Mercedes Lackey - Elvenbane

As far as that went, he'd never really had the sense of family with anyone that the humans and halfbloods seemed to take for granted. Even Mero had always been...kind of an extension of himself. The shadow he had been nicknamed for. Mero had never seemed to have a life or a mind of his own...and one of the few times he'd balked, over handfasting to Shana, Valyn had never once hesitated to use a glamorie to change his mind.

In fact, the only time he'd done something against Valyn's wishes when Valyn hadn't used a glamorie to bring him round, was over Triana.

And was that because he didn't think he should...or because he didn't want to go head-to-head with Triana, he asked himself soberly.

He had found himself feeling very isolated and alone, watching the affection that Shana and Keman shared, the relationships between the older wizards and the children they had adopted. There was room in a relationship like that for quarrels and disagreements, for each party going his own way. There didn't seem to be that kind of freedom in the bond between himself and Shadow. It would indubitably have been better for both of them if there had been.

Those were uncomfortable thoughts, and he left them gladly enough as he neared the enemy encampment.

He just couldn't seem to...cope with feeling.

The encampment wasn't hard to find. The humans of the army were noisy, and they were patently afraid of the forest, covering that fear by making still more noise. Most of them had never been in this wilderland, but they had heard terrible stories about the beasts and monsters that supposedly ranged it. They didn't know they were about to have their fears realized.

Valyn sought for the peculiar blank spot that was the creature he had nicknamed the "snatcher." There were several of them in the forest, but this one happened to den very near the elven lords' line of march. It was, in fact, the same creature that had taken his horse the first night in the wilderlands. It wasn't nearly as dangerous as he had thought...it seldom went after two-legged targets, and it never killed more than it could eat...but they didn't know that.

He crept as close as he dared to the den, then froze where he was still safe...the snatcher hunted by movement...and sent out a delicate little thread of magic, creating an illusion of a fat pony just outside tangle of fallen tree trunks and thornbushes that hid its den, an illusion complete with rustling leaves and the sound of equine jaws tearing up grass.

The snatcher lunged, traveling so fast that it was a mere blur, the "pony" leapt away, then turned back to look at it with astonished eyes. It was very hard to see, once it stopped moving; it was able to change the coloration of its skin to blend in perfectly with its surroundings.

The snatcher lunged again. Again, the pony escaped, and to the snatcher it must have seemed oblivious to its danger.

Three more lunges and escapes, and the snatcher was within sight of the army's picket lines. The horses sensed something wrong; they began whinnying and stamping nervously just as Valyn banished the illusion. Hungry, frustrated by the inexplicable disappearance of its quarry, and already farther from its den than it like to be, the snatcher saw the picketed horses, and gave way to temptation.

This time the prey did not escape; one poor, unfortunate beast wound up in the snatcher's jaws, and the picket line exploded in panic as the snatcher snapped the ropes with a claw and retired swiftly to its den. Horses crashed through the underbrush as the ropes holding them broke and let them fly to the four winds. Some plunged through the camp, scattering gear and trampling people and equipment in their panic. Others plunged off into the forest, with handlers shouting after them.

Valyn withdrew discretely, before any of the elven lords thought to look for traces of magic, chuckling quietly to himself.

Mero waited patiently, lying along the tree limb, a position he had taken up as soon as he had determined where they planned to camp. Knowing, as he did, how the current hierarchy was constructed, and knowing where the choice campsites were, it didn't take a great deal of thought to determine where the various leaders would choose to have their tents pitched and arrange to be in the vicinity.

He had an excellent view of the encampment. Lord Cheynar paced outside his tent beneath the boughs of another tree not far away. Finally, after what probably seemed like an indecently long time to the elven lord, the person he was waiting for appeared.

Cheynar started to relax...then Mero nudged his mind, just a little. Safer, far, than using magic that the elves could set traps for.

:Stupid wench...spends all her time at the mirror...thinks it's all a game...should never trust women with power...should never permit a woman to command troops.:

"You took your time getting here, Triana," he snarled. "Couldn't you decide what dress to wear?"

Triana, who was garbed quite practically in leather armor very similar to Cheynar's, frowned. Her delay had been occasioned by another one of Valyn's little ambushes, one that left the entire encampment in shambles, and the picket line decimated. And the horses were supposed to be Cheynar's duty. Mero reached for her mind.

:How dare he! Obnoxious male...can't trust him...looking for a way to steal my troops, then my Clan...trying to discredit me, make me look like a fool ...:

"It just so happens, my lord Cheynar," she said sharply, "I was seeing that the resupply of horses you lost due to your incompetence was taken care of properly. I don't leave important business to subordinates!"

Mere reached again. : Uppity bitch! Should be in the bower where she belongs! Probably out scouting the slaves for likely bedmates !:

"Really? Was it the horses that interested you...or the horse-keepers?" Cheynar smiled nastily. "It couldn't have been the horses...we don't have any stallions here..."

The sound of a palm striking a cheek with a crack that made heads turn all over the camp was sheer music to Mero's ears.

Shana lay flat on her back in her bed in the Citadel, all alone, her eyes closed, to all outward scrutiny completely asleep.

In actuality, she was very, very busy.

Between her native ability and the amount of practice she had in using the amplifying powers of her stones and crystals, her "touch" in the use of the spells that moved things about was unrivaled, even by older wizards. Add that to her ability to levitate objects, and she was, essentially, an invisible, undetectable saboteur. So she had taken it as her task to make life interesting for the elves hunting them.

At first, she had confined herself to simple sabotage. Now she was after bigger game.

From Mero's mind, she found Dyran's tent. With that location verified, she could "look" inside it, and even peer within caskets, "read" unopened documents, and sift through piles of papers without moving any of them.

Thus, letters vanished from a locked box in Dyran's tent, and reappeared under a pile of dispatches on Triana's portable desk. Cheynar's secret dispatches to the Council appeared in Dyran's correspondence. A series of small, valuable objects belonging to various subordinates ended up among Lord Berenel's personal effects.

A large cache of gold coins, moved from the storage vaults under the Council chamber, appeared in Berenel's luggage.

She still had some strength left after all this, so she concluded her exercise by disarranging the papers in all the elven lords' tents, making it look as if someone had been rummaging through them.

Then, greatly daring, she eased a touch into Cheynar's mind. :Something is wrong,: she whispered into his thoughts. :You can't trust anyone. Dyran is a powerful mage, and even Triana could be hiding something besides who she wants in her bed. Perhaps you had better check the tent ...: