Douglas Niles - Kagonesti

'Those singers?" asked Bakali, loping easily behind the older warrior. "Who do you think they were? Certainly not humans, were they?"

Iydahoe reflected on the glorious sound and shook his head. "They must be elves. A long time ago I heard that some Silvanesti might journey to Istar to sing. Why they would go, I can't imagine."

"Perhaps they were prisoners," the younger brave suggested.

"Perhaps." But Iydahoe was not convinced. "I can't believe that anyone-especially an elf-who was held against his will would be able to create such beautiful music. No-I don't think they were prisoners."

"But then why?" pressed Bakali.

Iydahoe's silence was his only reply, and his companion understood that the older brave had nothing more to say on the subject. For more than an hour they maintained the steady trot, moving swiftly along the ridgetop, until Iydahoe judged it was time to curve back toward the trail.

Now he led Bakali through slopes laden with sumac, already turned crimson as a harbinger of the coming season-Yule, as it was known to the humans. They skirted a rocky bluff, then found themselves on the height of a promontory, perhaps sixty feet above the trail. A sheer precipice of cracked and treacherous limestone formed an impassable barrier between the two warriors and the trail they could see winding directly below them. A hundred feet away, a similar cliff rose to an even greater height, and between them these rocky faces formed a canyon through which the Istarian procession would have to pass.

"This will give us vantage to shoot many arrows and still make our escape," Iydahoe declared, and Bakali nodded approvingly-as if he, himself, had sought those exact advantages in the site of their ambush.

Taking shelter in a shaded nook that afforded them a good view of the approaching trail, the two wild elves settled down to wait. They carried some dried venison jerky and ate with the accompaniment of a few swigs from their water sacks. All the while they kept their gazes on the approaching path, staring with the patience that was such a vital characteristic of their kind.

"There!" whispered Bakall, pointing at a golden cloak that shimmered through the trees. Chagrined, Iydahoe realized that his young companion had seen the enemy first.

The captain of the legionnaires led his riders toward the steep, cliff-walled gorge, then reined in his horse and brought the whole procession to a halt. The elves watched him scrutinize the heights to each side of the trail, and Iydahoe sensed that the commander had some misgivings about the route. Obviously, he was not a fool.

Turning to his following riders, the man spoke some orders, and four men dismounted. Two went to each side of the trail, disappearing into the woods-though Iydahoe easily guessed their mission. Each pair of scouts had no doubt been ordered to inspect the looming heights, seeking just the sort of ambush that the two elves intended.

Nevertheless, the Kagonesti warrior was not worried. The bluff's top was rough, with too many hiding places to yield to anything but a sweep by a whole company of men. He took care to see that the two braves were fully concealed in the depths of a cedar bush. The scouts would not discover them unless they actually parted the branches, and there were far too many bushes up here for the two men to make such an exhaustive search.

As silent and still as the rocks around them, the two warriors waited for the scouts. True to Iydahoe's guess, the men appeared about an hour later, carefully working their way along the bluff top. Though they could have dropped the pair with two quick shots, the Kagonesti held their bows in reserve, not wanting to spoil the ambush before it had time to develop.

Grumbling angrily, the two men stalked past within a dozen paces of the hiding elves, but didn't come near the cedar bush. Iydahoe sneered at the carelessness, listening with amusement to their litany of complaints.

"Stinkin' elves, anyway," one groused. "Why we got to risk our lives to guard a wagonload of Silvanesti wenches?"

"Because the Kingpriest likes to hear them sing," declared the other, in a tone of rebuke. "Are you going to argue with him?"

"Me? Are you nuts? Not now, especially-when everyone's talking about this great cleansing he's going to do. He'll banish evil from the world, they say."

"Don't believe everything 'they' say," cautioned the older legionnaire. "But remember, the elven chorus has been a hallmark of the Evening Prayer in his palace every night, and if s time for a new bunch of elves to get up there. And, besides, who do you think could sing as pretty?"

"Or look as pretty," the other allowed with a rude chuckle. "I tell you, there's a few of them little vixens I wouldn't mind one bit if…"

The men's lackluster search took them out of earshot before the elves could hear more. Another hour passed, with the two elves remaining as still as before. Finally the riders began to move forward, and they knew that the scouts must have signaled from the other end of the gorge.

Carefully, Iydahoe and Bakali moved into position. The first hundred riders filed into the shallow canyon, and the wagons trundled into view behind. Iydahoe saw the curtain tugged back on the compartment of the lead wagon, and he was startled as an elven maiden, golden hair flying in the breeze, leapt onto the ground.

"Vanisia!" came a stern voice from within, but the girl avoided the summons. A male elf, wearing the blue mantle of a priest, stuck his head out of the wagon and gestured the maiden back.

With a carefree laugh, she knelt beside the path and quickly picked a cluster of bright blossoms. Her face flicked upward before she jumped back to the wagon, and in that instant Iydahoe was stunned by an image of perfect, exquisite beauty. Not since he had shyly watched Moxilli, alive and carefree about the Whitetail village, had his heart pounded to the kind of excitement that suddenly rose, unbidden, within him.

"Now?" asked Bakall, holding his taut bowstring against his cheek and waiting for Iydahoe's command. With a start, the brave realized that the legionnaires had advanced to well within arrow range.

"Now," he agreed.

Both Kagonesti shot. Their sleek arrows flashed into the gorge, dropping the captain and his nearest attendant from their saddles. Consternation erupted as men shouted, horses bucked, and dozens of swords slid from oiled scabbards.

But already the elves had fired second and third volleys. The legionnaires milled about in panic, seeking escape from the deadly hail that had already dropped a half dozen from their saddles. The wagons blocked escape to the rear, and the facing walls of the gorge prevented any sideways movement, so the lead riders put their spurs to their steeds and charged headlong into the continuing canyon.

Iydahoe shot again and again, each missile claiming the life of a panicked rider. In earlier ambushes, he had vividly remembered the massacre of his village, drawing on the hatred fueled by that butchery to commit himself to his own killings. But by now the murderous tactic had become virtually automatic, with all his thoughts focused on the locating of his next target.

The wagons rocked forward, creaking and bumping over the bodies of slain legionnaires as their drivers hurried them through the gorge. The first wagon compartment's curtain pulled back, and again Iydahoe saw that beautiful image-the elfmaiden Vanisia staring upward, wide-eyed. Oddly, she seemed more curious than afraid.

Abruptly she was pulled back into the wagon, her place taken by the dour figure of the elven cleric. Iydahoe looked back to the legionnaires, having little interest in killing a Silvanesti when Istarians were within range of his bow. Carefully he released another shot.

The cleric raised a hand, and Iydahoe gaped in shock as his arrow suddenly became a long-stemmed flower, fluttering gently against the chest of the human it had been intended to kill. Bakall's shot, too, vanished into the shape of a harmless blossom!