by Jean Rabe
"The fight." The dwarf cocked his head toward the ruckus.
"Some friends of mine. Living ones. They don't care much for Goldmoon and the settlement and are bent on destroying both."
"You'll get them killed, Gair. There's knights down there."
The elf shook his head. "Most of the knights are in Heartspring. If some of my new friends down there die, I'll bring them back… their spirits at least."
Jasper sputtered as he climbed up a dozen more steps, the elf following, urging him higher with the tip of his sword. The dwarf made out the tiny forms of the soldiers guardedly making their way up from far below.
"You owe Goldmoon. You owe her everything Gair! She took you in, taught you mysticism, saved your life on more'n one account."
"You saved my life, too, Jasper." For the briefest moment, the elf's face lost some of its harshness, and he lowered the sword an inch. "On the trail to the settlement, and then…" The elf shook his head, the meanness returning to his visage. "Because you saved my life, I will let you live forever—at my side. Goldmoon, too."
"No." Jasper shook his head and raised his hammer in front of him as the elf forced him upward a few more steps. "Let Goldmoon be, Gair. I'll give you my life if you only…" The dwarf's eyes grew wide as Gair's free hand reached to the step.
The elf began mumbling something, and Jasper saw the step crack beneath the elf's fingers. There was a faint humming—moaning?—as if the Silver Stair was protesting. The elf persisted, and the crack grew wider, scintillating slivers falling away. Minutes passed, and the moaning of the stair grew louder.
"Wh-what are you doin'?" Jasper looked back and forth between the elf's hand and his face. The eyes were closed now in concentration.
The elf continued, furrowed his brow, and mumbled something in a language the dwarf could not understand. Jasper took advantage of the moment and clambered down a few steps. He raised his hammer and brought it down toward the elf's hand.
At the last possible moment, Gair brought his sword around to block the blow. At the same time, he kicked backward with his leg, connecting with the face of a soldier who had made it up this high and sending the man hurtling to the ground far below. The elf scampered down another few steps and spun, meeting the charge of the second soldier and slicing through his abdomen. The man held his ground for a heartbeat, tried to return the blow, then toppled, screaming. Four men were left on the Silver Stair, all in single file because the steps were so narrow and all looking up, horror etched on their faces.
Gair stared at them, paused like game pieces in a row, then he spun to face Jasper, who had inched closer and was preparing to strike again. The elf crouched and leapt above the dwarf like a dancer executing a perfect aerial maneuver, landing on a step above Jasper.
Jasper turned around, a shaken look on his face.
"The stair gives me power, my old friend— physical and mystical." The elf crouched again, sword pointed down at the dwarf to keep him back, free hand against the step. Again, spiderweb-fine cracks appeared beneath his fingers. They grew, and more glistening slivers fell away. "It gives anyone power… anyone who dares to take it."
"You're destroyin' it!" Jasper sputtered. "Gair, stop this!"
"Stop this or what?" the elf taunted. His face was so contorted the dwarf hardly recognized him. "Or you'll kill me?" The elf laughed long and eerily at this. "You were always the better healer, Jasper. We both know that, but I am the better fighter. You and the dumbstruck men behind you haven't a prayer of besting me!"
"I don't want to fight you, Gair. I'd like to help you." The dwarf gestured behind him, urging the four remaining soldiers to climb back down.
"Always looking out for others." The elf watched the four soldiers slowly and carefully retrace their steps. "You should be looking out for yourself." Gair gripped the step more tightly, and the cracks widened still more.
The dwarf struggled up toward Gair and raised his hammer again.
"You don't give up, do you?" The elf shook his head and let his fingers drift to the next higher step, where more fine cracks appeared. "I was going to kill you last, because you saved me. I was going to take Goldmoon first, then—"
"Leave her alone!"
"Our dear teacher. I'm inside her mind, you know. The stair lets me do that. She's using all her energy to heal Camilla's soldiers. She knows I'm watching her, and she can't do a thing about it."
"No!" The dwarf swung hard, putting all his strength into the blow and aiming it down on the elf's hand.
This time Gair wasn't quick enough, and the hammer landed soundly, breaking his fingers. The elf howled and skittered higher, the dwarf pursuing. Many feet below, the soldiers saw the dwarf had gained the upper hand and reversed their course and were coming to join him.
"You dare!" Gair spat, as he climbed higher still, clutching his broken hand to his chest. His eyes were wide with fury, and he swung his long sword awkwardly at the dwarf.
"You can't fix broken bones," Jasper growled as he continued to pursue the elf. A mist was forming around them. They'd climbed so high they were entering another cloud that had formed. The dwarf squinted through it to keep his eyes on Gair. "Goldmoon shared that talent when you weren't around." He pressed the elf to move faster, holding his hammer high and threatening another blow.
"You can't beat me." The elf's words were ice. "Father!"
Something cold brushed by Jasper, colder than the winter wind that continued to play around him. He nearly dropped his hammer and lost his balance. It was a shadow in the mist, as dark as a starless sky. Two red lights shone inside the shadow, locking onto the dwarf as if they were eyes. Jasper shivered and forced himself to look instead at Gair. The shadow disappeared. Moments passed, and he and the elf found themselves above the mist, the top step of the Silver Stair coming into sight.
"Look!" Jasper pointed.
The elf, still nursing his hand, glanced over his shoulder.
"Did you ever climb all the way to the top, Gair? Did you ever take that chance? There it is, waitin' for you!"
The elf stared at the top step, shimmering invitingly. He hadn't realized they'd climbed so high, and the thought unnerved him, but only for a moment. "So close," he whispered. He found himself walking backward up the stairs, glancing between the dwarf and the topmost step. "So very close."
The dwarf carefully crept up beneath him, holding his position like a statue each time the elf swiveled his head back to check on him. The elf was moving slower, since he was going backward, and the dwarf waited until Gair was nearly to the top step, keeping his eyes on it; then he scrambled forward. He swung his hammer as hard as he could, slamming it into the elf's leg.
Gair cried out, more in surprise than pain, and whirled to face the dwarf, nearly losing his balance and tumbling off the step. Jasper's hammer was coming down again, striking the same leg and causing Gair to fall backward. The elf's sword clattered down the steps, then fell away into the mist far below. He looked to the dwarf, a pleading expression on his face.
"I've no weapon," the elf said. But the fingers of his good hand were closing on a step, and tiny cracks were appearing beneath it. "You've too much honor to strike an unarmed man."
"Don't." Jasper pointed his hammer at the elf's hand. "Leave the stair alone."
The elf looked up innocently, but his lips were moving, mumbling words that once again the dwarf could not understand. They didn't sound elvish. Jasper had been around enough elves in his life. They sounded human, but nothing he could place.
"I said stop!"
Gair's lips moved faster, and a pale glow rose around his fingers and edged up to his wrist.
"That's it!" The dwarf swung, striking the elf's knee, pulled back on the hammer, and brought it down again, even as the elf was struggling to his feet. The impact sent the elf teetering, arms flailing about in an attempt to gain his balance. Jasper struck Gair's leg again, and this time the elf staggered under the blow, his feet slipping off the narrow step. He seemed to hang suspe
nded for a heartbeat, limbs churning as if he were trying to fly, then he plummeted, disappearing into the mist below.
More powerful in death, the wind seemed to whisper.
Jasper shook his head. "By the beard of Reorx, I killed him."
Carefully he turned and sat on the step. He caught his breath and watched as the head of the lead soldier emerged from the mist. The man was shaking, and the dwarf knew it was from fear of being so high.
"It's all right," the dwarf said sadly. "Gair fell." More softly, he added, "He never made it to the top of the Silver Stair." He gestured toward the mist. "I know there's a big fight ragin' down there, so we'd better get ourselves down to it, but take it slow. None of us will do Goldmoon any good if we don't make it down in one piece."
The soldiers complied, backing down and keeping their hands on the steps in front of them for support. They mumbled to themselves about how high up they were, that they could barely hear the battle. It sounded like crickets chirping, and then they were below the mist, and the lights of the campfires came into view. Several fires blazed, and the men and the dwarf could tell that some of the tents were on fire. They quickened their pace as much as they dared, stopping when the lead soldier slipped. Jasper darted forward, stubby fingers locking around his wrist, keeping him from falling.
The dwarf's keen vision studied the shimmering steps, noticing where Gair had cracked them by stealing their mystical energy. "Didn't want to kill him," the dwarf said to himself, "but I couldn't let him destroy the stair or hurt Goldmoon."
The closer the soldiers got to the ground, the faster they went, the one at the bottom jumping off when he was five feet or so above the ground and landing on his rump in the snow. The clang of swords was louder here, as were the cries of those being wounded. The soldiers hurried toward the battle, which was spread across three sides of the settlement, the closest near the cliff.
Jasper grabbed his side, which stung from the exertion of climbing the Silver Stair twice in one evening almost to the top step. He tried to catch his breath, and he looked around the base of the mystical site, searching for Gair's body. The snow was disturbed from the soldiers, but there was no ready sign of the elf. The dwarf knew he couldn't have survived the fall and decided to look later, after the fight was over, provided he lived through it. He thrust his hammer in his belt and ran toward the cliff, taking a path that cut between a pair of burning tents.
Near the construction site, Goldmoon was crawling from one soldier to the next, calling on the power of her heart to stop their bleeding. She wasn't taking the time to completely heal them—that would take too much energy and keep her in one spot too long. A Solamnic Knight stood over her, keeping her safe from the spear thrusts of the angry Que-Nal.
"Too many of them," the knight told her.
Goldmoon didn't reply. She moved on to another fallen soldier, stifling a cry when she saw he was dead. She was on her feet and sprinting toward a man who'd just dropped, the knight fast behind her, parrying the blows of the vengeful Que-Nal.
The healer dropped to the man's side and felt for the warmth of her mystical healing powers. "Do not die on me, Samual," she said. He was one of the first soldiers stationed at the settlement. "Do not… yes!" His eyes fluttered open as more of her healing energy poured into him.
Above their heads, her protector knight rained a series of blows against a stocky Que-Nal, breaking his spear and driving the man back.
The healer stayed over Samual, tearing a strip from her cloak and pressing it against his shoulder, where a spear had bit viciously deep.
"You'll be all right," she told him. She was pulling him back, away from the fighting line, even as she was casting her gaze about the entire camp to take stock of the fight.
The largest battle was being fought at the construction site. Solamnic knights and soldiers were keeping dozens of Que-Nal from pressing into the main part of the settlement. Only one knight had fallen, and Goldmoon intended to get to him next. Several of her students were at the edge of the fight, using the skills she had taught them to save the injured soldiers.
A second battle raged between soldiers and Goldmoon's followers on the eastern edge of the camp, near the trail to Heartspring. Shadowwalker had found his way there and was directing his fiery-tempered disciples from a safe distance. Redstone was there, using Goldmoon's staff with telling effect. The dwarf had become the target of the old shaman's ire, and he was gesturing for the strongest of his warriors to deal with her.
Near Goldmoon's tent, which had also caught fire, another contingent of Que-Nal was struggling with the healer's followers and the gnoll. The warriors in the second rank, their backs to the sea, were using flaming arrows, though not directing them into the people but rather into the tents. The result was chaos. The elderly and the children who huddled in the center of the settlement were terrified by the fires, which were sending gouts of smoke their way and making it difficult to breathe. A handful of the older children were using their cloaks to try to put out the smallest of the fires but meeting with little success.
Orvago threw back his head and howled, then pressed forward and slashed the magical broadsword. The ivory pommel felt warm against his paw, and he swung the blade wildly as he'd seen the barbarians on the ship use their swords. The Que-Nal gave the gnoll a wide berth, trying to concentrate instead on Goldmoon's followers, only some of whom wielded swords.
One man swung an iron skillet, managing to crack it against the skull of a young Que-Nal. Near him, a woman was using a tent pole as if it were a quarterstaff, and she drove it forward into the belly of a tall warrior, knocking him back into the second rank and pushing a bowman over the cliff. The three fishermen were here, using gaff hooks against the warriors who had shields. The hooks cut into the hide shields, ripping them.
Jasper finally reached Orvago's side, out of breath and tugging his hammer free. He brought it up just in time to block the spear thrust of an angry Que-Nal. "Gair's dead!" the dwarf shouted. "He fell from the Silver Stair!"
The gnoll grunted in reply and continued to slash at the barbarians, sending two over the edge of the cliff.
Suddenly a series of shrill cries cut through the air, and the gnoll and dwarf risked a quick glance toward their source. Shadowwalker, illuminated on the far side of the settlement by all the burning tents, was on the shoulders of a burly, young barbarian. He was making a keening, yipping sound and gesturing wildly toward Heartspring. His warriors parted, some disappearing into the night, as Camilla and her knights thundered down the trail and into the settlement.
The knights charged into Shadowwalker's men, bashing the warriors with their shields to keep them off-balance and to prevent them from using their spears. The presence of the knights was enough to turn the tide of battle on the Heartspring side of the settlement. Shadowwalker ordered a retreat, and his men fell back.
Camilla did not order her knights to pursue. Rather, she scanned the settlement, ordering them to join the soldiers who were still fighting at the construction site. She spotted Goldmoon and headed toward the healer, stopping in her tracks when another sharp cry cut through the din.
"More of them?" she whispered as she craned her neck about, trying to find the source. "By the will of Kiri-Jolith, we do not have the numbers to fight these."
The cry sounded again, much closer this time, and it was echoed a dozen times over. It made the Que-Nal pause, giving the soldiers and knights openings they quickly took advantage of. As they pushed the barbarians back, Camilla reached Goldmoon.
"It was a ruse to get us out of camp," the knight explained. "Good thing I didn't take many men."
Goldmoon didn't reply. She was dressing the wounds of the fallen Solamnic Knight.
Camilla defended the healer now, using her shield to keep spears from reaching Goldmoon. The knight commander was exhausted from her run to Heartspring and back, her sword arm heavy like lead. Still she refused to quit.
Abruptly the Que-Nal started pulling back, making a fight
ing retreat as the cry cut through the night again. Branches snapped and snow crunched as more Que-Nal broke into the settlement, but these were not fighting Goldmoon and her followers. They struck out at their brothers instead.
"Skydancer!" Iryl called from across the settlement.
The Que-Nal chieftain directed his warriors after the renegades, and within moments, Shadowwalker's men were fleeing. Heartbeats later, they were nowhere to be seen.
Iryl raced toward the chieftain.
The settlers went to work battling the fires, which had consumed half the tents. Some counted heads, and others looked to the wounded. Goldmoon backed away from the injured knight and helped him to his feet. Despite the cold, she was sweating from the strain of tending to so many people. She didn't object when Camilla put an arm around her shoulder for support. Silently the two women took in the aftermath.
More than a dozen soldiers had died, and twice that many were wounded. Only one knight was slain, and this because a Que-Nal spear found its way between the fastenings of his breastplate. Two of the Thorbardin dwarves had also perished, and Redstone hovered, distraught, at their sides.
Orvago and Jasper, their clothes coated with the barbarians' blood, tromped over, edging through the crowd of settlers and soldiers and spying Goldmoon next to Camilla.
"Gair's dead!" Jasper called to her. "He fell from the stair. I think he brought the renegades down on us." The dwarf moved closer. "I tried to help him," he said more softly, meaning the words only for the healer. "I don't think there was anythin' good still inside him." He shook his head. "I killed him, Goldmoon, but I didn't really have a choice."
"Neither do I."
The crowd seemed to utter a collective gasp. Hovering above the center of the camp, suspended by two inky-black shadows with glowing red eyes, was Gair.
17
Acts of Desperation
"Whisperers!" the gnoll shouted. He waved his broadsword and pushed his way through the crowd, leaping and trying to get close enough to slice at one of the undead who held the elf.
