Elminster_ The Making of a Mage - Ed Greenwood [143]
Elminster nodded, not smiling. "I was afraid ye'd say something like that."
Elves were suddenly all around them, seeming to melt out of the trees. Braer met Elminster's eyes, and asked, "Who is this lady mage?"
Myrjala spoke for herself. "Al hond ebrath, uol tath shantar en tath lalala ol hond ebrath."
El looked at her. "What did ye say?"
"A true friend, as the trees and the water are true friends," Myrjala translated softly, her eyes very dark.
The elf who'd first challenged Elminster by the pool said, "A proud boast, lady, for one who lives and then is gone, while the trees and streams endure forever."
Myrjala turned her head, as tall and as regal as any elf, and said, "You may be surprised at my longevity, Ruvaen, as others of your folk have been, before."
Ruvaen drew back a pace, frowning. "How is it that you know my name? Who-?"
"Peace," Braer said. "Such things are best spoken of in private, one to another. Now we have much to plan and prepare. The test has been set and passed. Elminster may not have prevailed alone, but two magelords are no more, not one. Do any challenge this?"
Silence answered him, and he turned wordlessly to Ruvaen.
The archer looked at Braer, nodded, and then said to Elminster, "The People will fight at your side for Athalantar, if you hold to the pledge you made to us when we swore aid to you."
"I will," Elminster said, and extended his hand.
After a long moment, Ruvaen took it, and they clasped forearms firmly, as one warrior to another. Around them, the gathered elves of the High Forest shouted in exultation-the loudest sound of celebration any elf of Athalantar had made in many a year.
*****
Old, wise eyes watched the elves and humans dwindle into the depths of the crystal, and then slowly fade. What to do?
Aye, what? The lad was just one more young spell weaver with glory in his eyes, but the woman… He'd not seen spell-mastery like that since… his eyes narrowed, and then he shrugged.
There was no time for idle memories. There never is.
He had to warn everyone, and then s-but no. No. Let these two destroy Seldinor first.
Sixteen
WHEN MAGES GO TO WAR
A star rushes past, to crash upon the shore
But the first of many many more
Stoke the fire and stout bar the door
For this is the night mages go to war.
Angarn Dunharp
from the ballad When Mages Go to War
Year of the Sword and Stars
Leaves rustled. At that slightest of sounds, Helm whirled, hand going to hilt. Out from behind the tree stepped the silent elven warrior he'd come to know as Ruvaen, the gray cloak that was so hard to see swirling around him. There was another elf with him. Their still faces somehow betrayed a mood darker than usual.
"What news?" Helm asked simply. None of the elves or the knights were wont to waste words.
Ruvaen held out something that filled his hand-something clear and smooth-sided and colorless, like a fist-sized diamond. A few clumps of moss clung to it. Helm looked down at it and raised his brows in an unspoken question.
"A scrying crystal. Used by human wizards," Ruvaen said flatly.
"The magelords," Helm said grimly. "Where did ye find this?"
"In a dell, not far from here," said the other elf, pointing off into the forest gloom.
"One of your men hid it under moss," Ruvaen added. "When he wasn't using it."
Helm Stoneblade let out his breath in a long sigh. "So they may know all our plans and be laughing at us now."
The two elves did not need to answer. Ruvaen put the crystal gently into Helm's callused hand, touched his shoulder, and said, "We'll wait above, in the trees… should you need us."
Helm nodded, looking down at the crystal in his hand. Then he lifted his head to stare into the forest. Who most often went off into the woods to relieve himself in that direction?
His battered face changed, hardening. Helm thrust the crystal into the breast of his tunic, turned, and made a short barking sound. One of his men, cutting up a deer some distance