All Shadows Fled - Ed Greenwood [11]
For the third time, Jhessail Silvertree lost sight of everything but moving black-armored bulks and a forest of lances. She studied the small circle of blue sky visible above her-all she could see of the world around-sighed, and decided she'd had about enough. From the mutter-ings behind her, she could tell that her apprentice, Illistyl, whose tongue was apt to be sharper than that of almost anyone else, was clinging to her temper with grim talons. Jhessail smiled tightly, thanked Torm for his work in outfitting her with riding breeches-though her lack of armor was why the Riders were treating her this way-and swung her legs suddenly up underneath her.
She heard a startled, wordless exclamation from a Rider on her right as she spread her hands for balance and stood up on her saddle. She had time for a good look around before the Riders on either side of her were extending their lances around her like the bars of an upturned portcullis and crying out:
"Lady, get down!"
"Catch hold of my lance!"
"Careful, Lady!"
She folded her arms across her breast and waited for them to fall silent-and soon enough, uncertainly, they did. "Thank you for your kind concern, Gentlesirs," she said as the horses slowed to a rather jarring trot, "but both Illistyl and I find it rather hard to do any scouting or become familiar with the land around us-land you gallants already know well, but which we've seen only once or twice in passing-through a solid wall of plate armor."
"That's just it," the leader of the patrol rumbled, his deep voice sounding almost scandalized. "You wear no armor! What if a Zhent arrow came from the trees? How could we shield you better than we have been?"
"Kuthe," Jhessail said soothingly, " 'tis not your diligence or skills I reproach, but my lack of any good way to see around or through all of you. I'm saving my one 'long eyes' spell for any spying we need do in the forest. I know the risks of riding to war; I've done it before, remember."
"But to expose yourself needlessly," Kuthe growled, "is foolish, Lady."
"To a vigilant guard of his homeland, yes," Jhessail said, still standing on her saddle, "but I am an adventuress. One who plays with spells. An explorer of baatezu-haunted Myth Drannor. Wedded to an elf, remember? I've done far more crazed things in my life than riding out without armor, I assure you."
"But the little lass-* Kuthe said, gesturing helplessly.
"Call me that again, ironhead," Illistyl advised him sharply, "and you'll be chasing your teeth around the inside of that great helm of yours."
There were guffaws from the Riders, but one of them cut through the chorus of mirth. "Lone rider behind!"
Heads snapped around, and Jhessail turned, smiled, and announced, "It's Lord Merith. The reinforcements Elminster promised us must have arrived."
"Reinforcements?" Kuthe rumbled, looking up at her.
"We've heard nothing of this… How many, Lady?"
"Four," she told him sweetly, and there were more guffaws. Illistyl was sure she heard an angry snort as Kuthe's helm swung away from them, but a moment later Jhessail snapped, "Ahead-at Treesedge! Lookr
The eastern end of Mistledale, where the flanking arms of the forest met to form a narrow green tunnel around the road to the Standing Stone, had always been called Treesedge. The spot was marked by a covered well and the crumbling rampart of a tiny keep- well known to Riders on patrol who'd sheltered from downpours under its remnants. It was a beautiful spot to spend a night, but a bit lonely to be a grave site.
It seemed likely, however, that men were going to be buried there now. Crossbow quarrels were humming down the road from the east, raking the rear of a hard-riding band of merchants on lathered, stumbling horses fleeing