The Floodgate   ::   Каннингем Элейн

Procopio's kingly ambitions would have to wait. For now, let Zalathorm sit his throne, his eyes fixed upon his troubled borders. Perhaps then he would not realize that the true danger lay in his own land, in the very heart of Halruaa.



Chapter Twenty

Andris watched as Kiva strode into the camp, nodding to the watchful Crinti but coming directly to his side. "We are leaving," she said abruptly.

He rose slowly from his place by the campfire. "Everyone?"

"We two. I want to be beneath the trees of the Mhair before highsun."

She chanted an incantation and reached out her hand to him. As soon as he touched her fingers, they were both swallowed in a whirling haze of soft white light. Andris expected a whistle of wind, a sense of motion. There was nothing but the light, and a quiet so intense that the beating of his own heart sounded like crashing surf.

The light deepened, turning the golden green of sunlight filtered through a forest canopy, and the white silence unfolded into the lush cacophony of the jungle. Birds chuckled and called in the branches overhead. Frogs belched in nearby shallows. Insects whined and hummed. In the distance, a snarl spoke of a jungle cat's unsuccessful hunt. Lying beneath the complex clatter was the soft, pulsing song of the forest, never before audible to his ears.

This, Andris suspected, was what an elf heard-the voice of life, and of magic! As his hearing adjusted to its normal level of sensitivity, the song faded. He felt like a blind man, granted a moment of tantalizing sight, then plunged back into oblivious darkness.

"You look disappointed," an amused Kiva said. "Magical travel didn't live up to expectations?"

Andris had no desire to explain. "I am not unhappy to leave the Nath and the Crinti camp. But why return to the Mhair?"

Kiva cupped her hands to her lips and let out a high, ringing cry. Sweet and musical enough to be mistaken as birdsong, the call was not exceptionally loud. Yet Andris got the impression that it soared though the forest on quiet wings. A message had been sent.

They settled down in the lower branches of a flowering tree, keeping a watchful eye on the forest around them. Suddenly Kiva dropped from her branch, and lifted one hand in greeting to the elves who emerged from the deep green shadows. Andris shook his head in astonishment. He had not seen or heard their approach.

He climbed down and walked to Kiva's side. The elves were familiar-all had fought with them at the Lady's Mirror-but there was no welcome in their eyes.