Kagonesti lh-1

by Douglas Niles

  "He must not be killed!" he declared, ignoring the scowl of suspicion that darkened Faltath's features. "I'm going to help him!"

  The bakali pressed against the walls to either side of the gorge. The knight held at bay those monsters directly before him, but now he had a hard time fully blocking the ravine. He was forced to step back quickly in order to protect his flanks-but each retreat carried him farther along the ever-widening channel.

  Ashtaway skirted the rim of the ravine until he had passed the valiant knight. Picking a smooth patch of dirt for his landing, the elf sprang lightly to the floor of the gorge. He landed almost soundlessly, the din of the panicked lizardmen surely swallowing any slight noise-but the knight nevertheless whirled, bringing his sword around to meet the threat he had somehow sensed behind him.

  Ignoring the threatening parry, the Kagonesti sprang toward the bakali and swiftly killed two with sure- handed strikes of his axe. Smiling grimly, the knight pivoted back to meet the scaly warriors. For long, bloody minutes the pair stood firm, blocking the channel with their courage and skill.

  The rest of the tribe closed in on the rear of the fleeing horde, with many elves advancing along the tops of the ravine. These showered the lizardmen with arrows, logs, rocks, and anything else that came to hand.

  Finally, crouching and tense, Ashtaway dimly realized that there was no one left to fight. The elf and the human knight looked around in amazement until their eyes met in frank appraisal.

  The human, impatient in the way of his race, spoke first. "Thank you. I think the buggers would have had me there if you hadn't dropped in when you did."

  Ash nodded, squinting as he concentrated on the words. The dialect was thick to his ears, but discernible- it was similar to the Qualinesti trading tongue that he had learned early in his life.

  "You fellas put up quite a fight," the man continued, wiping his blade with a square of dirty cloth. He seemed uncomfortable by Ash's silence, as if it would soothe him to have the night filled with sounds. "Do you understand a word I'm saying?" he finally demanded, exasperated.

  "Yes. Come with me." Ash started down the ravine, noting for the first time that dawn's pale blossom had begun to spread across the sky. Shrugging, the knight fell into step behind him. They descended the stone steps near the end of the rocky cut, as the walls that had bracketed them gradually gave way to the rolling earth of the surrounding forest.

  So effective had been their blocking maneuver that none of the lizardmen had escaped. Several braves probed through the gory mess in the ravine, chopping or stabbing wherever they found a sign of life. The others, Faltath in the lead, gathered on the lake shore at the mouth of the gully.

  When Ash and the knight walked toward them, a grim silence fell across the warriors of the tribe. Hazel eyes glared, unblinking, and the Knight of Solamnia stood a little straighter, walked a little more firmly. Ashtaway noted the change in the man's demeanor, not surprised to observe that the fellow had a strong underpinning of pride.

  Faltath stepped forward, speaking rapidly to Ash in the tribal tongue of the wild elves. "It is bad enough that you do not slay this human. Why did you tell me that he should remain unharmed by the others of the tribe? Do you deny that he is a human?"

  "He is a human."

  "Perhaps you have forgotten the tales of our fathers-of the humans who scoured the forest for our people? Who slew them without compunction, that they could torch the woodlands and create their abominable fields?"

  "I remember the tales," Ashtaway replied. "But I remember other, older stories as well-legends of another dragon war, when elves and knights fought together to bring evil to its knees. I am wondering if Krynn is not facing another such time. We know that a deadly war rages, and that we are no longer free from its reach."

  None of the Kagonesti replied. For several minutes, the braves scowled at the knight, who stood rigidly beside Ashtaway. The elven expressions remained unchanging, but Ash knew that they were considering his arguments. Finally he judged that enough time had passed for him to continue.

  "This knight, in particular, slew many of our enemies. His actions in battle ensured that our victory would be complete-more complete than we could have hoped. I offer him my protection-it is the very minimum of the debt we owe him."

  Ashtaway said the words bluntly, and no physical reaction showed on the faces of the warriors. Still, he was somewhat surprised at his own temerity. His fellow braves, impassive though they were, must be shocked, Ash knew-by offering his protection, the elf had declared to his lifelong companions that they would have to kill him before they would be able to harm the human.

  Another long silence followed. The human's eyes flicked from Ash to the rest of the tribe, and the elf sensed the man shifting his weight from foot to foot-so gradually that the movement was practically imperceptible. The Kagonesti was grateful that the fellow had the good manners not to interrupt the meditative silence of the band.

  "You, Ashtaway, have earned a great measure of this victory for our tribe. We should respect your words, and your wishes. But now tell us: Is there something about this human that leads you to extend him your protection?" Balkas, the eagle-eyed archer, scowled in concentration as he spoke to Ashtaway. Clearly the young warrior was puzzled, but Ash was gratified to see that he was also willing to listen and consider.

  "In the forest camp I told you of the dragons I had seen, and their battle against human knights. This man was the leader of those knights, and though I thought I saw him perish in flames, he still lives. I would find out his story. And, too, it seems that a man who has faced dragons and countless bakali deserves a better death than an arrow in the back."

  "Shoot him from the front, then," growled Faltath menacingly.

  The knight understood the warrior's hostility and stiffened reflexively. Yet he made no move to draw his weapon or to speak. Instead he waited with patience that, Ashtaway guessed, must require a great amount of effort from the human. After all, everyone knew that mankind's world was a place of frantic pace and impatient activity. The Kagonesti had no regrets about his decision. With every passing moment, the feeling that this human was worth Ash's protection grew stronger.

  And even the angry Faltath, Ash knew, would not challenge the protection extended by his friend. Because of Ash's simple statement, any aggression against the man would constitute a great taboo against the tribe's traditions and customs.

  "Let us return to the village," Ash suggested. 'There we can make a dawn fire and smoke the pipe of victory."

  "That is a good idea," Balkas agreed, stepping forward and scrutinizing the man. The elf lapsed into the tongue of the traders. "I would like to know what it is about you that has caused my old friend to act like a madman."

  Chuckling easily, Ash felt the tension drain away. His step was light, relaxed, as he led his new companion back toward the woods.

  Chapter 14

  The Younger Pathfinder

  "I am called Asbtamay," tbe warrior offered as be led tbe buman toward the village clearing. "Sir Kamford Willis, Knight of the Rose, at your service." "I recognized you from your sword, though, of course, I did not know your name." "Recognized me from where?" the human asked, puzzled. "I witnessed your fight against the red dragons-you and the men who rode with you." Ash described his vantage of that heroic, doomed skirmish. "When the dragon's breath swept across you, I felt certain you must be dead. Perhaps I should have looked more closely." "It was the mud," Sir Kamford explained, shaking his head in wonder. "I should have perished-all the men of my company did. But when I fell to the ground, that wyrm fell on top of me and pressed me right into that muck-it was quite wet in that clearing, after all. I had to squirm out before I suffocated, and 1 assure you that was no easy task. A small dragon it may have been, but plenty enough weight to trap a man for good! Then, by the time I emerged, the other dragon was gone."

  "How did you come to the Bluelake? And why did you stand against the bakali?"

  "As to the first questi
on, I was lost. The mountains kept forcing me south when I wanted to go west-traveling a lot slower than I would have liked, since I lost my horse. I was working my way along the shore, hoping I could swing westward past the tail of the lake. Then, yesterday, I saw the smoke from the burning village, and 1 got close enough to see the lizardmen-no friends to any knight. I found a good hiding place under the bank, right at the foot of the ravine. Naturally, I wanted to get an idea whether or not this force intended to move against Solamnia." Sir Kamford continued to explain as they reached the edge of the vallen- wood glade, where Kagonesti warriors halted their labor of removing bakali bodies to watch the human's arrival with cold, impassive eyes.

  "Then, when you launched your attack and took them by surprise, I saw the chance to trap the scaly fellows right here. But I did wonder why you didn't send some of your braves to seal off the escape route."

  Ash shook his head, unwilling to admit that his own suggestion for that tactic had been vetoed. He could clearly imagine the mass bakali escape, however, if Sir Kamford had not arrived when he did.

  'The aim of our attack was to drive them off. Thanks to your help, the victory is-"

  Ash froze, paralyzed by a look of alarm on Ampruss's face as the young brave dashed up to him. "It's the Pathfinder! You must see him-before it's too late!"

  Panicked, the warrior raced to the ruins of his uncle's lodge. Ampruss ran beside him. "It was a bakali-it came out of the woods when the battle was almost over. I… I killed it, but too late!" The young warrior's voice choked, and Ashtaway sensed, with pain of his own, Ampruss's grief and guilt.

  Iydaway lay on a straw mat just outside his former front door. Ash knelt beside him, sickened to see a deep, bubbling wound in the Pathfinder's frail chest.

  The old elf's lips gasped reflexively, but no sounds emerged. Ash leaned close as his uncle desperately tried to speak.

  "Here… take…"

  At first the warrior didn't understand what Iydaway meant. The old elf's hands trembled, seemed to flail mean- inglessly. Or perhaps, Ashtaway didn't want to understand.

  "The Ram's Horn, Pathfinder," Iydaway gasped. "It is yours now-yours as long as the gods allow."

  "Don't talk!" urged Ashtaway, desperately frightened by the old man's weakness, and by his words as well.

  "I… had hoped to teach you longer. But I have always suspected you would be the one-then, when you heard the second Ram's Horn, I knew."

  "Please, Uncle-"

  "Listen… no time… you are the Pathfinder. Go, now, speak to the tribe…"

  "But-what can I say? Why should they listen?"

  "Use the horn… it will know… play the horn, and Father Kagonesti will show you…"

  For a time Iydaway was silent, and Ash feared he had died. Finally the wounded Pathfinder opened his eyes, inhaling a deep, bubbling breath.

  "Take the tribe south… the central woodlands… find the path."

  With a gurgling exhalation, the elder Kagonesti shuddered and lay still. Tears stung Ash's eyes, and he looked, with something like loathing, at the spiraled horn in his hands.

  Then he thought of Hammana, of the potent force-he knew, now, too late, that it was love-growing between them. He truly hated the horn, hating even more the bonds of pledge and responsibility that were its potent companions.

  But he could not ignore the command. Blindly he rose to his feet, stumbling away with a hand in front of his face-the hand that brandished the Ram's Horn. Vaguely he became aware that many eyes were turned to him. He blinked, and forced himself to stand tall.

  "You are the Pathfinder," Faltath declared, his voice emerging from the mass of tattooed braves. Ashtaway didn't see his old friend, but he wanted, desperately, to argue with his words.

  Ashtaway thought: My uncle has made a mistake! The young warrior wanted to shout the news to the tribe, to hold out the spiraled horn for any who would take it. But he couldn't do this any more than he could disobey Iydaway's command.

  "He gave it to me because I heard the second Ram's Horn. Let us gather in the council circle, and I will tell the tale."

  The wild elves ringed the central fire pit of the village. They listened raptly as Ashtaway told of the summons from Lectral, of the silver dragon that Hammana still tended. His voice tightened reflexively as he spoke of the beautiful healer, of her tender ministrations toward the mighty serpent.

  After a time, one of the older warriors produced a pipe, and for several minutes the braves smoked, passing the ritual bowl from one to another-waiting silently while the young Pathfinder suspended the telling for his turn to inhale the aged tobacco. Ashtaway gave it to Sir Kamford and admired the human's fortitude as the knight drew in the harsh smoke and allowed it to breeze easily outward from his nostrils.

  Pensively, Ash's mind returned to Hammana. More than ever before, he wanted to see her, to talk to her. But he had other things to do now, and to say.

  "The tribe must make ready to depart," Ashtaway declared. "Such was my uncle's last wish, and it shall be done."

  "You won the battle, and you're still going to leave?" The knight spoke more bluntly and hastily than an elf, and Ashtaway paused, startled.

  "The village has never been attacked here," the Pathfinder explained shortly. "Now the bakali, and doubtlessly other minions of the Dark Queen, know that we are here. We fear for the lives of our elders and our children. Also, it seems that the war is creeping steadily closer."

  "Aye, my friend. Those are good fears, right and proper. But as to the war, if you find a place where it's not encroaching, 1 wish you'd let me know. There's people all over Ansalon wishing for the same thing, but not one that I know of's been able to find it."

  "We will move south, into the heart of the forest lands that divide Silvanesti and Qualinesti."

  "Forests? Maybe in your granddaddy's time, I'll guess," Sir Kamford disputed, with a wry chuckle that struck a dissonant note in the contemplative elves. 'True, I'd heard tales going back to the time of Vinas Solamnus himself. Said that there used to be woodlands filling the whole gap between the Kharolis and Khalkist Ranges. Not anymore, I'm afraid. You're talking of migrating into some prime farmland now."

  The Kagonesti warriors remained silent, but uneasy glances flickered among the tribe. None of them was prepared to believe the word of a savage human, but neither did any of the elves have personal knowledge of the southern forests. Not since the Kinslayer War had any of the wild elves dwelled there, and that was a thousand years in the past.

  "It's not a surprise, I guess, that the lizardmen should have found you down here." The human rambled on with a garrulousness that rendered meditative discourse practically impossible. Ashtaway, however, was curious to hear what the man would say.

  "The Dark Queen's armies are starting a big push to the west this year. By high summer, there'll be battles waged from here to Palanthas, if she has her way. It's only natural that she send some of her lizards into the forest, looking for a way around the knights."

  "I first observed you with a small company of knights. Did you then seek to block this maneuver?" Ash asked. He began to wonder if, behind the knight's undeniable courage, there lurked the mind of a mad fool. His force of two dozen men seemed far too small to accomplish such a bold mission.

  "We were not here as an army, either of invasion or defense," the knight assured him. "Our primary task was to explore the valleys in the foothills, to seek a route into the mountains."

  "Not to defend Palanthas?" Ashtaway tried to picture a reason for the human's strategy.

  "No, but, perhaps, to make the Queen's attack against Palanthas less successful. Takhisis, you see, has sent practically all of her dragons with the strike force of her armies. They make a formidable force, and we know their target is, eventually, Palanthas."

  "Then the war may indeed be approaching its end," declared Faltath. His tone made it clear that he viewed the defeat of the knights as a thing of precious little consequence to himself or the tribe.

  Once
again, Ash found himself disagreeing with his lifelong friend. The prospect of dragons soaring over the woodland, of bakali legions roaming and plundering wherever they wanted to go, seemed like a chilling legacy for the years of his children and grandchildren-and then, with a cold shiver, he again felt the weight of the Ram's Horn. There would be no children for him.

  "Don't hold a victory celebration for the Dark Queen. Not yet!" snapped the knight, with appalling rudeness. Faltath flushed, but Sir Kamford continued speaking without a pause. "There's hope for the knights in several straws, slender though they may be."

  "Do you speak of ways to defeat the Dark Queen and her dragons?" wondered Ashtaway. Often he had remembered the savagery of the dragons he'd seen. An army of the creatures seemed almost incomprehensibly powerful.

  "It's not so unthinkable," the man replied. "There are, after all, dragons who fight as our allies. The golds and silvers make a formidable armada when they take to the skies, and thus the Dark Queen needs always to guard against a surprise attack against Sanction, where lies the root of her strength."

  The young Pathfinder remembered Lectral saying much the same thing. "Then why not strike at Sanction from the plains, where your army is?" Ashtaway asked.

  "Because the queen's armies-and her dragons-block our passage across those plains," Sir Kamford said grimly. "We couldn't attack from there until we defeat those armies. And unless we can burn the depots of Sanction she'll be able to keep her army in the field for ten more years!"

  "I have seen Sanction, from a distance," the young Pathfinder noted. "There seemed ever to be a black, angry cloud about the place-it seems a fitting abode for the Queen of Darkness."

  The knight chuckled, and even Ashtaway was set aback by the man's lack of manners. Suppressing his own temper, aware of the other warriors' displeasure behind their stoic expressions, Ash forced himself to remember that Sir Kamford was a stranger to proper society-indeed, there seemed to be no rudeness intended in his expression of humor.