Anthology: The Realms of the Elves

After a time, Daried withdrew a few hundred yards and found himself a good spot to lie out of sight and rest. He ate a light meal, and permitted himself several hours of Reverie in order to refresh himself and regain his strength. The humans would be there all night; he could afford a few hours' rest.

Three hours after dusk, he arose from his hiding place. The night was even warmer than the previous one, and the air felt heavy and still-there would be a thunderstorm before long. Avoiding the path, Daried returned to the mercenaries' camp through the trackless forest. He spotted a pair of sentries watching over the path leading back toward Mistledale, and two more keeping an eye on the forest nearby. After watching for a time, he decided that two more sentries guarded the other side of the camp.

And he found someone else watching the camp, too.

A short distance ahead of him, a young woman crouched behind a tree, a powerful bow in her hands. She wore a tunic of homespun linen, breeches rather than a skirt, and a green cloak with its hood drawn. She was dressed like one of the Dalesfolk, but it seemed unlikely that one girl would have tracked a whole band of mercenaries into the forest. Of course, Daried himself had done just that, but he was a highly skilled bladesinger and a seasoned warrior; he knew what he was about.

The girl drew a deep breath, and raised her bow, sighting on the nearest sentry, a shot of twenty yards or so from where she crouched. Daried scowled-if she started shooting mercenaries, she'd rouse the whole camp and likely get herself killed. It certainly would not aid his efforts at all.

He glided closer and whispered, "Do not shoot. You'll wake them all."

The girl whirled in surprise, bringing her bow around to aim at him, but Daried had been careful enough to place a tree between them. He made a small motion of his hand: "Wait."

Slowly, the girl lowered her bow. She studied Daried with suspicion. She was unusually fine-featured for a human, with delicate eyes, a narrow face, and ears that showed just the subtlest of points.

She has elf blood! Daried realized. Of course. The humans plundered everything else of ours. Why not take what they wanted from our women as well?

He considered leaving, and allowing the girl to simply get herself killed. She was born in violence and robbery; why should he intervene to spare her from the consequences of human rashness? But before he decided to abandon her, she spoke.

"I am Daried Selsherryn, of Evermeet," he answered, keeping his voice low. "Those sellswords have something that belongs to my family, and I mean to get it back."

"Fine, you are welcome to search their belongings when I am done with them." She turned her back on him and raised her bow again.

Daried had certainly not expected to be ignored. He was so nonplussed that he almost let her begin her fight without another word. But he took two soft steps closer and shook his head. "I can't have you put them on their guard yet. Now, who are you? And why is one human girl seeking her own death by attacking a camp full of hardened sellswords?"

"I am Nilsa Harvalmeer. These murderers killed my father and burned my home. I am going to see them pay for what they have done."

Daried looked at her more closely. "Nilsa, the daughter of Andar?"

"Yes. How do you know me?"

"I followed this band of mercenaries from your father's house."

The girl studied him. "You're the elf captain whose archers are near Glen, aren't you?"

"I am." He hadn't realized that any of the Glen-folk knew who he was.

"Are the rest of your warriors nearby? Can you wipe out this whole band?"

Daried shook his head. "I am the only one here," he said.

Nilsa frowned. "Why are you here by yourself?"

Do I explain myself? he wondered. She might regard the Morvaeril moonblade as a heirloom of her House, not mine. Still, in his experience, it was always better to be truthful, even when the words would be hard to hear.

"I came for the sword your grandfather took from my family's ancestral home," he said. "I only learned two days ago that it was missing. The townspeople told me that it was in your family's keeping. When I found that your house had been plundered, I decided to follow the marauders and take it back."

She stared at him in disbelief. "You came here to take back a sword?"

"Yes, but now that I am here, I think I'll discourage these brigands from raiding your Dale again. It would be unconscionable to leave them free to murder and rob anybody else."

"You have a high opinion of your ability to discourage them."

"I know what I can do," he said. He looked at the bow in her hands. "Are you skilled with that weapon?"

"I know what I can do," Nilsa answered him. "At this range, I'll kill a man each time I shoot."

Reading her face, Daried decided that she believed she was speaking the truth. That was no more or less than he would expect from an elf archer, after all. Whether or not her opinion of her own archery was founded on truth, he could not say. Most likely, she'd manage a couple of good shots, but she'd lose her nerve and her aim when the surprise of her attack faded. But still, he could use a couple of good arrows at the right moment.

"All right," he said. "I will take care of the sentries on this side of the camp, then slip in and slay their captain. Then I will call out for you in Elvish. You will shoot any man you see in the middle of the camp. Fire five arrows, and withdraw. Accurate fire is more important than rapid fire. I'd rather have one man dead or wounded than five men missed. I will trust that you do not shoot me.

"After I have caused a little more havoc, I will also withdraw. I will meet you a half-mile back down the trail, and we will set an ambush in case we are pursued."

Nilsa scowled in the shadows. "Who decided that you were in charge of this?"

"I did. Do you have a better plan?"

The girl remained silent, evidently considering the question. Finally she nodded. "All right, we'll try it your way. I'll wait for you to call out before I start shooting."

Daried nodded once and slipped away into the forest-shadow. He circled away from Nilsa's position, moving slowly and carefully. He did not know whether the girl's shooting would help him at all, so he determined to dismiss it from his plan. If she managed to injure or kill some of his foes, well, good. If not, even wild arrows fired into the fight would add to the chaos he intended to create in the Chondathans' camp.

When he reached a good position, he paused and whispered the words of a few spells to aid him in the fight-a spell of supernatural agility and quickness, and another that would ward him from enemy blades. A bladesinger's training combined the study of magic with the study of swordplay, and Daried was a competent wizard as well as an accomplished swordsman. He would need both arts for the task ahead of him.

Guarded by his enchantments, Daried stole closer to the camp and approached the first two sentries. They stood in the trees, well away from the firelight, about twenty feet apart. Again, he found that he had to give the mercenaries marks for experience. A single sentry would have been easy to neutralize in silence, but two close enough to see each other but disciplined enough to remain apart were much harder to deal with. For this, he would need magic.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Daried waited for the next faint flicker of light in the distance, silently counting for the thunderclap. Then, as the low rumble washed over the forest, he quickly spoke the words of another spell, using the thunder to drown out the sounds of the arcane syllables. The nearer sentry heard something anyway and started to turn toward him, but then his chin drooped to his chest and he folded to the ground, fast asleep. The other sentry simply sank down, his back to a tree.