Mercedes Lackey - Elvenbane

:.Where are we going?: he asked. :And...how did this happen? How did the elves find out about us ?:

: We're going north, to an old human fortress.: she told him, as he veered north at her direction, catching a rising thermal and gaining more height, ill's in ruins, but it has a well, it's on the top of a hill, and it's defensible, which the Citadel isn't; there are just too many bolt-holes and escape tunnels for us to block. The old wizards meant to use the new place for a second Citadel, but they never got the chance because of the plague.:

:Where did you find that out?: he asked.

It was in those old chronicles I found,: she replied. The ones back in the older tunnels.:

There was a lot about those old records she hadn't said much about; he wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was just that she hadn't had time...

And they still didn't have time, not if they were going to follow the fleeing wizards.

That inability to defend the Citadel was what he had been afraid of when he'd first seen the place. Many ways to escape meant just as many ways for enemies to get in. That was the one aspect in which it was not the kind of home a dragon would have built...

Hopefully, this new place had fewer exits.

:As for what happened ...: she continued, with smothered anger, :someone turned his coat. One of the older wizards. He was missing when you called in the alarm, and he hadn't turned up by the time I left. We have to assume he's told the elves everything there is to know about us...how many we are, what we can do. Since he was on the war council, even about you. Any edge we had because of surprise is gone.:

The feelings that came with her thoughts told him that she was not optimistic about this second refuge. He didn't much blame her; it didn't sound like anything other than it was...a last place to make a stand.

:Shana,: he said solemnly, :I want you to make my apologies to the others when we land.:

:Apologies?: she replied, startled. :For ...:

:I'm going to leave for a little,: he told her. I can't do much for you now, since the enemy knows about me...but there's something I can do that he won't know about, and if I leave now, I can return in time to do some good.:

He took a deep breath, as she waited in expectant silence, her mind churning with unspoken speculations. : I can go get help,: he said. :From the Kin.:

Keman left Shana at dawn. He came winging in to the airspace above the Lair in the light of full day; tired, but determined to have satisfaction at long last. And desperately afraid for his friends. Desperation gave him extra strength to put up a good front.

:Who flies?: came the ritual question from the sentry, who had not recognized him.

:Kemanorell: Keman trumpeted back, following the thought-reply with a bugling cry of defiance. :I return to claim Challenge-Right !:

Chew on that a while , he thought with satisfaction, when the sentry's reply was lost in confusion. He circled for a moment, pondering the best choice of ground, then landed on the top of one of the cliffs overlooking the Lair. He settled there, clung to the rocks with claws and tail, and took an aggressive stance, head high, spinal crest up, frill extended, mantling his wings, and waiting for his answer.

Down below he watched as several dragons emerged from their lairs, and stared upward at him. He had, deliberately, sent his reply to the sentry in an "open" mode for everyone in the Lair to hear...and it seemed that everyone had. More and more dragons either, appeared below, or poked their heads out of openings all along the sides of the canyon. Several of the Kin gathered in a knot...consulting, he supposed, on who was to deliver his answer. Finally it came.

:The Lair recognizes Kemanorei:

That voice he knew. Keoke .

The Elder launched himself laboriously into the air, then rose, slowly and with obvious effort, to hover just opposite Keman's perch.

Keoke should fly more often. Father Dragon moves better than he does.

:The Lair recognizes the Right,: Keoke said. :What is it that you challenge ?:

Keman pulled himself even taller than before, getting all the height that he could, and spread his wings to the sun. : I challenge the old way of silence and isolation,: he replied. : I challenge the Law that is not written. I challenge those who would have the Kin bide in shameful sloth when there are those who need their help . That is what I challenge, Elder. Will the Lair hear me, or need I go elsewhere ?:

That last was customary, but hardly needful. No Lair would ever want to admit to the shame of not having answered a rightful challenge to custom...even though that particular right was seldom exercised by anyone but a shaman. Alara could have issued that challenge over Shana...

But in the process, she might have lost her Lair if she had lost the challenge.

Well, Keman had already exiled himself. And not for nothing was he a shaman's son. This time the Lair, and the Kin, would at least see their responsibilities, even if they would not acknowledge them.

Keoke hovered a moment longer before answering, slowly and reluctantly, :The Lair will hear you.:

:Now,: Keman said quickly, before the Elder could name a later time. :There is need for haste in this.:

Keoke's wings missed a beat, as if he had not expected Keman's demand. But it was within Keman's right to insist on an immediate hearing, and Keoke answered even more reluctantly, :Now, then. I will summon the Lair.:

Then, without another word, the Elder sideslipped, turning on his wingtip, and began the spiral down to the bottom of the canyon. Keman waited until he had landed, then launched himself off the edge of the cliff and followed him straight down, wings folded in a stoop, backwinging at the last moment, sending sand and tumbleweeds flying as he braked to a spectacular landing on top of a rock outcropping near the center of the canyon.

Keoke's frill flared in reluctant admiration, though he said nothing; he simply turned, and took a step in the direction of the gathering-cavern.

"No," Keman said aloud. "Not in the dark. Not in a place where secrets breed. Up here. In the light, where truth belongs."

Keoke half turned and looked over his shoulder, one eye-crest arched ironically. "Isn't that a little melodramatic, Keman?" he said mildly.

Keman's spinal crest flattened with embarrassment, but before he could reply, Alara spoke from behind him; his heart jumped when he heard his mother's voice. He had been so afraid that she would be angry with him for what he had done...and yet, he'd had no other choice...

"Melodrama is the prerogative of the young and passionate, Keoke," she said. "But I think he is right. This should be discussed in the open, not in hiding. The Kin are accustomed to hiding. Perhaps we ought to change the thinking that leads to hiding."

As Keman turned to his mother with surprise and gratitude, she looked up at him and sent a wordless wash of love and welcome over him; and said softly, "I stand with you in this, Keman. I am only sorry that I was not free to do so before."

He lowered his head to her, and she brushed his crest lightly with her wingtip, and silently sent him a bolstering tide of approval. And as the first of the Kin arrived, they turned to face them together, he on the rock, and she below him.

"... and there the matter stands," Keman said, looking from face to face in his audience, and finding the visages of the Kin strange and difficult to read after all his time among the elves and halfbloods. "Through no one's fault, elvenkind knows we exist; the need for secrecy is at an end, for the secret itself is out. The Kin took on a responsibility to Lashana which has been sadly neglected...and another to the halfbloods by our meddling. Would they be in such peril if it were not for the Prophecy that we took care to spread? I think not. I challenge the old ways; I call for an end to them, and for the Kin to come to the aid of the halfbloods, now, before it is too late."