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“Allies?” The ancient, creaky being laughed the word more than spoke it.
“No. I won’t be calling you that. Not yet.”
The gnarled creature halted mid-step, eyes sharp with distrust. “Why would you even come to us? We keep you captive.”
Dash matched the elder’s pause before responding. “We are alike in this; both held against our will. Let us help each other.”
The old one made a sound deep in his leathery throat, something between a grunt and a bitte
r laugh. “Help. That’s a word I haven’t heard in a long while.” He grinned a painful grin. “You’re all asking for help every waking moment and it isn’t coming. Not from me, anyway.”
Dash began walking again, slowly, testing whether the creature would fall into step beside him. There was a long moment’s hesitation. Then the elder’s pace adjusted, and he walked on alongside the Unicorn.
“You’re not like the others,” the old one said. It came out as an accusation.
Dash nodded. “I can remember.”
A whistle of surprise. “How far back?”
Dash looked into the distance. “As far as time goes.”
Another whistle. Then a narrowing of ancient eyes. “I know you’re testing me. I can hear you testing me.” His voice climbed with a flicker of panic. “You here working for Him? Checking on old Aeshma, are you?”
“No.” Dash kept his voice level. “I was testing you, yes. But not for Him. For us, for all of us, your kind included.”
He knew better than to lie to the elven elder. The Elves could hear the echoes of thoughts; it was this gift that had always made Him dangerous, that let the Master always know when you were sleeping, when you were waking, when you behaved or misbehaved.
Aeshma snorted, cutting through the thought before Dash could complete it. “That’s not what makes Him dangerous, boy. Any elf with half a mind can know when someone does something.” He scratched at his side, where an old wound still ached when he was frustrated. “Only He knows why. How else could He give those human folk exactly what they secretly wanted, down to the last unspoken wish?”
He spat, as though speaking of Him made his throat close.
“That is why He will always be a step ahead of you.”
Dash was exhausted by the time the day was done.
He had spent hours with that ancient Elven powerhouse, maintaining his wards the entire time against a being who could unravel them without trying. The effort had worn him to the bone.
But he was hopeful.
No firm promise of help had been made. No alliance declared. And yet he had not been turned in. He had not been followed as he made his way back to the shelter where the Unicorns rested. He arrived just in time; the energy gate had begun to reassemble itself, knitting into the impenetrable barrier of pain that kept them all contained. He had always understood pain’s value in crushing hope.
As Dash settled in, he turned over what he had learned of the ones Aeshma had spoken of only obliquely, carefully, the way you handle something both old and sharp.
The Authorities.
They were the ones who remained invisible to beings of mortal spirit. Ancient beyond even elven reckoning. Masters of the invisible levers of power: politics, influence, the precisely placed word. To the Authorities, politics and war were not distinct things. Destruction need not arrive with a blade. Sometimes a single word in the right ear was enough to bring down what armies could not.
These were the ones Dash needed to find.
These were the ones who might, for their own reasons, choose to help.
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