The Coral Kingdom - Douglas Niles [7]
"Get out of the way," Brigit suggested gently. "The gate will not remain open indefinitely."
Blinking in surprise, the male quickly nodded and took several steps forward. A female elf, equally dirty and ragged, followed him, clutching a youngster by the hand. The elven child ran forward to clasp the leg of the male who had been the first to emerge.
They came through the shimmering wall in single file, and the elven horsewoman got a good look at them as they emerged into Synnoria: all of them ragged, unkempt, and dirty. Their blond hair was disheveled, trailing back in the wind and plainly revealing the pointed ears of Brigit's elven kindred. She felt no alarm now, only sympathy and a kind of general sadness at the course of advancing history.
The sister knight dismounted, leaving Talloth to wait patiently for her mistress. Brigit advanced slowly toward the leader, whom she marked as a cleric by the golden oak leaf-symbol of Corellon, god of all the elves-embroidered on his sleeves.
The young priest stared at her in mute suspicion-or hope. Brigit held up a hand and advanced at a walk. "Welcome to Synnoria," she said in the language of the elves. "I see that you have traveled the ways of the Fey-Alamtine."
"Yes-in desperate haste," replied the priest, stepping forward. He held his hand on the shoulder of the elven boy who had run to him moments before. The youngster looked up at Brigit with palpable hostility, his hand rested on the hilt of a tiny dagger-a kitchen tool, probably-that he wore in his belt. More and more ragged elves came through, until well over a hundred had assembled in the clearing before the dark cliff.
"We are the Thy-Tach," continued the cleric. Brigit saw that he held the Alamtine Triangle in his hand. She had seen one example of the rare artifact before, the last time a tribe had come through the gate. "Our village was attacked by some monstrous horror, a three-legged creature as big as a hill. We had no recourse but flight!"
"Easy-you're safe now," the knight said, reaching out a hand to clasp the priest on the shoulder. Her touch seemed to steady him.
"My name is Pallarynd," said the priest quietly. "I thank you for your kind welcome."
"I've seen tribes come through the gate of the Fey-Alamtine before in my lifetime, and the shock of the transition is always upsetting. That's why you'll need to rest here for some time before you continue on," Brigit explained.
"It really worked, didn't it?" asked Pallarynd, his tone amazed, looking back at the Fey-Alamtine. The magical gate again looked like a shimmering wall of wet obsidian. "Torcelly had kept this ancient triangle for centuries. She'd never tell me what it was for, but she said that we might need it sometime. Now it has brought the village here, most of us alive."
"It's the way we ensure the survival of our race," Brigit replied. "Only on Evermeet can the elves reign over all the land. Everywhere else the humans press, or, even worse, other creatures. It is the Fey-Alamtine that gives hope to those elves such as yourselves, too isolated or too threatened to flee on foot."
"We're halfway there now, aren't we?" mused Pallarynd, to himself as much as the knight.
"Yes," Brigit said, with a soft smile at the young elf beside the priest. The little fellow squinted, still suspicious, but at least his hand fell away from the knife. The cleric squeezed his shoulder and the boy took the older elf's hand.
Pallarynd turned to his people. The Thy-Tach pressed close to hear his words. "To think we have come safely to Synnoria, the outpost of our people on the Moonshae Islands! The Fey-Alamtine has led us here, and when it is time, it shall lead us on the final leg of our migration as we travel to the eternal elvenhome, Evermeet!"
The Thy-Tach elves, in their ragged leggings and woods-brown tunics, whispered quietly among themselves. Their losses were