Silver Shadows - Elaine Cunningham [138]
"So be it," Zoastria said, and the others, still awed by the return of their ancient hero, were content to accept her word as final.
The elves debated briefly about the best way to approach the Suldusk lands. Less than two days' march to the east lay the valley known as the Swanmay's Glade. Here was the largest lake in the forest, and from it a small river wound its way toward Suldusk territory. They could build rafts and float downstream more rapidly than they could walk. It was agreed that they would leave at first light, after a night spent in reverie, meditation, and prayers to the Seldarine.
When the chorus of morning birdsong began with the first few tentative, somnolent chirps, the elves were already on the move. They followed the trails the retreating humans had left, not a difficult thing to do.
As usual, Tamsin had gone up ahead to scout. He had not cried back a warning, but none of the elves doubted that he had come to grief, for his sister Tamara suddenly stopped walking and cringed, and placed both hands over- her eyes.
A silence fell over the elves, for what could the fey female have seen that would cast such desolation over her, but the death of her twin-born brother?
Tamara's shoulders rose and fell in a long, steadying breath, and she lifted her eyes to Foxfire's face. "It is as you have said. The humans are luring us to them. They will be waiting for us, and for you. Come. You will not want to see this, but you must."
Several hundred paces down the trail, a sapling had been stripped of its branches and turned into a post. To it was tied the body of an elf. Not Tamsin-this one was a stranger, a Suldusk elf, dead for perhaps three days. Flies buzzed about the body, lingering on the shape of a flower that had been cut into one of the dead elf's cheeks.
"How many more elves mark the trail south?" Tamsin murmured in a despairing voice. "How many more will die in captivity before we reach the southern forest?"
Ganamede, who had returned to the Elmanesse with the dawn, padded over to Zoastria's side. "I have seen the human camp," the wolflike lythari said. "Their numbers are far greater than ours, and they have had time to set up defenses. Our only hope of prevailing-and freeing those elves who have not yet been slain-is surprise. I have spoken with my clan. The lythari will take you between the worlds to a place much nearer the camp than the Swanmay's Glade-a day's walk, no more."
"The humans have had more than three days head start," Rhothomir observed. "Even so, they will not arrive at their camp long before we do and will surely not expect us so soon. They will no doubt have scouts watching for our passage. With what you suggest, we could slip past unseen and catch the humans utterly unaware! If your clan is willing to take us, we accept most gratefully."
The elves set about dividing into small groups so they could travel with the dozen or so lythari through the gates to the battle site. Foxfire was among the first to go, as was Rhothomir. It seemed best to send the leaders first, but Zoastria waved aside her turn and motioned for Arilyn to come with her.
The two elven females walked away from the others. When they came to a small clearing beneath the shade of some ancient oaks, Zoastria came to a halt. The battle comes sooner than I had expected," she said abruptly. "It is time."
Arilyn gazed down at the smaller elf, not understanding. She followed the elf woman's gaze to the moonblade on her hip.
"You have worn it well, for a half-elf," Zoastria admitted. "But my time has come again. I will have my moon-blade returned to me."
Twenty-one
Arilyn stared at her ancestor, dumbfounded by this demand. She had not foreseen this result of raising the sleeping warrior!
"The moonblade has accepted me as its wielder. The sword and I are joined!" she protested. "I cannot turn it over to another as if it were no more than a common weapon!"
"Only one can wield the sword," Zoastria said sternly.