Silver Shadows - Elaine Cunningham [141]
Tinkersdam kept to himself, muttering and fussing with the collection of pots and vials and powders that he'd carried with him. The elves had all heard Ferret's story of the destruction his concoctions had unleashed among the humans in Zazesspur, and even Tamsin, perhaps the most xenophobic elf among them, was more than willing to let Tinkersdam go about his business unhindered.
Arilyn felt rather useless amid the quietly intense preparations. In many ways her part in this battle was over. Through her efforts the lythari had joined the forest elves, and Zoastria had returned. The half elf had also secretly sent Ganamede into the forest, seeking allies among the fey forest creatures-those folk who were so reclusive that even the elves could find them only if they wished to be found. The lythari knew all the secrets of the forest. Even so, Arilyn felt little hope that Ganamede would succeed in gaining recruits.
She also felt oddly incomplete without the elven sword at her hip, for she had not been without the moonblade since her fifteenth year. Nor did she have a sword with which to replace it. Such weapons were scarce among the forest folk.
This lack did not escape Foxfire's notice. "You cannot go into battle without a sword," he insisted.
Arilyn shrugged. I've got a dagger. That'll do long enough for me to disarm one of the humans." She attempted a smile. "I'll try out a few of their swords and keep the one I like best."
"But even so, you must have a blade. If not for yourself for the good you might do the tribe-the People," he corrected himself. There were now three elven races uniting in preparation for battle, and the once reclusive Elmanesse were learning to expand their concept of community. "Not one among us can match your skill, not even Soora Thea!"
Foxfire nodded toward the tiny moon elf female, who was demonstrating an attack sequence to a small group of young adult elves.
But Arilyn shook her head. "No, her technique is far cleaner and more polished than mine could ever hope to become. If there is any lack, it is because the moonblade has grown in power since she last wielded it. At least four elves have carried the moonblade since Zoastria passed it on, and each added a power to the sword's store of magic. Truth be told, moonblades are becoming pretty damned hard to handle," she concluded. "I doubt there are many left that still hold their magic."
"And fewer still who can manage such magic," Foxfire reasoned. "The tales say such a sword will consume anyone unworthy who draws the blade. It must take great courage to accept a moonblade."
The half-elf merely shrugged. She was not being modest. She had first drawn the sword without knowing any of the implications.
"I have often wondered about the power you gave to your sword. They say this gift is not a deliberate choice, but rather the true reflection of the wielder's needs and talents," he observed.
"Or mission," Arilyn added. "Sometimes the magic comes in response to a sudden challenge. One of my ancestors found himself in a disagreement with a red dragon and ended up endowing the sword with fire resistance. Imagine his surprise when he woke up and found himself alive after that battle!"
The green elf chuckled. "So that was how you endured the wizard's fire bolts. I have seen the sword cast a glamour over you, and I have seen the uncanny speed with which it moves. Which of these was your gift?"
"Neither. A moonblade can be handled by only one person," Arilyn explained, "and that can cause problems if you've got a partner. My gift was to share the blade and its magic, should he have need of it."
"Ah. This explains much," Foxfire said.
Arilyn cast him a quizzical look.
"During the battle at the river, I was hard pressed by the human fighters," he began. "Yet I saw the shadow warriors come forth from your moonblade, and I noticed that one among