Dragons of Winter Night - Margaret Weis [97]
Gilthanas breathed more easily. Then his quick ears caught the sound of water splashing. Listening carefully, he determined it wasn’t a fish or a nightbird diving for its catch in the river. The elflord glanced at Derek and Sturm. The two stood apart from one another on a rock outcropping overlooking the camp. Gilthanas could hear them arguing with each other in fierce whispers. The elflord crept away from camp, heading toward the sound of softly splashing water.
Gilthanas walked through the dark forest with no more noise than the shadows of night itself would make. Occasionally he caught a glimpse of the river glistening faintly through the trees. Then he came to a place where the water, flowing among the rocks, had become trapped in a small pool. Here Gilthanas stopped, and here his heart almost stopped beating. He had found Silvara.
A dark circle of trees stood starkly outlined against the racing clouds. The silence of the night was broken only by the gentle murmurs of the silver river, which fell over rock steps into the pool, and by the splashing sounds that had caught Gilthanas’s attention. Now he knew what they were.
Silvara was bathing. Oblivious to the chill in the air, the elfmaid was submerged in the water. Her clothes lay scattered on the bank next to a frayed blanket. Only her shoulders and arms were visible to Gilthanas’s elvensight. Her head was thrown back as she washed the long hair that trailed out behind her, floating like a dark cobweb on the darker pool. The elflord held his breath, watching her. He knew he should leave, but he was held fast, entranced.
And then, the clouds parted. Solinari, the silver moon, though only half-full, burned in the night sky with a cold brilliance. The water in the pool turned to molten silver. Silvara rose up out of the pool. The silver water glistened on her skin, gleamed in her silver hair, ran in shining rivulets down her body that was painted in silver moonlight. Her beauty struck Gilthanas’s heart with such intense pain that he gasped.
Silvara started, looking around her terrified. Her wild, abandoned grace added so much to her loveliness that Gilthanas, though he longed to speak to her reassuringly, couldn’t force the words past the pain in his chest.
Silvara ran from the water to the bank where her clothes lay. But she did not touch them. Instead, she reached into a pocket. Grabbing a knife, she turned, ready to defend herself.
Gilthanas could see her body quivering in the silvery moonlight, and he was reminded vividly of a doe he had cornered after a long hunt. The creature’s eyes sparkled with the same fear he now saw in Silvara’s luminous eyes. The Wilder elf stared around, terrified. Why doesn’t she see me? Gilthanas wondered briefly, feeling her eyes pass over him several times. With the elven sight, he should stand out to her like a—
Suddenly Silvara turned, starting to flee from the danger she could feel, yet could not see.
Gilthanas felt his voice freed. “No! Wait, Silvara! Don’t be frightened. It’s me, Gilthanas.” He spoke in firm, yet hushed tones—as he had spoken to the cornered doe. “You shouldn’t be out alone, it’s dangerous.…”
Silvara paused, standing half in silver light, half in protecting shadows, her muscles tense, ready to spring. Gilthanas followed his huntsman’s instinct, walking slowly, continuing to talk, holding her with his steady voice and his eyes.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone. I’ll stay with you. I want to talk to you anyway. I want you to listen to me for a moment. I need to talk to you, Silvara. I don’t want to be here alone, either. Don’t leave me, Silvara. So much has left me in this world. Don’t leave.…”
Talking softly, continuously, Gilthanas moved with smooth, deliberate