Mortalis

Winter had found the mountain passes west of Honce-theBear, with snow falling deep about the elven valley of Andur'Blough Inninness, strong winds piling it up into towering drifts. That hardly proved a hindrance to Belli'mar Juraviel, though, the nimble elf skipping across the white blanket, leaving barely a trace of his passing. For the Touel'alfar of Corona did not battle the moods of nature, as did the humans. Rather, they adapted their ways to fit the seasons outside their protected valley, and they reveled in each season in turn: a dance of rebirth each spring, of excitement and play in the lazy summer heat, of harvest and preparation in the autumn, and of respite in the winter. To the Touel'alfar, the harshest winter blizzard was a time of snow sculpting and snow-throwing games, or a time to huddle by the fire.

Prepared, always prepared.

This blizzard had been just that type, with stinging, blowing snow; and though it had abated greatly, the snow was still falling when Juraviel left the cloudy cover of the sheltered elven valley.

But, despite the storm, he had to get out, to be alone with his frustrations. Again Lady Dasslerond had refused his request to parent the young child of Elbryan and Jilseponie, the babe the lady had taken from Pony on the field outside Palmaris, when Markwart had overwhelmed the woman and left her near death. In the ensuing months, Lady Dasslerond had kept Juraviel very busy, had sent him running errand after errand; and while he had suspected that she was purposefully keeping him away from the babe, he could not be certain.

Until that very morning, when he had asked her directly, and she had refused him directly.

So Juraviel had run out of the valley, up onto the slopes, to be alone with his thoughts and his anger, to let the quiet snow calm his frustration.

He skittered up one drift, using the piled snow as a ladder to get him to the tip of a rocky overhang, and there, in the wind, he sat for a long, long while, remembering Elbryan and Pony, remembering Tuntun, his dear dven friend who had given her life in the assault on Mount Aida and the demon dactyl.

Gradually, like the storm, his angry energy flowed out, and he was sitting quite comfortably when he saw another form rise out of the low clouds of Andur'Blough Inninness. He looked on curiously for a few moments, thinking that another of the Touel'alfar had decided to come out to enjoy the storm or to see if it had completely abated yet or perhaps to check on Juraviel's well-being. But when the new-come elf turned his way, stared at him from under the cowl of the low-pulled hood, Belli'mar Juraviel recognized those eyes and that face and was surprised-indeed, stunned-to discover that Lady Dasslerond herself had come out to find him.

He started to move down to her, but she motioned for him to stay and scampered up the snowbank at least as easily as he had, taking a seat on the stone beside him.

"You were correct in your guess," she informed him. "Tien-Bryselle returned this morning with information concerning Tempest and Hawkwing."

Juraviel breathed a sigh of sincere relief. Tempest and Hawkwing had been the weapons of Elbryan. The elven sword Tempest had been forged for the ranger's uncle Mather and won by Elbryan in honest duel with the dead man's spirit; and Hawkwing had been crafted by Juraviel's own father specifically for Elbryan the Nightbird. Both weapons had been lost when Elbryan had been captured by Father Abbot Markwart. Juraviel, convinced that they were in St. Precious in Palmaris, had tried to find them.

But then had come the confrontation between Elbryan and Markwart in Chasewind Manor, a battle that the elf could not ignore, and Juraviel had run out of time. Thus had Dasslerond sent another to find the weapons, following a report that they had gone with Elbryan back to Dundalis, his final resting place.

"Bradwarden confirmed their location," she explained, "and took TienBryselle to them."

"He is a fine friend," Juraviel remarked.

Lady Dasslerond nodded. "A fine friend who came through the trials of the demon dactyl, and who came through the responsibilities of calling himself elf-friend."

Juraviel narrowed his eyes, easily catching the not-so-flattering reference to both Elbryan and Jilseponie. Lady Dasslerond had not been pleased to kam that Elbryan had taught Jilseponie the elven sword dance, bi'nelle iasada, nor had she been happy with many of Jilseponie's choices during the final days of conflict with Father Abbot Markwart.

"But we are glad to know that the weapons are safe," she quickly idded-for his benefit, Juraviel knew, "guarded by the spirits of two ; lingers. Perhaps they will belong to yel'delen one day." ; Yel'delen, Juraviel echoed in his mind, so poignantly reminded that Lady Dasslerond had not even yet named the baby; for in the elvish tongue, yel'delen meant simply "the child."

"Jilseponie did not fight the return of the weapons," Juraviel dared to remark.

"She is in Palmaris still, and likely knew nothing of their return to the north," she answered, "nor that we went to find them."

Juraviel looked at her curiously, hardly agreeing with her first claim. If Tempest and Hawkwing left Palmaris with Elbryan's caisson, then they did so on the instructions of Jilseponie. "But she would not have fought the interment of the elven weapons even if she had known," Juraviel insisted, "nor would she argue if we decided to take them back."

Dasslerond shrugged, apparently not prepared to argue the point.

"You underestimate her," Juraviel went on boldly, "as you have from the very first."

"I judged her by her own actions," the lady of Caer'alfar replied firmly. She shook her head and chuckled. "You cloud your memories with friendship, yet you know that your friend will be cold in the ground centuries before your time has passed."

"Am I not to befriend those of like heart? "

"The humans have their place," Dasslerond said somewhat coldly. "To elevate them beyond that is a dangerous mistake, Belli'mar Juraviel. You know that well."

Juraviel looked away, feeling the tears beginning to rim his golden eyes. "And is that why?" he asked, and then he blinked away the tears completely, replacing them with resolve, and looked at her squarely. "Is that why you deny me the child? "

Dasslerond didn't blink, nor did she shrink back an inch. "This child is different," she said. "He will carry the weapons of Nightbird and Mather, the Touel'alfar weapons of a true ranger."

"And a glorious day it will be," Juraviel put in.

"Indeed," she agreed, "even more so than you understand. The child will become the purest of rangers, trained from birth to our ways. He will hold no allegiance to the humans, will be human in appearance only."

Juraviel considered the words and her determined tone very carefully for a long moment. "But is not the true power of the ranger the joining of the best that is human and elven? " he asked, thinking that his beloved Lady Dasslerond might be missing a very important point here.

"So it has been," she replied, "but always I have understood that it is the joining of the elven way with the human physical form and the impatience that is human. This child will have physical strength beyond that of even its father, a strength fostered by the trials we shall place upon him and the health that is Andur'Blough Inninness. And we will foster, as well, the understanding of mortality, the short life which he can expect, and thus, the sense of immediacy and impatience so crucial for warriors of action.'' Juraviel looked at her, not quite understanding her reasoning behind this talk-words he almost regarded as nonsense. Understanding the source, though, the lady of Caer'alfar, the leader of his people, Juraviel looked past the words to the hopes and the fears. She had taken the child and had flatly refused to return him to his mother, even now that the darkness of Markwart and Bestesbulzibar had passed. Indeed, it seemed to Juraviel that Lady Dasslerond had claimed the child for Andur'Blough Inninness.

And then he understood those hopes of his lady even more clearly. This child, perhaps, so true of bloodline, so strong of limb and of thought, would have the power to heal Andur'Blough Inninness. This child of the ranger might aid Lady Dasslerond in her defense against the spreading rot, the stain the demon dactyl had placed upon the elven valley.

"He will be strong and swift, as was Elbryan," Juraviel remarked, as much to measure the response as to speak the truth.

"More akin to his mother," Lady Dasslerond replied.

Juraviel cocked an eyebrow in surprise that she would offer such a compliment to Jilseponie.

''Jilseponie is strong and swift with the sword, strong in bi'nelle dasada, as was her teacher," Dasslerond explained. "And though she was not as strong in the dance as Nightbird, she was the more complete of the parents, powerfully versed in the gemstone magic, as well. The complete human warrior. This child will be all that his mother was and is and more-for he will have the guidance of the Touel'alfar throughout his journey."

Belli'mar Juraviel nodded, though he feared that Lady Dasslerond might be reaching a bit high here in her expectations. The child was but a few months old, after all, and though his bloodlines seemed as pure as those of any human-and Juraviel, who had loved both Elbryan and Pony, understood that more clearly than did Lady Dasslerond!-that was no guarantee of anything positive. Furthermore, Juraviel, apparently unlike Lady Dasslerond, appreciated that bringing up the infant in Andur'Blough Inninness was an experiment, an unknown.

''Jilseponie made mistakes that we cannot tolerate," Lady Dasslerond stated flatly, a sudden and stern reminder to Juraviel of her feelings toward the woman, "as Elbryan, our beloved Nightbird, erred in teaching her bi'nelle dasada. And do not doubt that we will continue to watch her from afar."

Juraviel nodded. On that point, at least, he and his lady were in agreement. If Pony started sharing the elven sword dance, became an instructor in the finer points of bi'nella dasada, then the Touel'alfar would have to stop her. To Juraviel, that would have meant taking her into their homeland and keeping her there; but he held no illusions that Lady Dasslerond, whose responsibility concerned the very existence of the Touel'alfar, would be so merciful.

"Yet that was Nightbird's error," he replied, "and notJilseponie's." "Not yet." Again, Juraviel nodded, taking well her point. He wasn't sure that he even agreed with his own last statement-that Elbryan's tutoring of Pony was a mistake at all. Juraviel had watched them fighting together, each sword complementing the other to the level of perfection, a weaving of form and of weapons so beautiful that it had brought tears of joy to the elf's eyes.

How could such a work of art be a mistake?

"You trust her," Lady Dasslerond stated.

Juraviel didn't disagree.

"You love her as you love Touel'alfar," she went on.

Juraviel looked at her but said nothing.

"You would have us forgive her and return to her the child."

Juraviel swallowed hard. "She would have made a fine ranger, had she been trained in Andur'Blough Inninness," he dared to remark.

"Indeed," she was quick to reply, "but she was not. Never forget that, my friend. She was not.

"I'll not deny, diminish, or refute your feelings for the woman," Lady Dasslerond went on. "Indeed, your faith in her gives me hope that Nightbird's error will not lead to disaster. However, Jilseponie's role was in bearing the son of Elbryan. Understand that and accept it. He is ours now. Our tool, our weapon. He is our repayment for the sacrifice that we made to help the humans in their struggle with Bestesbulzibar, and our way to minimize the lasting effect of that sacrifice."

Juraviel wanted to argue that the war against the demon dactyl was for the sake of elves as well as the humans, but he held his words.

"And thus, and because of your honest feelings, understand that you are to have no contact with the child," she went on, and Juraviel's heart sank. "He is not Nightbird-we will name him appropriately when he has shown to us the truth of his soul. But Belli'mar Juraviel will learn that truth in time, through the work of others more suited to the task."

Juraviel was not happy at all with the news, but neither was he surprised. Through all these months, he had been complaining, and often, about the lack of interaction with the child, by him or by any other Touel'alfar, and complaining that what interaction there was came more often in the form of testing, and hardly ever the simple act of sharing a touch or a smile. That had bothered Juraviel profoundly, and he had spoken rather sharply to Lady Dasslerond about his fears.

And his words had not been met with sympathy.

So he was not surprised now, not at all.

"You know of the other? " Lady Dasslerond asked him.

"Brynn Dharielle," Juraviel replied, naming the other human currently under Touel'alfar tutelage, a young orphaned girl from To-gai, the western reach of the kingdom of Behren, the land of the greatest human horsemen in all the world.

"You will enjoy her," Lady Dasslerond assured him, "for she is possessed of more spirit than her little frame can contain, a creature of impulse and fire much akin to young Elbryan Wyndon."

Juraviel nodded. He had heard as much concerning Brynn Dharielle. He hadn't yet met the novice ranger, for though Brynn had been in the care of the Touel'alfar for almost a year, and though Andur'Blough Inninness was not a large place, Juraviel's business had been elsewhere-his eyes, his heart, in the paths of Elbryan and Pony, his concern in the fate of the demon dactyl and Markwart and the turn of the human world. Those in the valley who knew of Brynn Dharielle had spoken highly of her talents and her spirit. Dare the Touel'alfar believe they had another Nightbird in training?

"I give you her charge," Lady Dasslerond went on. "You will see to her as you saw to Nightbird."

"But do you not believe that I failed with Nightbird? " Juraviel dared to ask, "For did he not fail in his vow as ranger, in teaching bi'nelle dasada^ "

Lady Dasslerond laughed aloud-for all of her anger at Elbryan and his sharing of the elven sword dance with Pony, she knew, as all the elves knew, that he had not failed. Not at all. Nightbird had gone to Aida and battled Bestesbulzibar; and when the demon had found a new and more insidious and more dangerous host, Nightbird had given everything to win the day, for the humans and for all the goodly races, Touel'alfar included, of the world.

"You will learn from your mistakes then," Lady Dasslerond replied. "You will do even better with this one."

Now it was Juraviel's turn to chuckle helplessly. Could his lady even begin to appreciate the standard to which she had just set Brynn Dharielle? Would his lady ever see past her immediate anger to the truth that was Elbryan the Nightbird, and the truth that remained in the heart of Jilseponie?

Or was he wrong? he had to wonder and to fear. Was he too blinded by friendship and love to accept the failings of his human companions?

Belli'mar Juraviel blew a long, long sigh.