In Sylvan Shadows

by R. A. Salvatore

  They buried the fallen elves, Danica offering her thanks to the dwarves, though stubborn Elbereth would not, then they searched the whole hill. Elbereth kept to the trees, seeking to learn more of what had happened and where his friends and enemies might have gone. Ivan and Pikel led the search of the caves. In one they found the half-eaten bodies of several horses, though, fortunately, Temmerisa was not among them.

  In another chamber, in the cave that Galladel had used as his own, they made what Cadderly considered a remarkable discovery. Several books and scrolls were strewn about the floor, as if the elf king had hurriedly departed, quickly selecting what he should take with him and what to leave behind. Most of the writings were meaningless notes, but in one corner Cadderly found an ancient tome, bound in black leather and bearing the Espruar runes for the letters “D,” “Q,” and “q.” Cadderly took up the book in trembling hands, suspecting its contents. He gingerly undid the snap and opened it.

  The ink was faded and the page was filled with many symbols that Cadderly could not understand. It bore the name Cadderly expected to see, though: Dellanil Quil’quien, the long-dead king of Shilmista and one of the forest’s legendary heroes.

  “What have you found?” came Elbereth’s call from the cave entrance. He stood beside Danica; Ivan and Pikel had moved on to the next hole.

  “Your father would not have left this intentionally,” Cadderly explained, turning and displaying the black-covered tome. “It is the book of Dellanil Quil’quien, a priceless work.”

  “I am surprised my father brought it along at all,” Elbereth replied, “but I am not surprised that he left it behind. The book holds little value for him. Its writings are arcane, using many symbols that we of Shilmista can no longer comprehend. The book holds nothing for us. Take it back to your library if you desire.”

  “Surely you err,” Cadderly said. “Dellanil Quil’quien was among your greatest heroes. His feats, his magic, could prove critical examples at this dire time.”

  “As I have told you,” replied Elbereth, “we can no longer even read the work. Nor can you. Many of the symbols have not been used for centuries.

  “Come now,” Elbereth bade the two humans. “We must move on. Even as we speak, my People may be in another battle, and I do not wish to remain at this scarred place any longer than is necessary.” The elf walked out into the afternoon sunlight.

  Danica waited by the entrance for Cadderly. “You’re keeping the book?” she asked, seeing him placing it in his pack.

  “I don’t agree with Elbereth’s estimation of its value,” Cadderly replied. “There may be something in Dellanil’s writings that will help us in our fight.”

  “But you cannot even read it,” Danica said.

  “We shall see,” Cadderly replied. “I’ve translated many works back at the library. Now, at least, I have a task that I am prepared to handle—as you might, when you are faced with hand-to-hand combat.”

  Danica nodded and said no more. She led Cadderly out of the cave and down to where the elf prince waited for the dwarves to complete their search.

  For Cadderly, the book came as a godsend. He really didn’t believe, didn’t dare to hope, that he would find something important in the work, even if he could manage to translate the strange runes. But just working toward the common goal of saving the forest while using his unique skills added a bit of spring to the young scholar’s steps.

  Most important of all, finding and working with the book of Dellanil Quil’quien would somewhat remove Cadderly from the violence. He longed for that time past, before Barjin had come to the Edificant Library, when adventures were found only in the words of ancient books.

  Perhaps the work would block the harsh realities that had so suddenly surrounded the young scholar.

  FIFTEEN

  AIMING HIGH

  We can get around them by shifting a mile to the east,” Danica explained when she rejoined the others in the small evergreen grove they had taken as shelter. “The enemy line is less deep there. We’ll be beyond them before they ever realize we’ve passed.”

  The plan met with approval from Cadderly, but Ivan and Pikel didn’t seem too pleased to learn that they’d marched that far and might not even get the chance to crunch an orog’s skull. The companions had journeyed several miles from Daoine Dun without incident, though signs of the enemy’s passing—hack and scorch marks on almost every tree—were painfully obvious. At last the companions had found the enemy along a rushing river, in a line that seemed to span the forest’s width. Elbereth’s people had apparently made a stand at the river and were encamped beyond its protective banks.

  Elbereth didn’t immediately embrace Danica’s plan. He, too, had gone scouting, and while Danica had found a potential break to the east that might get them to the elven camp, the elf prince had found something that might alter the entire battle’s course.

  A short distance west of their position, on a high ridge above the river and overlooking the lands to the south, lay an enemy camp dotted with tents—the only tents Elbereth had seen.

  “I’ve found their leaders’ camp,” Elbereth explained to Danica. “Or so I believe.”

  “Well guarded, no doubt,” Cadderly had to put in, especially when he saw a gleam in Danica’s almond eyes.

  “Perhaps,” Elbereth answered, hardly paying any heed to the worried young scholar, “but no more than any other position in the enemy’s lines.”

  “Except the break that Danica has found,” Cadderly replied, his desire to be rejoined with the elven host without further combat obvious in his almost frantic tone.

  “Not to fear,” Ivan whispered to Cadderly. “Me brother and me can be making our own breaks.”

  “What say you, Danica?” Elbereth asked. Cadderly wasn’t certain he liked that the elf prince, who always seemed to value nothing but his own opinions, had asked for Danica’s approval. “If we can get to the enemy leader, we may be able to change the course of the war,” Elbereth added before the woman gave her answer.

  Danica’s wry smile revealed the adventurous woman’s answer before she opened her mouth to reply. “It seems a desperate course,” she began, but her tone reflected no fear. “A desperate course for a desperate situation.”

  “Oo oi!” Pikel heartily agreed. Cadderly gave the dwarf a frown that stole his widening smile.

  Elbereth quickly knelt and cleared away some pine needles. He took up a stick and drew a map of the ridge.

  “There are only five of us,” Cadderly reminded them, though no one was listening.

  “I have heard that the leader’s name is Ragnor,” Elbereth began, “a monstrous beast, an orc-ogre half-breed, my scouts believe, marked by a tusk protruding over his upper lip.”

  “Wonderful,” Cadderly muttered grimly, and Ivan paid enough attention to kick him in the shin.

  “If Ragnor is at the camp, we can expect he will separate himself from us behind whatever monstrous guards he can muster.”

  “Wonderful,” Cadderly said again. Danica elbowed him hard in the ribs. The young scholar began to get the feeling that he wouldn’t even make it to the enemy camp if he kept commenting.

  “And what monsters did ye see?” asked Ivan, leaning closer than anybody toward the crude map.

  Elbereth seemed surprised by the dwarf’s interest. “Bugbears, mostly,” the elf answered. “Actually, I would have expected more powerful guards, ogres at least, and perhaps a giant or two.”

  Cadderly winced but held his tongue. The orogs, large and powerful, had come as a shock to him, and the ogres’ sheer size had nearly made him swoon. What would be his reaction, he wondered, if he found himself facing a true giant?

  “Can you be certain, then, that this is the leader’s camp?” Danica asked.

  Elbereth thought for a moment then shook his head. “It is an assumption,” he admitted. “I saw no other tents anywhere along the line, just crude lean-tos of twigs. And this particular ridge is most favorable for the enemy leader to keep a w
atch on the action to the south.”

  “Maybe it’s Dorigen’s camp,” Cadderly put in.

  “Either way,” Ivan boomed, slapping his great axe against his hand, “we’ll give the scum a thing or two to think about!”

  Again, Elbereth was surprised by the dwarf’s interest. “I do not know how we might best approach,” the elf admitted. “If we sneak in as close as we can, perhaps we will discern the appropriate attack route.”

  “In what order?” Ivan asked.

  Elbereth looked at him blankly.

  “As I thought,” remarked the dwarf. “Ye’re more for working on yer own than to leading a fight. Step aside, elf. I’ll give ye a plan!”

  Elbereth neither moved nor blinked.

  “Listen, ye stubborn son of a willow tree,” Ivan growled, poking a stubby finger Elbereth’s way. “I know ye’re doubting me friendship—and ye should be, for I’m not calling ye friend. And when the fightin’s done, yerself and me have a date. Don’t ye hope for a moment that I’m forgetting that! And I’m not caring a thing for yer ‘People,’ or yer stinking wood, neither!”

  Pikel’s growl slowed Ivan’s budding momentum.

  “Well, me brother likes yer wood,” Ivan said to calm the savage would-be druid. He spun back on Elbereth. “For all yer suspicions, though, don’t ye be doubting me friendship to Cadderly and Danica. If they’re to go in, then me and me brother are fighting aside them, and I’m betting that me axe takes more heads than yer skinny sword!”

  “We shall learn the truth of that boast,” Elbereth said, his silver eyes narrowed. His grim expression did not relent, but he shifted away from the map, giving the dwarf full access.

  Ivan bent low over the sketch, grunting and pulling at his still sooty beard. “How deep’s the river beyond the ridge?” he asked.

  “To my waist, perhaps,” the elf replied.

  “Hmmm,” mumbled the dwarf. “And the drop’s a bit high to take that course. We’ll have to hit ’em hard and get quick to the east, to where yerself—” he pointed to Danica—“saw a way through.”

  “Our lives are not important,” said Elbereth. “If we can kill the enemy leader, whether or not we escape is of no concern.”

  Cadderly’s mouth dropped open.

  “Yer own life’s not important,” Ivan agreed, “but the rest of us would prefer to keep our skin, thank ye.”

  Cadderly’s sigh sounded clearly like a note of gratitude to Ivan.

  “But if we can hit them hard and fast enough, we’ll get our way back out,” Ivan went on. “We’d be better off if ye had yer bow, elf, to lead our way in, but I’ve got a hammer or two to spin into a bugbear’s eye. Here’s me thinking. Yerself, the elf, and Danica will lead us in. The two of ye are the fastest and should get yer chance at the boss. Cadderly will come next, watching both sides to see where he’s most needed.”

  Cadderly realized that Ivan had politely told him to keep out of the way—not that he minded.

  “Me and me brother’ll take up the back end,” Ivan went on. “That way ye won’t need to be worrying that a bugbear will be crawling up yer backside.”

  Elbereth studied the drawing and found little to complain about concerning Ivan’s plan. It seemed solid enough, though the elf was somewhat surprised that the dwarf had made allowances for him to personally battle Ragnor. Elbereth had presumed that Ivan would want that glory for himself.

  “Suppose Dorigen is still there,” Cadderly interjected, still not thrilled with the whole idea.

  “Then we can do even more harm to our enemies,” Elbereth replied.

  “Many of my fighting styles are designed to deal with wizards,” Danica added, offering Cadderly the consolation that he obviously needed. “As in my previous encounter with Dorigen, I believe the wizard will have little in her repertoire to harm me.”

  “Unless you are busy battling bugbears or some other monsters,” Cadderly retorted. “Then you might prove an easy target for one of Dorigen’s lightning blasts.”

  “It’ll be up to yerself,” Ivan decided. “Keep yer watch for the wizard. If ye see her, then knock her down with yer fancy bow.”

  “I don’t have it anymore,” Cadderly said.

  “Then use yer stick, or that toy ye dance at the string’s end,” said Ivan.

  “Dorigen has my crossbow,” Cadderly said, on the verge of panic.

  None of the others seemed to share his apprehension about that fact. In unison, they looked to Ivan to continue with his plotting.

  “She has my crossbow and some of the magically loaded darts!” Cadderly said again, even more anxiously.

  “If Dorigen is more concerned with that weapon than with her repertoire of spells, we’ll be better off,” Danica said, her calm tone mocking Cadderly’s concern.

  “We’ll just hope she’s not as good a shot with the thing as yerself, lad,” Ivan added. Similarly unconcerned, he went back to his plan. “I’m thinking that twilight would be the best time to go, when the light’s down a bit but before the darkness takes advantage from our human friends.”

  Elbereth looked to Danica, who nodded her accord.

  “When ye’re done with the brute boss, ye’ll have me and Pikel to take ye back out again,” Ivan explained to Elbereth. “We’ll cut ye a path ye could ride yer horse through.”

  “That we do not doubt,” Danica said, and even Elbereth, so angry at the dwarf just a short while before, made no sarcastic comments.

  “We’re off then,” Ivan said, taking up his great axe. He motioned with his arm for Elbereth to take up the lead.

  The group moved quietly into position under the widespread boughs of a pine tree and waited while the last of the daylight faded. Cadderly sat on the western edge of the shadows, trying to get every last moment of light as he worked hard over an open book. At first, Danica thought he was still trying to translate the book of Dellanil Quil’quien, but then she saw that he held The Tome of Universal Harmony instead.

  “There are spells that might be of use,” Cadderly explained in answer to her inquisitive glance.

  Danica’s expression revealed her surprise. She had never seen Cadderly attempt any clerical magic beyond simple spells of healing, had never really considered him that manner of priest.

  “I have spent my life in the order of Deneir,” Cadderly protested, drawing a slap from nearby Ivan and a profound “Sssshhh!” from Pikel.

  Cadderly turned back to the book. “There is a spell of silence,” he whispered, “which might hinder Dorigen if she appears in the battle and attempts her magic.”

  He could tell that Danica wasn’t convinced, and he couldn’t honestly find the words to argue against her look. Cadderly had performed minor ceremonies before, had once created a font of holy water—in which he had immersed the bottle containing the dreaded chaos curse—but in truth, he had never put much store in spells. He was a Deneirrath, a disciple of Deneir, the god of art and literature, primarily because he had been raised among that sect at the Edificant Library and because Deneir’s edicts so befit Cadderly’s intelligent and kind nature. Cadderly had spent nearly as much time with the priests of Oghma, god of knowledge, and secretly considered himself a true priest of neither—to Headmaster Avery’s ultimate frustration.

  “Time to go,” Ivan whispered.

  Cadderly quickly perused the spell of silence one last time, hoping that if the need arose, he would find the strength to use it. Full of trepidation—should he have tried to study spells of healing instead?—he slipped the tome back into his pack beside Dellanil’s book.

  They started off cautiously for the sloping, grassy incline that led to the tent-covered ridge. Danica stopped them a short distance out and disappeared into the brush, returning a few moments later.

  “Sentry,” she explained when she came back to them.

  “Bugbear?” Elbereth asked.

  “Goblin.”

  “Dead goblin,” Ivan muttered, giving Danica an appreciative wink.

  Pikel added a hap
py, “Hee hee.”

  They came to a halt crouched in a line of thick brush just below the enemy camp. The grassy slope was teasingly quiet. A couple of bugbears wandered along no apparent course, and through the open flaps of one of the side tents, the companions could see others milling about. But it was the topmost tent, on the crest of the ridge, that held the companions’ attention. Somewhat smaller than the other two tents, it was by far the finest and left little doubt where the enemy leader, if this was indeed Ragnor’s camp, would be located.

  “Now or not at all,” Ivan whispered to Elbereth. The elf turned to the dwarf and gave a determined nod. Then Elbereth looked to Danica and they burst from the brush and began their wild charge up the hill.

  Head low, arms and legs pumping in perfect harmony, Danica quickly outdistanced the elf. She hit the first two bugbears before they could guess that they were under attack. Knees and elbows flew wildly then so did the bugbears, which tumbled to the grass with little desire to return to face the frenzied woman.

  Elbereth charged past Danica as the second bugbear flew away, the elf bearing down on a third monster, similarly surprised but with time enough to ready a long spear with which to meet the attackers.

  The elf prince’s focus went beyond the creature, to the flap of the fine tent he knew was Ragnor’s. He hardly noticed the spear thrust his way.

  His fine sword whipped across, snapping the bugbear’s crude weapon before it got near its mark. Elbereth ran right by the stunned bugbear, sticking his sword into its knee as he passed so that it couldn’t follow him up the hill.

  The unfortunate creature, clutching at its wound, unwittingly remained in Danica’s path as she followed the elf. Hardly slowing, she launched a perfectly synchronized kick with her running strides, catching the bending monster in the chin and laying it straight out on the ground.

  The felled beast noticed another human running past a heartbeat later then it felt the heavy stomp of dwarven boots. The last thing the bugbear saw was the swift descent of a huge axe.

  Alarms rang out all through the encampment, and the two side tents opened up, with many bugbears and several goblins spilling out onto the grassy hill.