Margaret Weis - The Second Generation

“You are wrong, Alhana Starbreeze,” he said quietly. “They may send you from your homeland, term you 'darkelf,' but you will never be what I am. I broke the law. I did it knowingly. I would do it again. They had every right to cast me out.”

Pausing, keeping hold of her hand in his, he looked at her intently, spoke earnestly. “I foresee dark days ahead for you, my lady. If you or your child are ever in need of aid or comfort, and you are not afraid to turn to me, I will do whatever is in my power to assist you.”

Alhana stared at him wordlessly. Then she smiled, pale, wan. “Thank you for your offer. I am grateful. And, I do not believe that I would be afraid.”

“Davat! Where are you?” An angry voice sounded from below. “Why aren’t you at your post? You men, over here!”

“It’s Rashas,” said Tanis, listening. “Probably with more of his Kagonesti slaves.”

Dalamar nodded. “I was expecting him. He must have guessed we’d come here. We could make our stand.” The dark elf looked at Tanis grimly, expectantly. “Fight them...”

“No! There will be no fighting!” Alhana caught hold of Tanis’s sword arm, held him back as he would have drawn his blade. “If blood is shed here, all chance for peace is lost!”

Tanis stood irresolute, his sword half in and half out of its sheath. In the rooms below, Rashas could be heard, dispersing his guards, sending them throughout the house.

Alhana’s grip tightened. “I am no longer queen. I have no right to command. Therefore, I beg of you ...”

Tanis was angry, frustrated. He wanted to fight, would have enjoyed nothing more. “After what they did to you, Alhana? You’ll meekly let them exile you?”

“If the alternative is killing my own people, yes!” Alhana said calmly.

“Make your decision, Tanis!” Dalamar warned. The footsteps were very near.

“You’re too late,” Tanis said, thrusting his sword back into its scabbard. “You know that, Alhana. Too late.”

She tried to speak, but her words came out as a sigh. Her hand slid nervelessly off Tanis’s arm.

“In that case,” said Dalamar, “I will take my leave. Do you travel with me, Half-Elven?”

Tanis shook his head.

The dark elf folded his hands in his sleeves. “Farewell, Queen Alhana. Walk with the gods. And do not forget my offer.”

He bowed to her respectfully, spoke words of magic, and was gone.

Alhana stared at where he had been standing. “What is happening in this world?” she murmured. “I am betrayed by my friends ... befriended by my foes ...”

“Evil times,” Tanis replied, voice bitter. 'The night returns.”

In his vision, the silver moon shone through the storm clouds, its light lasting long enough to illuminate the path, and then was gone, swept away by darkness.

The door burst open. Kagonesti guards ran inside. Two grabbed hold of Tanis by both arms. One guard divested him of his sword; another put a knife to Tanis’s throat. Two more started to take hold of Alhana.

“Traitors! Do you dare lay rough hands on me?” she demanded.

“Until I cross that border, I am your queen.”

The Kagonesti appeared daunted, and they looked at each other uncertainly.

“Leave her be. She will give you no trouble,” Rashas ordered. The senator stood in the doorway. “Escort the witch to the Abanasinian border crossing. By order of the Thalas-Enthia, cast her out.”

Alhana walked disdainfully past Rashas. She did not look at him, as if he were beneath her notice. The Kagonesti accompanied her.

“You can’t send her out into Abanasinia alone, defenseless,” Tanis protested angrily.

“I don’t intend to,” Rashas replied, with a smile. “You, half-human, will accompany her.” He glanced around the room, his brow darkening. “Was this man by himself?”

“Yes, Senator,” the Kagonesti replied. “The evil mage must have escaped.”

Rashas turned his gaze on Tanis. “You conspired with the outlaw wizard known as Dalamar the Dark in an attempt to disrupt the ceremony crowning the rightful Speaker of the Sun and Stars. Therefore, you, known as Tanis Half-Elven, are hereby banished from Qualinesti for life. Such is the law. Do you dispute it?”

“I could dispute it,” Tanis said, speaking Common, a language the guards would not understand. “I could mention the fact that I’m not the only person standing in this room who conspired with Dalamar the Dark. I could tell the Thalas-Enthia that Gilthas did not take that vow of his own free will. I could tell them that you are holding Porthios prisoner, his wife hostage. I could tell them all that. But I won’t, will I, Senator?”

“No, half-human, you won’t,” Rashas replied, also in the human tongue, but spitting the words, as if they left a bad taste in his mouth. “You’ll keep quiet because I have your son. And it would be a pity for the new Speaker to meet an untimely and tragic end.”

“I want to see Gilthas,” Tanis said in Elvish. “Damn it, he’s my son!”

“If by that name, you mean our new Speaker of the Sun and Stars, may I remind you, half-human, that under elven law the Speaker has no father, no mother, no family ties of any kind. All elves are considered his family. All true elves.”

Tanis took a step toward Rashas. A tall Wilder elf stepped protectively in front of the senator.

“At this moment, our new Speaker is receiving the accolades of his people,” Rashas continued coolly. “This is a great day in his life. Surely, you would not want to ruin it by embarrassing him with your presence?”

Tanis struggled inwardly. The thought of leaving without seeing Gil, without having a chance to tell him he understood, that he was proud of him, was intolerable, heartbreaking. Yet, Tanis knew well enough that Rashas was right. The appearance of his half-breed bastard father would cause only trouble, make things far more difficult for Gil than they were already.

And they would be difficult enough.

Tanis let his shoulders sag. He shrugged bitterly, appeared whipped, beaten.

“Take him to the border,” Rashas said.

Tanis started to walk meekly past the senator. Pausing in front of Rashas, Tanis pivoted, rocked forward, and swung his fist. It connected—satisfyingly—with bone.

The senator toppled over backward, crashed into an ornamental tree.

Kagonesti raised his sword.

“Leave him be,” Rashas mumbled, rubbing his jaw. A trickle of blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. “This is how the servants of evil fight against righteousness. I would not give him the satisfaction of striking back.”

The senator spit out a tooth.

Tanis, nursing bruised knuckles, strode out the door.

He’d been wanting to do that for over two hundred years.

The griffins refused to answer any form of summons from the Qualinesti elves—another fact that gave Tanis grim satisfaction, though it forced him to make the journey to the border on foot. The distance was not far, however, and Tanis had a legion of bitter, unhappy reflections to keep him company.

His thoughts crowded in around him so thick and deep that he took no notice of where he was. He realized they had reached the border only when the Qualinesti captain brought his men to a halt.

“Your sword, sir.” The captain handed over the weapon in a courteous manner. “The path leads to Haven one way, to Solace another. If you take the fork to the left—”

“I know the damn path,” Tanis told him. Long ago, during the war, he and his companions had taken that path into Qualinesti.

He thrust the sword into its scabbard.

“I was about to advise you, sir, to avoid Darken Wood,” the captain added politely.