"You have a chance to prove your worth to the People, sooner than you might have anticipated. Know that one human more or less is of no consequence to me," she said coldly.
"Understood," Arilyn agreed. She took the arrows and followed the nimble elves down to the forest floor.
Perhaps forty elves were gathered there; the rest of the village, the young ones and the aged, had vanished into the trees. Arilyn's gaze swept over the warriors, taking note of their weapons and the totem animals tattooed onto their shoulders. These totems and spirit guides said much of an elf e skill and character.
"I have several fire-forged short swords and daggers in my packs. You are a strong hunter, and you, and those two females standing together," she said as she removed the weapons and tossed them to the ground.
The elves she'd indicated eyed the fine weapons with interest, but all cast inquiring glances at Rhothomir.
"What do you know of human magic?" he asked Arilyn.
"Nothing good."
The answer came from her before she could consider its impact, but it brought a grimly amused smile to the face of the elven leader. "But you have faced it in battle?"
"Many times."
Rhothomir turned to the assembled warriors. "Ferret has made her decision. I add to it my own: the moon elf will lead this battle. Pick up your swords."
Arilyn accepted command with a curt nod, then turned to the raven-haired elf woman who had brought word of the battle. "How far?"
"Two hours' run, maybe less"
And then she was off, running like a rabbit through the thick foliage. The others fell in behind without sparing so much as a glance at their new war leader. Nor did Arilyn expect otherwise. She worked alone most of the time, but she had learned much from observing some of the best leaders the northern lands had known. There were times when the best thing to do was shut up and follow.
And so she did, running as lightly as any green elf, toward what she suspected would be the first of many such battles.
Thirteen
The clash and the cries of war-fere rang through the forest, speeding the footsteps of the green elves who ran toward battle. True to her word, Ferret stayed at Arilyn's back, running as softly as a shadow. The Harper did her best to ignore the threat the elf woman posed, so that she might concentrate on the battle before her. The sounds coming from the vale ahead-the clanging of swords, the grunts and screams of pain, the horrible, hate-filled oaths hurled by the human fighters- promised that the battle would be difficult and ugly.
Arilyn pulled to a stop some hundred yards from the battlefield, just as the first of the Talltrees warriors nocked an arrow and sent it hurtling into the midst of the wild melee. Before the first arrow found its mark, the elven archer followed with a second. Both arrows disappeared in a burst of white light, just short of their target. "Hold!" shouted Arilyn, flinging out a hand toward the other ready archers, for at least six other elves had bowstrings drawn and arrows ready for flight. Something in her tone and her face stopped them.
Before the elves' horrified gaze, twin bolts of arcane lighting sizzled back toward the first archer. The white lines of fire engulfed the elf. A brilliant areola flared around him, briefly, and then it was gone, leaving nothing of him but a flurry of black ash.
"They've got a Halruaan wizard," she told Rhothomir-and the watchful Ferret-in a grim tone. That's bad."
The Harper quickly took stock of the battlefield. There was a small open area, thickly shaded by the giant trees that ringed it and crowded with men and elves in fierce hand-to-hand combat. More than two hours had passed since Talltrees had received word of the battle, and by all appearances it had raged without pause since that time. The ground was trampled and blood-soaked; few of the combatants had escaped wounds, hi the center of the battlefield, five or six elves had been manacled with foot-hold traps and were crowded together This, Arilyn reasoned, was the bait that had lured the green elves into open combat. Five men, three of them swordsmen and one an archer, stood over these prisoners. The other, the only unarmed person on the field, had to be their wizard. The armor he wore was more affectation than protection. The odd ensemble-metal-studded leather augmented with metal shoulder plates, chest guard, and cod piece-could only have come from the imagination of a Halruaan artificer. Around this inner group, standing in a circle with their backs to the captives, was a ring of well-trained swordsmen. These engaged the elves, all of whom fiercely tried to break through to their kindred. The lone human archer in the center of the circle was able to easily pick off any elf who managed to get past the outer perimeter.
Arilyn glanced at the ground in the battlefield's center; no spent elven arrows lay there. Nor did any of the humans bear arrow wounds. Clearly, the elven archer who had just perished by magic fire was not the first to meet this fate. There were limits to the number of times a wizard could cast such a powerful spell; this one probably had some sort of device that stored a number of fire-arrow spells, or that put a sphere of protection around him. Such things were not common., not even in magic-rich Halruaa, but neither were they particularly rare.
Arilyn thought fast, then turned to the elves clustered behind her. "Who's the best archer among you?" she demanded of Rhothomir.
The Speaker pointed with his bow to one of the fighters-a male, taller than most of the green elves and marked by his autumn-colored hair. "Foxfire, our war leader. None can match his bow."
"Call him," she said tersely.
Rhothomir lifted one hand to his mouth and let out a high, sharp call, like that of a hunting eagle. The red-haired elf tensed, hesitated, then backed away from the fighting. He turned and ran toward the waiting elves. His black eyes widened in astonishment when they settled upon the moon-elf woman.
"How many shots can you get off in one breath?** she asked. "Three? Four?"
"Six," he answered reflexively.
Arilyn grimaced. That's pushing it. Four's about my limit. Here's what I want you to do: shoot four bolts straight at the wizard, then get the hell out of my way. The returned fire will keep him busy and take out some of the men guarding your people."
"How-"
Before the elf could give voice to the question, Arilyn answered it. Her moonblade flashed from its sheath, slicing up toward the male's face. He flinched away instinctively and raised his dagger to parry the blow. Not fast enough. Arilyn completed the stoke, reversed her sword's direction, and slapped his dagger out wide with a one-handed backstroke. As she completed the counter-move, she stepped in close and held a small object directly in front of the elf eyes. It was a feather, one that had been hanging from his headband just a moment before.
"Fast sword," she said by way of explanation.
"Four bolts," Foxfire agreed, his black eyes bright with astonished admiration-and the beginning of new hope.
"Here's the plan," Arilyn said quickly, turning to the other elves. "Foxfire and I will give the wizard something to think about. The Halruaan will be distracted, but just for a moment. Fm going to charge him. As soon I as begin to move, you need to do two things: cut me a path through that circle, and take out the archer in the middle as well any guards who still stand. Got it?"
Foxfire pointed out four of the warriors. "Bows ready. Aim for the humans who are fighting Xanotter and Hawkwing, then shoot for the guards. Name your man, first and second."
The elves quickly called off descriptions of their chosen targets, then turned intently to the moon elf. Their war leader's excitement seemed contagious; apparently if Foxfire was willing to follow the moon elf's instructions, they would do likewise.
"Several fighters need to follow me into the breach," Arilyn continued. "Turn the battle inside out; engage them from inside the circle."
"You would have us surrounded?" demanded Ferret suspiciously.
"She would present our archers with the humans' broad backsides as targets," Foxfire corrected her with a grin. Still smiling, he turned to Arilyn and held up four black arrows. "I am ready to begin."
>
The Harper nodded and lifted her moonblade into guard position. Foxfire went down on one knee before her and pulled back his drawstring for the first shot.
Black lightning streaked toward the Halruaan wizard, followed by a second bolt and then two more, faster than Arilyn would have believed possible. The arrows burst into flame just short of the wizard. As Foxfire dove to one side, Arilyn gritted her teeth and prepared to meet the first sizzling line of force. Black lighting to white-the transformation happened almost too quickly for the eye to absorb.
The moonblade flared with eldritch blue light as the first magical attack seared toward its wielder. Deftly Arilyn parried the bolts, one after another, moving her sword just slightly to meet each one and to send them shimmering back toward the astonished wizard.
Immediately Arilyn kicked into a run. She heard the ping and whine of the elven arrows that flashed past her-almost close enough to touch-as she ran toward the humans Foxfire had pointed out. One of them, a large man with a badly cut face and bloodstained beard, dropped his sword to clutch at the pair of arrows that suddenly sprouted from his throat. He fell forward. Arilyn leaped over his prone form and hurled herself, sword leading, at the Halruaan.
The wizard was surrounded with a blaze of his own magical fire, but the same amulet that protected him from arrows kept the lightning from blasting him. It merely set fire to his magic shield. Within his glowing sphere, the wizard began the casting of yet another spell.
Arilyn did not fear the fire-one of the moonblade's ancient powers was a resistance to flame. Her moon-blade plunged into the arcane fire, and white lightning licked up her sword to stop at the glowing moonstone in its hilt. Arilyn felt no pain, but a twinge of worry began to gnaw at the corner of her mind. Her sword did not pierce the glowing bubble.
She flung the moonblade out wide and at least managed to thrust the wizard's hands apart, to interrupt whatever dire casting he planned to unleash upon the ekes.
Glowering, the wizard conjured a sword of his own and lunged at her. His blade did not pierce the glowing sphere, either. Apparently the wizard's field of protection kept everything but magic from passing through. Unfortunately, Arilyn had none to hurl.
But she noted how his sword thrust pressed line, causing it to bulge out toward her. A plan came to her-a variation on the most basic and dirty trick in a gutter fighter's repertoire. It was well, she thought wryly, that no one would expect such an attack from the noble moon elf she appeared to be.
She darted in, sword held high. The wizard parried; sparks flew, even though their blades were far from touching. Again Arilyn lashed out, and again, measuring each time the distance between his sword and the point where hers clashed against the protective shield. It seemed to be lessening with each stroke, and the fire dimming. That meant the final attack she had planned would not be a killing stroke. Even so, Arilyn was willing to bet that it would put the wizard out of action for some time to come.
Holding her moonblade firmly in both hands, Arilyn swung upward, catching the wizard's fire-enshrouded blade and throwing his arm up high. She continued the swing in a tight, abrupt downward arc, pivoting her body to one side to follow through. The moonblade's point drove into the ground; Arilyn leaped, kicking out hard to the side and pushing herself off the embedded sword.
She aimed directly for the wizard's metal cod piece, and her aim was true. Though the fiery shield kept her boots from connecting directly with the armor, the wizard's shrill bellow announced that the fire had done its work well enough.
Arilyn scrambled to her feet and yanked her sword from the ground, blinking in the sudden darkness that followed the dissipation of the wizard's shield. Apparently the surge of pain had sufficiently disrupted his concentration to dispel the protection. The wizard danced and howled, torn between removing the hot armor-and in the process searing his magic-wielding fingers-or leaving the cod piece where it was and suffering a somewhat more personal injury. Ultimately, his devotion to his Art took second place.
"Figures," Arilyn muttered as she turned to survey the battle. The wizard frantically cast aside the steaming metal and fled stumbling into the forest, and she let him go. He wouldn't be casting any more spells today, and the elves faced a more immediate threat.
One of them, a female who was little more than a child, had faced off against a swordsman who was easily four times her weight. The girl had the advantage of speed and stamina-large dark circles stained the sides and front of the man's tunic, and his breath came in loud, snorting gasps-but still she was at a disadvantage in terms of strength, experience and-most importantly at this crucial moment-reach.
Even as Arilyn turned toward the duel, the swordsman lunged at the elf maid's throat at the same time as the girl thrust toward his belly. She had a dagger; he held a hand-and-a-half sword that could run her through before she even came close.
Arilyn darted in and thrust her moonblade between the two combatants, catching the longer blade and forcing it up. The elf child ducked reflexively, but she did not turn aside her thrust. Her dagger plunged deep; she wrenched it free and whirled to face the nearest human, leaving Arilyn to finish the man or let him die in his own time.
The green elves, Arilyn noted, did not intend to take prisoners.
Even as this thought formed in her mind, a few humans broke ranks and fled into the forest. One of them stopped suddenly, his head jolting back and his arms outflung. Several arrows bristled from his back.
"Foxfire, no! Let them go!" Arilyn shouted as she turned toward two more combatants. There was a moment's hesitation; then she heard the shrill, birdlike command that called off the vengeful elves.
Arilyn prodded the swordsman with the tip of her blade, drawing him away from the wounded and exhausted elf woman he was battling. The man whirled, lunged, and lunged again. A ranger, Arilyn noted with disgust,catching a glimpse of the unicorn pendant he wore at his neck-the symbol of the goddess Mielikki. There were few humans she held in higher regard than rangers, and none that she despised more than those handful of noble woodsmen-warriors who had forsaken their path.
This one fought in the style of the Dalelands-a single sword, a quick and aggressive attack. Arilyn fell back a step, drawing his next attack. Rather than parry it when it came, she leaped back. The sudden and unexpected lack of resistance threw the swordsman off-balance for a moment. That was enough. Arilyn spun away from his attack, pivoting on her outer foot and swinging her sword up and around as she circled behind him. She brought it down, hard, on the back of the man's neck. The moonblade cut through bone and flesh in a single strike, beheading the faithless ranger.
"Give my regards to Mielikki,'* Arilyn muttered darkly and then turned to look for another fight.
There was none. All around her the elves were tending to their wounded, cleaning their weapons, collecting their spent arrows. Ferret, however, still had the light of battle in her black eyes; she came at Arilyn like a stooping falcon.
"Why did you let them go? What base treachery is this? They will be back; they are too near Talltrees!"
They had to go," Arilyn said calmly, stooping to clean the former ranger's blood from her sword. "Else, how would we follow them and find out to whom they reportr
Again the elves looked to Foxfire. He nodded, not once taking his eyes from the moon elf. "That is good counsel. Faunalyn, Wistari-you follow them and report what you learn."
The two scouts left at once to do his bidding. Foxfire came over to Arilyn and offered her his hand. She took it and allowed him to help her to her feet.
"I have prayed to the Seldarine for guidance, and this is how they have rewarded me," he said with a smile.
"Only one god, the patron of the forest, would answer me so well; Rillifane Rallithil himself must have sent you!"
"Actually, that would be Amlaruil Moonflower. Not that there's all that much difference between the two," Arilyn said dryly as she tugged her fingers free.
To her surprise, this irreverent comment brought a gri
n to the green elf s bronzed face. She liked that. He had a steady nerve in battle but also possessed a warmth unusual among the aloof and insular People.
As Arilyn watched Foxfire move about the battlefield, she understood why this elf was a leader among his people. There was a natural charisma about him, an aura of confidence and energy that was contagious. They respected him, that was plain, but there was more than that. Arilyn noted that Foxfire had the gift of making each individual his eyes fell upon feel as if he or she were the most valued person beneath the stars. He greeted the adolescent elf maid with a warrior's handclasp, which Arilyn suspected would please the fierce child more than any praise. And he let each elf tend the task to which he or she was best suited, giving no commands where none were needed. The young female-the one who had brought word of the battle to Arilyn and Ferret-was obviously some sort of healer. She moved from one wounded elf to another, judging the severity of their wounds and giving orders regarding their care. Foxfire had little need, it seemed, to stake out territory of his own for the sake of pride or status. What needed to be done was done as best it might; that was enough.
Enough? It was a damn sight more than most leaders accomplished, Arilyn noted with ever-growing admiration.
Later, after the wounded had been tended and litters fashioned from skins and poles to carry those who could not walk, the elves set out for Talltrees. Despite the success of her battle strategy, the elves seemed wary of Arilyn. She heard the whispers that explained her presence among them to those who had not witnessed her arrival-and noted wryly how frequently the word
“lythari" came into these explanations.
After a while Foxfire made his way to Arilyn's side. Although he did not seem to share his people's reservations, it was obvious that he was aware of them. "Your ways are strange to us, and the forest folk are slow to accept that which is new," he said softly. "But in time, they will accept you as a leader."
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