Silver Shadows - Elaine Cunningham [79]
At a signal from Tamsin, the three elves dropped silently to the ground, directly in front of their chosen marks. Before the humans could move or cry out, three bone knives slashed forward and dealt swift and silent death. The elves caught the falling humans and eased them silently to the ground-a difficult feat for the tiny Hawkwing, who used her own body to muffle the sound of the falling human. Foxfire winced, but the elf girl crawled out from under the dead sentry and signaled that all was well.
Foxfire nodded to the group leaders, and the elves scattered into the forest. He followed Tamsin into the trees. As they crept through the canopy over the campsite, he took careful note of the men who slept below. There were a total of three-and-forty humans-a large band, far more than Foxfire had anticipated. More, in fact, than had pursued them into the forest. Somehow they, like the elves, had managed to send for reinforcements. The implications of this did not bode well for the elves.
Although he knew little of humans, Foxfire understood that they did not possess the elven gift of rapport, that mystical closeness that enabled elves to share thoughts and feelings, even across long distances. Rapport was strongest among the twin-born-Tamsin and Tamara shared such a bond with each other and a strong empathy with other elves-but most often rapport occurred between elven lovers who forged a bond strong and bright enough to weld their spirits together for all time. It was the deepest commitment known to elves, rarely undertaken and never done so lightly. Foxfire knew that humans could not send messages through rapport; they could do so through use of magic.
Suddenly a sharp crack split the silence of the night-the heart-chilling sound of a metal trap springing shut. There came another, and a third, and then a quick brutal crackle that came too quickly to count. The sounds roused the humans, who leaped from their bedrolls and seized their weapons: wooden shields, small crossbows, swords, and daggers.
Tamsin's body contorted in a spasm of agony as the backlash of the trapped elves' pain swept through him. Foxfire reached out to steady him, then captured the younger elfs anguished eyes with his own. It was clear that Tamsin not only felt the elves' suffering, but blamed himself for it. Had he not been so focused on the hunt, he might have sensed the coming danger.
"Shield yourself?' Foxfire said sternly. "What's done cannot be undone; you will not help them by sharing their deaths."
"How could this happen?" demanded Hawkwing, her black eyes wide with horror. "Why could they not see the traps?"
"The humans have a wizard," Foxfire replied as he nocked an arrow. He elbowed Tamsin, for the young elf's gifts were needed. Of all of them, Tamsin had the best chance of discerning the deadly foe.
The young fighter shook himself, scattering his borrowed emotions like an otter casting off droplets of water. He put aside his grief and his guilt and took a deep, steadying breath. Swiftly, surely, he focused on the unseen threads that tied him to the forest and to the web of magic that was its essence.
Tamsin knew the pattern-they all did-but more than most elves, he felt it in his blood, traveled its gossamer paths whenever he rested in reverie. And thus he sensed quickly and surely the ugly, gaping tear in the fabric of life that indicated that a human wizard was at work.
"There," he said, pointing to one of the men crouched below-an easy target, for he was one of the few humans who did not hold a shield.
Foxfire swung his bow into place and loosed his ready arrow. The bolt tore through the layers of leaves, straight toward its mark…
… and burst into flame.
Blue fire flashed down the