfin child was much larger than when they had departed, nearly half a year earlier. His blond hair grew thick upon his scalp. As his tiny eyes looked toward his father, Vanesti’s face broke into a brilliant smile.

For several moments, Sithas seemed unable to speak. Hermathya came to him and very gently took the child. Turning away from her husband, her gaze briefly met Kith-Kanan’s. He was startled by the look he saw there. It was cool and vacant, as if he did not exist. It had been many weeks since he had thought of her, but this expression provoked a brief, angry flash of jealousy—and, at the same time, a reminder of his guilt.

“Come—to the palace, everyone!” Sithas shouted, throwing an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Tonight there will be a feast for all the city! Let word be spread immediately! Summon the bards. We have a tale for them to hear and to spread across the nation!”

The news carried through the city as fast as the cry could pass from lips to ear, and all the elves of Silvanost prepared to celebrate the return of the royal heirs. Butchers slaughtered prime pigs, casks of wine rumbled forth from the cellars, and colorful lanterns swiftly sprouted, as if by magic, from every tree, lamppost, and gate in the city. The festivities began immediately, and the citizenry danced in the streets and sang the great songs of the elven nation. Meanwhile, Sithas and Kith-Kanan joined Lord Regent Quimant and Lord Chamberlain Tamanier Ambrodel in a small audience chamber. The regent looked at the chamberlain with some surprise and turned to Sithas with a questioning look. When the Speaker of the Stars said nothing, Quimant cleared his throat and spoke awkwardly.

“Excellency, perhaps the lord chamberlain should join us after the conclusion of this conference. After all, some of the items I have to report are of the most confidential nature.” He paused, as if embarrassed to continue.

“Indeed, in this nearly half a year that you have been absent, I must report that the lord chamberlain has not in fact been present in the capital. He only returned recently, from his family estates. Apparently matters of his clan’s business interests took precedence over affairs of state.”

“Tamanier Ambrodel has my complete confidence. Indeed,” Sithas replied,

“we may find that he has reports to make as well.”

“Of course, my lord,” Quimant said quickly, with a deep bow. Quimant immediately started to fill them in on the events that had occurred during their absence.

“First, Sithelbec still stands as strong as ever.” The lord of Clan Oakleaf anticipated Kith-Kanan’s most urgent question. “A messenger from the fortress broke through the lines a few weeks past, bringing word that the defenders have repulsed every attempt to