Kevin let all that pass without really listening to it. At least, he realized, trying to muster his stunned thoughts, he’d landed on grass, not rock. And nothing seemed to be broken after all. Tucking the hard weight of the manuscript securely inside his tunic, the bardling struggled down the hill to where Lydia waited and pulled himself into a saddle, wincing as strained muscles complained. “Tich’ki ...”
“Here.” Shrunken back to her normal size, she was draped wearily in front of Lydia. “We’re all here.”
“I’ve got your lute,” the warrior woman added. As the bardling quickly slung it over his back. Lydia added sharply, “Now, let’s ride!”
They went down the rest of that steep hill at breakneck speed, Kevin praying none of the horses slipped or caught a hoof. Behind him, he could hear alarm gongs starting to tear the air apart.
But we’ve got a good head start, we should make it into the forest’s shelter before—
A brilliant flash of light made him start so violently he almost lost his seat, thinking. Sorcery! But when the flash was followed by a vicious dap of thunder, he realized the threatening storm was upon them. A wild, wet gust of wind slammed into the horses, making them stagger—
“We’re saved!” Lydia shouted gleefully.
“No,” Eliathanis cried, his eyes all at once wide and unseeing, “there is no safety. Except in the grave.”
“Don’t say that!” Naitachal snapped. “I’ve seen quite enough of graves, thank you!”
Eliathanis seemed to come back to himself with a rush. “I fear you may see yet another, my friend.”
“What are you saying?” Naitachal laughed. “I’ve never yet seen a White Elf who was worth a copper coin at prophesy!”
But to Kevin’s surprise, he thought he caught a trace of fear behind the mockery. And the very real hint of otherworldly sorrow lingering in Eliathanis’ eyes sent a chill through the bardling and made him add in a panicky rush, “It’s all right, really, you’ll see. We’ll be able to hide out from anyone, even an army, in the forest.”
“Will you?” The sudden sharp voice made the horses shy, whinnying in fright. “Or will you die?”
With beautifully dramatic timing, a second bolt of lightning split the sky. Deafened by the following crack of thunder, Kevin stared at this sudden apparition in stunned disbelief. There was no doubt at all who it was:
her elegant face was set in its cold, sorcerous lines. Her green gown whipped about her in the ever-rising storm wind that made the locks other long hair writhe like flame.
“Carlotta! B-but how—”
“She is a sorceress,” Naitachal reminded the bardling drily. The Dark Elf’s blue eyes were flickering with their own sorcerous red embers. “I thought we were escaping just a bit too easily.”
“Listen to me,” Lydia murmured. “When I give the signal, kick your horses into a gallop.”
“Don’t be silly,” Naitachal began, but Lydia was already shouting:
“And ... now!”
The startled horses shot forward as one. But before they could reach Carlotta, she shouted out savage Words of Power—and a huge wall of flame roared up. The horses screamed in terror, shying wildly, fighting their riders. Kevin lost a stirrup, nearly smashed his nose against his animal’s neck, hanging on for all he was worth—
“Told you.” Naitachal’s words were chopped off as his horse reared, making him look like a dark legend against the dark sky, his cloak billowing out like bat wings.
“Where’s Carlotta?” Lydia shouted, clinging to her plunging horse like a burr.
“Who knows?” Tich’ki, wings beating frenetically, couldn’t quite climb high enough to see over the magical flame, thermals from the suddenly heated air pushing her away every time she tried. “Somewhere behind all that.”
“Illusion!” the bardling yelled, even though he could feel the fire’s heat and smell its smoke. Struggling with his hysterical horse, “It’s got to be illusion!”
“No illusion.” The Dark Elf finally managed to bring his mount back to all four feet. “She doesn’t care if she bums down the whole forest, as long as she stops us long enough for—Yes, curse her, here they come.”
A new bolt of lightning blazed out over what looked like every one of the count’s men-at-arms, knights and common guards alike. The wall of flame didn’t seem to be giving them pause; not having seen it created, they probably just thought it lightning-strike.
“We can’t fight all of them,” Lydia cried over the crash of thunder. “Naitachal, how far does this fire extend?”
The Dark Elf shrugged angrily. “I don’t know the spell Carlotta used. It could extend for leagues.”
“Then we’ll ride for leagues, dammit!”
The woman kicked her horse into a run, riding parallel to the fire. and the others followed. But a new wall of flame roared up before them, cutting off their escape. Kevin’s horse screamed in panic, and the bardling nearly lost his seat all over again. Struggling to stay in the saddle, he shot an anxious glance up at the cloud-heavy sky. The rain, curse it, where’s the rain? It would put out this fire and give us a fighting chance to get out of this trap before—
“Hey, no!”
His horse had suddenly decided it had quite enough of flames. The animal whirled before Kevin could stop it, and bolted blindly back towards the castle—and the waiting enemy. The bardling frantically sawed at the reins. Wait, wait, he’d heard somewhere that if a horse ran away with you, you were supposed to pull it around in one big circle.
Oh, sure, easily said! But the animal had the bit in its teeth and a neck like iron, and in another moment horse and rider were going to be within bowshot. He was already close enough to see the fiat madness in the soldiers’ eyes, to wonder with a quick thrill of horror how Carlotta had managed to subvert a whole casde. Sorcery? Something as simple as drugs in the communal water supply? Oh, Powers, it didn’t matter now, because this idiot of a horse was going to get him killed!
Kevin was all set to jump from the animal’s back and hope he didn’t break his neck when the drumming of hoofs sounded behind him and a second horse came rushing up beside his. The bardling caught a quick glimpse of an elegant profile, silky golden hair:
Eliathanis!
But then the bardling got a better look at the White Elf’s face, and nearly gasped—Eliathanis’ eyes were blank green flame and his teeth were bared in a fierce, inhuman grin—
He’s gone fey, just like a hero in an old ballad, he’s gone death-mad fey and doesn’t care what happens to him ....
No, no, that was ridiculous, because being fey meant being doomed, and surely Eliathanis wasn’t—none of them were—
The White Elf flattened himself along his horse’s neck, hand snaking out to catch Kevin’s mount by the bridle. Eliathanis sat back in the saddle, forcing both animals out of their frantic run, turning them in a half circle back towards the fire.
He never had that strength before, never!
And the ill-omened word “fey” returned to the bardling’s mind. No! He would not accept that!
Still grinning that strange, fierce, alien grin, Eliathanis released Kevin’s mount with a slap on the side of its neck. Both horses raced as one as the enemy gave chase, and ahead of them, Kevin saw Naitachal’s lips move in what was surely the beginning of a spell. They were almost out of range of the archers, almost—
Without warning, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, directly overhead. As Kevin and Eliathanis rejoined the others, the skies at last opened. A heavy curtain of rain plunged down, and the walls of fire hissed under the impact, sending up vast clouds of steam.
“But there’s still too much flame!” Lydia cried. “Naitachal, can’t you do something?”
The sharpness other voice made the Dark Elf start “I was doing something,” he said, biting off each word. “Till you broke my concentration.” Naitachal glanced back at the dying flames, forward at the charging enemy, and swore in his native tongue. “We need more time—
but they’re not going to give us any!” Suddenly his dark, sorcerous sword was in his hand. “Terrible odds, my friends, but they’re not going to get any better, so ...”
“Aren’t they?”
“What—Eliathanis, no!” Kevin gasped. “Oh no, don’t, you can’t!”
With a wild shout in the elven tongue, Eliathanis charged the foe. His hair flamed out behind him, blazing gold against the darkness, his mail and outthrust sword and the hide of his rain-slick horse were molten silver.
And time seemed to stop. There was nothing living save for that one shining rider on a shining horse. So stunned was the enemy that they made no effective move to defend themselves. Eliathanis’ sword was a brand, sweeping through their ranks, and wherever it struck, a soldier fell.
“The fire’s low enough to cross,” Naitachal muttered, hands clenched on the hilt of his sword. “Come back, you idiot. You’ve bought us enough rime. Come back before they realize you’re only flesh-and-blood.”
As if he’d heard, Eliathanis turned and forced his horse back into a gallop. But the horse was weary from fright and effort. It stumbled on the slick grass, caught itself, stumbled again—
“He’s still within bowshot.” Naitachal’s voice was tight with alarm. “He’s not going to make it.”
“Yes, he is!” Kevin heard his own voice come out high and shrill, like the voice of a child begging for a happy ending.
“No,” the Dark Elf murmured, and then, in wild anguish, “Eliathanis, no!”
Even as Naitachal forced his horse forward, Kevin saw an arrow flash, saw Eliathanis fall. Heartsick, he watched the Dark Elf lean low over his horse’s neck, urging the animal to greater speed. Naitachal dropped the knotted reins on the horse’s neck, then bent out and down, catching the fallen elf and pulling him up across his saddle bow. As Kevin watched, breath caught in his throat, the Dark Elf came thundering back in a storm of arrows. To the bardling’s horror, he saw Naitachal suddenly seem to falter in the saddle..
He’s been hit, too! Dear Powers—
Almost directly before them, the Dark Elf’s horse went down. Naitachal fell free, Eliathanis in his arms.
Lydia was first to reach their side, kneeling in the mud, staring at the White Elf. Kevin heard her sharp inhalation and saw her face pale beneath its tan. “Naitachal, come on. We’ve got to get out of here.”
The Dark Elf glared up at her. “We can’t leave Eliathanis!”
“We must”
“No!”
“Naitachal, look at him.” Her voice quivered with pity. “Look. More than one arrow caught him. He’s dead, Naitachal. Eliathanis is dead. He must have died almost instantly.”
The Dark Elf was too well acquainted with death to deny its presence now. “Damn them.” It was so low a growl Kevin almost didn’t hear it “Ann, damn them!”
Very carefully, Naitachal let Eliathanis’ body sag to the ground, then looked up. And for once his eyes were the terrible, cruel, empty eyes of a true Dark Elf. “If they want death,” he murmured, “then death they shall have.”
“Oh, don’t!” the bardling cried in sudden panic, terrified that they were about to lose Naitachal forever Bo Darkness, terrified of what evil he might release.
But the elf was already on his feet, striding boldly forward into the open. Heedless of the arrows raining about him, he called out harsh, ugly, commanding Words, catching the storm winds, twisting them to his use, heightening them. focusing them, turning them to a savage, terrible frenzy. The attacking army was swept back by the whirlwind, horses screaming, men shouting as they were hurled off their feet. And still the wind’s fury grew until—
“No! Naitachal, stop it!” Struggling beneath the weight of wind tearing at him, whipping the hair painfully into his face, dragging the very air from his lungs, Kevin fought his way to Naitachal’s side. “You’ve got to stop this!”
The Dark Elf’s eyes were blazing with sorcerous Power, totally wild, totally without mercy. He showed not the slightest sign he’d heard Kevin.
“Naitachal, listen to me!” Kevin shouted with all his might to be heard above the roar of the storm. “Those men aren’t evil! They don’t have any choice in what they’re doing! Carlotta enslaved them!”
“They slew my friend.” The Dark Elf’s voice was inhumanly chill. “I shall slay them.”
“And me?” Kevin grabbed Naitachal’s arm, only to be flung aside as if he was weightless. Gasping, the bardling forced his way back to face the Dark Elf directly. “Are you going to kill me, too? Are you going to kill Lydia and Tich’ki? You will, if you don’t stop this storm. Do you want us to die? Well? D-dammit, answer me! Do you want to kill us?”
A glimmer of life flickered in the terrible eyes. “No,” Naitachal said, and all at once his voice was his own again, and infinitely weary. “No. Of course not.”
As he removed his will from them, the unnaturally fierce winds faded ... faded ... were gone. In the sudden stillness, Naitachal staggered, and Kevin cried out;
“You’re hurt!”
“Not badly. Not as badly as ... as ...”
“H-he can’t be hurt now,” Kevin said awkwardly. “But we can.” He put a tentative hand on Naitachal’s arm and when the Dark Elf didn’t push him away, began to pull Naitachal with him. “It’s going to take some time for the soldiers to regroup, but we’ve got to get into the forest’s shelter before they do.”
“Yes.” The Dark Elf’s voice was dull with exhaustion. But he stopped by Eliathanis’ body. “We cannot leave him here.”
Lydia tried to take Naitachal’s free arm, only to let go when he hissed with pain. “There’s no time to bury him,” she said gently. “We don’t have a choice.”
“Naitachal, come on!” Tich’ki added. “I don’t think Carlotta hung around to watch, but she could be anywhere! And her guys are going to come after us. We’ve got to get out of here!”
“We cannot leave him here! Not like this!”
“But what—”
“Stand back.” The Dark Elf’s eyes were wild with anguish. “Stand back, I say.”
So fierce was that command that Lydia and Kevin hurried aside, and even Tich’ki kept still. Naitachal began his harsh spell once more, but this time the bardling could have sworn some of the Words were different.
He was right. Lightning lanced down out of the stormy sky, enfolding Eliathanis’ body in blinding blue-white fire.
Naitachal gave a long, shaken sigh. “I don’t know the burial customs of his clan. But surely they would find no shame in a funeral pyre of sky-born flame.”
“Surely not,” the bardling murmured.
This time when Kevin hesitantly pulled at his arm, the Dark Elf went willingly.
Chapter XXII
This was not, Kevin mused wearily, the type of adventure of which the Bards sang. Oh, Carlotta wasn’t making any further move to stop them, at least there was that. For all the bardling knew, she had been blown aside by the whirlwind like her soldiers, or so exhausted by her magics she needed to rest But that hardly made matters easy. They had only two horses left, tired horses, one of them burdened with both Kevin and Naitachal. And as the animals forced their way into the dense underbrush of the forest, Lydia said suddenly:
“This isn’t working. We’ve got to let the horses go.”
“No!” Kevin protested.
“Yes. They can barely keep their feet as it is. And this is pretty dense forest: a horse can’t get through without leaving a trail any child could follow. Besides, we can hide better on foot.”
“But Naitachal’s too tired!”
“I can manage,” the Dark Elf muttered, slipping off his mount.
Reluctantly, Kevin followed. Lydia slapped the horses on their rumps, and the animals trotted wearily away. Watching them go, the bardling thought with a flash of wry humor:
It’s not fair! Heroes aren’t supposed to scuttle through the underbrush!
Yes, and by any rights at all, Naitachal’s sorceries should have torn
the storm apart, too. Instead, the rain continued to pour unrelentingly down, and the stubbornly stormy sky turned the forest into a nearly night-black maze of roots and thorns, all of which seemed determined to trip up the intruders or tear their flesh.
“I’ll scout ahead,” Tich’ki said shortly. “I’m not night-blind like you humans.”
As she flew, though, she trailed behind her a steady stream of what Kevin assumed could only be curses in her native tongue: even though the thick curtain of leaves cut off the worst of the rain, her wings were plainly still sodden enough to hamper her flying.
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