Elfsong - Elaine Cunningham [120]
The three friends rounded the corner to the temple courtyard just as Elaith started up the broad, white marble steps of the main building. He was alone, and the Morninglark harp was tucked under one arm. Danilo pulled his sword and hailed the moon elf. Elaith spun about and fixed a look of pure malevolence upon the Harper. "Do not hinder me, fool! Too much is at stake."
"My point precisely," Danilo said in a voice that was equally cold. "The Knights of the Shield are earning a foothold in the city, the archmage has been brought low by a charm spell, music-wielding monsters feed upon farmers and travelers, and the bards have become unwitting tools of evil."
"That is a problem for you and yours, Harper. It has nothing to do with me."
Danilo advanced a step. "Really! Then you are content to rear the Lady Azariah in the type of world I've just described?"
The elf's face turned white with rage. "You must never speak that name," he commanded. "No one in Waterdeep can know of her. I have many enemies who would pay dearly for such information. Many of my associates, for that matter, would not hesitate to seize her for ransom or harm her in revenge against me."
Elaith put down the harp and drew his own sword, advancing with menacing slowness down the steps. "I have the harp now. By the terms of our agreement, my search is over. Our partnership is at an end."
"No, it isn't," Danilo responded, taking a battle stance and raising his sword in guard position. "By your word, I was to undo the spell before turning over the harp to you. Or doesn't your word matter?"
"Azariah is all that matters."
The Harper brought his sword up in time to meet Elaith's first lightning-fast strike. "So she'll be our little secret, is that what you're saying?"
"In a manner of speaking." The elf's smile was grim, and he advanced with a flurry of blows that stretched Danilo's swordsmanship to its limit and beyond. The Harper had little doubt that Elaith could kill him at will, but the elf was not content with a fast strike. The battle between them had been too long in coming.
"Why isn't your faithful dwarven guard dog coming to your aid?" the elf taunted, tossing his silver head in the direction of the grim and watchful warrior.
"This is between you and me. Morgalla understands the concept of honor."
Elaith laughed unpleasantly. "If that allusion was intended to draw blood, you failed sadly, Harper." He drew a long dirk and advanced on the Harper, keeping his attacks deliberately slow so that Danilo could fend off both blades. The elf was openly, blatantly toying with his prey.
"Honor," Danilo repeated pointedly. "Consider the nature of your quest. Can your daughter's honor be won through dishonor?"
The elf recoiled, glaring at the Harper with naked hatred. He snapped his blades into their scabbards and pulled the magic knife from its wrist sheath. Slowly, he raised his arm for a killing throw.
Wyn wrapped a restraining arm around Morgalla's shoulders, and for a long moment all four stood frozen in tense indecision.
Elaith flung the blade at Danilo. It hit the street at the Harper's feet, embedding itself in the narrow crack between two large pieces of marble. The magic knife quivered there for the span of five heartbeats, then it disappeared.
"Take the accursed harp, then, and cast the spell-if you can." The elf stalked to the edge of the temple courtyard and folded his arms.
On a gusty sigh of relief, Morgalla released the breath she'd been holding, and Wyn's lips began to move in prayer to his elven gods.
The Harper sheathed his sword and walked slowly up the stairs to the ancient harp. He sat down on the step and tentatively stroked the strings. With a quick intake of breath he snatched away his hand, unprepared for the shock of power that had coursed through the silent strings athis touch.
"Get on with it!" Elaith demanded.
The memory of Khelben's stern face filled Danilo's mind, and the young bard immediately took the harp