“And with you, Your Grace.”
Martin dropped from the captain’s cabin. The captain had warned him of the danger of hitting the large tiller, so Martin easily avoided it. The captain had brought him as close to shore as was safe, then turned out for deeper waters. Martin saw the beach less than a mile off. He was an indifferent swimmer but a powerful man and he set out for the shore in a series of easy strokes. The rolling swells made it unlikely anyone in the rigging would notice the man who was falling far behind them.
A short time later, Martin staggered up onto the beach, breathing hard. He looked about, locating landmarks. The action of the currents had carried him farther south than he had wished. Taking a deep breath, he turned up the beach and began to run.
After less than ten minutes, three riders came over a low bluff, moving rapidly down to the sand. Upon seeing them, Martin halted. Garret was the first to dismount, while Charles led an extra horse. Baru kept an alert eye out for sign of anyone in the area. Garret handed Martin a bundle of clothing. The run up the beach had dried Martin off and he dressed quickly. Behind the saddle of the extra horse hung an oilskin-covered longbow.
As Martin dressed, he said, “Did anyone see you leave?”
Charles answered, “Garret was already gone from the castle with your horse before dawn, and I simply instructed the guards I was riding a short way with Baru as he returned to Yabon. No comment was made by anyone.”
“Good. As we learned the last time we faced Murmandamus’s agents, secrecy is paramount.” Martin mounted and said, “Thank you for your help. Charles, you and Garret had best return quickly, before anyone becomes suspicious.”
Charles said, “Whatever fate brings, Your Grace, may it also bring honour.”
Garret only said, “Good fortune, Your Grace.”
The four riders were off, two returning up the coast road to Crydee, two heading away from the sea, toward the forest, bound for the northeast.
The forests were quiet, but still punctuated by the normal bird calls and small animal noises that indicated things were as they should be. Martin and Baru had ridden hard for days, pushing their horses to the limit of their endurance. They had crossed the river Crydee hours earlier.
From behind a tree a figure emerged, dressed in a green tunic and brown leather breeches. With a wave he said, “Well met, Martin Longbow, Baru Serpent-slayer.”
Martin recognized the elf, though he didn’t know him well. “Greetings, Tarlen. We come seeking counsel with the Queen.”
“Then travel on, for you and Baru are always welcome in her court. I must stand watch here. Things have become somewhat strained since last you guested.”
Martin recognized the tone of the elf s words. Something had the elves distressed, but Tarlen wouldn’t speak of it. Martin would need to see the Queen and Tomas to discover what it was. He wondered. The last time the elves had seemed this disturbed over something, Tomas had been at the height of his madness. Martin spurred his horse forward.
Later the two riders approached the heart of the elven forests, Elvandar, ancient home to the elves. The tree city was awash with light, for the sun was high overhead, crowning the massive trees with brilliance. Leaves of green and gold, red and white, silver and bronze sparkled across the canopy of Elvandar.
As they dismounted, an elf approached. “We shall care for your mounts, Lord Martin. Her Majesty wishes you to come at once.”
Martin and Baru hurried up the stairs cut from the bole of a tree into the city of the elves. Across high arches on the backs of branches and upward they climbed. At last they reached the large platform that was the centre of Elvandar, the court of the Queen.
Aglaranna sat quietly upon her throne, her senior adviser, Tathar, at her side. Around the court the elder Spellweavers sat, the Queen’s council. The throne beside her was empty. Her expression was unreadable to most, but Martin understood elven ways and saw the strain in her eyes. Still, she was beautiful and regal and her smile a beacon of warmth as she said, “Welcome, Lord Martin. Welcome, Baru of the Hadati.”
Both men bowed; then the Queen said, “Come, let us talk.” She rose and led them to a chamber, accompanied by Tathar. Inside she turned and bade them sit. Wine and food were brought but ignored as Martin said, “Something is wrong.” It was not a question.
Aglaranna’s expression of concern deepened. Martin had not seen her this troubled since the Riftwar. “Tomas is gone.”