“Stop him!” Kareste jumped up, knocking over his chair.
Laurel roared, his claws raking, as he fought to get to the table and his own staff. Kareste snatched it up and started backing away, his free hand weaving, his fingers crooked as he muttered. The firedrake flamed at the cat, and Laurel flung up a paw, deflecting it. The water sprite shrieked as the fire stream hit the table and she cupped her hands, pouring water over the flames.
The Council members tipped the charred and wet table over on its side, some sheltering behind it while others leapt over it to join the fray, those with weapons drawing them. The firedrake inhaled to flame again, but staggered back, his eyes wide. He quickly turned around to see Wyln. The dark elf Enchanter gently smiled, tracing fire in the air as he moved to face the winged fire serpent.
The glory sphere spun back, and I knocked it the other way. The windows started to shake as the wind rose again to a shrieking howl. The sylph rose over the melee and flew at me, her eyes full of jagged lightning. I raised my staff and the elemental slammed against the wall.
“He has taken a human as Cyhn. A descendant of the accursed Iver.” Pellan strode to the front of the guards, rallying them against their Fyrst. He drew his sword, and stood facing his uncle. “We will replace his polluted line with one that’s pure.”
“Whose? Yours?” The Fyrst held up his hand and the great sword of his lineage shimmered on the wall. In the next blink it was in his hand and he brought it before him. “No, Pellan. I think not.” The glory sphere circled again and I swatted it away again. The smell of sweet grass and loam was strong, and I looked at my hand to see an earth sphere there.
Suiden and Javes ran towards the High Council and Gherat came against them, his sword drawn. Javes pulled the lens off his quiz glass, revealing a thin dagger. He lunged forward, stabbing Gherat’s arm, and Gherat dropped his sword in surprise. Suiden scooped it up without breaking stride, just in time to meet Kenalt and Ilenaewyn, and the clash of their swords added to the tumult in the hall. Groskin had slipped by and jumped, knocking down the guard with the knife on Allwyn’s throat. The other guards converged on them as they rolled and fought on the floor. Esclaur grabbed Berle, his own quiz glass knife in his hand, and he dragged her towards the dais, where Obruesk was hunkered down out of the way of swords and magic.
I absently hit the glory sphere away once more, staring down into the earth sphere as it pulsed with the promise of life. I opened my hand and it rose—
“NO!” Whatever Kareste had worked up he flung at me, a zigzagging streak flashing across the hall to where I stood, folk diving to the left, right and down as it went by, their weapons clattering on the marble floor.
“Rabbit, get down!” Laurel bellowed.
“Move, Two Trees’son!” Wyln shouted.
The wind shrieked and the entire keep shook.
Watching the earth sphere rise, I brought my staff up and deflected the Magus’ working. It struck a window, shattering the glass, and the wind became still.
The earth sphere had apparently reached as high as it could go as it now floated down, spinning slowly. It touched the floor and was gone.
There was silence; then Ilenaewyn laughed as he rose from the floor, dusting himself off. “Well, that was a bust.” The other Council members laughed with him as they all gave me derisive looks, some peeping over the table’s edge. “It appears that this human is overrated,” the elf said. “I know the rest of the race is.” He picked up his dropped sword and turned to face an obsidian dragon, its outspread wings shot with gold. He dropped his sword again, and Suiden caught it in one taloned hand while he held Kenalt in the other. The dragon prince showed an excellent set of teeth, flames licking out of his muzzle, and Ilenaewyn backed away into a corner. With a sweep of his arm, the captain herded the rest of the Council members there to cower with the northern elf.
I pulled the iron manacles off, dropping them on the floor, and kicked off the fetters. The iron collar followed, falling on the chains and shackles with a clank. I looked up, expecting to see the hall full of wind and fury, but it was silent. I glanced into my hand; the rune remained dark.
“Your air aspect is blocked, Two Trees’son,” Molyu said. She gave my arm a tentative touch.
Oh, yeah. I frowned and looked around.
Laurel had reached the dais and now faced the Magus, both with hand and paw aimed at each other—at a standoff. Wyln also stood with his hand raised, a tracery of fire around him and the firedrake. A gray wolf, one eye swollen shut, paced in front of Gherat, growling as the Lord of Dru shifted, trying to find a way around him to the dagger on the floor. In the shadow of the platform were two sets of gleaming eyes, one snow wolf blue, the other russet fox brown. Obruesk edged towards Esclaur’s own dropped knife and the snow wolf turned his muzzle full of teeth on him. The archdoyen backed away again.
I looked the other way and saw a black panther crouched in front of Allwyn, his golden eyes fixed on the city guards, not moving except for the tip of his tail. Allwyn stood behind the cat, holding a dropped sword. Beyond them was the Witness Circle, in front of the Fyrst’s throne. As I stepped over the chains and ran towards it, the glory sphere came after me, and I batted it away. My bare feet slapped against me marble floor and, skidding to a stop, I stepped into the Circle, placing a foot on each weighing pan. But the runes remained dark.
“You allow this presumption?” Pellan asked, his light voice echoing in the hall. “This intrusion?” The city guards who had fallen back from the Fyrst’s great sword hissed and pulled their own swords, and some broke off to head my way. Laurel shot them a glance and they paused. The Magus, taking advantage of the Faena’s distraction, began to move his hand again, muttering.
I reached for the wind but, feeling resistance, turned to look at the sylph still plastered against the wall. Standing in the rune circle, I could now see a thin thread leading from her to a dense weaving around and over me, like cloth. Leaning the staff in the crook of my arm, I took the weaving in both my hands and pulled.
“No!” Kareste flung his hand out again.
There was a ripping sound and the sylph screamed, convulsing. My ears popped and I was encircled with white light as the runes blazed, painting their symbols on the high ceiling in light. I raised my hand, the truth rune on my palm as bright as the sun, and the Magus’ working was knocked into the floor, the marble stone crackling and breaking.
“Sixty-four lines to an elfin king,” the Fyrst said.
“Miscegenation,” Pellan said. “An unholy mixing with a lesser race.”
There was a booming, rushing sound as the wind poured into the hall and swirled around me, howling its rage and frustration at being blocked. My body started to resonate, rising from the floor, but Molyu once more placed a tentative hand on my arm. Recalled to myself, I looked at her and, seeing pale threads that were wrapped around her, frowned. I gently brushed them off and she smiled.
“No, my sister’s son,” Wyln said as he watched the fire-drake. The serpent wove, trying to find a way past Wyln’s defenses, and Wyln snapped fire at him. “Not a misbreeding, but a breeding true.” There was a flash where the Magus’ working had cracked the floor. I glanced at it, but it was gone.
“Yes,” Laurel rumbled. “Lady Gaia herself is calling out, and the human kingdom has answered, fiat! They have become fae and their king elfin, dark and gold.”
“The cat blasphemes—” Pellan began.
“Dark and gold,” the Fyrst repeated. “My daughter was not lost when Morendyll fell, and now her blood runs through the Royal House of Iver.” Molyu gently cupped my chin with her hand as Wyln had done earlier, staring into my face.