Mickey Reichert - Flight of the Renshai

Barrindar buried his face in her hair. It held a hint of musk, the sweet, natural odor of Marisole. He had always found it pleasant; now, it drove him wild. "And you smell wonderful."

"But I haven't bathed in two days," Marisole protested. "And I'm not wearing any perfume."

"I know." Barrindar could not keep a hint of lust from his voice. "I like it."

Marisole pushed him away. "Barri, cut it out. We're… we're… halfway… siblings." Her words faltered. "Aren't we?"

Rebuffed and ashamed, Barrindar released her. He turned away to look out over the city again, and the grief her song had stripped away began creeping over him again. "Bloodwise, we're farther apart than our father and your mother. And the populace demanded they marry."

The observation got no immediate reply. Just as Barrindar thought Marisole had sneaked away to save them further embarrassment, she spoke, "You're right."

Barrindar thought he heard a hint of joy and relief in her tone, but worried he had only imagined it. He started to turn, then froze, afraid of the expression he might find on her face.Thoughts of courting women had come to him only in the last year, and Marisole had risen to his mind near the first. He did not understand why her response had become so urgently important to him, especially given the looming war. Or, perhaps, it was because of it. Insignificant as it seemed in the grand scheme of the world, he did not want to die a virgin.

"My father and mother are cousins." Oblivious to the turn of Barrindar's current thoughts, Marisole worried the original problem. "But my blood father isn't related to them at all. In fact, he's not even a Bearnide, which bloodwise, makes us…"

Since Marisole seemed incapable of finishing, Barrindar filled in the blank. "… distant cousins."

"Kissing cousins," Marisole added with a smile.

Now, Barrindar turned fully, unable to hide his own grin. Despite all the madness going on below him, perhaps because of it, he had discovered something important missing from his life. He reached for her again, cautiously this time. "Marisole, if Bearn survives this, if we survive it, maybe…?"

"Maybe," she repeated, rushing to his arms, "we shouldn't wait to find out."

Barrindar could not have agreed more.

Bearn's Strategy Room buzzed with conversations in several different tongues. Darris remained quietly at his king's right hand, trying to absorb every feature, every nuance of this historical moment. Nowhere in his research could Darris find a time when all the countries of the continent had united in a common cause. The nearest they had come was the so-called Great War, three centuries past, where the armies of the West and North had come together to battle the Eastlands. Now, even the Eastern king held a place of honor at the table.

Darris had convinced Rantire to remain outside the Strategy Room with the argument that a Renshai presence might antagonize the Northern forces. Alone, she would not have accepted his argument; Darris often suspected that Rantire was the Renshai word for "provocation." But King Griff had agreed with his bard/bodyguard and relegated Rantire to distant rooms and hallways.

Currently, the Strategy Room held fifteen men, whittled down from more than double that number. The room simply could not hold any more, so King Griff had forced the armies to come together under common generals and high commanders. Driven to information, Darris had managed to memorize them all under the guise of Griff 's need. Some, he knew well: King Humfreet of Erythane; Knight-Captain Kedrin; the Aeri General Valr Magnus, who had slain Kevral in battle; and King Tae from the Eastlands, still gaunt and bruised from his imprisonment. Others, Darris knew by reputation: General Markanyin of Pudar and General Sutton of the town of Santagithi who commanded the forces from Santagithi, Greentree, and Porvada.

The others Darris had only just met. They included five other Northmen, each representing a different tribe, and two Western leaders from small conglomerates of towns. More were on the way. King Griff had promises from the last three Northern tribes, another group of central Westerners, and the army of the distant Eastlands had not yet arrived.

For the sake of international harmony, King Griff stuck meticulously to the formalities of the meeting, though Darris felt certain that most of the leaders, including Griff himself, would have preferred to dispense with them. Only Knight-Captain Kedrin clung to every word and gesture.

Finally, Griff requested the first suggestion, which came from General Sutton. A large, well-muscled man with shrewd eyes, the representative of the most eastern portion of the Westlands spoke in a clear and booming voice. "What have we learned about this enemy so far? What are their priorities and intentions?" He used the Common Trading tongue, the only one they all shared.

For now, Darris knew, King Griff had no intention of mentioning the Kjempemagiska. Other than the people in the room at the time of Tae's report, only Kedrin had become privy to the information. They had all agreed to fight one battle at a time, to not allow the future threat of magical enemies hamper soldiers in their current war. Once they defeated the self-called alsona, Bearn and her allies could start worrying about and strategizing for the bigger war. By Tae's calculation, the Kjempemagiska had placed their faith squarely on their alsona. It would take time for them to muster for another war, time enough for the allies to celebrate victory, revise strategy, and attempt to recruit the elves. But first, of course, they had to defeat the alsona. Though he kept the thought to himself, Darris was not at all sure that was possible.

Griff addressed the question directly. "They intend to slaughter every person in our world and claim every bit of our land."

A short murmur swept the room. General Markanyin of Pudar spoke next, "How do we know this?"

"One man has managed to speak with them," the king of Bearn explained.

The general's head listed slightly to the left, and his brows knitted. In size, he rivaled the Bearnian king, a surprising feat. Average size for the bearlike Bearnides was enormous by the standards of other cultures. "Why don't we engage them in parley? Surely, the right person could convince them of the folly of-"

Griff cut him off. "They won't parley."

Knight-Captain Kedrin requested the floor with an archaic gesture, and Griff relinquished it with a faint sigh of relief. Had he not sat so close, even Darris would have missed it.

Kedrin took over, his voice commanding even at the volume of normal speech. "I'm afraid they don't even acknowledge the conventions of parley. They've slaughtered every man who came within reach of their weapons, no matter his gestures or flag."

"Except this one the high king spoke of." General Markanyin acknowledged Griff with a bow and a glance.

The knight dipped his head. "The one His Majesty spoke of only succeeded because the pirates he addressed were prisoners, the only two we've managed to capture in our years at war." He forestalled the obvious question, "They fight to their last breath, no matter the odds."

Grunts were heard throughout the room. Darris watched Kedrin formally give up the floor in the grand and arcane manner only the Knights of Erythane still remembered.

A knock sounded at the door, then it edged open to reveal Sir Ra-khir, Kedrin's son, in pristine knight silks. He bowed deeply to each king in turn, including Tae, who rolled his eyes in response. Ra-khir saluted each general, entered the room fully, and closed the door behind him. "I apologize for interrupting, but I've only just arrived."

Darris turned his attention to Kedrin. The Knight-Captain seemed mightily displeased, his features taut and the corners of his mouth bowed grimly downward. Taking back the floor with every flourish, he addressed his wayward son. "Sir Ra-khir, this meeting is for generals only."