Sword and Sorcery, a Novel

8

Sherazedan's spell was a mighty thing, and extremely abrupt. Felt like being uprooted whole and tossed over the garden wall; with broken fibers and dirt still clinging.

But they got there, transported sideways and further along in a direction without any name. The family transport sigil glowed to life in Starloft for the first time in many weeks. Villagers, diplomats and fosterlings shot to their feet and scattered in response, afraid that some new attack was about to be launched at the heart of their refuge.

Those with weapons, mere children themselves, pushed others to dubious safety behind them. Then the sigil's glow faded into a swirling shower of sparks, revealing a druid, a disoriented cat-person, a ranger, a half-elven child and someone they'd just about given up hoping for.

"Lord Valerian!" cried the oldest of those rear-guard warriors, a red-haired young girl. Then, bowing deeply, "Sire!"

A salutation meant for his father, Keldaran, or Lerendar, but which Val tried hard not to tarnish. Stepping forward, keeping his feelings off of his face and out of his voice, he said,

"Well met, again, Group Leader," for it was this plane's version of one he'd seen in the high-elf encampment. "How stand matters in Starloft?"

Her face shone as she straightened to face him, saying,

"All of the villagers and castellans are accounted for, My Lord, save for one missing child and… and…"

But he already knew that. It was why he was here, with the emptied husk of Smythe at his back.

"Those who have fallen will be avenged," he promised. "Those who yet live shall be rescued."

He looked through the gathering crowd as he spoke, searching for someone in particular, but not willing to ask for her outright. This was the noble family's home, made over to hold the most honored and important of Starshire's refugees. Others were crowding in, though, having heard the electric rumor that their young lord was returned from the City.

The wood-elf ambassador claimed his attention for a time, her tattooed face grim and insistent.

"Lord Valerian, my condolences. All Lobum mourns with you in this difficult time, Milord. In the name of the lost ones, we must strive for an end to hostilities," she urged, placing a hand on his arm. "A negotiated peace may still be possible."

"Most assuredly," replied Valerian. "Once the goblins have safely returned my father, my brother, and all those who rode out with them."

Not just goblins. Gnolls and an ancient goddess, as well, but this wasn't the place to speak of still darker threats. He sensed Gildyr stiffen, behind him. Didn't care, for he'd found the one he was searching for, newly come in through an elf-sized door in the vast chamber wall. A servant's door.

Val made a hasty excuse and broke free of the woodling ambassador. Began striding forward, apologizing to those he collided with on his way. Took the last few steps at a dead run.

She hadn't meant to cause a disturbance. Had only looked in to see for herself, but Valerian took hold of Katina and lifted her into the air, swinging her once around. Set her back down in a swirl of skirts, his hands at her shoulders.

"I've come home, Nana," he said to the half-elf, who reached up to touch his face. Her hair was still copper and her eyes bright bronze, for half-elves age very slowly. Her face was thinner and paler than he remembered; contorted with mingled grief and deep, burning joy.

"So you have, Little Love. So you have. Here, let's have a look at you, then," she said to him, laughing and crying together. "Stop city traffic on a m- market day," whispered Katina. Then, unable to maintain the pretense of normalcy, she threw herself at her nurseling. Val returned the embrace, his face pressed to the top of her head.

A very long time ago, he'd promised his milk-brother, Tam, that he'd look after Mum. That she'd never want for a thing, or be passed on from the family to strangers. So far, he'd managed to keep that promise, though Tam was long gone.

Those all around found other business to occupy them, somehow all turning their backs at once to form a privacy barrier. The open emotion for one of such humble station was unseemly… but perhaps they had beloved servants, too.

"I'll tell you everything as soon as there's time to talk, Nana," he told her, stepping back a bit. "I have to find Lerendar and get… find…" he didn't finish the sentence. Didn't have to.

Katina brushed his cheek with her hand.

"He lives in you, My Lord, and all of us will do what we must to help bring them home."

An instant later, Beatriz, too, was there, with a tangle-haired scamp in tow. Valerian embraced his brother's woman, promising her and the child that Lerendar soon would be rescued.

"...if he doesn't just walk home himself, first. He never could stand to wait."

Zara he scooped up and placed on his shoulders, saying,

"Halfling, there is someone I'd like you to meet. I think that you will be very good friends or arch enemies. Fun, either way."

Zara did her best to crane her head upside down and around to look at his face. At such an extreme angle, her blue-eyed stare was alarming.

"It's gonna be alright, isn't it, Uncle Val? Papa's gonna come home, too?"

She was dusky-skinned, like her mother, but with Lerendar's summer-sky eyes.

"I am here to be sure of it, Halfling," said Val, swinging the girl back down to her mother. Beatriz was human. Had no magic at all but lingering beauty and love.

"He has the best of all reasons to stay alive and come back to you," he told them. "I am just here to help things along."

Beatriz nodded, biting her lower lip. Wanting so badly to hope.

"Just… please…" she faltered, putting a hand forth to clutch at his sleeve. "Be safe, you as well. I just want you both to come back, Valerian."

He smiled at her, as Zara climbed up and fished through his faerie pockets, searching for treats.

"I have brought friends, and Kalisandra. The goblins will not be prepared for such power," he assured Bea, who chose to believe.

Then someone else hurtled into the grand upper chamber, looking anxiously about, scanning the crowd with fierce eyes. Reston Horse-Master, feen Tarandahl.

Val took his leave of his dear ones, hurrying across to meet his uncle.

"My Lord," said the tall half-elf, seizing Valerian's shoulders. "What a joy and relief to see you! The way was long, and we feared that…"

"I had assistance," Val told him, nodding at Salem, Kalisandra, Mirielle and Gildyr, who'd come up to join them. "The Tabaxi is a noblewoman. The druid… has contact with rebels among the goblin ranks. Milady Kalisandra you already know. The child is my page."

And quite a head-turning one at that, with golden skin, black hair and the alert, mobile ears of a horse. That she was transformed was obvious. From what, no one could tell. Reston bowed at each of them in turn, and then went on speaking.

"We are holding the enemy back with mage-ward and force of arms, Milord, barely. I can detail some warriors to help you assault the goblin stronghold, though, if…"

"No need," said Valerian, shaking his head. "I plan to get in through the tunnels connecting Starloft to the storage caverns."

Reston smiled briefly, at that, his grey eyes crinkling.

"Always up to mischief, where you weren't meant to be," said his uncle, a slight break in his voice. "May it serve you in good stead now, Milord. I will create all the diversion I can."

Valerian nodded. Then, reaching back and around, he unbuckled Smythe; sheath, sword-belt and all.

"The tunnels are no place for a great-sword," he said, "and I would not have our family's blade fall into their hands, should something go wrong."

He was, after all, the last full-blood heir.

"Take the sword, Reston Tarandahl ob Galadin. You are next in line. I call upon all here to witness my words."

Reston stared at him, utterly stunned. The chamber was snow-fall silent for a moment. Then, a few at a time, Katina first of all, the crowded people said,

"It is witnessed."

Once all had spoken, Reston bowed his head. With great difficulty, the half-elf said,

"My Lord… I… Just come back to us safe and victorious. I seek no honor higher than serving my comrade and friend, Sire."

There passed between Reston and his nephew news of the altered goblins, of the gnolls they'd become after summoning darkness and slaying a child. Of how only the steward's son, a three-year-old boy named Elrin, was missing.

At Valerian's command, Reston took up the great sword, but he did not put it on. Not yet. Nor would he, until all other hope was extinguished.

"Vesendorin and Starloft await the return of their Silmerana," the half-elf insisted. "Good luck and good hunting, My Lord." As they clasped hands, Val said,

"And to you and your warband, Uncle."

Arms and armor were brought, of the sort that would be of most use in the darkness and dust of those shifting dark caverns.

To keep Mirielle from trying to follow, Val shared a memory with her, of the almost-last-time he'd seen Tam. No more than a child he'd been, less well-grown than Mirielle, when he'd pelted up to the northern wall after his milk-brother. Tam was grown to young manhood by then, red-haired, with a beard just coming in and bluish-grey eyes. Dressed for travel and armed for the hunt, he'd removed the Tarandahl badge from his cloak and flung it onto the ground.

He'd turned back from vaulting the low stone wall that afternoon, surprised and displeased at the sight of his hurrying milk-brother.

"Val! What're you doing here, Scamp? Go home! I mean it!"

The very young elf had his faerie pockets stuffed and kept losing things out of them, for his skill and power were still very childish. With his small bow, sling and practice sword, though, Val thought himself ready for any adventure.

"I am coming with you, Tam," he announced. "I can help stand watch and hunt. Two is safer than one. You always go with me, so I'm coming with you." And right confident he'd been of that, too.

Tam picked him up and embraced him, fondly mussing his pale-blond hair.

"Listen to me, Val. It's important. You're so young, and maybe you won't understand what I'm saying now… but someday I hope it'll make better sense. I have to go. I will not serve where I could lead, if I weren't just a human. Right now, Scamp, you're my brother, but time will pass, and then I'll just be your servant… if I even live that long. We'll be master and man, and no longer friends. I can't stay and watch that happen, Val. Can… Do you understand me?"

The child's lower lip thrust out.

"No, because then I'm not staying, either," he said. "I'll go with you and we'll always be brothers, forever."

Tam sighed. Set him down on the sun-warmed stone wall.

"And then what will become of Mum?" he asked. "She will lose both of her boys in one stroke. Would you break her heart like that, Val? See her turned out of Starloft to wander, alone?"

The child shook his head. He hadn't thought of Nana, at all. But Tam wasn't through talking.

"I need you to stay and take care of her, Scamp. She's going to be very sad, and you'll be the only light she has left."

"But I don't… Tam, I don't want you to go! I could say 'Tam, come back right now!' and you'd have to! I could make you come back."

Tam smoothed his young elven milk-brother's hair, wishing that they were not just the same age, but equally grown.

"You could. You have that power… but I hope that you love me too much to do that, Val."

The little one fought very hard not to cry.

"Will you ever come back?" he whispered.

"I'll try," promised Tam. "You take care of Mum, and I'll do my best to come back and visit, after the year-and-a-day have passed. Look for me then, at Serrio's fair."

"Did he come?" asked Mirielle, as the memory faded and Val looked away. "Did you see your brother again?"

Valerian nodded.

"Yes. Twice, in secret. After that, no longer. I like to think that he met an alluring hedge witch and settled down to the doing of deeds and the raising of warriors. Tam, son of Ragnar… surely a man of renown."

Mirielle touched the griffin badge that she wore on her cloak.

"This was his?" she guessed. "It was Tam's, that he left behind?"

Valerian nodded again.

"I have always kept it, so that no one would know that he'd turned his face from Starshire on purpose. They thought him just lost, not absconded."

He'd squatted down to her level to make eye-contact and share the memory. Now, mussing the top of her curly head, Valerian stood up.

"I need you to remain with Beatriz and Zara. You are a healer, and maybe a cleric of Shan Frost Maiden. Your gifts will be most useful, here."

She hugged his waist, but listened, only scribing all of the protection sigils he'd taught her over his spirit and body.

To the others he said,

"I do not ask you to come with me…"

"That is good," interrupted Salem; tail lashing, ears forward, pupils wide. "As we would not have awaited an invitation. Your master has removed his protection, so you have all the more need of companions." The chase-scent, the hunt-lust, was strong. No mere wisp of the past would keep her away.

Kalisandra grunted morosely.

"You'd get lost or fall down a pit in the first half candle-mark without me," she shrugged. "Might as well be there to haul you to safety again, Northerner."

That her words might have cut Valerian's pride never occurred to the ranger, who was barely aware of her own feelings, much less anyone else's.

There was a moment when Gildyr, too, might have spoken, but Valerian went rigid and cold, looking slightly away when the wood-elf approached him. So, the druid stayed silent and the moment passed, trust being a very hard thing to restore.

Shortly thereafter, as well prepared as Reston and magic could make him, Val set off with Kalisandra, Salem and Gildyr, following one of the access tunnels he'd explored as a child. One that led out past the storage rooms, down and away from Ilirian.