Now, as they welcomed the arrival of the Elderwild, the elves of Silvanos came forward with shouts and cheers, forming two broad columns to either side of Kagonos's march. The numbness in the chieftain's breast expanded into a sort of vague disbelief as he heard the cheers, felt the exultancy of victory surging over him, offered by the warriors who were of his race but not of his people.
Even in looking at Silvanos's troops, Kagonos could see the differences. The House Elves wore armor of silver, and all of them bore swords or daggers of keen steel. Their faces were unpainted, their boots firm and stout-at least bv comparison to Elderwild moccasins-and their blond hair was bound carefully against their necks.
Most of the warriors, by now, had set their armor aside in favor of cloaks and tunics of bright silk and dyed cotton, while jewelry of silver and gold dangled or gleamed from wrists, necks, ears, and fingers. On many of the hjgh-ranking elves, gems-diamonds, emeralds, rubies, garnets, and many others Kagonos didn't even recognize-sparkled in a brilliant affirmation of an individual's wealth, status, and power.
The elves of Kagonos's band, conversely, allowed their darker hair to flow freely across their shoulders, blowing in the wind with the same lack of constraint as the folk themselves cherished so deeply. The Elderwild were still painted in their swirling battle colors, with each tribe displaying the symbol that identified it-the antlers of the Whitetails, the curling wave of the Bluelake, or the hawk's beak sigil of the Black Feathers. Many wild elves displayed spirals of varying length, and while some of the warriors still showed the hollow circles of unblooded braves, these circles would be altered to spirals at the earliest opportunity. Of course, the paint would be washed off at the conclusion of the victory celebration, but during preparation for battle it served as a key indicator of an individual's station within the war party and the tribe. Now those symbols marked them as a proud and distinct people, obviously very different from the light-skinned House Elves.
The column oЈ Elderwild marched steadily, warriors raising their heads and throwing back their shoulders as they walked among the ranks of their allies. Though every one of them had lost a brother, cousin, or friend in the fight, the survivors remained determined to present a proud and honorable face to their kinsmen from the city houses.
The cheers rose to a crescendo as Kagonos led his fighters among the tents of Silvanos's entourage. Before him crackled a huge fire, sending tendrils of flame dozens of feet into the night sky, and it was around this blaze that the leaders of the House Elves had gathered.
Despite his mental preparation, Kagonos was startled when, as he neared the fire, Silvanos himself came forward to greet him. As before during their occasional meetings, the Elderwild was struck by the youthfulness of the great leader and statesman. Since the first great council of the Sinthel-Elish, more than six hundred years ago, Silvanos had been the unquestioned leader of all the House Elf clans. He was, in some senses, the king of Silvanesti- but in every other sense he was very much more than a king.
Though his hair was as silver as spun wire, Silvanos's proud face was free of lines. His wide green eyes glowed with a depth of wisdom that never failed to unsettle the forest-dweller, and there was something about Silvanos's stature-removed from mere height or broad shoulders- that gave to the elven ruler an undeniable sense of destiny and power.
"Greetings, kinsman," declared the great leader. Silvanos halted and bowed deeply to Kagonos. The Elder- wild returned the bow to the exact same depth.
"And to you, kinsman," the Pathfinder replied. "I see that your efforts were met with victory."
"And yours," Silvanos replied. "Quithas brought the Bluestone to the battlefield in the very blink of time that remained to us, before the blue dragons would have wreaked terrible havoc. Now the spirits of those serpents are entrapped in the stone, and it will be" buried-as were the stones of the reds, greens, blacks, and white dragons before them."
"Then it was worth the cost of gaining it," Kagonos stated grimly.
"Before the battle, Darlantan told me of the stone's location, of the nature of your attack. Tales of your courage and triumph will be told through the ages."
The elven lore masters, Kagonos thought with surprising bitterness, will sing of your battle, of Quithas's flight. But they will have little to say about us.
Shaking his head, the Pathfinder fought off the resentment, the anger that had begun to seethe within him. Surely, after a victory like this, they could set aside their differences for a time. Then he thought of Dall, of Kyrill, and he was not so sure.
The esteemed ruler allowed his eyes to flicker across the column of Elderwild survivors, many of whom were bandaged or obviously wounded. "The cost to your tribe has been dear-I'm sorry for that."
"We all pay the prices we must," Kagonos replied, discomfited by his kinsman's sympathy. It was far easier for him to regard the House Elves as dangerous rivals than as friends. Now he could not relax from a sense of impending danger. However, decorum called for some sort of response.
"I am sure that many of your own tribe will not share the celebration of victory," he offered, with a stiff nod of his head.
"As you say, the price…" Silvanos was quiet, pensive for a moment. "But perhaps, kinsman, with today's victory further bloodshed can be banished to some point far in the distant future."
"There can be no greater reward-nor one more honestly earned," Kagonos agreed.
A file of warriors came toward them, led by a tiny, bareheaded elf whose unusually broad face was split by a great smile. He reached up to clap Silvanos on the shoulder in a surprisingly casual manner, and then turned to study Kagonos. The wild elf looked back stiffly, wondering if the short elf could actually be as friendly and guileless as his beaming expression indicated.
"You have not met my right hand, General Balif," Silvanos said, smiling without apparent discomfort at his lieutenant's bold friendliness.
"You and your warriors are a tribute to the elven peoples," Balif said, startling the Elderwild Pathfinder by reaching out and taking both of his hands. "Know that, in the new realms we open in the east, the forests will always be open to the wild elves."
"I thank you," Kagonos replied, liking Balif in spite of his un-elven lack of reserve. He turned back to Silvanos with a raised eyebrow. "What are these new realms?"
"Balif will take a number of the houses and settle the forest lands of the eastern shore. The ogres don't live there, and there are barely a few tribes of human savages in the woods. Balifor will become the second great nation of elves."
Another House Elf, this one dressed in a golden helm, stepped forward to the ruler's side. Kagonos recognized Quithas, and the Elderwild's scalp bristled with instinctive antipathy.
Taller than the average elf by more than half a foot, his dark eyes glittering on each side of his hooked, hawklike nose, Quithas looked down at Kagonos.
Kagonos thought that the elven war leader looked darker and far more bitter than he had during their last meeting, which had occurred just two days before. Now Quithas fixed his gaze on the steel-headed war-axe at the wild elf's belt, then raised his gaze to stare into the Pathfinder's face.
"Dare you come here with my weapon?" he demanded.
"It is my trophy now-remember?" Kagonos retorted.
"So now you come to seek rewards for your contribution?" spat the general. "As if our sacrifices have not been enough, you seek the treasures of the House Elves?"
"The sacrifices have been made by all tribes," Silvanos interjected smoothly, ignoring the taut lines of anger suddenly etched into Kagonos's face. "General Quithas, perhaps you should see to the arrangements for the victory feast."
Now it was the city elf's face darkened by fury, but he dared not challenge his ruler. Quithas turned and stalked away, while Silvanos shook his head sadly. "His son was slain in the charge that broke Talonian's line-while Quithas himself was off retrieving the Bluestone. I fear…" The great ruler's voice trailed off, sad and pensive.
"Sacri
fices have been made even by the gods," the patriarch noted abruptly. "Did you see the moons these last two nights?"
Kagonos nodded.
Those are the remains of the three gods-those immortals who gave us the means to win this war."
"Why were they punished thus? Do the other gods favor evil?"
"I believe they regret that we mortals have gained the power of magic. Perhaps they should, though we shall endeavor to keep its use under control. But enough of that-suffice to say that the cost has been high to all."
Silvanos sighed, and for the first time Kagonos realized that the elven patriarch was actually subject to mortal failings. "It grieves me to see such divisions among our people, my friend," he told Kagonos. Though he did not want to hear the words, the Elderwild found it impossible to tear his attention away from the patriarch's charisma.
"We are all one folk, under the war paint and the golden cloaks," Silvanos continued. "I would like us to know that oneness through all aspects of our lives on Krynn."
"The hatreds of the House Elves will ever divide us," Kagonos suggested. "Those like Quithas, who cannot grasp the Tightness of freedom."
"Do not confuse living in a city with slavery," Silvanos chided. "We, too, are free-in many ways freer than you of the woodland shall ever be." Kagonos thought there was a trace of genuine regret in the ruler's voice, though the Elderwild was truly mystified by Silvanos's concepts of freedom. How could any walled enclosure hope to offer the breathtaking and unfettered life that he knew in the forest?
"Tonight is not the night for such discussion," the Elderwild chief noted awkwardly. "We have won a victory-and must mourn our dead."
"Indeed. Death has touched us all. I grieve beside you over the loss of your brothers. They died as brave warriors, as elven heroes, and their courage will be a source of pride for many generations-in the cities as well as the forest."
Kagonos tried to suppress his astonishment-the only communication between the two armies had been the flight of Quithas, when he retrieved the stone. Certainly that dour elf had not carried word-had not even known — of the Pathfinder's personal tragedy.
"The grief you struggle so hard to conceal-it shows in your eyes, for one who knows what to look for," said the great patriarch gently. "I have seen that look many times today. My own nephew, Palthios, was killed leading a charge against the ogre flank; my brother's eyes were as haunted as yours. And General Quithas's loss was his only son, his only child. For a time I thought the darkness in his mind would consume him."
Numbly Kagonos nodded, wondering if Quithas might not yet yield to that ultimate despair. The Pathfinder was aware that some portion of himself was terribly racked by grief. Yet why was it, then, that he barely sensed the feeling?
"I invite you, as I have before, to come to the new land of Silvanesti with us," Silvanos declared earnestly. 'There, amid the splendid valley of the Thon-Thalas River, we shall create the greatest city the elves have ever known, and we hope that your tribe shall stand at our side as we do so."
"We have no need of a new land, not now-not when the war is won, when all Ansalon beckons."
"But think of the might we could gather, centered in Silvanesti! All the elves together. Your people, too, as one of the great houses! We shall name you House Servitor, and your people will know lives of productivity and beauty!"
"That is no life for an Elderwild!" Kagonos's voice grew sharp with scorn. "House Servitor, you say-will you make us lackeys to your lords?"
"No-of course not. But tell me, Kagonos-why have vou never accepted my invitations?" asked the great leader, ignoring the hostile tone of the Pathfinder. "Come, 2: least, to visit one of my palaces! Stay as my honored rjest."
It is impossible," Kagonos said with a firm shake of his head
But, why?"
A vow-a pledge I made centuries ago." Kagonos recalled the scene as if it had been yesterday-the Grand- atrer Ram, suddenly become the dragon Darlantan, com- =-2rdinn his obedience and loyalty, compelling him to ocvv: wo rules. In obedience-and, fully in keeping with the Pathfinder's own wishes-he had never taken a wife, and he had never journeyed to a House Elf city.
Vaguely, he felt the patriarch's gaze on him, and when he looked at Silvanos he saw more, even greater, sadness. Instinctively, with a chill, he knew why.
"Darlantan?" asked the Elderwild. Suddenly the numbness was gone.
"He awaits you beside the river," Silvanos said. "He bade me speak to you first, before you went to him. You will find him there, where the twin cottonwood trunks cross."
The Elderwild squinted into the patriarch's face, certain that Silvanos knew more than he was telling-and equally certain that he would learn no more in this conversation.
Chapter 6
Passing of a Patriarch
Gripped by a dire sense of apprehension, Kagonos sprinted through the army of elves, drawing little more than curious glances-and an occasional curse if he came too near a tire, or startled some dozing sentry or grazing war-horse. Soon the darkness of the night surrounded him, but it was not the cool, still quietude of the mountains. Here in the plains the night air pressed against him, warm and stifling. The harsh grass was brittle underfoot, neither solid like the bedrock of a high ridge nor cushioning like the mossy loam of an alpine meadow.
The two trees indicated by Silvanos arched upward, silhouetted against the stars as they joined in a towering apex. Beyond them, glittering like pale crystal, rolled the waters of the eternal Vingaard, alternately silvered and red beneath the flickering reflections of the two visible moons. The great river was shallow here, the surface roiled by rapids across its breadth of perhaps three hundred paces. It had proven an effective backstop against the maneuvering of the ogre army.
And now, the elf saw with a sharp gasp of breath, the mud of the broad bank provided a soft resting place for a massive, terribly wounded figure.
Darlantan's great silver head rose from the mire, the luminous amber eyes blinking several times as Kagonos scrambled down the embankment and knelt beside his oldest friend.
"I am glad to see you alive, Pathfinder," said the dragon, Darlantan's voice a rasping shadow of its formerly powerful timbre.
"And you," Kagonos replied, trying to bite back the sadness that cloaked his words. "You fought the blue dragons, held them off-and lived."
"There is no need for deceit-I will not see the next sunrise," Darlantan demurred. "But that is of little consequence. My time is through, but because of our victory today there will be many families of elves and humans who will live out their lives in peace. That is a worthy knowledge to carry to one's death, I think."
"And I, too, Silver One. But I grieve that you, who have fought so valiantly, should not live to see that blossoming of peace."
"I have seen much in my time-though I did not see the two blue dragons come at me from below. That's when they rended my wing," the serpent declared with a wry chuckle that carried some of his usual resonance. "It was the fall-something more than a mile, I should think- that did the rest." The mild laughter faded into a coughing gurgle that left no doubt as to the severity of the wounds.
"Do not labor yourself with speech. Allow me to sit-to make vigil with you," Kagonos said.
"That would please me-but as yet I am not ready for silence. There is a thing I must say."
The Elderwild waited, squatting on his haunches, listening in desperation to Darlantan's labored breathing.
"Your people are strong, and proud, and beautiful." There was nothing weak about the dragon's voice now. As he spoke, his words struck to Kagonos's core. He knew Darlantan's words were more than an opinion, that they went beyond simple praise. The mighty dragon spoke a fundamental truth.
"More than all these things, you are wild-and that wildness lies at the center of your being. You must help vour people remain wild, Kagonos Pathfinder-wild for all time."
For a long time the elf sat silently, formulating a reply. I hear your words. Know that I desire for my people that we a
lways remain free of the House Elves' fetters. But 1 tear that, as the centuries pass, the ways of the Silvanesti will draw more and more of my people from the forests- until there are none left to be wild."
"Your fears are real, but you-and you alone-can ensure that they do not come to pass. The horn will help to guide you-use it."
"But…haw?"
"Let the music tell you that. Remember, too, that the second horn is safe, in the den of my wyrmlings. They will know its purpose and its importance. They know, and you should remember always, that the silver dragons and: he wild elves will share a kinship, a bond that will last for all the ages of Krynn."
Rest, now," urged the elf. "Save your strength, and vou may well see the new dawn." In his heart he desper- a: elv wished he spoke the truth-but in his mind he recognized the lie.
I shall have time… for rest," Darlantan murmured ireamilv. "As do we all. One day even you, Kagonos, shall have to choose another Pathfinder, to pass along the тот of the Grandfather Ram. Elves are long-lived, but you shall not roam the forests forever!"
The massive silver body shifted, shrinking, and as the elf reached out he felt warm, coarse wool. He brushed his palm over a sturdy shoulder, his throat tightening in grief as he recognized the Grandfather Ram. Though Darlantan had appeared in many incarnations in the centuries Kagonos had known him, he had not seen the lordly ram since their first meeting. The white-maned head lowered, and Kagonesti thought he saw a shimmering of silver scales in the curling pelt-or was it merely his imagination? With a great exhalation, the ram dropped his chin to his shoulder and lay still.
"Dar-" Kagonos's throat choked the rest of the word. He blinked bitter tears, then grinned foolishly as Darlantan opened one bright, yellow eye. It gleamed at him with vast depths of wisdom.
"Your people… lead them. Find the path-and use the Ram's Horn to show them the way," whispered Darlantan. "Now, I go to rest…"
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