Douglas Niles - Kagonesti

Ashtaway thought of Hammana and felt a sense of urgency-he would love to impress the elf woman with fresh game, to see her eyes shining at him during the celebration feast, while Iydaway Pathfinder played his horn in joyous affirmation of the kill. Tomorrow, perhaps, she would consent to walk with him beside the lake-nothing in his knowledge could be finer than a few uninterrupted hours with the serene, gentle elfmaid.

Though she was younger than Ashtaway by several decades, Hammana had already proven herself to be a healer of great skill, renowned among the four tribes. Her father, Wallaki, was the shaman of the Bluelake Kagonesti, and he had shared his priestly arts with his daughter. Hammana had used her natural talents to ease the sufferings of countless wild elves afflicted by illness or injury. Despite her youth, Hammana possessed maturity and inherent grace in measures far beyond the other women of the tribe, and Ashtaway's heart pounded faster at the memory of her soft, impeccable beauty.

Hammana would indeed be proud if he brought back a fine deer or pig, but would it be more than pride that gave her eyes that alluring light? In the corner of his mind, Ashtaway hoped that another emotion dwelled there as well-and, slowly, over the course of the past few seasons, he had begun to believe that it did. The feeling between them was a truth pressing with increasing force toward the surface of his and, hopefully, her awareness.

Abruptly a shiver of alarm rippled along Ashtaway's shoulders and, for the first time in several hours, he froze.

He looked around at the steep bluffs rising in leonine majesty from the surrounding woods. Something unseen, but powerfully menacing, threatened to trouble this pastoral place. He thought he knew the nature of the threat, and he was afraid.

Ashtaway stood atop the summit of one of the granite precipices, concealed by lush undergrowth and a few large boulders. The place was familiar to him-indeed, the bluff's top had been one of his favorite overlooks since he had discovered it as an exploring youth nearly a hundred years before. Crouching, he examined the valley floor, and almost immediately the glint of sunlight on metal caught his eye. Expressionless, he watched a file of armored riders pass along a lowland trail, moving at an easy walk. Often the treetops concealed the horsemen from his view, but occasionally they passed through a meadow or along the shore of a rock-bordered lake, giving him ample time to study the interlopers.

He was very interested in the humans, but as he remembered his ripple of apprehension, he knew that they were not the thing whose presence had troubled the forest itself. Vet they still deserved watching. All of them were cloaked in metal clothes and rode steeds much larger than the other horses the Kagonesti had seen. The man in the lead carried a pennant bearing an insignia of a red rose.

Ashtaway suspected that the men might be Knights of Solamnia. During his rare contacts with the Qualinesti elves he had heard of the knights, surprised that even the haughty, long-lived House Elves spoke of them in not uncomplimentary terms. Tales of knightly discipline, bravery, and loyalty to an altruistic cause had impressed the young Kagonesti warrior, and now, given the chance to watch the mounted, armored warriors, he seized the opportunity with all of his woodland skill.

Of course, humans in general were the traditional enemies of his tribe. Ash had never personally battled them, but for centuries the older warriors had ceaselessly driven men from the forests whenever they had tried to build their towns or to cut their long, unnatural roadways. Many men had fallen to Kagonesti arrows, and not a few braves had felt the cut of human steel.

Ashtaway wondered about the purpose of this company's presence here. The column numbered several dozen men, each mounted on a horse the size of a bull elk. Clad all in metal, except for visors raised to expose their races, the knights must have been stiflingly hot. Yet none seemed to object, and indeed they held to that steady walk.

Again the Kagonesti felt a shiver of alarm, and now the menace had a familiar taste. Ashtaway looked skyward, кч his eyes sweep toward the distant horizons.

The first tangible sign of approaching danger was the shade flickering across the ground, dappling the sun- speckled waters of a lake where only a cloud shadow should be. Looking farther upward, Ashtaway saw a pair of young red dragons-not as massive as the hugest of their kind, but still terrifying. The wyrms searched for the knights, he sensed, and flew on a course that would take them directly over their enemies.

Ashtaway watched, fascinated, as the dragons swept closer. The knights had not observed the danger yet-a ract that could only test their mettle to the limit when battle was ultimately, suddenly, joined. As the file of riders entered a broad, wet clearing, the Kagonesti knew that the mutual discovery would soon occur.

The wild elf had experienced the awesome horror of dragons, and he fully expected the knights, when they saw the serpents, to tumble from their saddles and writhe in abject horror as the crimson wyrms dove toward them.

Of course, if the targets of the ambush had been Kagonesti, Ashtaway would have warned them of the danger. He could have shouted, tumbled free some large rocks, or flashed the silver-steel head of his axe in the sun.

Since these riders were only humans, however, the elven warrior decided to watch and see what would happen. True to his suspicions, the dragons and the knights quickly spotted each other. With a shrill screech of triumph, the two reds tucked their wings, racing downward m an awe-inspiring dive.

Expectantly Ashtaway turned back to the knights, wondering if they would topple from their horses in panic or simply flee headlong through the woods. Surprisingly, they did neither. The first of the men shouted a harsh command, audible even to the distant elf-indeed, Ash was impressed by the lack of hysteria in the sound.

Immediately the knights scattered, individual riders racing toward the scant shelter of nearby trees. As the lead dragon, still shrieking, plunged landward, silver shafts sparkled in the sun. Some of the knights had crossbows, and they released their missiles with uncanny speed and accuracy. The serpent's cries took on a shrill, painful note, and the broad wings shifted to carry it off to the side. Flying awkwardly, the wyrm settled with a splash of muddy water to the marshy ground in the center of the clearing.

The second dragon, even larger than its mate, cried out in fury. Huge jaws gaped, and Ashtaway felt a tremor of sympathy as he saw a great fireball explode outward, sweeping around several tree trunks-and consuming the horses and riders who sought shelter there.

Ignoring the death screams of their comrades, a dozen knights charged with leveled lances toward the dragon as the serpent landed in an open space between several trees. The wyrm reached out, crushing one rider with its great claws, then incinerating several more with another firestorm. At the same time, sharp steel lance heads pierced the dragon's flanks, drawing a shrill cry of pain. The serpent struggled to break free, flapping its wings frantically as the knights plunged their long-shafted weapons deeper.

Several men drew huge swords and chopped into the monster's flesh as it flailed. Ash was deeply impressed by the force behind these blows. He watched the steel weapons plunge deep through the monster's scaly skin. Blood flowed from the wounds as the dragon bellowed, pivoting through the midst of nearly a score of dead knights.

The dragon tried to raise its head, jaws gaping, for another explosive breath, but now the surviving knights drove in, chopping and hacking at the exposed neck. One man in particular, bearing a two-handed sword with a golden hilt, threw all caution to the wind as he stood before the writhing wyrm. With a mighty, shuddering stab, he thrust the weapon through the red-scaled breast, all the way into the serpent's corrupt, seething heart. The beast reared and then, serpentine body shivering with tremors, collapsed forward in one dying lunge. The monster's death shriek turned to a gurgle as it convulsed and died, fully burying the courageous knight beneath the crimson bulk of its body.