Silver Shadows - Elaine Cunningham [31]
"By the stars and the spirits," Tamsin swore in a choked voice. The young elf kicked into a run, dashing through the ferns and vines without regard for silence and without thought for the trail his passing left.
Foxfire's reprimand died unspoken. A dagger gleamed in Tamsin's hand. The youth often sensed dangers that older and wiser elves missed, and though he was impulsive, he did not enter battle lightly. Foxfire and Korrigash exchanged a quick, dismayed glance and drew their own weapons.
The elves ran lightly through the crushed foliage, pausing at the torn curtain of vines that had veiled Council Glade from their sight. Before them stood Tamsin, his copper-hued face strangely ashen, and beyond him lay a scene of utter devastation.
What had once been a lush forest glade now resembled the remnants of a careless merchant's campfire. A large circle of ground was black and barren, tittered with piles of charred sticks. The swinging bridges- walkways that had linked the trees and the homes and chambers hidden among them-now hung against the blackened trees. The elven homes were gone, as were the inhabitants. Foxfire's throat tightened as he noted blackened bones lying among the remains of trees.
The home of the Elven Council had been utterly destroyed, and with it the best hope of unity among the beleaguered People.
A tight touch on his shoulder tore Foxfire from his grim thoughts. He turned to face the hunter, who handed him a blackened arrow shaft.
Took it from between two naked ribs. Look at the mark," Korrigash advised him.
The elf glanced at the shaft. The mark on it was familiar: three curved tines, combining to make a stylized foxfire, the bright flower from which he had taken his name. The arrow was unmistakably his, yet how had he lost it? He hadn't missed a chosen target since boyhood!
He lifted incredulous eyes to his friend's face. "But how?"
"The humans." Korrigash pointed to the shaft. "Note the length."
Foxfire nodded, understanding at once. The arrow shaft was shorter than it should have been by a width of perhaps two fingers. It had been broken off, the jagged edge trimmed smooth, and the arrowhead reaffixed. Since the forest elves retrieved and reused all arrow's used in hunting, this one could only have been torn from the body of an enemy. It was possible that this arrow had been plucked from a wounded ogre or bugbear, but such creatures lacked the wit to plant it here for others to find. This was the work of the elves' human foe.
"Tribe against tribe," the hunter commented grimly.
Again Foxfire nodded in agreement. The marks of the best elven hunters and warriors were well known in the forest, and not every elf who stumbled upon the razed elven settlement would see the ploy for what it was. While it was possible that someone was attempting to turn the elven tribes against each other, the purpose behind this grim act was utterly beyond Foxfire's ken.
There was one human, however, who might well have the answers. Foxfire remembered his conversation with Bunlap, and suddenly he knew where he might find the human.
He walked up to Tamsin and put a hand on the young elfs shoulder. A surge of guilt filled Foxfire as he noted the haunted look on the fighter's face. Tamsin was fey, even for a green elf. It was likely the youth was seeing the carnage as clearly as if it was happening before him. Such gifts were as much torment as blessing, but Tamsin's was needed. The elf was twin-born, and he had a bond with his equally fey sister that enabled them to speak mind-to-mind.
"You must send word to Talltrees at once," Foxfire told him. "The tribe must send a war band with all possible speed to the border trees south of Mosstone. "Shirty elves,