Cadderly looked at Danica, his face twisted in confusion.
“I have never heard of such a thing,” he said. “Dorigen’s imp is telepathic. That much I learned.” He turned back on Rufo. “But to invade your thoughts, and remain there without your consent?”
“If you’re lying.…” Danica threatened, wagging a fist in Rufo’s direction.
“Unless,” Cadderly mumbled, scratching his smooth chin and thinking of any old stories that might give him an idea of what was going on. When he looked back to the others, he saw that they were staring at him, waiting.
“Have you ever seen the imp?” Cadderly asked Rufo.
“Once,” the man admitted.
“And did the imp give you something to carry?” Cadderly asked. “A personal item, perhaps? Or did he touch you, or handle any of your possessions?” He looked to Ivan and Pikel and nodded.
“W-what?” was all Rufo could stammer before the dwarves grabbed his ankles and laid him out on the ground. They then began systematically stripping the man, holding up each possession for Cadderly to see, and when he shook his head, the item went flying. Pikel was about to rip Rufo’s tunic open when the dwarf spotted something.
“Oo oi!” Pikel squealed, realizing that his find might be important.
“What ye got there?” Ivan asked, and when his eyes widened also, Cadderly and Danica moved over for a look.
“Where did you get that amulet?” Cadderly asked. He figured that their search was at its end, for the amulet, edged in gold and centered with a fabulous emerald, was far beyond Rufo’s meager means.
“What amulet?” the man replied, perplexed.
“This one,” Cadderly explained. He unpinned the thing and held it up for Rufo to see.
Even Danica couldn’t doubt Rufo’s sincerely confused expression. Without a thought, Cadderly handed the amulet to Ivan, and the dwarf, with a wink to his brother, produced a frog from his pocket and pinned the amulet to a loose fold in the creature’s skin.
“That’ll keep the imp-thing guessing,” the dwarf explained. “ ’Course now I’ll be needing to catch me a new supper!”
“This allowed the imp to invade your thoughts,” Cadderly explained above the quiet chuckles of Danica and the two dwarves. The young scholar was certain of his guess and continued with some confidence. “Without it, you are free—unless you choose to let him back in.”
“And you would not do that, would you?” Danica asked, suddenly grim. She grabbed Rufo by the shoulder and roughly spun him around to stare into her glowering face.
Rufo pulled free and tried to regain some measure of his dignity. “I have admitted my weakness,” he said. “Surely I cannot be blamed—”
“No one is blaming you,” Cadderly answered, speaking more to Danica than Rufo. “Now, you said you have betrayed us. What do you know?”
“The tangle of duskwood trees …” Rufo said. “I was instructed to keep out of the way when the enemy attacks you there.”
Cadderly looked to Elbereth, who, satisfied that no enemies were in the area, had come back to stand beside them.
“Have you heard?” the young scholar asked.
Elbereth nodded gravely. “The forest is strangely quiet,” he replied. “I had suspected that some mischief was afoot.” His unyielding stare bored into Rufo. “Now I understand. How much did you tell the imp?”
Cadderly wanted to calm the elf, but he understood that Elbereth’s fears went far beyond the safety of their little group. All of the elf’s kin had come west and would be dangerously exposed if the enemy knew their movements.
“I don’t know,” Rufo replied, lowering his gaze. “It is … was, difficult to mask …”
“We must assume that Druzil learned quite a lot from Rufo,” Cadderly put in grimly, “about our whereabouts and the position of the elven force.” Elbereth’s wince made Cadderly pause a moment. “Should one of us go back and find your people and warn them of the danger?” the young scholar offered.
Elbereth thought it over for a moment, sincerely torn. “No,” he answered at length. “The best we can do for the People is to finish our business quickly. We can go around the duskwood tangle and avoid the ambush, though that course will cost us some time.”
“And time lost will surely cost more elves their lives,” Danica had to add, her unblinking gaze not turning from Rufo.
“I did not wish to come along,” Rufo started to protest. But he couldn’t maintain his anger and turned away then finished meekly, “I knew the imp would follow.”
“Pity us if you had stayed behind,” Danica spat, “for then we would never have learned of your betrayal.”
“Enough of this,” Cadderly demanded. “We cannot change what has transpired, and we mustn’t waste our time arguing.”
“Agreed,” said Elbereth with an approving nod. “We will turn south, then back to the west when the course is clear. And you,” he said to Rufo, his eyes narrowing, “if the imp somehow finds its way back into your thoughts, speak at once!”
The elf started off then, with Danica falling into line right behind. Rufo went next, flanked by the dwarves, who eyed him suspiciously with every step.
Cadderly hesitated a moment before joining them. The frog Ivan had pinned still sat on the ground at the young scholar’s feet. Cadderly knew he was taking a chance as he reached down and removed the amulet then pinned it under a fold of his own cloak, but it was a risk he decided to take. He had confronted Druzil once before, and had won that contest. If the imp tried to make contact with Rufo again, Cadderly would be waiting for him.
Danica and Elbereth spotted several enemy guards crouched in the brush and veered to keep out of harm’s way. They wanted no more extraneous fighting if they could help it, suspecting from Rufo’s disclosure that the enemy had set a sizable force for the ambush.
Cadderly felt the telepathic intrusions.
What’s taking so long? came the thoughts that the scholar knew belonged to the imp. The soldiers are in place and grow impatient.
In response, Cadderly conjured an image of the place where they’d discovered the amulet, a short distance east of the duskwood tangle. He could only hope that Druzil wouldn’t recognize his thoughts as different from Rufo’s, and he breathed a little easier when the imp’s next communication came to him.
Good, Druzil told him. You’re near the ambush point. When your companions get moving again, stay close to them until you see the duskwood trees then get low and to the side. Mistress Dorigen would like to speak with you again.
Then, abruptly, Druzil was gone from Cadderly’s thoughts. The young scholar clenched hard on the amulet.
“Cadderly?” he heard distantly. His eyes popped open—he hadn’t realized they were closed—and he saw his companions standing around him, staring at him curiously.
“It’s nothing,” he tried to explain. Elbereth grabbed his hand and forced it open.
“You should have been rid of this vile item,” the elf scolded.
“I don’t fear the imp,” Cadderly replied.
His confident smile gave the others some measure of relief. That smile disappeared suddenly when Cadderly looked at Rufo, though, given the new revelations concerning his tall companion. There was more than one meeting with the imp.
So you have met Dorigen? Cadderly wanted to ask, but he kept his thoughts private, fearing that revealing what the imp had inadvertently revealed would cause trouble the party could ill afford.
“Let us go on,” Cadderly bade. “We’ve fooled our enemies. They still sit, anticipating an ambush at the duskwood tangle, but they grow impatient.”
Elbereth took the lead, Danica following on his heels, and Cadderly and the others in a pack behind.
“Ye didn’t happen to bring along me frog?” Ivan asked hopefully, rubbing his belly. Cadderly only smiled and shook his head.
Elbereth turned back to the west a short while later, the elf hastening them along and slipping in and out of the shadows to the side and a
head with obvious urgency. They came down one slope into an area with less undergrowth than usual. Thick oaks dominated the area, and though they were not much larger than the other trees of Shilmista, Cadderly could sense their age, and could sense, too, a brooding sentience. It was as if he were being watched from all sides and from above.
He knew they had come to Syldritch Trea. He moved over to one of the oaks and felt its rough bark, toughened by the passing years, the birth and death of many centuries. What tales those trees might tell him, and Cadderly believed that they could indeed, if he had the time and patience to pause and listen.
Pikel, too, seemed caught in the enchantment of this most ancient grove. The dwarf called out, “Oo!” several times as he hopped happily from oak to oak. He hugged one so tightly that, when he turned away, his hairy face was creased by imprints of the tree’s bark.
“We have come to Syldritch Trea,” Elbereth announced, though he could see that his companions, with the possible exception of Ivan and Rufo, had already realized that. Danica nodded, and scrambled up the tallest oak she could find. She looked back to the east to see what storms might be brewing.
Cadderly took out the book of Dellanil Quil’quien, handling it with renewed reverence, for the tome seemed to hold much more meaning in that ancient place. He looked to Elbereth, his jaw set firmly, and opened the book to the ancient summons. He felt again the sheer power of the trees, their inner life, and he knew beyond doubt that he had done right in convincing the elf prince to come to Syldritch Trea.
He knew, too, the truth of his words when he again declared to those around him, “It will work.”
Temmerisa reared and Shayleigh dropped from her saddle. Around her she saw only trees, but she knew from memory that no trees should have stood in that place.
“Tintagel?” she called softly. In response, one of the trees shifted form, becoming the elf wizard, who stepped out to greet Shayleigh.
“Well met,” Tintagel answered, smiling in spite of their dire situation.
Shayleigh returned the grin and looked around at the unnatural trees. “How many?” she asked.
“A score and seven,” the blue-eyed wizard replied. “It is my most powerful spell and one that should catch our enemies by surprise. Do you like my work?”
Shayleigh imagined the astonishment on the passing orcs’ and goblins’ faces as twenty-seven illusionary trees reverted to their true forms as elf warriors. Her widening grin answered Tintagel’s question.
“How go the other fronts?” the wizard asked.
Shayleigh’s smile disappeared. “Not well,” she admitted. “Our enemies have gone farther south than we believed. And those monsters in the east have learned of our movement and are sweeping back toward the west. We have scouts searching now to see if those southwest of here are moving east to join them, or if we still have an escape route open to us.”
Tintagel considered the grim news. When they had formulated their plans to come out near Syldritch Trea, they had known their success would depend on secrecy. But the enemy had somehow anticipated their movements, and that boded ill indeed.
The tension didn’t lessen a short time later when several elves rode up, King Galladel at the lead.
“The south is blocked,” the king proclaimed in a superior tone. “Our folly in coming here is revealed to us in full.”
Shayleigh didn’t turn away under the her king’s accusing stare. Only a few of Shilmista’s elves, most notably Galladel, had argued against the action, but so determined were most of the People, Shayleigh included, that the king had finally agreed to the desperate plan.
Even with the enemy moving to surround them, Shayleigh held firm to her belief that they had done the right thing in trusting in Shilmista’s magic. Shayleigh believed, too, that her dear forest was worth dying for.
“We will find the weakest point in their advancing line,” Galladel reasoned. “If we move fast and hard, perhaps we might break through.”
“When we came out here, we knew that our success would depend on Elbereth’s call to Syldritch Trea,” Tintagel reminded them. “If we had not the courage to see that through, then we should not have come out at all.”
Galladel glared at him. “We are barely a hundred strong,” he said, “with only a handful of horses. Our enemy’s force numbers in the thousands, with giants and ogres among their ranks.”
“Let the battle begin then,” Shayleigh added. “Let our enemies come on, every one. When it is ended, Shilmista will again belong to the elves!”
“When it is over,” Galladel growled, “Shilmista will be no more.”
TWENTY
WHEN MAGIC FILLED THE AIR
What is the delay? came a telepathic call, but Cadderly didn’t have time for the imp’s intrusions. He dropped the amulet to the dirt and placed his foot over it then took up Dellanil’s book and continued his scan, double-checking his translation before uttering the words to Elbereth.
Where are you? came Druzil’s call again, but it was distant, and Cadderly easily pushed it aside. Still, the young scholar recognized the desperation in Druzil’s thoughts and knew the clever imp would not easily give up.
“We must hurry,” Cadderly implored Elbereth. “Our enemies will soon understand that we’ve traveled around them.”
Elbereth rubbed his hands slowly across the bark of the nearest oak, gathering strength from the wood’s solidity. He was the most nervous of the group. If the summons failed, all of them would likely lose their lives, but Elbereth stood to lose even more. The basis of his existence, the magic of Shilmista, hung in the balance. If the trees failed to answer his call again, his father’s dismal belief—that magic no longer filled Shilmista’s clear air—would be proven true, to the dismay and doom of all of Elbereth’s People.
Cadderly held the book open before him. “Are you ready?” the young scholar asked.
“Flames in the east!” came Danica’s call from the high boughs of a nearby tree. Her companions on the ground heard the branches rustling as Danica made a swift descent. “A force approaches swiftly.”
Cadderly nodded to Elbereth, gaining the elf’s attention. “Seide plein una malabreche,” the scholar began.
Elbereth held his hands out wide to the wood and walked around the nearest oaks as he echoed the words. “Seide plein una malabreche.”
“Come along,” Danica whispered to the dwarves, and somewhat hesitantly to Rufo. “We’ll keep the enemy at bay while Cadderly and Elbereth complete the calling.”
“Oh,” moaned a disappointed Pikel.
“What’s an Elbereth?” Ivan asked, but his wry smile quickly diffused Danica’s sudden frown.
They took up positions along the perimeter of Syldritch Trea, hoping that their friends would finish before the enemy arrived. None of them had to voice their fears of the consequences should the summons fail.
The great white horse carried Shayleigh effortlessly, springing over patches of brush and gliding between the tightly packed trees. Shayleigh reined in Temmerisa many times, not wanting to outdistance King Galladel and the seven other riders. The great horse heeded her commands, though the maiden could sense from the rippling muscles in Temmerisa’s shining white neck that the horse wanted to run strong and hard.
A host of orcs trailed the troupe, rushing wildly, hungrily, in pursuit, hooting and howling. A hundred strong, they numbered as many as all the elves remaining in the forest, and their evil kin, many times their number, were all around them. Soon, the orcs believed, that small band would be surrounded and the slaughter would begin.
So the orcs believed, anyway, and so Galladel and Shayleigh and the other elves wanted them to believe.
Shayleigh led them into a wide expanse of low shrubs and young trees. The riders took extra care to avoid the saplings there, practically walking their mounts and taking no heed of the orc force fast closing from behind.
The elves came to the opposite edge of the expanse, where the forest darkened once more under the canopy
of older growth, and urged their horses into the shadows. Just a short way in, they reared and turned around.
Oblivious to the danger, the stupid orcs charged through the open area.
Tintagel waited until all the baited monsters had come within the perimeter of his devious trap. Then the wizard stepped from his tree form and uttered a triggering syllable. A score and seven other “trees” reverted to their true forms and the elves stepped into the middle of the orc host. They cut into the unsuspecting creatures from every angle, each elf felling several of the foul beasts before the orcs began to comprehend what had happened.
Shayleigh held Temmerisa back no longer. The mighty steed burst out of the shadows and trampled an orc, and the warrior atop it bent low in her saddle, her golden hair flying wildly behind her and her gleaming sword hacking at any monster that strayed too near.
Galladel and the others charged right behind, circling the perimeter of the clearing, killing all those orcs that thought to flee. The wretched creatures dived and rolled, tried to run, but ultimately had nowhere to go.
Elven bows twanged mercilessly, and elven swords bit deep into orc flesh.
It was over in moments, and orc bodies covered the open expanse. None of the elves held any notions of victory, though, and not one of them smiled. They knew the battle was just beginning. Cries of another fight sprang up somewhere to the east, and farther north the enemy had started fires. The season had not been too dry, and the fires didn’t rush through the forest, but they were fueled by the prodding of many, many monsters.
Another group of elves, flushed out by the flames, sprinted by, hulking orogs in close pursuit. Shayleigh didn’t look back to her king for instructions. For the fiery elf maiden, the appropriate course was easy to discern.
“Take to the shadows!” Shayleigh cried, and most of Tintagel’s contingent had already started for the trees, knowing that to get caught in the open was to die. Amid all the confusion of the expanding battle and swirling smoke, she saw a new enemy to strike. “Come, Temmerisa!” she called, and the spirited mount, apparently in complete agreement with her courageous rider, broke into a wild charge in pursuit of the orogs.
In Sylvan Shadows Page 23