In Sylvan Shadows

by R. A. Salvatore

  All was quiet again for moments that seemed like days to the nervous companions.

  “Where are you?” Cadderly whispered to the empty path ahead, trusting in Danica’s skills but fearful nonetheless. He held his small crossbow, cranked and ready, and had to remind himself several times, as he had reminded Elbereth, to have patience and trust in Danica. “Where are you?”

  As if in reply, Danica shot up behind one of the goblin guards. Her arm flicked then she reached around the goblin’s head, put her hand over its mouth, and pulled it down into the bushes.

  The other guard slumped to its knees, clutching at the dagger embedded deeply in its chest.

  The cry of a jay sounded almost immediately, and Elbereth echoed it back to Rufo. In a heartbeat, they were up and riding, with powerful Temmerisa easily outpacing the lesser mounts.

  To the left of the road, an archer popped up, but Elbereth was quicker on the draw and the goblin went down in a heap.

  Two other archers appeared from the brush farther down the road. Danica noticed them and rushed ahead. She spun to the side, dodging one arrow, and stopped her spin perfectly to continue her charge then dived flat to her belly to avoid another arrow. She never slowed through the evasive movements, and the goblins didn’t have time to ready their bows again before Danica leaped at them, turning flat out and horizontal in midair to knock both of them to the ground.

  His blue silk cape flying behind him, Cadderly put his head down, held on to his wide-brimmed hat, and spurred his horse on, desperate to get beside Danica. He could see the bushes shaking with the struggle. A goblin arm shot up, holding a sword, then chopped down wickedly.

  “No!” Cadderly cried.

  The same sword reappeared above the brush—but in Danica’s hand. When it descended, a goblin squealed in agony.

  Elbereth’s mount reared as it passed the wounded guard on the road. The elf finished the monster off with his sword then bent low in his saddle to retrieve Danica’s valuable dagger. A goblin rushed out from the brush on the other side, intent on the elf, but Kierkan Rufo—or more accurately, Kierkan Rufo’s horse—promptly ran the creature down.

  Danica was back to the edge of the road, crouching low and waiting for Cadderly to get to her. Another goblin appeared, rushing toward her with sword drawn.

  Cadderly’s wide-brimmed hat flew off, bouncing behind his neck at the end of its tie and flying with his silken cape. He drew his loaded crossbow and tried to get a shot at the creature. Frustrated by the bounce of the horse’s gallop, he spurred his mount on, thundering right up behind the goblin. The goblin turned, growled, and waved its sword.

  It never got the chance to use it. Just a couple of feet away, Cadderly let the dart fly. Another long horse stride took him right by the goblin, within the creature’s sword reach, but the goblin was in the air, flying away into the brush, already dead.

  Cadderly hadn’t escaped unscathed, though. So close to his target, the flash of the exploding dart burned and blinded him, and he nearly lost his seat. Then Danica was up behind him, guiding the horse back to the center of the path and holding Cadderly steady.

  Elbereth and Rufo were right behind; hoots and calls went up all around them.

  “Ride on!” the elf prince cried, rearing and spinning Temmerisa around. His great bow twanged again, then again, each shot sending another enemy to the grave.

  Rufo’s horse, with just one rider, got a few paces ahead of Cadderly’s, making Cadderly and Danica the prime targets for those goblins springing from the brush along the road. A few clumsily thrown spears bounced harmlessly short, one arrow whistled by, and another came in, straight for Cadderly’s back.

  Danica noticed it at the last instant and threw her arm up to block.

  “What?” came Cadderly’s alarmed cry.

  “It is nothing!” Danica replied. “Ride on!” She figured it wasn’t the time to show Cadderly the arrow sticking through her forearm.

  A few more strides and they were running free. Then came Temmerisa, as fast as an arrow. In a heartbeat, Elbereth was beside them again, grim-faced but unhurt.

  When they had put half a mile behind them, they slowed their pace and dismounted. It was then that they noticed Danica’s wound.

  Cadderly nearly fell over, seeing the bloody arrow shaft protruding from both sides of Danica’s delicate limb. Elbereth rushed over to her, spurring the young scholar to do the same.

  “It’s not serious,” Danica said to calm them.

  “How can you say that?” came Cadderly’s retort.

  He went back to the horse to retrieve his pack and returned bearing bandages and a jar of salve. By the time he was back beside her, Danica had pulled the arrow all the way through and was deep in concentration, using her meditative powers to gather the strength she would need to battle the pain.

  Cadderly tried not to disturb her concentration as he gently wrapped the wound. Danica’s mental powers were truly amazing. Cadderly had once seen her force a two-inch sliver from her leg without even touching it with her hands, using nothing but sheer concentration and muscle control. He did the best he could in wrapping the arm, but hesitated, a trapped expression clouding his face.

  “What is it?” Elbereth demanded.

  Cadderly ignored him and summoned the courage to call upon Deneir. He muttered the chants of minor healing prayers, one after another, though he wasn’t well-versed in the art and didn’t know how much good he was doing.

  Reluctantly, for he had hoped to save his curative spells for himself, Kierkan Rufo came over to join him.

  Before Rufo could begin to work on the arm, though, Danica opened her eyes. “That will not be necessary,” she said to the sharp-featured priest, her eyes glazed and a look of sincere contentment on her smooth face.

  Elbereth and Cadderly both started to protest, but then Cadderly looked more closely at the wrapping and realized that the wound had already stopped bleeding. He couldn’t be sure if his spells or Danica’s own concentration had stemmed the flow, and he honestly didn’t care either way.

  “We must continue,” Danica said, her voice almost sleepy, “as before, with Elbereth in front and me to the side.”

  Elbereth protested. “I will take the lead,” he agreed, “but you will stay with the others and the horses. We are not so far from Daoine Dun. If that is my people’s camp, I do not believe we will encounter any more enemies between here and there.”

  Cadderly was surprised when Danica failed to argue. He knew then that her wound was much more serious and painful than she had let on.

  They walked on into the twilight, when the wood, shrouded in deepening gloom, took on an even more ominous appearance to Cadderly. He grew alarmed as Elbereth disappeared from sight, slipping suddenly into the trees. Soon, though, the elf was back on the path and approaching, two other tall, grim-faced elves beside him. He introduced them as his cousins and was glad to report that his people had indeed set camp on the Hill of the Stars, just a mile north.

  One of the elves accompanied them the rest of the way; the other went back to his watch.

  Their escort told Elbereth of the battles; Cadderly saw the elf prince grimace as the other elf described the last skirmish, wherein a wizard had appeared and turned a tree to flames.

  “Ralmarith is dead,” the elf said, “and Shayleigh—”

  Elbereth spun on him and grabbed him by the shoulders.

  “She lives,” the elf said, “though she is sorely wounded, and sorely wounded, too, is her heart. She was the last to leave Ralmarith and had to be pulled away.”

  Elbereth was not surprised. “She is a loyal friend,” he agreed.

  Elbereth went first to find Shayleigh when they reached Daoine Dun, though word was quickly—and often—passed to him that his father, the king, wished to speak with him.

  Cadderly was amazed at how easily the elf prince seemed to ignore that request and follow his own agenda. It reminded the young scholar somewhat of himself on one of the many occasions he ha
d avoided a summons from Headmaster Avery. Cadderly dismissed the thought quickly, not yet comfortable with any comparisons between himself and the arrogant, unmerciful Elbereth.

  They found the wounded maiden on a cot in a small cave that had been set up to care for the injured. She was heavily bandaged in several places but didn’t seem so bad off to Cadderly—until he looked into her eyes. There loomed a sadness unlike anything the young scholar had ever seen.

  “We left Ralmarith,” the maiden whispered, her voice choked, as soon as Elbereth moved beside her. “They killed him, hacked his body …”

  Elbereth tried to calm her. “Ralmarith walks in Arvandor. Do not fear for him.”

  Shayleigh nodded but had to look away.

  They sat in silence for some time then another elf entered and moved to tend Danica’s injured arm. The stubborn monk politely refused, but Cadderly nudged her hard and reminded her that the dressing had to be changed. With a defeated sigh, Danica moved off with the elf.

  “When will you be back in the fight?” Elbereth asked Shayleigh.

  “Tomorrow,” the maiden said.

  “That is good,” said Elbereth. “Rest well this night. Tomorrow we shall fight together, and together avenge Ralmarith!” He took a step toward the entrance.

  “You are leaving?” Shayleigh asked, alarmed.

  “There are goblins to the south,” Elbereth explained. “I believe they intend to surround the hill. We cannot allow that.” He looked over at Danica. “She will remain beside you,” he said to Shayleigh. “A fine warrior and ally for our struggle.”

  “Are you going after the goblins tonight?” Cadderly asked Elbereth. “The day would seem more favorable. Goblins don’t fight well in sunlight.”

  “This is Shilmista,” Elbereth reminded him, as though that fact alone explained everything. The elf prince stood tall and straight, his jaw firm, his silver eyes narrowed and stern. “The goblins shall die, day or night.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Cadderly offered.

  “I will not have you,” Elbereth replied. “You are n Tel’Quessir—not of the People—and will not be able to see in the darkness.” Of Shayleigh he asked, “Where is Tintagel?”

  “With your father,” Shayleigh replied. “We have called for Daoine Teague Feer, but Galladel has refused thus far.”

  Elbereth considered that news for a few moments but had no time to worry about it. He swept out of the tent, telling Cadderly and Rufo to rest easily and find a fine meal.

  Scant moments later, fifty elves set out on the goblin hunt, Elbereth leading upon Temmerisa, and the wizard Tintagel at his side. They returned at middark, reporting a hundred goblins slain and scores more sent running. Not a single elf had been wounded.

  Cadderly was too excited to sleep, weary though he was. He had read much about elves over the years, but had met only a few—and those only at the library. Something about being in Shilmista, on a hill under the stars, surrounded by elves, transcended the experience of reading about the People. There was a flavor, an eldritch aura, that mere words, however well constructed, couldn’t hope to capture.

  He wandered the camp, greeted at every turn by smiles on otherwise grim faces, noting the rich colors, even in the quiet darkness, of the elves’ hair and eyes. Those stirring in the camp were too busy to be disturbed, so he didn’t bother introducing himself, just tipped his wide-brimmed hat and wandered past.

  He had known from the moment he’d left the Edificant Library that the journey would change his life, and he had feared that. He feared it still, for already the world seemed a wider place—more dangerous and more wonderful all at once.

  And what of Elbereth? Cadderly didn’t like the elf or the way the elf treated him, but instincts told him differently, told him of the elf’s honor and loyalty.

  When his thoughts inevitably turned to Danica, he found a rocky seat on the north side of the hill and dropped his chin into his hands. Danica, it seemed, held no reservations concerning Elbereth. She had accepted the elf prince as friend and companion. That fact bothered Cadderly more than he cared to admit.

  Cadderly sat for a long while, long after the war party had returned. In the end, he resolved nothing.

  NINE

  DAOINE TEAGUE FEER

  Many elves’ eyes had opened wide when Elbereth entered the encampment escorted by three humans. Few n Tel’Quessir came to Shilmista, especially with battle raging. Another set of eyes opened wider still, though, yellow eyes sown with tiny red capillaries.

  Druzil nearly fell out of his perch, high in a thin blueleaf tree overlooking the camp, when he saw Rufo, Danica, and especially Cadderly. The imp recognized the young scholar at once and instinctively rubbed the remnants of a bruise on his flank where Cadderly had once popped him with a poisoned dart.

  Druzil felt suddenly vulnerable, despite the fact that he was invisible and in a tree too weak-limbed for even the lithe elves to climb. He hadn’t approached the camp too closely, fearing that the elves would discover him, but with that devilish young man about, the imp wondered what distance might be safe.

  Druzil sent his thoughts back to Dorigen, who awaited his return about a mile to the north. Druzil let the wizard see through his eyes as he followed Cadderly’s progress through the camp.

  What is he doing here? Druzil demanded, as though he expected Dorigen to know.

  He? came her incredulous thoughts. Who is he?

  The young priest! the imp shot back. His thoughts almost screamed that Cadderly was Aballister’s son, but Druzil deflected that notion, preferring to hold that bit of news until he could watch Dorigen’s expression.

  He is from the Edificant Library, the one who defeated Barjin, the imp continued.

  From the long pause that followed, Druzil could tell that Dorigen had caught on to his sense of urgency. The imp recalled the battle in which Cadderly had brought him down with a dart coated in sleep poison. Druzil thought he sensed Dorigen’s amusement when she shared that memory—he had to let her deep in his thoughts to allow her to see what he saw—and he sent a stream of curses her way.

  Another thought struck Druzil and he looked around the camp, searching for the two dwarves that had accompanied Cadderly on that previous occasion. They were nowhere to be found, though, and Druzil hoped they were dead.

  Who are the others? Dorigen asked, growing impatient after silent moments had passed.

  The girl was with the priest then, though I do not know what role she played, the imp explained. The other … Druzil paused, recalling the description Barjin had given him of the fool who had initially aided the Talonite priest’s cause: angular and tall, and walking with a slight tilt to his stance.

  Kierkan Rufo, Druzil decided, figuring there couldn’t be another at the library who so accurately fit Barjin’s description. Dorigen didn’t press him further, so Druzil decided to be blunt with the wizard. I wish to be gone from here.

  Around him, the camp seemed to come alive with activity, elves running about and shouting that Prince Elbereth had returned.

  Come to me, Druzil, Dorigen bade, apparently seeing the imp’s wisdom.

  She didn’t have to ask twice.

  “I requested your presence some time ago,” Galladel said when Elbereth finally walked into his chamber. “In times of peace, I can overlook your irrespon—”

  “A force of goblins had set up to the south of Daoine Dun,” Elbereth interrupted. “Would you rather I had allowed them to fortify and entrench? They are gone now, and the way is clear if we are forced to flee—as I suspect we might if rumors of the approaching northern force are true.”

  The news took the momentum from the aged king’s ire. He turned to the many scrolls strewn across the wide stone table.

  “I will need your assistance,” he said. “The patrols need to be coordinated. We must keep count of weapons and food.” He roughed the papers around a bit, just to show his obvious displeasure.

  Elbereth watched his father with growing concern. There was so
mething too restrictive about Galladel’s movements and tactics, something too humanlike for the younger elf’s liking.

  “The forest is our home,” Elbereth said, as though that remark alone explained his disrespect.

  Galladel glared at him, suspecting he had just been insulted.

  “We must be out fighting,” Elbereth continued, “freely, as our instincts and the trees guide us.”

  “Our attacks must be planned,” the older elf argued. “Our enemy is many times stronger than we, and well organized.”

  “Then awaken the wood,” Elbereth said.

  Galladel’s silver eyes, so similar to his son’s, widened in disbelief.

  “Awaken the trees,” Elbereth said again, more firmly. “Call up the allies of our past, that together we might destroy those who have come to conquer Shilmista.”

  Galladel’s soft laughter mocked him. “You know nothing of what you speak,” he said. “You talk of the task as though it were a foregone event, easily manifested. Even in the older days, when I was a young elf, the trees would no longer come to the king’s call.”

  Elbereth had only made the remark to draw a response from his weary father. When he saw the sadness creep into Galladel’s eyes, he came to doubt his own wisdom.

  “The ancient magic is gone, my son,” Galladel continued, his voice subdued, “as faded as the days when the world belonged to the fey races—legends for fireside tales, but no more. We will win this war, but we will win it with blood and arrows.”

  “Yet you have sent emissaries to the Edificant Library, begging aid?” Elbereth asked.

  Galladel paled. “I sent you,” he replied.

  “I was sent to gather information. I knew nothing of the start of a war,” Elbereth argued. He knew he was right, but knew, too, that his father’s patience had worn thin. “We must ask for aid from the library, and the legion of Carradoon should be called up as well.”