Neddra, and mid of day when leaving-that patrols ‘just happen’ to be in the vicinities of the nexus points.”
Alamar shook his head. “Not necessary, my boy.”
Aravan frowned. “Not necessary?”
“That’s what I said,” snapped the Mage.
“Father,” cautioned Aylis, glaring at her sire, then adding, “You’d better explain.”
Alamar gritted his teeth, then took a deep breath and let it out. “A Seer looking one day ahead or even a half is altogether enough.”
Aylis frowned, then nodded in agreement. “If all that is being examined are the times of the crossings and whether or no the enemy is nigh, it should be simple enough.”
“I told you it wasn’t necessary,” said Alamar, somehow preening while seated, a self-satisfied cast to his face. “We have things well in hand.”
Aylis looked at her sire and shook her head and sighed. “Well in hand or not, Father, I think a good leader would lay his cards on the table ere jumping down someone’s throat.”
Alamar rolled his eyes as if asking, Where’s the fun in that?
Arandor laughed and said, “Lady Aylis, it was through a Seer that we knew the assault was coming. And so, we had the plan in place. My battalion stood assembled, and archers and repellers were on the walls as well as Magekind.”
“The Dragons were my idea,” said Alamar, again preening though he sat in a chair. “Scared the spit out of them, too.”
“But we didn’t foresee the fact that the Trolls would be protected such that fire did them no harm,” said Arandor.
Alamar made a negating gesture. “Pah! Next time we’ll ask the Sorcerers to simply destroy their shelter, and then use lightning.”
They sat for moments, none speaking, but then Aravan asked, “Thinkest thou they will attack again?”
Alamar shrugged. “As I said, I doubt if this will be their last assault, yet if this didn’t scare them off forever, then when they come again we’ll do even more.”
“We can stay on, Father,” said Aylis, glancing at Aravan, who nodded his agreement and added, “I am a fair hand with bow and spear.”
Alamar snorted. “What? You think we can’t do it without you two? I told you we have it well in hand.” Then his gaze softened and he looked at Aylis. “You two go on. The Eroean is waiting, and I would not have this fortress come between you and that.”
“Art thou certain?” asked Aravan, swinging his gaze to Arandor.
“Aye, Aravan,” said the captain. “Thou hast done more than thy share in defending the Planes. ’Tis time thou and thy lady were off to sail the Mithgarian seas.”
Aylis and Aravan spent the next two days at the fortress, but the mark of noon on the third day found them at the western crossing, and as dim light shone down through a yellow-brown overcast, they were gone in- between.
12
JOURNEY TO THE EROEAN
LATE WINTER, 6E1
Aravan and Aylis emerged upon Adonar in a copse in a small hollow of a matching vale in the Durynian Range. Unlike the valley on Neddra, here the air was crystal clear and the soil fertile, with winter-dormant grass underfoot and slender, new-budded saplings on the slopes rather than the dead brown weeds in the meager thicket of barren trees of that devastated underworld.
With their bows drawn, Elven warders stood among trees, guarding the in-between. Aravan raised a hand and, above the distant sound of hammers and saws and other echoes of construction, called out a greeting to the Lian: “ Hal, valagalana! Vio Aravan! Vi estare Dara Aylis, vo chier .” The warriors shifted the aim of their bows to point their arrows down and away as each relaxed his draw, then smiled and sketched salutes to the pair.
“Your love, eh?” asked Aylis, a smile crinkling the light sprinkle of freckles across her cheeks.
Aravan grinned and reached out and took her hand and drew her up the slant of the hollow. “I would have it no other way.”
Aylis laughed and shook her head. “You called me ‘Dara,’ though I am not of Elvenkind.”
“Thou art and ever will be my Dara, Aylis.”
“As will you be my Alor, Aravan.”
Hand in hand, up the slope and out from the copse they went, to emerge upon the floor of a greening vale trapped between forested mountains to the right and moss-laden crags to the left. In the distance before them, they could see Elves at work constructing a large, palisaded fortress, heavy timbers making up the pales of the long, surrounding barrier. Towers stood at the midpoints of the walls as well as at each corner, with arrow slits positioned to cover the grounds without as well as those within. Contained by the palisades they could see a building rising, where Elven woodwrights turned augers to bore holes through the cladding and into the crossbeams beneath, while others hammered tight-fitting wooden pegs into the just-made holes. A heavily built main gate stood open along the wall facing Aravan and Aylis, revealing low barracks and other buildings across a quadrangle.
And just as was the tower on Vadaria, the fortress sat well away from the in-between to not interfere with the match of the crossing point.
As Aravan and Aylis passed through the gate and onto the fortress grounds, a slender, golden-haired Dara stepped out from one of the buildings and came toward them across the quadrangle.
“Faeon!” called Aravan.
At the sound of her name, a brilliant smile filled the Dara’s features, and she called back, “Aravan!” and hurried her gait.
As Faeon neared, Aylis could see by her very movement she seemed to radiate grace.
Aravan warmly embraced Faeon, and she kissed him on the cheek. “ ’Tis good to see thee,” said Aravan, now holding her at arm’s length.
Faeon smiled up at Aravan, and then turned her clear blue-eyed gaze toward Aylis. “And thou must be the one who holds Aravan’s heart.”
“Um,” replied Aylis. Adon, I said “um”? Even though she knew it was not so, still she felt ungainly and cloddish next to this elegant creature. Amending her “um,” Aylis smiled and added, “So he tells me.”
Aravan released Faeon, and she stepped to Aylis and embraced her, whispering, “I am so glad he found thee again.”
“As am I,” murmured Aylis in return, and at that moment the awkwardness fell away from her.
Aravan said, “Dara Faeon, I present Dara Aylis. Aylis, Faeon is Gildor’s jaian -his sister.”
“He is your jarin ?” asked Aylis. “A splendid brother to have.”
Faeon smiled. “Though I agree, Aylis, say it not overmuch in Gildor’s presence, for I would not have him take on an unseemly strut.”
All three laughed, and then Faeon said, “When we saw you coming through the gate, Inarion asked me to fetch you.”
Aylis frowned. “Inarion?”
“My trothmate,” said Faeon. “He is overseeing the construction of the fort.”
“Ah,” said Aravan, “just the one I would speak to.”
Faeon led them back to the building from which she had first come, and inside at a table, mulling over scattered drawings, stood a black-haired Elf. He looked up at the sound of the door closing, his piercing grey eyes lighting with warmth at the sight of Aravan, though Aylis sensed that behind that affection a deep sadness lay.
