Elfsong - Elaine Cunningham [85]
Balindar pulled Morgalla to her feet. The single-minded dwarf brushed him aside and charged after the cricket. She grabbed her spear and jerked it free, and with a second quick movement she plunged it into the cricket's eye. Using the spear like a lever, she flung herself forward. Under the force of her assault, the hard shell gave way with a sickening crack. Morgalla leaped back, wiping a splash of gore from her face as the cricket toppled over onto its side. It twitched a few more times, then finally lay still.
As soon as the immediate danger was past, Danilo dropped the moonblade and turned to Elaith, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. The moon elf took no notice. His face was set in a mask of fury, and he sprang silently at the Harper.
Danilo dropped to the ground and rolled left, hearing as he did the swish of a dagger dangerously close to his right ear. He leaped to his feet and drew his own sword, crouching in a defensive stance. Elaith was already up, the dagger in one hand and a long silver dirk in the other.
Wyn Ashgrove stepped between the fighters. Although nearly a half foot shorter than either Dan or Elaith, the slight elf had a commanding mien that neither could ignore. The fighters involuntarily lowered their weapons.
"In what way. Lord Craulnober, has this human defiled the elven sword?" he demanded, his cool green eyes fixed upon the angry moon elf. "Were not the moonblades forged for great deeds? The Harper saved a life, perhaps all our lives. If his task was unworthy, even a dormant sword would have struck him down. Do not judge where the moonblade did not, for in doing so you dishonor the sword." The unspoken words more than you have already hung in the air.
Elaith sheathed his weapons and picked up the ancient blade. Without a word, he turned and strode from the camp into the blighted forest.
"You'll fight that one yet," Morgalla observed. She wrenched her spear free of the monster and came to stand at Danilo's side. "I owe you, bard."
"Repay me, then, by letting me fight him alone when the time comes."
The Harper's voice was quiet and uncharacteristically grim, and the dwarf nodded once in understanding. With a deep sigh, Danilo turned back to the pile.
They dug until all the men had been recovered. Orcsar-mor was not found in time, and several other mercenaries -whose names Danilo had never learned-had been slain and partially eaten by the giant cricket. After the survivors laid the men in shallow graves, Wyn went in search of the runaway hermit and the others bathed in the cold, deep waters of the creek.
Following a cursory dip in the stream, Vartain pulled the scroll out of his leather pouch and resumed his study. Danilo came out of the creek dripping and chilly. He discarded his wet tunic and began to remove dry clothing from his magic bag. The others watched agape as he took from the bag a fine linen shirt, a dark green tabard, leggings, linens, and stockings, even a spare pair of boots. The Harper looked up and noted his audience.
"It's a bag of holding," he commented, and continued to rummage. "An especially roomy one. You wouldn't believe all the stuff that's in here. I've got something that should suit you, Morgalla, at least until Wyn gets back with your pony and your travel bag. It's fortunate that you folks had readied the horses and supplies before the sorceress struck. Ah, here it is."
Danilo drew forth a loose shirt of pale green silk. "This is hardly the gown I would have chosen for you, but it should serve for the time. Here's a scarf, too, and a gold clasp with a rather nice cluster of peridots-"
"Fancy stuff like this don't hold up to the road," Morgalla pointed out but she took the luxurious garments and headed for the privacy of a cluster of rocks.
The Harper dressed quickly and passed out what articles of clothing he thought might fit the others.