For one of the few times in his two hundred year life, Ali he did not know what to do. He sprawled on his throne, one leg over the arm as he normally did when he was thinking. It was a tricky problem, and he wished his good friend Cullun was here to help him. Cullun had uncommon good sense when it came to dealing with people, and he was needed now. But Cullun was out of the country, on one of his sea voyages to Island, a new land some weeks travel away. He was out on the Island visiting one of his friends, Tal, and would be coming back with new men and women for the Night Rider order. Cullun would be back soon, and he would give him a hand in this muddle. Once more he mentally cursed his father for not giving him any teachings in these matters.
The King of Airlessee was a typical elf in many ways, lean from the shoulders down with long golden hair tied back in a leather tie. His blue eyes narrowed as he returned his attention to the parchment, one hand going absently to rub at a pointed ear. Ali realised with another mental curse that he had left a track of ink on his ear. The first three long fingers on his right hand were stained with link, "a writers fingers on a swordsman's hand" he thought, looking at the callouses on his palm. Ali wore his royal robes, he hardly got out of them these days. They were heavy and golden and red in colour. The King did not like wearing them. He was still a Night Rider at heart, his worn black cloak was as much a part of him as the scars on his body and the blood in his veins. He would have been happy to lounge in the throne room wearing his leggings and a shirt with his sword belted on. Instead he was forced into his robes. His swords were crossed above his chair on the wall, and he had been told to leave them there. A monarch wearing a sword with a temper like his was not a thing heralds welcomed. And he submitted. His eyes drifted back down to the parchment in front of him. It was a long scroll, and one end he had weighed down with his half empty tankard, the other end he held in one hand. It had taken him a long time to read it through. He skipped through the first part, the king of Membial sends greetings to the great and powerful king of Airlessee, the compliments went on. Then it lapsed into the old speech of man. It was all thee’s and thou’s and morefors, so much so it almost made him throw the thing into the fire. The man from the far distant Elvish city had told him that the priests had read a passage in a scared text and took it to mean that the men were offending the gods with the way they spoke, and they all turned back to the archaic speech. It was hard going reading the rest of the message, and by the time he got to the end, he was no where near finding out what the note wanted from him.
So he read it again and again, and finally started to drag some meaning from it. It was something to do with trade, he had picked that out at least. He puzzled over the next few lines and thought about them. The guards at the other end of the empty hall were stood to attention at the doors. The hall was long and warm, with many fireplaces along the walls. The great oak tables were still there, and in one of them were too thin holes, where, once Ali had driven his two swords through the table, using his strength, grief and anger of the time to all his advantage. That had been before he was king, when he was still the third son, when his actions had mattered only to the Night Riders and not the country. Ali found his attention wandering again, thinking of times past and gone, he had a country to run, he could not go back to that now. "Trade, right" he thought. He turned his tired mind back to the message. He hoped Cullun would be back before the snows came to help him with his message. They wanted something from him. They were offering something they called valuable. But they never came out and said what it was. For about the hundredth time that evening he wished Cullun was here. He picked up a pit of parchment and wrote briefly on it. “Don’t understand what you want. If it’s of such value, please send a herald to speak with me on the subject.” And he tucked it into a cow hide wallet that he kept all these notes in. He pushed the scroll into it and tied it up when the doors at the end of the hall burst in. He groaned inwardly. Another one of his problems, and one he did not need now.
She was his daughter, the jewel of Airlessee. She was all ready getting tall in all her fifteen summers, but still a full two heads shorter than him. Her hair, a stunning deep redish gold hair, looked even brighter in the fire light, and the deep green eyes that were fixed on him. Her ears were tightly curved and hugged the side of her head. She was already filling out, a fact that all the nobles of the court had noticed, and his daughter was fond of breaking hearts. Her voice however, was high and penetrating, and she was spoilt. Ali picked up his tankard and smiled at her as she stormed towards him.
“Father!” she shrieked.
“Yes Finola?” he said quietly.
“I demand that I be given passage into the Centre Lands to visit my ladies in waiting there!”
“You will demand nothing of me in my own throne room.” Ali answered again, his control was already starting to slip. He longed to grab this daughter of his and put her over his knee.
“I will not winter in Kalmonder! I demand passage be given so I many winter where I chose!”
“No. You will not demand anything of me in my own throne room.”
“Father! How dare you! I have a right to be with my ladies in waiting!”
“You are my daughter Finola and I have the ultimate right over you. You will be staying at court this winter. And that is final.” Their was a hint of steel in this voice that Finola had heard only a few times before, most times she had been scared enough then to give in. But not this time.
“I shall run away!” she threatened.
“You shall do nothing of the sought. It would only make me come out and get you and if that happens you would find it most unhealthy.”
“Do you threaten me father?” she said, with scorn in her voice.
“I warn you child. Do not forget that the black cloak is still mine, and I still hold all the forces of the order.” Finola sneered at him. Ali lost his temper and turned the forces of his mind on his daughter. He touched her mind quickly with his before withdrawing. She would not believe he had the magic of the Inner Self, so he simply moved the chair back, stood up, and vanished, he moved himself through the magical planes of the world and ended up in his apartments, startling his valet.
Finola jumped and glared around her. Her mind had once reeled at the size of her fathers, but now it did little to impress her. He used his gifts so rarely, that hardly anyone had remembered he had them. Something sudden came to her mind, and she hurried away, her green skirts flowing along behind her. She went to her little room set aside for study. It had not been used much. She took down one of the albums of paintings and flicked through it. Something had come together in her mind, could it be? Was she right? There, a painting of a stunning half elf lady in a black cloak, stood, her hands out, her head back, and there, stood opposite her was her father! There was no doubting it now, it was him! He looked younger, and in his hands he held two swords and on one knee he knelt. The woman’s hands were on his shoulders and they were looking at each other in total loyalty. Finola did not like to study, but liked looking at these pictures, she now had no doubt her father was one of the Night Riders. She looked at the caption. “Jenny, first Queen of the Knife with her devoted servant and fellow Night Rider, Ali of Airlessee.” And that was all it said. She tore her little shelf apart looking for information on this Jenny and the Night Riders. She knew they served her father, and one of his friends was there new king. But try as she might, she only gathered slight information about this Jenny. Very little had been written down about her. She was said to be seven feet tall, have a voice like thunder and a mind like lightning. But very little of her deeds were written down.
She gave it up and went to her bed. The next morning however, she saw her father only once. He was dressed in royal garments, and his face was like a thundercloud. He was storming along the corridor towards her room, and she quickly shut the door, fearing he would knock. He did not however, but marched on towards his rooms. When he came back round some time later, she took a look at him. Her father was hardly recognisable! His hair, always tied back, was only loosely tied about the base of his neck. He wore a white shirt and a pair of black leggings with his tall riding boots and his black cloak was around his shoulders. He had a sword belted round his waist, and he moved like a cat, lightly, confident. Over his back, under his cloak was another hilt showing. He marched past. Finola left her rooms and followed him to the great hall, her green dress flowing about her. In the hall saddlebags were hastily being packed. Ali strode through it all to his table where his chamberlain was looking worried.
“I’m going to settle this now. I’ll ride out with ten members of the guard, fast, light, and then return in three days. Inside the folder is a brief note to the Membial country king, I don’t know what he’s on about, add some nice words and send it off to him. Keep a watch on Finola. Yes, that’s all. I’ll be back in three days.” And with that, he turned, lifted a pair of full saddlebags, his bow and quiver and marched out into the yard, where his horse was waiting. The horse was a descendant of Artex, Oriels horse. He mounted up and the guard formed about him. Finola walked out to greet him.
“Good morning father.” She said.
“Hail Finola daughter.” He said. He leaned down towards her and said in a quieter voice. “Don’t even think about going anywhere, I will just have to bring you back.” She nodded. Ali sat up straight and she wondered, what was it like to ride a horse like that? Her mother had forbidden her to ride or learn simple defence should she need it. “Farewell Finola, I will be back within three days.” And he pushed his heels into the horse and cantered out of Kalmonder and away towards the cliffs. Finola marched over to her mother, a pretty dark elf sat in a chair next to the ornate throne. Queen Nataly and Ali hardly talked any more. She had given him four heirs to the throne, and this girl was the youngest. Her obligations filled, she withdrew into herself. It had been a political marriage anyway, and they had never grown fond of each other, they might have had a chance once, but Ali had caught her in the arms of another man. He had stopped word getting out into the people, and they had hardly talked since. So she spoilt their daughter, their last child, and Ali could do nothing to stop it. Finola took the seat next to her as breakfast was served a little later than normal.
“Where is father going?”
“He,” She said with a lack of respect and just a touch of scorn in her voice. “Has gone to see his grandfather, and to try and console him upon the death of his lady grandmother.” Finola jumped as a shiver went all over her.
“Lady Emerald has died? How?”
“The normal way I should think.” Nataly answered, a little tartly.
“Mother!” Finola gasped. Her solid little world rocked about her suddenly.
“She was very old Finola, and her supposed magic failed her. All the wounds she suffered at the last war were reopened and she died. Your grandfather is in a right state” she gave a small chuckle that only the truly gleeful and wicked can make over someone else's missfortune.
“Mother!” Finola gasped again, “How can you say that about him! He just lost a wife dearer to him than life!”
“With any luck it will take his own life.” She said with a little chuckle. “And then your dear father will also be inconsolable for a while, leaving me to run the kingdom.”
“Mother, what about the boys? They will be the ones made regent if anything happens to daddy!” She used the word daddy for the first time in years, the wall of hate she felt for him started to crumble under the fact that it was not stood on solid ground.
“But not if I get there first!” she gave an evil little laugh. Finola got up and left the hall. She stormed up to one of the towers that she used for thinking. It had a small fire set out and with her candle she lit it to ward of the chill of the winter morning. She sat down in her armchair and started to chew on her fingers. Her feelings were suddenly mixed up. Her mother had always doted on her and these harsh words about her father were new. She had always moaned sure enough, but had never openly declared her lust for the throne. She did not know what to do. Her words about Great Grandfather Oriel chilled her to the bone. What could she do? Her mother would never be able to hold the throne intact, she would declare war on the dwarfs and get everyone killed. What could she do?
[i]Why not tell your father child?[/i] A voice said, as if it was just talking behind her ear. Finola leapt to her feet and looked about the empty tower room. [i]I’m not there you know[/i] it had a dry sort of voice, one that lacked feeling.
“Who are you?” Finola blurted out.
[i]Please, just think it. It echoes when you shout so.[/i]
"Who are you?" Finola thought
[i]A friend, for now. We have met in the flesh, but this was urgent> I always keep an ear on Kalmonder, no matter what. I just heard your mothers little plan.[/i]
"So what are you going to do? She can’t have the throne. I thought women were not allowed anyway!"
[i]Nonsense. There have been many female queens in the La Do line. Your grandmother was one, she was queen just before she married Oriel, and her mother was a lonely queen for some time. Women can rule in Kalmonder, just because Ali chose not to have your mother at his side does not mean she can’t become queen.[/i]
"Please, who are you?" Finola pleaded.
[i]I am a friend, but your mother does not appear to be. I had my suspicions, but I can’t do anything from here, you have to get to your father and stop Oriel before he does anything daft. Ride to your Great Grandfathers home and tell Ali what your mother is doing here. Tell him to bring Oriel back to court, if Tolmim Night Rider is with him tell him to go back through the passage to save time. Tell him I’ll be there in a week at most.[/i]
"What is the name?" Finola pressed.
[i]Tell him, the wolf rides towards his town, he will know who. Now go child, he is not that far ahead of you![/i]
NOTE - has been edited
But it was an excellent story!
) or saying he thought it. 
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