Finally the Pathfinder lowered his horn. The other braves waited expectantly until he spoke. "Our homes are destroyed, and the hated enemy camps in the ruins of our lodges. Some of us have died, but many more still live. Now we must decide what to do."
"Let us return to the lake shore during the night. We'll kill the lizardmen and reclaim our village!" spat a young warrior, Ampruss, whose father had been one of the first warriors to fall.
"Already the bakali have given me cause to grieve," argued Maggera, newly widowed mother of Ampruss. "Let us escape with those lives we have saved."
"Perhaps we can muster other tribes to aid our attack," suggested an older warrior. "The Whitetail village is but two days away, the Silvertrouts barely another day beyond. Shall we get them to help?"
"It would take too long," Ash suggested. "These bakali came to raid our village. I don't think they want to live there."
"We should attack quickly! The lake shore has been our home for a full century," stated Faltath, a veteran warrior and lifelong friend of Ashtaway. "Are we such cowards as to be driven away by a single attack?"
"It is not a matter of cowardice, but perhaps destiny," Iydaway demurred. All the other arguments ceased as the Kagonesti waited for the honored Pathfinder to continue.
"We know that war has blackened the northern plains and extended far into the mountains and forest lands as well. The dragons of the Dark Queen fly ever farther, it seems, always seeking to extend the range of her deadly servants.
"Now we can go back to the village and kill many bakali," Iydaway continued, the firm resolve in his voice indicating that he, personally, would derive great satisfaction from this bloodletting. Then his tone took on a sadder, more wistful sound. "But I fear we may not be so lucky when the lizardmen come again. If Ashtaway had not been returning from his hunt, we would be weeping for many more of our people tonight."
"The bakali never came before! Why do you say that they will come again?" persisted Faltath, who had earlier counseled attack. He was a huge elf, nearly as big as a human, and had been Ashtaway's main rival in the arts of the hunt and battle during his early years. Though they had become different as they matured, Ash still admired Faltath's strength and his determination when faced with a course of action. The big warrior's face was obscured by spiraling whorls of black ink, so that his eyes flashed from the middle of an apparently spinning vortex. Now they glowed with anger, an accusation against any brave unwilling to join his proposed attack.
"Because that is the way of wars," Iydaway responded, "of all great wars, at least. And the war that plagues Ansa- lon now is such a war. This I know. It is a great monster whose reach has been sweeping ever closer, until today we were grazed by a single talon on the far fringes of its great body, well removed from its dark and bloody heart.
"Yet the talon has learned that it can reach us, and when next it strikes it will be with the full force of a paw, or a mighty leg. The next time perhaps the bakali will have time to surround us, or they may come with ogres, even dragons. Then the killing will fall upon us."
"Dragons do not care about the forest floor," argued Faltath, his fist clenching around the heavy hilt of his longsword.
"This is not true, not anymore," Ashtaway declared. He told of the battle between the twin red dragons and the armored knights. His wonder at the knightly courage choked his voice, and for the first time he profoundly regretted his silence, knowing that he should have warned the humans of the impending attack. Understanding that the other braves regarded the presence of the knights to be as great a threat as the red dragons, he tried to reach them with his eyes, to show them that, somehow, these humans were different from the land-stealing men who had been the lifelong enemies of the tribe.
As he spoke, his listeners remained silent. "Not only were human riders patrolling this part of the forest, but the dragons who flew overhead were also searching the ground. If they had spotted the village, it is foolish to think that they would not attack, simply because they haven't done so before."
"But the lizardmen must be taught a lesson, just as we would slay the humans if we found them near the village!" Faltath argued furiously. "We know that Ashtaway fought and killed many bakali, while the rest of us fled! How can we let them think we run with our women and children at the first sight of an enemy, not daring to exact revenge?"
"We cannot let them think this," Iydaway declared bluntly, momentarily silencing the belligerent warrior. Faltath eyed the Pathfinder carefully, waiting to hear his next suggestion.
"The lizardmen must be punished for their attack. But we, the Kagonesti of the Bluelake, must also find a new home. It is clear that the war will no longer leave us in peace-and it is equally clear that, though this is not our struggle, it has the power to sweep us into its grip and destroy us."
"How will the bakali be punished?" demanded Faltath, as if he had not heard the rest of the elder's pronouncement.
"We will make an attack, savage and unrelenting, that slays many and drives the rest from our village. They?hall know it as a place of defeat and death-but even so, we shall no longer live there." "But… where do we go?" asked Ampruss. "We shall move south, past even the village of the Silvertrout, into the heart of the woodlands between the two great mountain ranges of the world. There we shall find a new lake, and there we will make our new home." "It is decided, then," said Faltath bluntly. "We march to the south, but not until we have slain many, many bakali." "Indeed," Iydaway said. "And that is enough talking for me. I shall leave it to you warriors to plan the attack."
Chapter 13
Vengeful Arrows
Ashtaway looked to his right. Across the space between the lofty vallenwood trees. Faltath, his tattooed face locked in a grimace of fury, signaled that he was ready. With a look to the left, Ash saw Balkas, a young archer with a patient and deadly eye. The bowman had an arrow drawn back to his cheek, and Ashtaway knew that his tribemate already had a bakali in his sights. "The braves are almost ready," Ash whispered to Iydaway, knowing that the warriors on the flanks were still moving into position. The Pathfinder nodded. "Soon," he replied, his words as soft as the night breeze. Ash deeply regretted his uncle's presence in the tree, with the battle so imminent. The Pathfinder had been a mighty warrior in his day, but Ashtaway would have been much happier if the old elf had consented to wait with the other elders, safe in the forest grotto, until the attack was over. He knew better than to argue with the stubborn Pathfinder, however-all he could do was resolve to keep an eye out for him as much as possible.
The ruined village sprawled below them. Lodges and huts still smoldered, but no trace of their wooden frameworks jutted from the soft ash. The central circle, beside the greatest vallenwood, was strewn with rubble and debris. In the fullness of the predawn dark, the shapeless bundles that were sleeping bakali lay haphazardly about the village, exhausted from their battle and its subsequent revelry. The lizardmen were not totally careless. They had posted several guards around the periphery of their captured glade, but these sentries had been no match for Kagonesti stealth. Now, each of those guards was dead, throat slit by an elven warrior.
More Kagonesti, about four dozen in all, still climbed into the trees that were out of sight to either side. Though elven eyes were keen in the darkness, even the Kagonesti could not see all the way across the darkened camp, so it was hard to know how many of these had taken up their positions.
Ashtaway knew that the bakali would have discovered the ravine to the lake shore. He had suggested that a small force try to block that escape route, but Iydaway and Faltath had both vetoed that idea, pointing out-justifiably- that the warriors in that party would have little chance of surviving the battle. The tribe would attack from the woods and hope to kill as many of the enemy as they could before the rest made their escape.
Faltath hooted softly, like a contented owl, but the sound carried obvious urgency to Ash's ears. The Kagonesti were tightly wound, ready to fly against their enemies like the arrows that wo
uld signal the start of the attack. Yet Ashtaway still found himself vaguely reluctant to initiate the ambush, for reasons that he couldn't understand. Certainly he had no hesitation about slaying bakali. Indeed, his sincere hope was that none of the scale-skinned humanoids would escape the killing ground of the former village.
Shaking his head, biting back an unbidden cough of anger, Ashtaway forced aside his indecision. Pursing his lips, he made ready to whistle the distinctive cry of the whippoorwill. The sound would not be unnatural in the summer dawn, though the birds themselves would not speak out for another hour or so. That minor inaccuracy was enough to conceal the code from the dimwitted lizardmen.
Before Ash could signal, a shaft flew from a nearby tree. A bakali shrieked as more arrows sliced into the lizardmen. But now the scaly defenders leapt to their feet, racing madly about the camp.
A heartbeat passed as four dozen bowstrings quivered under full tension, four dozen sleek-shafted arrows sighted upon their targets. The missiles flew, and immediately the bakali camp echoed with shrieks and yowls of pain. Many lizardmen thrashed madly, while others lay still-slain in their sleep, or the first few moments of wakefulness. A hundred or more of the reptilian invaders raced about, weapons raised, staring frantically into the enclosing forest.
Another volley of arrows sifted silently into the horde, and then another. Helpless against the attack, which came from three sides, the mob of bakali milled about, small groups rushing toward individual trees. Some lizardmen dropped to all fours and galloped toward the vallenwood occupied by Ashtaway. He shot one, his arrow joined by a volley from several surrounding trees. The small band of attackers, in unison, flopped to the ground and lay still.
Ash looked for another target. Some of the lizardmen had begun to back toward the ravine leading to the lake shore, and the others instinctively followed. Silver arrowheads shot from the woods around the ravine, but Ashtaway wasn't certain the retreat could be stopped by arrows alone. Still, the tribe sought to attack without taking losses themselves, so the Pathfinder had urged the necessity to stand off and shoot for as long as possible. Thus far, it seemed no Kagonesti had been hurt, while numerous bakali lay still and bleeding on the soot-covered ground.
Abruptly the darkness was shattered by the cry of a diving hawk. Faltath, who, like Ashtaway, could no longer find a bakali in arrow range, leapt from the lower limbs of his vallenwood and started across the clearing, longsword upraised in his clenched fist. The warrior's cries took on a fiercely triumphant sound as he sprinted toward the enemy-
Other elves echoed the bold shrieks-Ashtaway didn't hear himself crying out until he noticed the tautness of his lips and mouth-and in one savage wave the tribe converged on the retreating lizardmen. Even Iydaway sprang like a young warrior, cawing wildly. The bakali pounced over each other in sudden panic, surging into the narrow ravine that seemed to offer the only possible escape.
Ash struck down a crocodile-faced warrior with his axe, and it seemed as though he had stepped directly from the earlier battle into this one. His weapon rose and fell like an intelligent thing, choosing its targets quickly and then striking with unerring accuracy. Part of Ashtaway's attention remained on Iydaway as he sought, with limited success, to prevent the Pathfinder from throwing himself fully into the melee. Fortunately, so pervasive was the panic among the lizardmen that the elven warriors faced only a few hurried return blows.
Several of the scale-skinned creatures suddenly stopped their flight and barked furiously. They charged en masse, viciously hacking their swords into a Kagonesti warrior, slaving the wild elf as Faltath and Ashtaway leapt forward. The hulking warrior bore one of the monsters to earth, m isting its head in his hands, while Ash chopped savagely into first one, then the other bakali's face. Groaning piteously, the two reptiles fell. Whooping Kagonesti warriors stabbed the writhing forms as Ash continued forward.
The ravine provided an easy route to the lake shore, and Ashtaway worried now that many bakali would escape. The creatures teemed onto the trail, crowding down the narrow gully. Still more of the lizardmen halted their flight, turning to meet the pursuing elves with their weapons, and the Kagonesti realized that something must be halting the enemy's retreat.
He thrust at two monsters with one swinging slash, and they both cowered away. Whatever held up the flight, Ash knew that it wasn't a sudden development of courage. Demoralized by surprise and the slaughter of so many of their fellows, the craven bakali sought only escape.
The ringing of steel clanged through the night, in a sound more brash than any light Kagonesti longsword.. Puzzled, Ash stepped back from the melee, struggling to hear.
From somewhere up ahead, bakali screamed in panic, and their terror was mingled with many a dying gurgle. That steel blade rang again, and the mob of lizardmen actually surged back, toward the weapons of the waiting Kagonesti.
"By the Oath and the Measure!" came a cry from the darkness, in a language barely recognizable to Ashtaway.
But he recognized the heavy, nasal tone-a human! A human stood in that ravine, blocking the flight of the terrified lizardmen.
Bakali crowded into the gully, clawing at each other, trying to hack and prod through the press. Behind them the Kagonesti closed in, blades slashing.
Perhaps there would be no escape for the hateful creatures, Ash thought with grim satisfaction. But it was knowledge underlaid by a deep and substantial fear-a fear triggered by this inexplicable arrival of a human.
Trotting along the top of the ravine now, Ashtaway struggled to penetrate the darkness with his keen eyes. Below him, dozens of bakali squirmed and struggled, some trying to press down the floor of the ravine while others scrambled, with equal vigor, to get back to the clearing in the vallenwoods. None of the lizardmen so much as tried to climb the rough, crumbling walls, though any wild elf could have scampered up and down in a dozen places.
Ash stepped with care as he worked along the upper edge of the ravine, knowing that a misplaced foot could send him sliding into the midst of the bakali. At the same time, he hurried as quickly as he dared, trying to imagine what he would find.
The terror of the fleeing lizardmen was an almost palpable force, rising out of the narrow ravine like a stinking cloud. Ash again heard the human's voice bellow amid the clanging of steel. The elf came around the bole of a large tree and saw him: a strapping fellow bearing a great sword in both hands, standing in the narrowest part of the ravine. Swinging the weapon through a dazzling series of slashes and parries, he completely blocked the escape route of the panicked lizardmen.
Now several of the bakali tried to scramble up the steep walls of the gorge, falling backward after they got a short distance above the ground. One made it far enough to snap at Ashtaway's foot, but the Kagonesti chopped downward with his axe and sent the monster tumbling into the press of its comrades.
Even through the darkness a flash of recognition struck Ash-something about the human's huge, golden-hafted sword seemed vaguely familiar. The man stood with unfaltering courage, shieldless, clutching the hilt of his weapon in white-knuckled fists. Sheer rock walls rose to the man's right and left, and the sweeps of that mighty sword came within inches of each cliff. A lizardman dove to his belly and tried to squirm past the knight. The creature died quickly, its heart pierced by a blow from above. Two more of the scaly humanoids hurled themselves at the lone fighter, but the man cut them down so quickly that the two stabs seemed almost simultaneous to Ash's astonished eyes.
Movement to the side caught the elf's attention, and he turned to see Faltath following him. The elven brave's longsword was streaked with bakali blood. Behind the inward spirals of his facial tattoos Faltath's eyes were alight with the glory of battle. Every Kagonesti brave knew that heady rush of battlefield energy, but somehow the appearance was magnified by the intensity of the sword-wielder's fury.
Ashtaway gestured silently as his villagemate joined him. The human swordsman continued to battle, though he stepped backward in the face of the liza
rdmen's relentless pressure. The ravine widened gradually as he retreated, and even that long-bladed sword would not long be able to block the passage.
"A human… he dies well," Faltath observed.
"Perhaps he shall not die," Ash suggested, watching the other Kagonesti.
Faltath snorted contemptuously. "Even if he kills a hundred bakali, a single Kagonesti arrow will see that he does not return to the plains."
Ashtaway nodded, not surprised by the reply. He was surprised, however, by a feeling within his own breast- an urge to help this human, to give him a chance to live. The notion was contradictory to everything in his life, and at first he couldn't explain it. Then he remembered.
"The wyrm of fire!" he whispered, shaking his head in awe. "I saw this same man stand before a red dragon, facing the creature with that sword. I thought he perished in the fireball."
There was no shred of doubt in his mind. The heavy sword had the same golden hilt, unique among the knights he'd seen, and this fellow fought with the same unbending stance, with identical fury and concentration. Ash vividly remembered the scene of the dragon attack, and tried to imagine how this man could have survived. Too, he felt his growing guilt over his failure to warn the knights of danger, and made a silent, grim promise that- for this man, at least-he would try to rectify that mistake.
"The dragon he killed-the beast fell on top of him before the other serpent breathed. Could it be that he was protected from the fire by that corpse? And that he then crawled free of the mire?"
Faltath's laugh was bitter and cold. "If he did, then he has already lived longer than any man has a right. Let him be content with that."
Suddenly Ashtaway needed to know more-what had the man done then? How had he come to the Bluelake? And why now did he risk his life in such a mad, pointless fight?
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