37
They emerged from the Elven portal to a red and brooding dawn. The air was perfectly still. A ground mist billowed high enough to veil the sunrise in an uncommon gloom. The Elven gateway faced a forest road that was hardly more than a well-used trail. Beyond the road stretched a broad meadow turned palest yellow by the mist. The surrounding trees appeared as spectral wraiths.
Dally walked forward on tingling legs. She could still feel the force from three doses of the dragon’s gift growing in her limbs, though thankfully the taste had vanished and her breakfast rested comfortably in her stomach. Dally thought the breathless quality suited her, as if the day was aghast at what they were about to attempt.
“That should be far enough.” Ainya spoke a quiet word, and the fire emanating from her jeweled forehead vanished along with the crown. When Dally was released from the green veil, Ainya asked, “Are you all right?”
Shona walked alongside the Elven queen. They were followed from the portal by Alembord and Connell and Edlyn, then the four dogs. Alembord and Connell were dressed in the rumpled uniforms of house servants. After that came an open wagon, followed by four young mages equipped with wands. These were led by Myron. The wizards were dressed as house guards, and their saddles bore the emblem of a distant hill fief. Four more soldiers, also garbed as house militia, followed behind them, leading nine riderless mounts. The Elven queen’s aide blanketed all the horses with a spell. When they were well clear of the portal and Vaytan extinguished his magic shield, the horses snorted and tossed their manes.
Two of the troopers slipped ahead. One returned to report, “The road is clear. But not for long. We can hear wagons in the distance.”
“Let’s be off,” Alembord said, and clambered aboard the wagon.
Ainya said, “Your plan is both simple and brilliant, young lady.”
“She has the makings of a good leader,” Edlyn said. The Mistress of the Three Valleys Long Hall was dressed as a matronly servant, in a pale grey dress with white trim, and a matching starched cap that flared her hair out like aging wings. “And a better strategist.”
Dally had no idea how to respond. These good people were placing not just their hopes but their very futures in her hands. She was overwhelmed by all the possible fractures to her plans. She whispered, “I’m so afraid.”
To Dally’s astonishment, Shona said, “It is a sign of your maturing strength that you do not allow this fear to halt your actions.” The young queen embraced her. “I do not have the gift of far-seeing. But I am confident nonetheless that you have pointed out the right path.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
When Shona released her, Ainya took her place. The Elven queen leaned forward and kissed Dally’s cheek. “Farewell, dear one. Come back to us intact. You are too precious to lose, no matter how vital the quest.”
The portal was well placed. Dally’s company traveled several hundred paces along the well-used track. The wagon bounced and rattled as it slipped in and out of deep ruts. As they entered a deeply shadowed glade, Alembord hissed, “Form up. Tighter now.”
The mages who had been granted wands were by far the most gifted of Shona’s force. But for most of them, the two battles against the forest beasts had been their only real taste of conflict. They eyed the approaching woodlands with tight and fearful expressions, hands hovering near their sheathed wands. Connell drove the wagon while Alembord gripped a pike, serving as their lady’s last line of defense. Edlyn was perched upon a padded seat that jutted from the wagon’s rear corner. A quilted pallet covered half of the wagon bed, and Dally was laid out in regal comfort. Beside her were stacked an assortment of fancy boxes and chests, borrowed from Shona’s belongings. Two of Alembord’s soldiers rode ahead, two more at their rear. It was the maximum number any nobleman might reasonably send as guardians of a family member, even in such times as these.
But all Dally could see was the cloud-flecked sky and the tree limbs up ahead. “Stop here. I want to sit up. I need to observe what we are entering.” Which was only half true. The reality was, Dally had never been beyond the Three Valleys, and she was flushed with the prospect of seeing her first real city.
The group halted, her pallet was rearranged, then Connell asked, “Better?”
“Much. Thank you.”
At a word from Alembord, the company re-formed, and the two scouts went on ahead. When they gave the all clear, the group proceeded through the glade, around a sharp bend, and joined the main thoroughfare.
And what a road it was, paved in greyish-yellow stones and as wide as the river running through Dally’s home village. The forest was cut well back, such that the verge on either side was twice as broad as the road itself. This served as a resting place for numerous companies taking their leisure. Dally’s group was soon surrounded by the odors of roasting meats and the sounds of bleating animals. Dally could not take it all in. Nothing in her existence to this point had prepared her for the sight of so much humanity.
There were all manner of people. Greasy mendicants hawked their wares as they journeyed. A wealthy oil merchant rode within a gilded carriage while behind him stretched several dozen high-sided transports. Swarthy mercenaries from some distant sun-kissed land surrounded a coach with veiled windows. As they passed, one crimson curtain pulled back long enough for Dally to glimpse a dowager with a painted face and jeweled fingers. Then the curtain dropped, and the lead guard snarled at them to keep their distance.
Edlyn murmured, “My, but this takes me back.”
“You have been to Port Royal, Mistress?”
“Never. But the road and the people.” Edlyn took it all in with one sweep of her hand. “I was born to a half-caste woman before the main archway leading into Falmouth Port. Or so I was told. She died when I was still very young. I was raised by numerous aunties who served at the local taverns. They claim my father was a dashing guards officer who died stamping down a rebellion by one of the hill clans.”
The two men on the wagon bench turned an ear toward Edlyn, and the mages drew their horses closer. Edlyn stared dreamily about, her eyes glistening. “My earliest memories are of the road leading into Falmouth, and the people, and the noise. The hill tribes are all at peace now, drawn together by the struggles that led to the battle for Emporis. They’ve sworn fealty to Oberon and to Shona. But in my childhood it was an entirely different story.”
Alembord said, “I’ve heard tales of their savagery.”
“That’s true enough, I suppose. But they also held to their own brutal form of honor. And they were very kind to a young orphan girl. Especially once my abilities began to appear. I was six or seven at the time. For several years I brought in more than my share of trade. I learned to fashion pewter animals from the tableware and made them dance to the minstrel’s tunes.”
They were all captivated by the tale, drawn together in a manner that Dally could never have accomplished on her own. As she listened, she wondered if this was why Edlyn spoke as she did. Taking their minds from the danger up ahead, granting them a moment of unity and peace, however fleeting.
Dally asked, “How did you gain your freedom?”
“I wouldn’t say I was ever a captive, not like the young years you’ve known,” Edlyn replied. “I was born to this, remember. That roadside inn was the only home I’d ever known. Even after I moved into the palace caverns, I spent every free day back among my friends at the tavern. Watching the river of folk and animals. Hearing stories from beyond the first line of hills. It was a grand place for mysteries.”
To Dally’s surprise, Connell suggested, “And romance, perhaps?”
“Ah, well. It was so very long ago.” Edlyn smiled at a passing squad of mounted troops. “What does an old woman know of romance.”