by Dragon Lance
To the north he could see the rocky outlines of the pass leading to Sanction, and for a while he reflected on that which he was about to do. Though his intervention in a war of humans and dragons was a thing that would have astonished him if another elf had proposed it, or even if he had thought about doing it as recently as half a season before, now he had no regrets. The Dark Queen was an enemy far more deadly than all the teeming numbers of humankind, and there was no question in his mind that he should offer his knowledge to aid in striking a blow against her.
For a while he wondered about that great war. What was it like to see thousands of troops surging into battle? He tried to picture a sky filled with sweeping, wheeling dragons, and found that he couldn’t do it. Someday, perhaps, he would see for himself – though it was a thing he would neither seek nor hope to find.
The knights’ manner of waging war against this threat seemed curious and foreign to him, oddly removed from the vital fury of battle that lay behind every Kagonesti attack or defense. He could see the logic of an attack against foodstuffs, against coal and steel and corrals and forges, but as a purpose for attacking it did not ignite any martial fires in his breast. Yet if that was the way these humans wanted to wage war, so be it – he would hope that the Dark Queen could be sorely hurt by their sudden onslaught.
Late in the afternoon, he saw a sparkle of sunlight and knew that something metallic moved over the opposite rim of the valley. Squinting, frozen with concentration, he stared until he saw that the sun had winked off the silver bridle of a great warhorse. Ash winced unconsciously. Didn’t these humans know that shiny metal might make them visible to an observer many miles away? Immediately his musings were forgotten and he stared, rapt, at the human riders slowly coming into view. Similar in some ways to the wild elf’s own approach, these knights moved with caution. Ash watched a preliminary party of four cross the ridge and move downward toward the grove Ash had described to Sir Kamford.
From his vantage, the Kagonesti saw that another knight remained on the ridge, crouched among a cluster of thick brush – though he was quite conspicuous by wild elf standards. Still, Ash approved of his new ally’s caution and was also pleased to see the sentry adjust his position over the next few minutes until he had vanished into the ground cover almost as effectively as an elf.
The four knights of the advance party split up as they approached the valley floor, a pair riding slowly through the pine woods circling the base of the depression while the other two advanced straight toward the grove of tall cedars Ashtaway had described. A stag and two does burst from the near side of that clump, bounding toward the heights, and the Kagonesti welcomed this sign that all was well.
Still, the humans took their time, the two riders on the slopes making a full circle around the basin as they searched for danger. Below, the pair who had disappeared into the grove remained for nearly an hour before they emerged and waved to their fellows on the slopes.
Only then did the rest of the knights come into view, riding in single file through the narrow gap and following the beckoning waves of their scouts. Ashtaway was impressed in spite of himself as he counted nearly one hundred huge chargers, each mounted by an armored human warrior. He saw that the glint of sunlight that had first attracted his eye had been unusual. For the most part, the Knights of Solamnia had dulled their armor, many even attaching leaves to their helmets or obscuring metallic sword hilts with mud and clay. He was relieved that they had at least made an effort at elementary concealment. Ash would make sure, before they left the valley, that their efforts were rendered fully effective.
By the time the band of knights had entered the cedar grove, the sun had set and the sliver of Lunitari neared the western ridge. Ash waited a few more moments, watching the crescent slip from view. With the whole crest around and above him in full shadow, the Kagonesti emerged from his hiding place and carefully started down the slope.
He moved slowly, always advancing from one piece of cover to the next – slithering like a snake in those places where he was forced to cross open ground – and by the time he reached the floor of the valley, the stars had sparkled into life.
Still he moved with care, crouching low as he moved toward the grove. Near the edge of the clump of trees, he paused while a gust of wind swirled outward. He smelled humans, knew that at least two of them were very nearby, probably posted as sentries on this side of the grove. Good. Like himself, the humans knew the need for caution.
A tight smile creased his lips as he crawled under the canopy of the first pines. Although he was pleased with Sir Kamford’s alertness, it would please him even more to demonstrate wild elven proficiency and stealth. Ashtaway saw the boots of a knight no more than five paces away, but the man had not noticed him in the gathering darkness. Silently the Kagonesti moved from tree trunk to tree trunk, using his keen night vision to spot each of the pickets before the men had any idea that he lurked so closely among them.
A horse stamped nervously, and the elf froze, chagrined at his own carelessness. Rigidly he watched the beast’s clomping hooves, noting the shaggy fetlocks, the span of the legs. Though he had little experience with horses, he guessed with a fair degree of certainty that the steed before him was an unusually large specimen. Too, he should have guessed that the great beasts would possess a wild animal’s keen senses of smell and hearing. No doubt the steed had picked up his scent. Still, after that momentary restlessness the horse snorted several times and went back to placid grazing.
A few more minutes brought Ash to the brink of the grove’s central clearing, where most of the knights were preparing to bivouac for the night. Several staked out horses, while others sharpened weapons, mended saddles, or cleaned dust and mud from their boots. Again the elf was impressed – though the night was chill, the humans showed no inclination to build a fire. Neither did they make any unnecessary noise during their activities.
“D’you think he’ll show up?” The voice came from a group of knights gathered at a ring of boulders – a circular space Ash had used as a campsite on his previous visits to the grove.
“If he don’t, we’ve taken a hundred lances out of the lords’ army fer nothin’!” groused another knight.
“He’ll come.” Now Ash recognized Sir Kamford’s voice. The knight stood in the center of the circle, an undeniable figure of command. The other knights fell silent as he spoke. “There was something about him – a kind of wisdom that I’ve rarely encountered. He gave me his word —”
“And I have honored it,” concluded Ashtaway, stepping into the circle. He enjoyed the consternation of the knights as they scrambled to their feet or instinctively reached for weapons, held back by Sir Kamford’s chuckle of amusement. The knight bowed his head in a gesture of respect and appraised Ash for a moment before speaking.
“Welcome. Were my pickets sleeping on the job?” asked Sir Kamford with good-humored amazement.
Ash repeated the respectful bow, and he, too, paused to meet the other’s eyes before he spoke. “No, they are alert and would doubtless have discovered any human who sought to intrude – or an ogre or Silvanesti elf, for that matter.”
“I believe you,” Sir Kamford said with a nod. “It is good to see you again, my friend – and ally.”
“And you, human. I see that you bring many warriors.”
“You are the elf who will show us the road to Sanction?” inquired one of those knights, quite rudely, thought Ashtaway. Below his large nose this fellow had a curving red mustache. The human fixed the Kagonesti with a look of frank skepticism and not a little hostility.
“I would not call it a road,” he replied stiffly. “I made it clear that it is but a hunting path. It does, however, cross the lower slopes of the smoking mountains and leads to the valley you call Sanction. And I believe that your horses will be able to cross.”
“Believe? You don’t know?” demanded the red-faced warrior.
Ashtaway stiffened, forcibly holding his hand away from the hilt of his
axe. This knight’s lack of manners offended him deeply, and for the first time he wondered if he was making a great mistake by coming here.
“How could I know?” he replied curtly. “We Kagonesti have no need of animal slaves in our efforts at war. We do well on our own feet.” Ashtaway sensed that his own words were inflammatory, but he found it impossible to hold his tongue. The blunt conversation with the red-faced man seemed to arouse an instinctive antipathy.
“Animal slaves?” The knight’s mustache quivered in indignation, and his fists clenched into firm knots. “These steeds are the boldest warriors on four legs! Never insult them – for to do so is to insult the men who ride them! To do that is to die.”
The words hit the Kagonesti with the piercing force of a hot lance. “If there have been insults uttered, it was not I who began the exchange,” Ash replied grimly, his own fingers curling inward. “I was led to believe that my services would be of some aid to the knights, and to my friend, Sir Kamford Willis. If that is not the case, I will go – or I will fight, whichever you choose.”
His hazel eyes, darkened in the night, remained unwaveringly on the face of the belligerent knight. A small voice grew louder within him, suggesting that perhaps his coming here was a mistake, that humans and wild elves could not work together.
“Patience, Sir Blayne.” It was Sir Kamford who cut through the tension with a soothing voice. “As I told you – and told the lords of the orders as well – Ashtaway has hunted over this trail on foot. But if he suspects that our horses will pass, I’m prepared to believe him.”
“He passed our pickets, all right. He must know a little something,” murmured another knight, not unkindly.
The one called Sir Blayne made a visible but only partially successful effort to relax. “Very well.” He addressed Ashtaway. “Your offer of help is not unwelcome. You should know, however, that these hundred knights could be very useful on the plains during this summer. If our mission here comes to naught, the loss could be catastrophic.”
“I cannot control the success or failure of your mission, but I can see that you will be able to approach Sanction from the southeast. The rest will be up to you.”
Ashtaway felt the flame of his anger slowly doused. As the hazy sense of instinctive rage faded, he wondered about its sudden force and fury, and he told himself that he would have to work hard to hold that tendency at bay.
“That is all we ask,” Sir Kamford declared, silencing Sir Blayne with a firm look. “Can you tell us what we will do from here?”
“In the morning, we leave this valley, crossing the north ridge. In four or five days, we should reach the summit of the pass, and from there you will be able to see your destination.”
“Up the north ridge of this valley?” Another knight spoke, faintly skeptical. “That didn’t look like any kind of slope for riders.”
Ashtaway shrugged. “If the little climb out of here is going to stop you, then I can say with certainty that your horses will never make it over the pass. I am sorry.”
“We can make it!” Sir Kamford snapped. “We’ll dismount and lead the horses on foot over the rough parts.”
“I still say we’d be more use forming a line of charge on the plains, fighting beside Lord Huma in the battle that will decide this war!” Sir Blayne, apparently, could not keep himself quiet.
“Why aren’t you there, then?” Ash asked in genuine confusion. “Are you not your own master?” He couldn’t understand why the man had joined this mission if he was so doubtful of a positive outcome. Certainly no Kagonesti would ever consent to such behavior.
“Orders,” growled the knight, as if begrudging the word. “I am a loyal knight who follows the commands of his lord.”
“But if you do not wish to attack Sanction, then don’t,” argued the brave. “I do not wish to lead any warriors where they are afraid to go.”
“How dare you – a painted savage – question my courage?” snarled Sir Blayne, and this time his fist closed around the hilt of his sword.
“Enough!” barked Sir Kamford, stepping between the elf and the angry knight. He fixed Ash with a level gaze. “There is none who may question the courage of any of my knights without questioning my own. And Sir Blayne is right. We will not tolerate such insinuations.”
Ash remained silent as the leader of the humans turned to his companion. “And I remind you, good Knight of the Crown, to remember your oath. It is unbecoming that we bicker thus in the presence of one who may help us to a spectacular victory. Neither should we make slander against his motivations or his noble people.”
Sir Blayne stood stiff and tall, and for several moments Ashtaway wondered if he would be able to control himself. Finally he exhaled and bowed his head stiffly. “You show us the way to Sanction, and our courage will be displayed before all.”
Ash accepted the reply. “I will go to the ridge crest to sleep tonight, and return with the dawn. You should be ready to walk, then, if haste is of importance.”
“It is,” Sir Kamford declared.
The Kagonesti turned and vanished into the night, seeking his high ledge for a night’s rest. He had a strong feeling that most of the knights were not disappointed to see him go.
CHAPTER 17
SANCTIONHEIGHT
“That’s the pass?” Sir Kamford was frankly dubious. he stood with Ashtaway on a promontory of rock, staring up at two sheer mountain faces. A narrow notch between them showed a gap of smoky sky, dark clouds roiling and seething in a fiery, unnatural manner.
“Beyond lies the place you call Sanction,” Ash confirmed. “The clouds you see are not born of the sky, but of the earth – they are belched from the three great mountains of fire.”
The elf looked up at the dark, heavy overcast, feeling as though the air itself oppressed him. This grim, omnipresent blackness was one reason, perhaps the strongest, that he had never liked this place.
Behind them, the file of knights waited in the shelter of a narrow canyon. For five days they had followed the paths of the Kagonesti, as Ashtaway had led them through the trackless heart of the Khalkists. Now, with the final barrier before them, the wild elf wondered how they would fare.
In truth, he had been favorably impressed by the knights. Of course, many were arrogant and rude, even hostile, but he was honest enough to realize that many Kagonesti were the same way. During the walk, he had remained separate from the bulk of the knights, though he spoke with Sir Kamford frequently, discussing possible routes and sharing some of his knowledge of these rugged mountains. He made particular effort to avoid Sir Blayne, for he sensed the sparking of anger within himself whenever their eyes so much as met.
The fact that all of these warriors obeyed the bidding of a single captain, Sir Kamford Willis, he found intriguing and, he had to admit, quite useful. To have an attack commence when all the fighters were ready, rather than when a single warrior could no longer contain his bloodthirsty enthusiasm, would be an effective tactic. He could see easily that human customs allowed an army to perform encirclements, traps, ambushes, and even retreats with an order and precision that the wild elves had never known.
Also, he had had a chance to examine the armor and weaponry of the knights, and found it to be remarkably impervious to harm, wear, or age. Of course, the keen head of Ash’s axe, too, was made of a strong, hard metal, and it had lasted through many generations of Kagonesti. Still, such weapons were rare among the wild elves, while every one of these knights had a great steel sword, as well as a lance, a dagger long enough to be called a short sword, and a sturdy shield. The elf suspected that, between his shield and plate mail armor, a knight would be virtually invulnerable to the attacks of a single warrior.
He wondered what the knights felt about these wild places through which he took them, and about the wild elf who showed them the path. Did they distrust him? Fear or admire him? He couldn’t know, naturally, and a voice within Ashtaway told him that he shouldn’t care. Certainly most Kagonesti – and every previ
ous Pathfinder – would have been disinterested in the opinions of a human. Why should it matter to Ash? He couldn’t answer the “why,” but he knew that it did matter.
Of course, some of the humans – most notably Sir Blayne – had been sullen and hostile, but for the most part the riders had expressed wonder at the places to which he had taken them. They were a brave lot. Never had the humans showed any trepidation over the prospects of the upcoming attack.
Now, however, he would know for sure. Ashtaway started along the trail, hearing Sir Kamford fall in behind. In moments, the clopping of many hooves told him that the whole column of knights had begun to move along that narrow, steeply climbing route.
As they moved out of the fragrant pine woods onto the barren slopes of the steep mountain, they followed no trail to speak of. It remained for Ashtaway to select a path among the boulders and precipices, crossing back and forth on the slope to minimize the incline, working gradually upward instead of striking directly toward the pass.
Sir Kamford followed, though he moved slowly in order to give his horse time to place each hoof with care. The other knights came in file behind their captain, and as Ash worked his way carefully up the slope, he stopped frequently to give the horsemen time to keep their nervous steeds in a close order. The horses whinnied and kicked, but, with calm cajoling, the men kept them moving upward.
It occurred to the Kagonesti that if a single dragon were to fly overhead and discover the knights on the mountainside, the entire mission could be ended in the space of a few heartbeats. He shook the concern away, hoping that Sir Kamford’s belief – that the dragons had all flown westward for the decisive battle of the war – was correct. There was nothing they could do about it in any event, since the treacherous climb would have been quite impossible in the darkness.