Dragons of Winter Night - Margaret Weis [101]
“Come, Laurana,” Silvara said, “we must hurry. I am sorry if I was slow—”
“In a moment,” Laurana said sternly. She started to walk past the Wilder elf. Silvara’s hand clutched at her.
“We must hurry!” she said, and there was an edge of steel in her low voice. Her grip on Laurana’s arm was painful, even through the thick fur of Laurana’s heavy cloak.
“Let go of me,” Laurana said coldly, staring at the girl, her green eyes showing neither fear nor anger. Silvara let fall her hand, lowering her eyes.
Laurana walked to the back of the shallow cave. Looking down, however, she could see nothing that made any sense. There was a tangle of twigs and bark and charred wood, some stones, but that was all. If it was a sign, it was a clumsy one. Laurana kicked at it with her booted foot, scattering the stones and sticks. Then she turned and took Silvara’s arm.
“There,” Laurana said, speaking in even, quiet tones. “Whatever message you left for your friends will be difficult to read.”
Laurana was prepared for almost any reaction from the girl—anger, shame at being discovered. She even half-expected her to attack. But Silvara began to tremble. Her eyes—as she stared at Laurana—were pleading, almost sorrowful. For a moment, Silvara tried to speak, but she couldn’t. Shaking her head, she jerked away from Laurana’s grasp and ran outside.
“Hurry up, Laurana!” Theros called gruffly.
“I’m coming!” she answered, glancing back at the debris on the cave floor. She thought of taking a moment longer to investigate further, but she knew she dare not take the time.
Perhaps I am being too suspicious of the girl, and for no reason, Laurana thought with a sigh as she hurried out of the cave. Then about half-way up the trail, she stopped so abruptly that Theros, walking rear-guard, slammed into her. He caught her arm, steadying her.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Y-yes,” Laurana answered, only half-hearing him.
“You look pale. Did you see something?”
“No. I’m fine,” Laurana said hurriedly, and she started up the rocky cliff again, slipping in the snow. What a fool she’d been!
What fools they’d all been! Once again, she could see clearly in her mind’s eye Silvara rising to her feet, dropping her cloak over the dragon orb. The dragon orb that was shining with a strange light!
She started to ask Silvara about the orb when suddenly her thoughts were scattered. An arrow zinged through the air and thudded into a tree near Derek’s head.
“Elves! Brightblade, attack!” the knight cried, drawing his sword.
“No!” Laurana ran forward, grabbing his sword arm. “We will not fight! There will be no killing!”
“You’re mad!” Derek shouted. Angrily breaking loose of Laurana’s grip, he shoved her backward into Sturm.
Another arrow flew by.
“She’s right!” Silvara pleaded, hurrying back. “We cannot fight them. We must reach the pass! There we can stop them.”
Another arrow, nearly spent, struck the chain-mail vest Derek wore over his leather tunic. He brushed it away irritably.
“They’re not aiming to kill,” Laurana added. “If they were, you would be dead by now. We must run for it. We can’t fight here, anyhow.” She gestured at the thick woods. “We can defend the pass better.”
“Put your sword away, Derek,” Sturm said, drawing his blade. “Or you’ll fight me first.”
“You’re a coward, Brightblade!” Derek shouted, his voice shaking with fury. “You’re running from the enemy!”
“No,” Sturm answered coolly, “I’m running from my friends.” The knight kept his sword drawn. “Get moving, Crownguard, or the elves will find they have arrived too late to take you prisoner.”
Another arrow flew past, lodging in a tree near Derek. The knight, his face splotched with fury, sheathed his sword and, turning, plunged ahead up the trail. But not before he had cast Sturm a look of such intense enmity that Laurana shuddered.
“Sturm—” she began, but he only grabbed her