The Coming Storm by Valerie Douglas

head. “I don’t know. We’ll try this for a time. We have little choice.”

Chapter Three
     
    It’s been too long, Elon thought, standing with his hands clasped behind him, his eyes on unseen mountains to the west. They should have returned long before now. His Foresight told him nothing but such gifts were chancy at best. The future was a fluid thing, ever-changing. Simply the knowing of what might be changed what would be. That was something Elves understood but men didn’t. Jareth had told him of a wizard with a similar gift, who had then spent his days in his rooms half-mad at the paradox he couldn’t resolve.
    Men always thought to change or control everything about them. That wasn’t the way of Elves, who knew that change was constant and sought control over only themselves and how each reacted to those changes. Elon saw what the future might be and sought to do only what he could do to avert it, if necessary, inasmuch as he was able. His glimpses and presentiments of the future were a guide, another piece of the mosaic that was life.
    There had been no word from Colath, no messenger and no sign.
    When he noticed the Hunters and Woodsmen had added to the length of their patrols by extending them further west he said nothing, lending them his unspoken assent. This despite the fact that many were weary themselves already.
    There had been other incidents. A basilisk several weeks ago. No one had been hurt but only because they were alert to the danger. His warning served them well. No one rode these days without arms at ready. Men kept swords in hand while Elves rode with arrows notched loosely. When both the Hunter and his horse had frozen before the basilisk’s stare, three arrows had pierced the creature before it could strike.
    In another incident an ogre had tried to make a meal of a Woodsman’s horse when they made camp one night. The horse hadn’t survived and the ogre had escaped, only to be chased back north and west again by the Hunters.
    That only added to his concern. Already they had more incidents in one month than would be common in several.
    Jareth’s report hadn’t eased his mind.
    As much as he’d welcomed Jareth’s arrival, the very fact he’d returned before Colath only reminded Elon of how long Colath and his party had been gone. Through their true-friend bond he knew Colath was hurt, alarmed and very weary.
    He hadn’t called for help though.
    There had been no other word.
    Colath’s party had had less than a quarter of the distance to cover that Jareth had. Though they had to go stealthily and with care and he hadn’t, it still was too long. Summer had begun and they hadn’t returned.
    Jareth’s report had only confirmed his growing suspicion.
    They weren’t alone in this. It was happening all over. He’d sent messengers to all the Elven Enclaves, couching his words to convey concern but not alarm. Of them all only Alatheriann in the south, deep in the Heartlands, hadn’t seen an increase of borderlands incursions.
    If Colath and his party didn’t return very soon, Elon would have to send folk in search of them. To do so would be to admit it didn’t bode well, that he thought they were in trouble.
    Which he did and they were, as every Elf knew.
    He knew Colath, his true-friend, bore wounds across his ribs and back.
    It pained him as well and to know Colath was hurt pained him even more.
    Something had happened. Why hadn’t Colath sent for aid?
    Another consideration weighed on him as well. To one side of his mind was the presentiment that time grew short. In what way he didn’t know. Yet. The sense of time running out, though, urged him to take action, but not what action to take.
    Jareth’s information only made it that much more urgent.
    Something was missing, some vital piece of this odd mosaic, knowledge, and something else that was crucial to their success. If he didn’t move and soon, that critical moment might be lost.
    From his perch on the edge of the veranda,