Ilse Witch

Kylen Elessedil understood what must be done regarding the matter of Kael Elessedil and the Elves who had disappeared with him. There was to be a search, and the Druid was to command it. The Elves were to assign funds for the purchase of a ship and crew, secure supplies and equipment for the journey, and provide a command of Elven Hunters to ensure the ship’s safety. It was the command of a dying King, and his son was not about to challenge it as his first official act of office.

This did not mean, however, that he viewed the idea of a search for ships and men gone thirty years as a sane one, the appearance of the castaway, the Elessedil bracelet, and the map notwithstanding. Kylen was not his father. He was a very different sort. Allardon Elessedil had been tentative, careful, and unambitious in his life’s goals. His son was reckless and determined to leave his mark. The past meant little to Kylen Elessedil. It was the present and, to an even greater extent, the future that mattered to him. He was an impassioned youth who believed without reservation that the Federation must be destroyed and the Free-born made victorious. Nothing less would guarantee Elven security. He had spent the last six months fighting aboard airships over the Prekkendorran and had returned only because his father was dead and he was next in line for the throne. He did not particularly want to be King, except to the extent that it furthered his efforts to crush the Federation. Imbued with the fever of his commitment to a victory over his enemies, he wanted only to remain on the front in command of his men. In short, he would have preferred it if his father had stayed alive.

As it was, eager to return to the batt1le, he was chafing already at the delay his coronation had occasioned. But he would not go, Walker knew, until this matter of the search for Kael Elessedil was resolved and, even more important, until he was certain the Elven High Council was settled on the terms of his succession. This last, Walker was beginning to understand, was at the source of his insistence on adding his younger brother’s name to the ship’s roster.

Kylen Elessedil stopped pacing and faced the Druid squarely. “Ahren is almost a man, nearly fully grown. He has been trained by the man I personally selected to command your Elven Hunters on this expedition. My father arranged for my brother’s training five years ago. Perhaps he foresaw the need for it better than you or I.”

“Perhaps he believed it should continue until Ahren is older, as well,” Walker offered mildly, holding the other’s gaze. “Your brother is too young and too unseasoned for a journey like this. He lacks the experience needed to justify including him. Better men will be asked to remain behind as it is.”

The Elven King dismissed the argument with a grunt. “That’s a judgment you cannot make. Is Ahren less a man than this cabin boy you insist on including? Bek Rowe? What does he have to offer? Is he to be left behind?”

Walker held his temper. “Your father left it to me to make the decision about who would go and who would stay. I have chosen carefully, and there are good reasons for my choices. What is at issue is not why I should take Bek Rowe, but why I should take Ahren Elessedil.”

The Elf King took a moment to walk over to a window and look out into the night. “I don’t have to support you in this matter at all, Druid. I don’t have to honor my father’s wishes if I deem them wrongheaded or if I decide circumstances have changed. You are pressing your luck with me.”

He turned back to Walker, waiting.

“There is a great deal at stake in this matter,” Walker replied softly. “Enough at stake that I will find a way to make this voyage, with your blessing and assistance or without. I would remind you that your father died for this.”

“My father died because of this!”

“Your father believed me when I told him that what the Elven people stood to gain from completing this voyage successfully was of enormous importance.”

“Yet you refuse to tell me what that something is!”

“Because I am not yet certain myself.” Walker walked over to the King’s desk and rested the tips of his fingers on its polished surface. “It is a magic that may yield us many things, but I will have to discover what form that magic will take. But think, Elven King! If it is important enough for the Ilse Witch to kill your father and your uncle as well, important enough for her to try to kill me and to stall this expedition at all costs, isn’t it important enough for you?”

The young King folded his arms defensively. “Perhaps your concerns in this matter are overstated. Perhaps they are not as important as you would have me believe. I do not see the future of the Westland Elves tied to a magic that may not even exist, may not be able to be traced if it does, and may not even be useful if found. I see it tied to a war being waged with the Federation. The enemy I can see is a more recognizable threat than the one I can imagine.”