The Dream Spheres - Elaine Cunningham [58]
A peal of lighthearted laughter interrupted the elf's angry thoughts. He turned in time to witness a highly unusual game of catch.
A golden steed hopped into the path of a passing half-orc porter-not a horse, but a titanic eagle with a raptor's cold eyes and hooked, rending beak. Just the sight of it was enough to freeze the blood of a brave man. The eagle's beak opened and the gigantic head suddenly lunged forward in a quick, darting strike.
The porter shrieked, dropped his load, and rolled frantically aside. This inspired another burst of laughter-merry and wild but without malice.
An involuntary smile curved Elaith's lips as he remembered this game. The eagle's partner, a young elf probably not much past his second century, tossed a second piece of meat toward his feathered steed. The bird deftly caught it and tossed back its head to let the treat slide down its gullet. The half-orc sent a glare at the mischievous elf and scurried off.
Three more elves stepped from the crowd and fell into conversation with their brother. They were Moon elves, like Elaith: tall and slender and as finely honed as daggers. All of them had silvery hair and eyes the color of precious stones: amber, jade, topaz. Their speech held the accents of faraway Evermeet, and their tunics bore an almost-forgotten insignia.
Elaith's brow furrowed with consternation. Eagle Riders, here on the mainland? These youth were among the most fierce defenders of the elven island. Why were they here?
The young leader noticed his scrutiny. He frowned in concentration for a moment, then his face lit up like a sunrise.
He came toward Elaith, his left palm held out and level in the manner of one elven lord greeting another. "This is an honor, Lord Craulnober! My father served under your command in the Palace Guard, when I was nearly as young-although, gods grant, not quite as silly-as these humans!" He grinned and dipped into a bow. "Garelith Leafbower, at your command."
These words, and the respect with which they were delivered, touched memories that Elaith had thought long forgotten. He acknowledged the greeting with scant courtesy. "Many years have passed since I left the island," he said dismissively, but his irritation with these youth remained, and he could not help adding, "What of you? Has Evermeet no need for her Eagle Riders?"
The young elf laughed. "None that I have heard! The island is as it ever was. Beautiful, inviolate-and boring beyond endurance! These lads and I were hungry for a bit of excitement."
"Which you expect to find as caravan guards."
"Honorable work," the elf said with a shrug, then he grinned again. "There is, at least, adventure in it! We are going to Silverymoon, are we not? I have heard tales of this wondrous city and of the lady mage who rules it."
Garelith's fellow Riders clustered near, their gem-colored eyes alight with curiosity and high spirits. Elaith's irritation melted as he parried their questions and enjoyed the melodious flow of the Elvish language.
A tall, thick-bodied shadow fell upon them. Garelith's animated face fell at once into the calm, inscrutable mask that elves showed to outsiders. "Captain Rhep," he said in formal tones, inclining his head in the small, gracious gesture an elven warrior used to acknowledge, but not reward, an unwanted interruption.
Rhep shouldered past the Eagle Riders and planted his booted feet nearly toe to toe with Elaith's. He was a big man, a half head taller than the elf, and nearly as broad and thick as a bugbear-nearly as hairy, for that matter. Dark brown hair fell in thick waves from beneath Rhep's leather helm. His upper lip and chin were furred with massive, ill-trimmed whiskers. His features were coarse and his nose so broad and flat that it hinted at orcish ancestry in the not-too-distant past. Rhep wore leather armor on his huge frame and