Elaine Cunningham - Elfshadow

Arilyn struggled to her feet. Her first reaction was annoyance that someone would interfere in single combat. "I could have handled that myself," she snapped.

"You're welcome," came the cold response.

At that moment Danilo emerged from between the trees, looking dazed and clutching one hand to his head. In her surprise to see him, Arilyn turned away from the tall newcomer. "I thought you had run away."

"No. I was merely senseless. More so than usual, that is. Are you all right?" he asked, looking at her torn and bloodied sleeve with concern.

"A scratch. You?"

"Somewhat more than a scratch, but I think I'll live." The nobleman removed his hand from his forehead to display a large, bruised knot. "By the gods, Arilyn, you're more dangerous than those cutthroats! You didn't have to hurl me into the tree like that. If you wanted me to get out of your way, you just had to ask." He glanced up at Arilyn's rescuer. "Who's your friend?"

The tall man turned to face Arilyn, pushing back the deep cowl of his cloak as he did. He was older than his fighting prowess and his raven hair led one to believe, with a face that was deeply creased and weathered by the passing of years. Arilyn recognized him to be the stranger she had noticed in the House of Fine Spirits, the night that the Harper bard had been slain.

"Merciful Mystra," Danilo said softly. "It's Bran Skorlsun."

Before Arilyn could reply, a blinding flash of blue light engulfed her, and she was flung to the ground. Instinctively she threw up her arms to protect her eyes.

The sound of renewed battle rang along the street, but Arilyn had been temporarily blinded by the flash. She dug her fists into her eyes, trying to free them of the dancing spots that obscured her vision. Her elven infravision cleared first, and she saw the multicolored heat image of the tall Harper, thrusting and parrying with his wooden staff. The night rang furiously with the clanging of wood upon metal.

Yet she could see nothing else. Bran Skorlsun was fighting something, but nothing of flesh and warmth. As her vision returned more fully, the shape of the second fighter began to grow clear.

Slender, dark, somehow insubstantial, the assailant was definitely an elf in form and agility. Arilyn's heart thudded loudly in her ears as she held her breath and waited for a look at the fighter's face.

The battle shifted, and the elven fighter spun toward her. Arilyn released a long, shuddering breath. Oh yes, the fighter was familiar indeed.

"She looks exactly like you," Danilo said, coming up behind Arilyn. "By the gods! That's the elfshadow from the legend lore poem, isn't it?"

"Shadow and substance," Arilyn murmured. "But which of us is which?" Rage and bitterness lent new strength to the half-elf. Raising the moonblade high, she charged at the elfshadow. Her first stroke should have cleaved the creature in two. The moonblade passed right through it, but Arilyn continued to flail at her shadowy double. Again and again the moonblade swished harmlessly through the elfshadow and its flashing sword.

"Arilyn, stop," Danilo shouted, circling around the wild fight and trying without success to get the half-elf's attention. Since he couldn't stop her without getting himself killed by one of the three fighters, the young mage turned and sped to a wooden bench. A rusty nail protruded from the wood, and Danilo wretched it free. He pointed it at Arilyn and rapidly moved through the chant and gestures of a spell.

The nail disappeared from his hand, and Arilyn froze in mid-strike, moonblade held high. Danilo leaped forward and grabbed her around the middle, dragging her away from the battle. Her body remained as rigid as a statue as the nobleman propped the magically paralyzed half-elf against one of the elms.

"Listen," he said earnestly. "I'm sorry about this, but I had to stop you before you accidentally killed the Harper. Trust me, you wouldn't want to do that. This is not your fight, Arilyn. You can't hurt that thing with the moonblade. It is the moonblade, don't you see? Now, if I let you go, will you promise to behave?"

Arilyn's eyes were murderous in her immobile face. "I didn't think you would," Danilo said with a sigh. Since there was nothing else he could do, he stood next to the immobile half-elf and awaited the outcome of the fight between the strange warriors. As he did, he wondered if Arilyn would see the strong resemblance between the elfshadow-her mirror image-and the aging Harper, who was also her father. The young nobleman prayed that she would not.

Indeed, her elven eyes held not recognition but the fear of a trapped animal. Danilo felt a surge of remorse.

"Willow," he muttered, and Arilyn was released from the spell. The half-elf's uplifted sword arm fell heavily to her side, and the moonblade clattered to the cobblestone. Arilyn took no notice, for her gaze remained fixed on the tableau before her.

The strange pair fought fiercely, sword and staff twirling and clashing. The elfshadow brought its blade around in a broad arc, aiming for the Harper's knees. Surprisingly agile, the man leaped up. His cape opened and floated upward as he fell, revealing a large, glowing blue stone hanging from a chain.

The elfshadow's eyes widened at the sight of the stone, and its features, so uncannily like Arilyn's, contorted with triumph. The moonblade-as if it were a living thing-skittered across the cobblestones toward the elfshadow. In the span of an eyeblink the elfshadow snatched up the sword with one hand, then it lunged forward with its own ghostly blade to tear the moonstone pendant from Bran Skorlsun's neck.

Blue light flared from the moonblade, and an answering flash came from the stone. The two streaks of magic light met between the elfshadow's hands with the sound of a small explosion, and a fierce crackling energy filled the sky. The air churned wildly around Jester's Square, becoming a magical storm that swirled autumn leaves into dizzying eddies, overturned crates, and rattled the armor of Harvid Beornigarth's fallen men. In the midst of the maelstrom stood the elfshadow in a halo of blue light. Its eyes met Arilyn's and for the first time it spoke.

"I am whole again, and I am free," the elfshadow said triumphantly, its clear alto voice ringing above the tumult. "Listen well, my sister. We must avenge wrongful deaths. We must kill the one who misled you and enslaved me!"

The magical current built into an inaudible scream around Arilyn and Danilo, whipping their hair and capes around them. The nobleman pulled the dazed half-elf to the ground, shielding her as best he could with his cape and his own body.

There was a second flash of light, and an explosion rocked the street and sent everything into blackness.

"This way!" shouted Siobhan O'Callaigh, brandishing her broadsword as she gestured for her men to follow.

Drawn by the sound of the explosion and the sulfurous scent of smoke, a detachment of the city watch charged through a small alley toward Jester's Square. They skidded to a stop, stunned by the sight before them.

Captain O'Callaigh had not seen so bizarre a battlefield since the passing of the Time of Troubles. The courtyard looked as though an angry god had gathered up the contents of the square, shaken them, and cast them onto the cobblestones like a handful of dice. Huge branches had broken off a pair of stately elms, benches and flowerboxes had been tossed about, and crates and rubbish had blown in from the alley. Several twisted bodies lay nearby, some of them in pools of blood. The macabre scene was dominated by the glowing sword that lay in a blackened circle in the center of the courtyard. Wraithlike wisps of blue smoke still swirled about it, drifting lazily upward in the early morning light.

As the watch stared, one of the bodies stirred. A blond man sat up slowly, the fingers of both hands gingerly pressed to his temples. As he moved, his cape came away from the crumpled form of a half-elven female. Kneeling with his back to the watch, the man bent protectively over the pale figure and thrust one hand into the sack hanging from his belt. From it he drew a silver flask. As he held it to the lips of his companion, the unmistakable almond scent of zzar drifted into the air. The half-elf sputtered, coughed, and sat up.