Dennis McKiernan: City of Jade

“Get rid-? Never.” And now he kissed her long and tenderly, caring not who might be watching.

When they finally broke for air, Aylis said, “Even so, voyaging with you o’er the vast seas, I would do so again.”

“Fear not, love, for the vessel is in good hands and awaits us at Arbalin Isle.”

“Is it yet Long Tom who cares for her? You spoke of him when last spring you were here.”

“The very same, Chier, and thou wilt meet him anon, for I would have thee in my cabin again and sailing the oceans of all Mithgar after this business is done.”

Dalor cleared his throat. “Speaking of business, Aravan, is the plan yet the same?”

“Aye, Healer,” replied the Elf. “Mages and Elves cross over at the mark of midnight on Winterday two days hence.”

“And the number of Elves in the assault?”

“At least fifty tens, all told, just as intended, though since others have discovered our aim, I believe that number might grow. From the High Plane they come, for, because of the Sundering, it has been long since any on Adonar took part in a battle against the Spaunen , and they would do more than their share. Yet Elves who have dwelt on Mithgar would not be denied, and they have crossed from the Mid to the High World to join the ranks as well.”

“Good,” said Dalor.

Branwen then looked at Aravan and said, “So you would have Dwarves in this fight?”

Aravan nodded. “Aye, the Drimma are mighty warriors.”

“But how would they cross the in-between? I mean, they know not the ritual.”

“Branwen, thou dost forget, the Drimma cannot lose their feet. And once they tread a path, it is with them forever. Hence, once through the steps of the crossing rite, they would repeat it without error.”

“Oh, I see,” said Branwen. “Then you are correct: we should have asked the Dwarves.”

“And you say you have them on your ship?” asked Dalor.

“None at the moment,” said Aravan, “but soon, I hope. A warband of forty will sail with us.”

“Oh, my, the Eroean ,” said Aylis, her eyes lost in softness. “I remember it well.”

They sat in silence for long moments, but at last Aylis said, “Come, Aravan, there is something in my cote I would have you see.”

Together they strolled to the small mountain cabin, and when Dalor heard the lock click shut behind them, he turned to Branwen and said, “As Alamar would say, canoodling.”

Together they broke into laughter.

In the black marks of the darktide, Elves on Adonar and Mages on Vadaria canted the chant and stepped the steps and crossed into the Untargarda, into the world of Neddra. The moment he reached the plateau, Aravan knelt and, shielded by Bair’s cloak to conceal the flash of light, transformed into a black falcon and took to wing. Up he soared and up, and then sailed o’er the crags, his flight curving on a long arc to another cardinal point of the nexus, a league and a mile due west the Black Fortress. There he settled down in an open area deliberately cleared in the midst of the Elven host where the captains waited for him. One of these captains, Silverleaf, whipped off his cloak and coaxed the near-wild bird to huddle beneath, the falcon keck ing in irritation at having to do so. Finally, though, shielded by the garment, Valke transformed back into Aravan, the argent flare flickering under the edges. When the light died, Aravan stood and looked about to see not only Lian Guardians but Dylvana as well, the Elven race of the woodlands, come to join in the fight.

Aravan turned to Arandor and said, “The Mages are across. Cloaked by illusion they are on their way here.”

Arandor nodded and said, “How many, all told?”

“Seven nines.”

“Then I will divide my force into sevenths,” replied the captain, “a century and a half for each nine.”

“Thou hast over one thousand?” asked Aravan. “I thought fifty tens was the count, though I suspected there would be more.”

“Aye, our ranks have swelled,” replied the captain, grinning. “Wouldst thou care to command one of the companies?”

Aravan shook his head. “Nay, for Valke is best as a scout.”

Arandor spread his hands wide. “Aravan, ’tis a marvel that thou canst do such a thing.”

“The crystal makes it so, Arandor.” Aravan paused a moment and then said, “When Valke is no longer needed, then will I join one of the companies, the one wherein Aylis marches.”

Arandor shook his head. “Nay, Aravan. Thou art too valuable a warrior to spend thy time ever fretting at her side.”

Among those gathered immediately about, two stepped forward-both Dylvana. “Vail and I will take Aylis under wing,” said Arin Flameseer, her bow in hand, as was Vail’s.

“As will we,” said Ruar, touching his own chest and then canting his head toward Rissa and Eloran.

Disappointed, yet understanding why Arandor would rather he be at the forefront instead of withdrawn and protecting Aylis, Aravan smiled and said, “Dylvana all, I see, and I could not ask for better.”

Arandor nodded his agreement, and then said, “Dawn on this miserable world comes but six candlemarks hence. Let us form up our seven companies to be ready when Magekind arrives.”

As Arandor went about the task of assigning one hundred and five tens among seven companies, one for each of the seven nines, Aravan paced and paused and paced again as he waited for his beloved to appear.

And dimly silhouetted against the stars, the sinister black moon of Neddra stole across the dark skies above.

NEXUS

WINTERDAY, 5E1010

[THE FINAL YEAR OF THE FIFTH ERA]

They came as a whisper through the night, a soft murmuring not unlike that of the wind. And of a sudden and before the Elven army, a Silver Wolf and seven nines of Magekind appeared: first they were not, and then they were, the illusion of vacant land falling away.

Even as a pall of darkness gathered ’round the Draega from which Bair appeared, Alamar, at hand, sought out Arandor and, espying the leader, strode away.

Aylis, with eight others trailing, passed among the Mages and stepped to Aravan’s side and welcomed his embrace. “How long, Chier, till dawn?”

“Four candlemarks.”

“Good, then we are right on schedule and I’ve plenty of time to explore the interior.”

Aravan sighed, and though they had had this discussion many times, still he asked once again, “Canst thou not let another do it?”

Aylis shook her head. “Nay, love, for I have trained. Fear not; your Elves and my nine will protect me. Now, get me close.”

Aravan turned and signaled his squad even as Aylis gestured toward the eight Mages who had come with her. Quickly they assembled, for all knew the plan, and once again Bair became Hunter. At Aravan’s whispered command, they set out westerly, twenty Elves and nine Mages, an illusionist in their midst casting cover, and a Silver Wolf in the lead.

Fretting, Alamar watched them go. “Fool of a daughter,” he muttered.

“Thou art anxious?” asked Arandor. “Should we have sent someone else?”

Alamar shook his head. “Nay. She is the best at this.”

“Then why dost thou call her a fool?”

“Because I love her,” snapped the Mage.

Though the Elven captain said nought in reply, he nodded in understanding.

Within a candlemark, Aylis and her escort reached the near side of the knoll from which she would do her exploration. It stood no more than five hundred paces from the outer wall beringing the bastion.

As two Dylvana made their way to the crest, once again the Draega vanished and where he had been Bair now stood.

“Hunter scented only distant Spaunen,” said the lad.