Autumn Whispers

Chapter 12

“Wake up. Delilah, Camille—you have to get up.”

Trenyth’s voice echoed through my foggy brain. As I sat up, the memory of what had just happened washed over me and I realized that I knew something that neither Trenyth nor Camille did. Queen Asteria was dead. And I had guided her through the veil.

I sat up, yawning, more tired than I had been when I laid down. The question of whether I should say anything weighed heavily on my mind. If I told Trenyth, it would save him fruitless hours searching for her. Hours that he could put toward helping others. On the other hand, would he blame me for her death, even though it had been the attack that had caused it? And if he did, would he kill me? I was pretty sure he could take me out without blinking.

“Camille, can I talk to you for a minute?” I turned to Trenyth. “Let us take care of personal needs and then . . . well . . .”

“Fine, but hurry. You were out for three hours.” He nodded and we headed down the hall to the bathing chamber. At least it had a bathroom of sorts, and while we took turns, I told Camille what had happened.

She stared at her hands, soaping them in the chill water at the basin. “So, she’s dead. What the hell is that going to mean for Elqaneve? And . . . oh fuck . . . what about the spirit seals? Delilah, the Keraastar Knights! Where are they? You know Telazhar is aiming to find the seals and if the Knights were caught in the rubble . . . We don’t even know where Queen Asteria kept them hidden.”

I was shaking with both fear and weariness. The stress we were under had gone from meh to horrendous in the course of one evening. “I don’t know. I have no clue where she kept the Keraastar Knights cloistered. What the hell do we do?”

The Knights were formed by Queen Asteria, who had been protecting the spirit seals we’d managed to gather. Each knight was bound to a seal, and what she was planning, we did not know. One spirit seal we’d stumbled on was still unbound, and so it, too, was floating around. Until this moment, eight of the nine had come to light and we’d managed to keep hold of six of them.

Five of our friends had been conscripted into service—Venus the Moon Child, the Rainier Puma Pride’s former shaman, Benjamin Welter—a disturbed young man, Luke—Menolly’s former bartender, and his sister Amber, and Tom Lane, who was actually the Tam Lin from legend. He was a broken man, after so many thousands of years, but he still carried the spirit seal with honor.

“We’ve got to get word to Father and Tanaquar. They can help. But the way things are going, I don’t even know if there will be a city to save. The storm . . . Delilah, that storm is one of the most terrifying entities I’ve ever felt. Worse than Gulakah and he was a god.” She gave me a pale, strained look. Tears ran down her cheeks but they were silent, as if she didn’t even know they were being shed.

“Do you think I should tell Trenyth about Asteria? He loves her so much. How can I break his heart?” I hung my head.

“We have to. The pain will be there whether you tell him now, or whether he finds her body in the rubble. Best to prepare him, I think. And though he’ll be heartbroken, he’s professional enough to focus on the job at hand. Come on, let’s go.” She turned to the door and we headed back down the hall.

Trenyth was waiting in the hall for us, but before we could speak, he hustled us toward the storeroom. “Come on, we have to get out of here now. Save whatever it is for later. We have to move.”

We burst through the storeroom door that led to another chamber, which had a magically sealed door to the outside. Trenyth broke the seal with a single slam of the hand against the door and again, I wondered just how much power the advisor had hidden away. We had never really had the chance to see him in action, or to ask him what his specialties were.

When he opened the outer door, Camille and I clung together, not knowing what we’d be seeing. It was going on close to midnight. Surely the horrendous storm had to have broken. How long could it last? How long could the sorcerers keep fueling it? But a little voice inside whispered doubts. How many sorcerers are you talking about? A dozen? A hundred? Telazhar would not arrive with a short deck. No, this was all out war and so they’d be prepared. And they’d caught Elqaneve—and us—unprepared.

And now, Queen Asteria was dead.

We stepped out, and the storm was still raging. As far as we could see, the landscape was dotted with fires, raging in brilliant oranges and pinks and crimsons. Magical fire. Was this the Scorching Wars, all over again?

There were no buildings standing, save for the one we’d come out of, and that was only by the fact that it was hidden behind an illusionary barrier. But, as Camille and I looked around, the devastation began to sink in. The palace was in rubble. The outer buildings were so much wreckage, splintered beyond any hope of recognizing what they had been only hours before.

“We have to find your sister and friends, and the Queen.” Trenyth glanced at the sky. The churning clouds seemed to be thinning, but now they were streaking smaller bolts of lightning down to set off the tallest trees.

“Trenyth—stop!” I grabbed his arm. “Queen Asteria is dead. While I was asleep, I was summoned to Haseofon. I was . . . I had to . . .” I stopped, staring at him bleakly and, after a moment’s hesitation, blurted out. “I was assigned to escort her through the veil, in an honored manner, to her ancestors.”

He stared at me for a moment. Then, without a word, without showing a clue how he felt, he turned back to the palace. “We must focus on finding your sister and we absolutely have to find Sharah, if she’s alive. She’s the Queen’s niece. Technically, she’s an heir to the throne and who knows how many of them are alive? There were only two or three others in line before Sharah. And with the devastation this storm has wrought . . .” He trailed off.

But the thought was enough to send me into a tailspin. Sharah had mentioned this. She could end up being the next queen of Elqaneve. And what would that mean for her and Chase and their baby? If they still live, the voice of fear inside me said. If they made it out. And what about my love, Shade? While I had little doubt he could survive, there was also Trillian. So many factors. So many chances for death.

“Let’s go. We’ll have to chance the storm, but it seems to have let up some.” Camille headed toward the palace, trying to avoid the pieces of debris that could cut her feet if she stepped wrong.

We ran through the darkness, past bodies charred by fire, hit by shrapnel. Everywhere, the screams of the injured rang out and my heart ached because there was nothing we could do for them. We ran through the hail of lightning bolts, the ravages of the magical thunder, skirting trees, skirting debris, skirting chunks of marble and stone that had been blasted when the palace went down. The sky lit the night brighter than the moon ever could, but even so, the storm was moving to the west, moving away.

By the time we reached the palace, the strikes were few and far between. I looked around nervously, wondering where the sorcerers actually were. Surely they weren’t around the corner. They had no need to put themselves directly in the line of fire—magic traveled across long distances. And why not send in the grunts first, to take care of those left standing? Which meant, chances were that before morning a contingent of mercenaries would show up on the outskirts of the Elfin city. They’d want to get in before Y’Elestrial or Dahnsburg could send help.

Camille shouted and leaned on my shoulder, raising her foot. She yanked out a sliver of glass and tossed it to the side. “I need shoes.”

I let out a long breath. “Yeah. Hold on.”

There were several corpses near us and I shivered as I approached them. This was so surreal that I barely knew what I was feeling. But one of them—a woman, who had been struck by a piece of granite, had feet near Camille’s size. And she was wearing a pair of leather moccasins. I quickly, silently, yanked them off her feet and without looking at the dead woman’s face, handed them to Camille. She said nothing, looking mutely at me. But she put them on and we continued on to the palace.

The steps were broken, but still accessible in some places. The tons of stone and alabaster, of metal and wood that sprawled before us were daunting. Smoke filled the air from the still-burning fires, and dust hung heavy, choking us as we neared the shattered palace. Up was down, front was back, and it was hard to remember where anything had been.

Trenyth led us on, as we approached the behemoth that had been Asteria’s pristine court. Camille was crying, but her tears were silent and slowly ran down her face as she shook her head.

Trenyth’s lips were pressed together, as he grimly assessed the area. After a moment, he pointed to the left. “That way.”

And we were off.

Making our way through the rubble was a nightmare. So many death traps, so many blockades. Here a body, there a body. A pile of what was once a royal statue, now ground to rubble and ash. Skirt a fire that burned brightly, showing no sign of stopping—and don’t look because the fuel may just be a pile of corpses. The scent of burning stone, the scent of burning flesh. The greasy feel to the air because so much soot was flying loose. A bonfire to rival all bonfires, a testament to destruction and death, to hatred and greed. And there, to the right, that had been the throne room . . .

Trenyth stopped suddenly, and looked to what appeared to be the shattered remnants of the throne room. It was buried under the rubble, under the fallen roof. If there had been anyone in there, they had to be dead. And Queen Asteria had been there, waiting for us. Her body was now entombed in a thousand tons of stone. After a moment, he turned back to our path and we moved onward.

“Here,” he said after a long while of edging around piles of debris. “I believe . . . this should be where we turned off to head down to the quarters containing the seers.”

We slowly approached what would have been the entrance, but now it was buried under a pile of stone and wood. And there was no way in.

“Fuck.” Camille stared at the barred entrance.

“I echo the sentiment.” I shook my head. “What now? What the hell do we do? How do we . . . I’m so lost here, I can’t even begin to see the light of day.”

Trenyth sucked in a deep breath. “I am going to tell the two of you what to do and I want you to obey me. Do you hear? I am acting head of Elqaneve for now.”

Both Camille and I mutely nodded. We knew when were in over our heads and Trenyth needed our cooperation. He’d been through battles before, and we—we’d never come close to experiencing something on this scale.

“You are going to return to Y’Elestrial and contact Tanaquar.” A cloud passed over his face.

“We can talk to our father while we’re there,” I said. “He’ll be able to help somehow.” Even as I said it, I knew how lame it sounded.

“Girls . . .” Trenyth shifted uncomfortably. “Your father . . . he . . .” He paused and we read the story on his face.

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. If you don’t say it, it’s not real.

Camille let out a little cry and her hand flew to her mouth as she turned to him. “He’s here. Isn’t he? He came to meet with us. He was waiting for us, wasn’t he? With Queen Asteria, in the throne room.”

Trenyth nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

A sucker punch to the gut and we were down for the count. But the night had numbed me so hard, so far, that the shock of the news washed like water on a duck’s back, rolled over me and off again. Camille’s tears stopped and she stood there, mute.

I was the first to find my voice. “If Menolly and the others survived, surely they would think of heading to Y’Elestrial. And remember, Shade can transport through the Ionyc Sea. He could have . . .” I let the thought drift off.

“You’re right of course,” Camille said, her voice so soft it was barely a whisper. “We’d better get to the portals before the armies come in. Because you know they’ve got to have a force marching this way. Trenyth, come with us?”

He shook his head. “I cannot. I will find someone to take you to the portals, though. It’s likely to be dangerous on the roads.” At my pleading look, he rested a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Delilah, you know that I would go if I could, but I’m in command here. And the Keraastar Knights are scattered—if we don’t find them and get them away from here, Telazhar will have a damned good chance of getting the rest of the spirit seals before the week is up.”

I nodded. “Yes. Yes . . . we’ll go now, then. Who can we take with us?”

“Wait here.” Trenyth hurried off, and Camille and I stood, hand in hand, mute. There was nothing much we could say. Within moments, he was back with a guard in hand. “Take them to the portals leading to Y’Elestrial and make certain they get through. Do you understand?”

The elf, his uniform torn and blackened from the soot, nodded. “With my life, Liege.”

“Good, because their lives may depend on yours. And if they die and you live, your life will be forfeit. They are that important.”

Not even looking fazed, the guard simply nodded and then, silently, he led us out of the palace, and we were off and away into the night.

The journey to the portals was devastating in itself. Elqaneve lay in ruins, the city ablaze with fires that burned too bright to be sparked from normal lightning. Everywhere, houses were razed, forest was burning, and people were dead or dying. Those who seemed unharmed sat in shock, or milled aimlessly. We passed through them, silent and without trying to help. There was nothing we could do. Nothing we could say. They did not stop us, nor try to speak.

And so we made our way to the Barrow Mounds, still no sign of invasion, but my intuition told me it would happen soon. The guards were at their posts, but they quickly told the one leading us that they had barred anyone from entering or leaving through the portals. I didn’t hear what he said to them—my mind was churning on overload, and Camille was just as quiet.

Within minutes, however, we were hustled toward the portal pointing to Y’Elestrial, and then we were in, and a whirlwind later, we emerged into our home city.

As we exited the portal, the soft glow of eye catchers surrounded us, and the silence and sense of peace was palpable. It washed over us like a wave, and before I could help it, I was weeping, on my knees, exhaustion and despair my cloak. The guards took one look at us and rushed to our side. Camille sucked in a deep breath as they gathered around us.

“Elqaneve is fallen. We need to speak to Her Majesty immediately. We are His Lordship Sephreh ob Tanu’s daughters. Take us to her now.”

And without a question, without a protest, the guards swept us into a carriage, and we were on our way to the Court, under a night sky that was clear and crisp, and the only smell of smoke was from the hearth fires in the houses that we passed by.

We were escorted into a private chamber. The Court and Crown was far more ostentatious than Elqaneve could ever have hoped to be, but it still made me catch my breath when I saw it. After the destruction we’d witnessed, my cynicism seemed to have flown the coop. Camille and I walked into the room to find ourselves facing a mirror that spread across one entire wall. I stared at our reflections, only now realizing how we looked.

We were bruised and battered, black and blue over our arms and faces, with crusted blood here and there—whether it was our own, or from some stranger we touched, some body we brushed against, it was hard to tell. Soot stained our torn clothes, and my hair—blond and spiky—was streaked with it. Ash and dirt joined the mix. Camille looked down at her moccasins and let out a yelp. They were covered with blood. She yanked them off, but a quick look at her feet showed only minor cuts and scratches. We truly looked like we had emerged from a war zone.

A glance around the room showed no one else in attendance, but a tray with water and wine and fruit and cheese was prominently placed on a table. We sank onto the edge of one of the leather benches, and I was grateful that the material could be wiped clean. We wouldn’t stain the upholstery, at least.

In the back of my mind, I heard a cynical little voice say, “Who the fuck cares about upholstery?” but there was still a part of me that wanted to be polite.

Camille reached for a piece of cheese and a cracker. She glanced over at me. “I have no clue what we’re supposed to do now. We warn Tanaquar and then . . . what?”

“We could go out to Father’s house. See if Menolly is there.”

She nodded, eating slowly. “Good point.” But our talk was all so much chatter. I felt broken, frozen by a sense that the world had just crashed down. Humpty Dumpty fell off the wall, and we were staring at a pile of scrambled eggs on the sidewalk.

A moment later, the door opened and Tanaquar, Queen of Y’Elestrial, swept in. Tanaquar was tall, with hair the color of flames that fell to her waist. She was tanned, and her eyes glowed with a light mirroring the golden glow of the sun. Beautiful, she looked a lot like her sister—the Opium Eater, whom she deposed in a civil war not too long before. We had thought the destruction from that war horrendous, but it was nothing—nothing, in comparison to what we had just been through.

Tanaquar stared at us for a moment, then held up her hand when we started to rise in order to curtsey. “Stay your selves. There is no time for decorum now. My advisors are on the way in.” She paused. “You know your father was in Elqaneve.” By her tone, she knew we knew.

I nodded. “Yes. We do know. He’s missing.”

She merely waited until her flock of advisors joined her. They sat around us, in a half circle, three men and two women, as well as the Queen.

Sucking in a deep breath, I looked at Camille. And then, together, stumbling over events because they had become one big blur, we told them about the destruction of Elqaneve. When we finished, all the energy seemed to drain from me, and I leaned on the arm of the bench, exhausted.

“We’re missing Shade, Trillian, Chase, and Sharah, and . . . apparently, our father.” I stared at the Queen, unflinching. “Queen Asteria is dead.”

“And so . . . we are on the eve of war. And Elqaneve is fallen, and a reign that lasted thousands of years comes to a horrifying end.” Her voice was soft, but her words still pronounced the death knoll on the Elfin city. She turned to the man on her left. “We hold a treaty. Kelvashan is under siege and their capitol city, destroyed. Go now, marshal the army, and prepare to march in aid to to the elfin lands. We will use the military portals. There is no time to spare.”

At that moment, a messenger burst into the room. He skidded to one knee in front of Tanaquar. “Your Majesty, I bring news. A huge contingent of soldiers has been spotted marching on the road to Elqaneve. They came out of the Tygerian Mountains. They are armed and said to be at least a thousand strong. They have not reached Kelvashan yet but are expected to breech the borders by morning.”

Tanaquar turned to her advisors. “Go and prepare. Marshal the armies to begin leaving before the night is out. We must be there to meet the enemy.”

As they left the room, Tanaquar and her bodyguard alone remained. She waited till they were gone, then turned back to us. “So, my friends . . . I can offer no solace except that we will do what we can. Telazhar cannot capture the spirit seals. The danger grows with every hour.”

“We will go in search of them, Your Majesty.” A familiar voice echoed through the room and we turned.

Trillian was standing there, along with Smoky, Shade, and Rozurial. Trillian looked banged up pretty bad, but he was alive. Camille let out a little cry and ran over to him, throwing herself into his arms. He kissed her, pressing his lips to her hair, her face, her neck.

“Menolly? Chase and Sharah . . . are they all right?” Her voice was shaking now, and I was as afraid to hear the answer as she was.

Trillian nodded. “Yes, my love. They’re all right, though Sharah went into labor.”

“I traveled through the Ionyc Sea to fetch Smoky and Rozurial. They returned with me and helped rescue the others. Everyone’s safely back Earthside now.” Shade held out his arm and I slid into his embrace, wanting never to leave the shelter of his protection.

Camille glanced up at Trillian. “Did you . . . did you happen to see our father anywhere? He was in the throne room with Queen Asteria and . . . she’s dead. She was crushed under the rubble, as far as we know. As far as Father . . . we have no news. We don’t know whether he was . . .”

Her lip quivered and she sucked in a deep breath. The fact that they’d been just starting to iron out their relationship had to make this doubly hard. He’d disowned her for a while, and she’d walked away, accepting his decision but not knuckling under to his prejudice. They’d just made up a few months ago, an uneasy truce to see if they could forge a new bond. And now, this.

“We will look, my wife. We will go to Elqaneve and look. I am a dragon, these goblins cannot harm me.” Smoky tipped her chin up, smiling. His hair rose up and stroked her shoulders gently.

“You don’t know—you don’t know what it was like!” She broke away and turned to me. “They don’t understand how . . .”

I stepped up by her side. “Guys, she’s right. Trillian, you have no clue what was going on while you were trapped down there. The sorcerers, they raised a sentient storm. It was massive, far more massive than anything I’ve ever seen. That . . . thing . . . destroyed the city. It wasn’t an earthquake—not a natural one. Those damned lightning bolts went barreling into the ground, setting off the shaking. The storm was alive, malevolent. If Telazhar and his cronies can do that, what else are they capable of?”

Trillian caught my gaze and slowly shook his head. “We must find the Knights. If we don’t, then everything we’ve been working for goes down in ashes. Because if those loons that Asteria set to wearing the spirit seals break free and are unprotected, there is no hope. They aren’t bred to fend for themselves over here. Venus, maybe—he’s a wily old shaman, but the others? Helpless babes in the blazing wood. Telazhar will find them, of that you can be sure. And he will take them to Shadow Wing, who will destroy their souls and take the seals. And then . . . he will be all but unstoppable.”

Camille and I looked at each other, mutely. They were right, of course. “We can help—” she started, but Smoky shook his head.

“No, wife. You cannot. Trillian has been a mercenary in Queen Tanaquar’s army before. I’m a dragon. Rozurial can travel through the Ionyc Sea and he’s armed to the hilt. The three of us will stay here. You must return to Earthside. We cannot be worrying about you or it will distract us.”

Reluctantly, I saw the value of what they were saying. “Fine. But you have to let Trenyth know that Sharah is alive. She’s in line to take the throne if the other heirs are dead. Tell him, please.”

Smoky inclined his head. “Then, we shall be off, before the armies marching on Elqaneve arrive there.”

I wondered how he knew just what was going on and opened my mouth to ask when Shade held up his hand. “No, love. I know what you are going to ask. Trenyth actually found a Whispering Mirror still intact. I do not know where, but he found one. He told us everything, including the soldiers marching toward Elqaneve. They know scouts who weren’t in the city, who survived, got word to them.”

I wanted to slap him. To ask why he hadn’t told us that in the beginning, but considering the trauma and chaos of the night, I didn’t have the heart.

Tanaquar stood and we all curtseyed and bowed. “Then, I accept your help, Trillian, Smoky, and Rozurial. You will leave for Elqaneve immediately. And the rest of you—go home. Go home and be safe, and wait for word. Even here, the roads are too dangerous to send you out in public—we cannot know who might be lurking. So I will send you a guard to escort you to a hidden portal that leads Earthside.” With that, she turned and left the room.

Camille was whispering to Trillian and Smoky, and I could tell she was upset but we were all too tired to fight, to argue, to even cry.

I glanced up at Shade. “You are staying with us Earthside?”

“Someone has to protect the house, and so I will stay. And Vanzir and Shamas and Morio. But the elfin guards must leave for home—they will be needed there. Perhaps Camille can ask Aeval for additional support from the Earthside Fae to guard the house.” He pressed his lips against my forehead, and I wanted to lose myself in him, to forget the events of the past six hours.

I could not believe it was still today—this morning seemed a million miles away. Everything had seemed so normal, and now the world stood turned on its head. Like an extended nightmare, when I closed my eyes, all I could see were the endless fires and lightning strikes amid a cloud of dust and soot. Too much. Too much. I wanted to turn back the clock, to pretend this had never happened. But nothing would ever erase the memory of the storm as it rained down death.

The door opened and a guard peeked in, motioning for us to follow him. Camille let go of her men and joined Shade and me. Her lips were set in that determined look that I knew covered up a well of pain and fear. But she shook out her hair and stood proudly.

“Be safe, my loves. Be safe, Rozurial. Return to us under the watchful eye of the Moon Mother.” She turned and walked toward the door, not looking back.

I raised my hand in salute, and joined her, followed by Shade. Silently, we left the room, and just as silently, followed the guard down the hallway and into another chamber—a small library filled with scrolls, and a writing desk and chair. He walked up to a relatively bare wall and, in one quick motion, pressed a brick. A passageway sprang open and we followed him through into a narrow stairwell, which led down, spiraling into a lower level with a simple bed, chair, and table. A guard was standing at attention and after whispering with our guide, he motioned for us to turn around. Another moment, and we turned back to see a door to yet another secret chamber. In this chamber, a portal waited, like the one in the Wayfarer.

The guard hustled us into the portal, and the next thing we knew, the world shifted, the veils parted, and we were sailing home.

Blinking, I realized we were in Grandmother Coyote’s portal. And she was there, softly smiling, waiting for us.

“So the tide has turned, girls. And there is death and destruction imprinted on your souls. Bear in mind that all that was, all that will be, is dictated by a thin scale. The universe metes out its will. The gods play their hands. And we—the Hags of Fate and the Harvestmen, we wind the skeins of all life. But even we follow rules, and we are governed by the balance of order and of chaos. I will help you as I can, but things will grow much darker before there can be light. And the night—the night has just begun.”

And with that, she motioned for us to go, not giving us a chance to ask her any questions. We stepped out into the star-filled night. It was late, very late now, and nearing dawn. Menolly would still be up, and I wanted to get home in time to reassure myself that yes, she was okay. That Chase and Sharah were all right.

The trek back to the clearing was wet and soggy. Rain poured down, but the scent of the cedar and fir and moss and mildew soothed me as we pushed through the undergrowth. As we came into the clearing, we could see Vanzir.

He was waiting for us, leaning against his car, the headlights on to guide us. For the first time, the snarky look was gone from his face, and I could see real fear in his eyes. He straightened up as he saw us.

The sound of a jet winging overhead filled my ears and it felt sweet and safe—a far cry from the echoing thunder of the storm. But how close would that storm be to us? How long before Telazhar found more of the seals, or took control of the portals in Elqaneve and filtered his sorcerers through here to gate in the demons?

Too many questions. Too much danger ahead. I slipped into the backseat of the car next to Shade, while Camille settled in front with Vanzir. He started up the engine, and as we settled back against the seats, he eased the car out onto the road. But, even though I felt my eyes starting to close, the spin of the wheels on the pavement seemed to whisper, “Death . . . death . . . war is come and you are right in the path.”