The Dream Spheres - Elaine Cunningham [69]
The crunch of heavy boots against stony ground roused Elaith from his dream. His keenly honed senses recognized the portent of danger, but for a moment or two he didn't care. The dream was so vivid, so poignant, that it left behind a sense of loss that dwarfed all other considerations.
Evermeet was lost to him. Amnestria was long dead. Her half-elven daughter despised him, and not without reason. What could possibly matter, in light of all that?
Elaith watched without interest as a large figure broke away from the trees and stalked toward his camp. A small movement nearby drew his eyes. Bronwyn's small hand curled around a knife. Other than that, she might have been asleep. She did not move and her breathing was slow and even.
"Expecting trouble?" the elf said softly.
"I warned you of the possibility," she responded. Her eyes opened a crack, and fell upon the large, bearded man who was creeping toward them.
"Rhep," she said resignedly. "Some men understand the word no only when it's accompanied by a stab wound or a fireball spell."
Elaith found this notion distasteful. He had never been able to understand why any male would wish to force attention upon an unwilling female. There was no joy in such games, and little sport. On the other hand, the prospect of battle offered a diversion, a familiar respite from his despair.
"I would be delighted to distract him," the elf offered.
"Thanks, but I don't want you to get in trouble on my account. No offense, but who will believe that you fought to protect my honor? I'll set up a fuss, and the others will intervene."
"Don't be so sure," he cautioned her. She looked puzzled, so he added, "Rhep is in the employ of the Ilzimmer family. He is caravan master, which means that, although Lord Gundwynd has supplied the mounts and some of the guards, Ilzimmer is funding the dragon's share of this journey. Most of the mercenaries report to Rhep. You would receive little assistance from that lot. Nor would you find recompense, afterwards. The Ilzimmer clan is known for its distasteful habits and would not be particularly concerned about the behavior of its hirelings. If you were a woman of their class, they might manage to dredge up a sense of outrage. As matters stand, you can expect nothing."
Bronwyn did not flinch. "Harsh words, but good knowledge to have. I'll circle back to camp." She slipped from her bedroll and wriggled like a snake behind the stand of boulders that separated Elaith's camp from the trees beyond.
Rhep scowled as his gaze fell only on the watchful elf and the ashes of a solitary campfire. "Where's the woman, elf?"
Elaith rose, a stout stick in his hand. This he tossed in the direction of the approaching man. A circle trap snapped shut, splitting the wood and sending two neatly sheared pieces flying into the air. The mercenary shied back, both hands flung up to ward off the leaping wood. His furious expression deepened as he realized how his response might be read.
"The camp is warded," Elaith said calmly. "You would be wise to stay where you are."
"Coward!" Rhep grated, as if eager to place that name upon another. "Leave your toys and traps and come out in the open! Name your place, if you're not afraid to fight a real man."
"The forest," Elaith said shortly, and then he turned and led the man away from Bronwyn's hiding place. After a moment, he heard behind him the heavy but cautious tread of the mercenary's boots. He heard also the stealthy rasp of metal against metal as Rhep drew his sword.
Coward indeed, the elf thought scornfully. He subtly quickened his pace to keep his back beyond the reach of the man's treacherous sword.
When he judged they were far enough away that battle would not rouse the camp, Elaith turned to face his challenger. As he did, he pulled a knife from his sleeve and slashed in a single smooth movement so fast it defied the eye to follow. The sharp edge