Heirs of Prophecy - Lisa Smedman [116]
Leifander found himself in crow form once more, tumbling to the floor.
"A spy!" Maalthiir shouted, leaping to his feet. "A gods-cursed Sembian spy!"
In that same instant Guff whipped out his sword. The barrel-chested officer leaped between Leifander and Maalthiir, protecting his lord. Nadire, having expended one spell, began chanting the words of a second.
Terrified though he was at having been discovered, Leifander still had one thing in his favor. Nadire had dispelled only one of the spells Leifander had cast upon himself. Still in crow form, he could at least beat a hasty retreat on the wing-if he lived long enough to get out of the tent.
General Guff charged, sword whistling through the air, but somehow Leifander managed to dodge the slash, wheeling in a tight circle inside the tent. Nadire, trying to track him with one hand, held back his spell as Guff got in the way. Maalthiir continued shouting, urging his officers to capture the spy.
Salvation came a heartbeat later, when one of the guards outside threw open the tent flap to look inside. Quick as a blink, Leifander shot through the opening, wings beating so furiously they felt like a hummingbird's. He climbed with powerful strokes up into the sky-then dived to gain speed and present a more difficult target for Nadire's spell.
Behind him, he heard Maalthiir howling orders. "Archers! Shoot that damned bird!" he shouted. "Bring down anything that flies."
One arrow, two-and a flurry whistled into the air, but already Leifander had flown out of range. Silently praising the goddess for maintaining his skinwalking abilities even in the face of Nadire's spell, he flew far to the south, to reinforce Maalthiir's false impression that he was a Sembian spy. Only when he was certain he could no longer be seen did he dive to treetop level and turn back in the direction of the forest elves' camp.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
As the tent flap rustled, Larajin jumped in alarm and raised her hand to cast a spell. Beside her, Doriantha drew a dagger with a slither of steel and Goldheart fluffed in alarm. But instead of the person Larajin most feared-Drakkar- pushing his way into the tent, it was Rylith, the person she most wanted to see.
The druid blinked once in surprise to see Larajin inside Doriantha's tent, then immediately nodded as if finding Larajin there was something she'd half expected.
She looked around the tent and asked, "Where is Leifander?"
"We don't know," Larajin said in a tense voice. "Doriantha saw him perched on Lord Ilreth's manor, and told him to meet her here, but he never arrived. Goldheart spotted him flying over the Red Plumes's camp a short time later, but then he just… disappeared."
Rylith's eyebrows furrowed. "Disappeared?"
Instead of questioning Larajin further, however, she turned to the tressym and uttered a series of mrrows and yrrows, then finally, a soft growl.
Rylith switched back to the common tongue. "His disappearance doesn't appear to be the Red Plumes's work. I think it was some spell he cast upon himself-that he somehow managed to render his crow form invisible. As for his safety now…"
Her voice trailed off as a sudden commotion erupted, far from Doriantha's tent. Larajin could hear the shouts of men, and the faint but unmistakable thrum-thrum-thrum of a volley of arrows being loosed. It sounded as though the noise was coming from the northeast.
"The Red Plumes!" Larajin said, stiffening. "Do you think it's Leifander they're shooting at?"
Doriantha joined Larajin in giving Ryhth a tense, expectant look, but the druid merely sat quietly, listening. After a moment, the sound of bows stopped, and there were more distant shouts.
"If Leifander is the cause of that commotion, we can only hope he has escaped," Ryhth said. "As to that-we shall see."
Doriantha nodded in acceptance, but Larajin jumped to her feet. "What? You mean we're just going