A Bard's Prophecy Part 7

"What about the cubs?"

"The cubs?"

"We cannot leave the cubs in the Elandra's possession."

Ayailla sifted through the picture of the party before her. There had been no one here much under theage of sixteen. Of course. How better to keep the slaves in check? The Elandra held the cubs. How had they missed that part? How had they not known?

Simple. Neither Braunnan nor any of the other Bears in their party had cubs.

She should have known things would not go this smoothly. "We will find the cubs. Tyrell goes to join Shammall and Takuri. Organize thy people. We have little time. Tell them to take only what they can carry easily in a pack on their shoulders. When ye shift, what ye wear will be bound to ye as if it were part of thy skin. But a bear has no hands to carry household goods."

"We have little enough. 'Twill not take us long to gather what we cannot live without."

"Tell thy people to rea.s.semble here within the hour. We will awaiting ye with the cubs."

Tyrell nodded once, understanding immediately what needed to be done. He shifted to wolf form to cross the Great Hall faster than he ever could have on foot. As un.o.btrusively as she could Ayailla gathered her party to her. One by one they shifted back to human form, immediately reading the worry she let show on her face.

"I want ye to think, all of ye. Remember everything ye know or have ever heard about this place. A pa.s.sage that is no longer used. A tunnel that has been closed. A mineshaft that had to be sealed off suddenly for no explained reason. There must be something. If Shammall and Takuri encounter resistance, and I fear they may, we must have another way out of here. We canna' retreat through the tunnels if we are under attack. The tunnels are too small. Those awaiting entrance would be too vulnerable."

The group fell silent. Braunnan answered first. "We could fight our way up, killing them as we go. Some would live to see daylight again."

Cullaelon nodded. "I will die before I let them put a torc back around my neck."

"A tunnel... There was... I think I remember..."

All eyes turned to Roahr VinDall. "My memories of this place are fractured, as you know. But many years ago, when I was cared for in the Monastery, I seem to remember the Dwarves discussing of atunnel. They were the ones who originally dug the mines of Elahandara, you know. That was not its namethen of course. In any case, apparently when the Elandra were driven below ground, the Dwarves sealed off the entrance. When I was brought here, they became much concerned about the Clan bear. They gathered a council. I believed they thought to mount a rescue operation. Nothing ever came of the idea that I know of. I am not even sure the tunnel really exists."

"If it did, it would have to open somewhere near the Monastery," Ayailla reasoned. "We at least knowwhat direction to look. Which halls or tunnels are closest to the Southern tip of Elahandara?"

"This one is." Donovan gestured toward the back corner of the hall, where it narrowed into a darkened tunnel. "Only Third Shift has a great hall like this. That and the lake make this shift's chambers unique. No one ever goes down the tunnel at the other end. There was a rockslide there many years ago. It happened long before I was born. We were told the area was unstable."

Braunnan turned to face Ayailla, her face grim. "If there is another way out, that collapsed tunnel holds the key, M'Lady. We are miners. We can fix a tunnel. Give us enough time, and we can dig a tunnel through the mountain itself. We have food and water and all the tools we would ever need."

Braunnan gestured over their heads toward the arch of the roof where the other end of the Great Hall met with the shift change area leading to the mines and the tunnels. "For many years I have lain on this stone floor at night, studying this roof. That which the Dwarves have constructed is perfectly symmetrical. This is not. There is a fissure, there, that runs through the far end of the chamber. With the right force andproper timing, we could seal ourselves off from the rest of Elahandara, just as the Dwarves must once have sealed themselves off from us."

Donovan stared up at the crack in fascination. "How did you plan to apply enough force? Have you calculated what it would take to blow that fissure?"

"Well, there was the flaw in my plan. We would have had to climb up there somehow and plant charges in the crack. And we don't have the charges. The guards give us those as we need them. I figured I might steal them one at a time over the course of a year. I did not think to have to manage such a feat in a few hours. Soon Cullaelon's may be strong enough to be cause the fissure to collapse with his thoughts alone. He grows stronger every day. Yet I fear that day is not yet."

Ayailla stared up at the rock, and the hairline fracture that transected its highest point. So. This was how it was to be done. There was always logic behind magic. She had learned early on that one could not ask for what did not exist. There were no mirrors to be had in a land without gla.s.s. No huts could be built on a piece of the wind-swept tundra where no trees grew. But as long as the ingredients were at hand...

"Whosoever shall say unto this mountain, Be thou removed, and be thou cast into the sea, and shall not doubt in his heart, whatsoever he saith shall come to pa.s.s."

Chapter Eight.

"Halt!" General Tranorva raised her hand palm out. "Ye will show me proper respect! I have defeated High Priestess Gendalaine in combat. I have defeated First Chair Maelyn to defend my throne. I have defeated Nafesti, High Priestess of Talandar in combat. By thy own laws I claim thy fealty. Know me! Iam Tranorva, High Priestess of Elahandara! Put down thy weapons and kneel at my feet!"

By the G.o.ds. This was Tranorva's great plan?

While Tranorva's voice had the power to carry across the courtyard before the gates of Elahandara, Anika was too far away to hear the startled responses of the unfortunate guards. She could see, however, that the Sentinels held steadfast to their posts at the gate, as she would have herself. Anika resisted the urge to bury her face in Calibeth's arm.

"Who are ye?" General Tranorva demanded. "I would know thy names before I kill ye. How dare ye defy my divine right to thy fealty?"

It hadn't been so hard yesterday. She had marched with the army, at Calib's side, as they crossed theplains, heading directly for The Pa.s.s of St. Gregory and the gates of Elahandara. She'd been caught up in the fever of Prophecy and war, as had the others. Those around them knew who she was, or who she pretended to be. It was easy enough to travel as Calib's slave, and she played her part well, well enough to keep suspicions and animosity at a minimum.

She'd even made a few friends. Calib's men trusted her. And there was Braunnan, and the woman at the bar, Giselle.

She'd never had friends before. She'd known and been known to many. Her mother's advisors and confidants, her cla.s.smates, the males who were always there to serve her in any way she chose. Butshe'd never had friends. The concept of friendship was not part of the Elandra society.

Now General Tranorva stood at the gates to her home, demanding entrance. An army made up of her friends and acquaintances filled the pa.s.s, shadowing the meadows below. When Tranorva failed, and shewould fail, when the gates of Elahandara opened to devour the enemy, Anika's friends would die.

If Tranorva's army prevailed, all that Anika had known before would be destroyed.

She had made her choice. She was not Elandra. She was-whatever she was. She was Dragon. Somewhere she had a people of her own. Somewhere she had a family. A father. People who would love her as Calib loved her, not for her birth, or her social status, or the color of her skin, or for what she could do for them.

If they did not, even if she never found her own people, she had Calib. His love was unwavering. And Giselle, and Braunnan, and Donovan. She had already chosen. Now was not the time to question her own decisions.

'Twas not as if the Elandra would welcome her back. Once her secrets were discovered she would be set upon by the Circle of Eight and devoured.

She must be as ruthless as her mother's people would be. She must fight to defend her new clan as shedefended herself. She called forth the dream, once again watching helplessly as the Elandra forces swooped down on Clan Bear, destroying all in their way. She felt again her anger and helplessness. No. Those who were capable of such destruction were not her family. Nafesti had never loved her as adaughter. Love was not known to the Elandra. Only power and fear. In the dream she had not been with the attackers. She had been at home, among friends and family.

The destruction had been so devastating. These were a people who loved their children, as every child should be loved.

As Calib would love their children. Even if they had wings and coughed fire at him.

Maybe, just maybe, what Tranorva had in mind might work.

If it did not, could she stand by and watch her people, her charges, be slaughtered once again?

"Halt!" Tranorva raised her hand, holding the Sentinels back as much with the element of surprise her appearance called up as with the substance of her demand. "Ye will show me proper respect! I have defeated High Priestess Gendalaine in combat. I have defeated First Chair Maelyn to defend my throne. I have defeated Nafesti, High Priestess of Talandar in combat as well. By thy own laws I claim thy fealty.Know me! I am Tranorva, High Priestess of Elahandara! Put down thy weapons and kneel at my feet!"

The Sentinels looked one to another, but none chose to lay down her weapons. Instead two parties of males, a dozen in each party, appeared on command, as if they had materialized out of the rock. One of the two Sentinels stepped forward, bowing slightly from the waist. Tranorva couldn't see where the other one had disappeared to. "I must apologize, Mistress Tranorva, but I have no authority to grant you admission. I have sent for someone of higher rank who might be more aware of proper protocol than I am."

"Who are ye?" General Tranorva demanded. "I would know thy name before I kill ye. How dare ye defy my divine right to thy fealty?"

A familiar presence stepped forward out of the shadows. "Take your army and go home, Tranorva. Had you managed to destroy the entire Council of Eight, still you cannot change the blood that flows in yourveins. You are not Elandra. You shall never be Elandra. Only an Elandra High Priestess may sit on the counsel. The High Seat on the Council of Eight is mine by right of succession!"

"Ye are wrong. I have already sat on the Council of Eight, Nellione, and ye have sworn fealty to me. Ye did swear falsely then, or ye do now, one or the other. Ye have broken thy trust with the Council ofEight. I contest thy claim, Nellione, and I challenge ye for the High Seat of Elahandara. I shall take back what is mine!"

Nellione's laughter echoed through the pa.s.s. "I accept thy challenge! Ye shall not live to see the sun rise again. I lay claim to not only Gendalaine's trophy but all thy worldly possessions as well. Thy harem shall be mine to command as I drink thy blood!"

Gendalaine's trophy? Elandine? Surely Nellione knew Elandine was dead. She had been present when he met Maelyn's knife, one of the few council members to have escaped with her life. Unless things had gone wrong below and he'd already been captured.

She could not, would not think of that. Not now. Elandine had been taking care of himself for centuries.Surely he could manage this one day alone. Tranorva fed on the anger that glimpses of Elandine's broken, battered body brought to her mind. She let her emotions show in a twisted, malicious grin. "Should ye, by some miracle, win, I fear ye shall be sadly disappointed. I do not have a harem just yet, Nellione. I believe I shall have to take yours!"

Nellione didn't waste time. She threw herself forward into a series of kicks that seemed to roll off her hips in rotation. The first kick caught Tranorva low on the ribs, sending her staggering back as she feigned injury. With the second she dropped to one knee, diving forward to come up hard under Nellione's leg, yanking her off her feet. Nellione's grin told her she had miscalculated. While Tranorva's hands were still fisted tightly around Nellione's ankle, the cat-like Sorceress twisted in midair to send fireb.a.l.l.s flying at Tranorva's head.

The smell of burning hair filled her nostrils. d.a.m.n it. She was rather proud of her hair. Fortunately not but a few recalcitrant wisps usually escaped her helmet. Still, it was her hair. Tranorva yanked upward, hard, on the ankle in her hands, throwing Nellione off balance. As she released her grip on the smaller woman, Tranorva reached for the broad-bladed battleaxe strapped in the scabbard across her back. "I have had time to think about it, and I want neither thy Chair or thy Harem, Nellione. I only wish to watch ye die!"

Tranorva lunged as she spoke the words, her great axe springing into her hands as if the scabbard had been spring loaded. A single swing of the axe sent Nellione's head tumbling across the courtyard, where it landed at the feet of the closest Sentinel. The Sentinel didn't hesitate. She screamed out a warning as she turned to run back through the gates. Both gates swung wide, now, making room for the soldiers within to spew forth.

Yes. This was as it was meant to be. Tranorva raised her b.l.o.o.d.y axe high over her head, screaming indefiance. Her army answered her call. The Elandra had let her come too close. The battleground was thecourtyard, barely big enough to hold the advance guard of her army. There was not room for the Elandra to bring but a few units out of the gates before the courtyard was too full to allow further access. Those who fell dead at her feet were trampled under the feet of those attempting to rally the attack. Soon the courtyard was puddled with blood, and bodies began to pile up.

A battle, however, was rarely won by the foot soldiers alone. A blast of pure energy zapped by herhead. Tranorva ducked, looking up in time to see the Elandra High Priestesses gathering on the balcony above the gates, their blasts now raining down on her troops. Well, she had some magic power of her own. The Shamen had already joined the battle, some deflecting the blows from above, some returning the attack.

One of the High Priestesses raised a horn to her lips, blowing three long, shrill blasts before one of the archers-perhaps Yarwyn herself from the precision of the shot-ended the call on a wavering note.

Too late. Somewhere high above them the ground began to tremble. The main body of the army turned to face the new attack. Tranorva looked over the headless body of her newest casualty to face the latest threat. Wonderful. Trolls. A fine way to spend the advancing morning. Trolls were huge, true enough, but the main danger one faced from them was being crushed beneath them as they fell. And of course there was the smell. An odor like rotting meat wafted off of them, even before they died. Tranorva's nose wrinkled at the thought.

Deep within the heart of Elahandara, the Earth began to shake. All movement on the battlefield stilled for a moment as the seismic vibrations became stronger. Rocks began to rain down from the walls of the pa.s.s. If the pa.s.s collapsed...

"Retreat!" Tranorva ordered, her voice carrying across the stunned troops. "Sound the retreat!"

As the mountain trembled beneath their feet, the organized a.s.sault turned into chaos. Those who hadn't heard the order didn't need to be told. They turned to run. Boulders were raining down on the pa.s.s by the time she reached the relative safety of the plains below.

Tranorva rallied her troops, far enough from the pa.s.s to be safe from the onslaught of falling stone. Looking back she saw that stones were not all that funneled out of the mountains. Freed of the confines of their own limited s.p.a.ce, the army of Dark Elves seemed to be growing at the base of the pa.s.s. There was no sign of the Trolls.

Very well. Bear against Dark Elf. Army to army. This was as it was meant to be. Tranorva waved her axe high above her head, welcoming the challenge.

Elahandara was not yet done. All eyes turned toward the mountain itself as the rocks began to emit a high-pitched scream. The noise grew in pitch and intensity. Far above them in the collapsing pa.s.s Tranorva could see Dark Elves pouring now from the mouth of the crumbling fortress. So be it. She would take them all on. She screamed out her battle cry, a defiant challenge to end it all in one final battle. From somewhere behind her the cry echoed, taken up now by her army.

Another cry echoed across the battlefield-the Dark Elves were regrouping at the opposite edge of what was to be their battlefield, ready to meet their attack. The enemy would be more dangerous now. They had no means of retreat. As the Earth ceased her shaking, the last of the pa.s.s fell to the edges of the battlefield.

Tranorva glanced over her shoulder at the sound of a new, different cry. Hundreds of Bears with an old debt to settle came charging up from the direction of City of Port, their enraged calls a demand for battle.

So. Their mission was accomplished. All that remained now was to destroy what was left of the enemy.

Tranorva led the a.s.sault, her army at her back. A wall of Sorcerers' fire blocked their way. Now Evalayna's power was displayed in an awe-inspiring blizzard. Shards of ice crystals quelled the flames, slowing the a.s.sault of their attackers. The Dark Elves battled the small stinging missiles with shields raised as they charged. The ground shook again as the two ama.s.sed armies flung themselves at each other's blades.

A shrill cry sounded, loud enough to be heard above the din of battle. Another wall of fire shot down between them, this one untouched by the Shamen's spells, the flames so intense both armies halted their attacks, scrambling back from her flames.

The sounds of battle faded into small whimpers of pain as the wounded clutched burnt skin or peeled out of glowing armor. The stench of raw power settled over them all. Battle l.u.s.t still raging in her veins, Tranorva shielded her face with her arm, looking for the source of the fire. She had one mission. To kill. All who stood in her way would fall.

The source of the flames was not hard to locate. All she had to do was look up.

By the G.o.ds. Just what she needed. Another Dragon to contend with.

A giant white Dragon with a wingspan of more than forty feet hovered over the advanced lines of the armies. "No!" the shrill voice screamed, spraying more fire. "Enough!"

Blood still pounding in her ears, Tranorva slowly lowered her battle axe. Obviously the charge was on hold for the moment.

The Dragon squelched her flames long enough to transform herself to the form of the Dark Elf slave whohad traveled with one of the Clan bear. An Elandra? How could an Elandra Priestess take the form of a Dragon?

The Elandra priestess, too, disappeared. Her ebony skin glowed, radiating an inner fire that spoke ofimmeasurable power as the Elandra Priestess took on the form of a Child of Light.

AnotherSidhe . Lovely. Perhaps Pajja himself would show up soon to deliver some lecture about the sins of mankind.

This one looked just as incensed.

"What will this war accomplish? You will fight one another until one side or the other can no longer field enough soldiers to continue. For generations you have done this! With each new generation the hatred grows. If the Bears win, there are still the Trolls to be dealt with. And the Ogres. I hear the Orcs arealready making a comeback. And if the Elandra win, the Wolves will still stand in your way. And the Elves. And the Dwarves. Will you continue until there are none left to fight? Sheath your blades, or do battle with me! I may be but one, but both armies may well perish before your destroy me!"

A second voice joined in, older, gentler, slightly amused. The great blue Dragon Tranorva had seen on shipboard appeared at the opposing end of the small s.p.a.ce between the armies. "You are not alone, Sister. Too long have the Dragons stood by and watched as Mortals plotted the destruction of their races. There will be no great battle here today. In the future you may kill each other a few at a time if you escape our notice, but no longer will the Dragons stand by and do nothing as you lay waste to entire populations. This ends today!"

The great black Dragon swooped down now between the two, the downdraft from his wings nearly knocking Tranorva's helmet from her head. He circled, letting his power be felt, before he landedbetween the two armies. The Dragon faded, leaving the Dark Elf known as Elandine in its place. Only hewas not Elandine. The now familiar glow of power suffused his skin, until he stood between them,Elandine, but more. A dark skinned Child of Light. The blue Dragon faded, leaving Takuri standing in her place, arms folded across her chest, an angry scowl on her beautiful face.

Elandine turned slowly, so that both armies could see what he was, his arms outstretched. "Has there not been enough death here today? With great power comes great responsibility. Too long have theSidhe hidden in the shadows, leaving the affairs of men to be observed, but not interfered with. No longer will we be silent. As a people, each of you has a right to exist. No race has the right to commit genocide against its enemies. You must choose. Will you join forces to battle theSidhe so that you may continue to slaughter each other? Or will you seek peace?"

Well, d.a.m.n. The day had started off well enough. An entire army at her back, and an enemy to kill. Tranorva sighed. There was no point in trying to reason with oneSidhe on a mission, let alone three of them. She wiped her blade on the trampled gra.s.s and slid the great axe back into its scabbard.

From the opposing side, Maelyn's sister a.n.a.leas stepped forward. "Out of respect for the t.i.tle you once claimed at the Circle of Eight, I grant you and your clan safe pa.s.sage from these fields, Tranorva. Take your lover and go, before I change my mind."

Tranorva smiled. "I rather like this field. I thought perhaps we might rebuild the fabled great houses here. Take those of your kind who survive and leave whilst you can. We will not pursue our victory this date. It is enough that Elahandara lays in ruin."

"You are hopeless!" the one known as Anika shrieked. "Go! All of you! Take your armies and go before I lose what little patience I have and hunt you all down for the good of the Earth!"

Elandine and Takuri exchanged glances. Takuri looked up at newcomer speculatively. "I know where my children are. Besides, she has your temper."

Elandine shrugged. "Shecould be one of Father's get. She doesn'thave to be mine."

"When was Pajja ever within the halls of the Elandra?" Takuri turned her attention to the two opposing leaders. "I'd hate to have to toast all of you, but I really can't stand by and watch while the fledgling does all the work. I suggest you go, while she's still willing to let you leave."

A perfectly good war, wasted. d.a.m.n it. Tranorva stared at the pair in disbelief. "You wouldn't."

The Dragons reappeared, all three of them. Flames licked at Tranorva's feet. The great black who wasElandine seemed to make her his personal mission, though his flames singed most of the front line of her army. Tranorva didn't have to sound the retreat. a.n.a.leas's remaining followers scrambled North, alongthe shattered base of the Elandra Mountains.

Tranorva led her army South. By the time they reached the Dwarven Monastery, the Dragons seemed to have given up pursuit. The Dwarves were waiting, their door open as the leaders gathered together within their great hall.

Tranorva gathered her injured dignity about her, taking stock of the situation. All in all, the day had been profitable, and the losses acceptably few. She took count as the leaders joined her. Her parents, Roahr VinDall and the lady Evalayna. Her brother Tyrell and her sister Ca.s.sadara, with her husband, Mak. Seanen and Yarwyn. Braunnan and Cullaelon. Balthain. Calibeth and the Bard, Donovan. And lastly, the three Dragons, now in their more familiar forms.

Takuri joined Balthain. Anika, the one who was apparently Elandine's daughter-they would talk about that later-went to join Calib. Shammall was the last to appear, crossing the hall slowly to her.

Well he might drag his feet. If he thought he was going to share her bed, after a performance like that, she'd...

Grief glittered in the handsome Mage's eyes as he approached her. Tranorva glanced around the room again, fear tingling down her spine. No. She was misreading his face. It was only that he feared her anger. Everyone was here. Everyone but...

No. That could not be right. Shammall did not cry. Not ever. No...

"I am sorry, Tranorva. I could not stop her. She said to tell you..." his voice wavered.

No. She was a little older perhaps, a little slower, but no less powerful Nothing could ever stop her. No...