Anthology: The Realms of the Elves

The dragon drew his captive close and whispered in her ear. Winterflower looked to Rhespen with trapped, frantic eyes. From across the hall, Maldur gave him a smirk.

Rhespen climbed the stairs to the archway, balked, then forced himself onward. A hundred years, he thought, I've served him faithfully for a hundred years. That surely counts for something.

Beyond the doorway was a round stone platform surrounded by a parapet, with a chill autumn wind whistling across. By nature a creature of mountain peaks and the boundless sky, Orchtrien had incorporated several such high, open perches into the city, and repaired to them whenever walls and ceilings came to seem oppressive.

Rhespen crossed the platform, kneeled, and set his staff at the gigantic reptile's feet. Despite the gray clouds sealing away the sun, Orchtrien's scales still shimmered.

The dragon snorted a wisp of smoke. "Such stiff formality when it's just the two of us! You must intend to ask for a very great boon indeed."

Rhespen rose. "Yes, Majesty."

"Petition away, then."

He wanted to, but it was difficult. Though he fancied that he didn't lack for courage, over the course of a century, he'd cultivated the habit of pleasing his master, not annoying him.

Perhaps he could ease into the matter at hand. "You frequently invite Lady Winterflower to join you in one diversion or another. You've sent her a series of costly gifts. You don't pay nearly as much attention to the other hostages."

Orchtrien chuckled. "The other hostages are nowhere near as charming. Nor is any of them the darling daughter of the Count of Duskmere, who, according to your inquiries, was the chief dragon-hater among the rebels. Imagine his vexation when he hears I've seduced Winterflower to be my mistress. Or if she bears him a halfcgold grandchild!"

"I thought you hoped to win the affection of the rebels."

"Of the young ones. I believe we must settle for compelling the obedience of their elders."

"Perhaps so, Majesty, but… Let me say it straight out.

I love Winterflower, and she reciprocates my feelings."

The dragon cocked his head. "I had no idea."

"I suspected not. You've been away, and we've done our best to keep our bond a private matter between us."

"Under the circumstances, I suppose that's fortunate."

"Majesty, do you understand what I'm trying to say? To you, Winterflower would be the diversion of a season, or a year, to put aside as soon as she starts to bore you. I aspire to spend the rest of my life with her."

"So you wish me to indulge my appetites elsewhere."

"Yes, Majesty. Indeed, I beg it. The realm is full of women who would give anything to be your mistress."

"Or yours, Royal Councilor. Perhaps that's what ails us both, for where's the sport if the quarry races eagerly toward the hunter? Whereas Lady Winterflower presented you with a challenge, just as she now flinches at the sight of me."

"Maybe that was what first stirred my interest, but at this point, my sentiments are far more profound. Thus, I implore-"

Orchtrien snorted. "Enough, my friend. I hear your plea, and will conduct myself accordingly."

By dint of magic, Rhespen could have floated from the ground up to the door of Winterflower's residence as effortlessly as smoke rising from a fire. Or shifted himself through the intervening space in the blink of an eye. Instead, he chose to trudge up the steps spiraling around the trunk of the shadowtop, because he dreaded the conversation to come.

He still found himself in Winterflower's presence before he could think of a gentle way to present his news, and the welcome in her face twisted into dismay when she registered what was no doubt the dazed, stricken look on his own.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"This morning," he said, "the king gave me a new commission. It seems he's decided it would be advantageous to make some effort to prosecute his wars through the winter months. I'm to lead a company across the eastern border to harry the dominions of the greens. To raid, burn houses and barns, and steal or destroy food."

"Leaving me behind."

"Yes. When I told Orchtrien that you and I had fallen in love, he seemed sympathetic, but apparently it isn't so."

"In fact, he's punishing you for having the audacity to ask him to leave me alone."

Rhespen shook his head. "I don't know. He may think he's buying me off. That's the common practice when the king or one of the princes wants to bed some wretch's wife. They give the cuckold a fine appointment that takes him away from court, so he needn't witness what's occurring. And the fact of the matter is, before I met you, Ibegged repeatedly for such an opportunity. With the kingdom perpetually at war, fighting is the surest way to win the highest honors and the most profitable offices."

"You're saying you couldn't refuse."

"No one may refuse a royal command."

"I can't stay here alone as the target of that creature's lust. Let's run away. Tonight."

"We could try, but he'd find us."

"You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do. Do you understand why the drakes are conquering the world? It isn't their physical prowess, mighty though they are. It's their magic. They possess arcane secrets unknown to elves or men."

She took a deep breath. "Give me one of your spellbooks, then."

"You know I can't do that. If it was discovered in your possession-"

"Don't you see, I can't let him force me! I never could have borne it, and now that you and I… He'll be vulnerable in the form of an elf, and if I catch him by surprise-"

"No! No matter what shape he wore, you wouldn't be a match for him, and in any case, it won't come to that. I told you before, he wouldn't stoop to rape."

"I fear that even now, you refuse to see him for what he is."

He took her hands in his own. "Promise me you won't do anything foolish. Rather, use all your tact and womanly wiles to put Orchtrien off without offending him, and wait for my return."

She studied his face. "Can you promise you will return?"

He forced a confident smile. "Of course. By that time, the king, bored with laying futile siege to your chastity, will have turned his attentions elsewhere, and I'll ask your father for your hand."

The eastern sky was lightening to gray, but it was still black in the west. Rhespen squinted, straining to spot a telltale flicker of motion against the stars.

Serdel, the stocky, grizzled veteran who served as his second-in-command, peered alongside him.

"See anything?" the warrior asked, evidently clinging to the hope that the keen eyes of an elf had noticed something imperceptible to human sight.

"Not yet," Rhespen said.

He supposed it was ironic. At the start of the summer, Prince Bexendral had rushed to his servants' aid without even being called. This time around, Rhespen had carried the proper spell to send a message to his distant masters ready for the casting, and had employed it as soon as calamity struck. Yet now, no one had responded.

It made him wonder if Orchtrien truly had dispatched him on this errand in the hope that he would die. Though he hadn't admitted it to Winterflower-he'd needed to calm her, not agitate her further-he had some reason to suspect so. Winter warfare was notoriously hard and dangerous. That was why civilized people generally eschewed it. The king, moreover, had sent him forth with a relatively small raiding party, ostensibly because a larger one would find it too difficult to forage sufficient food and hide from the enemy.

But despite freezing temperatures, howling blizzards, and the meager strength of his command, Rhespen had executed his commission with considerable success. Until one of the green drakes, possibly despairing of the ability of its minions ever to catch the marauders laying waste to the border marches, forsook the warmth and other amenities of its palace to address the problem itself.