Элейн Каннингем - Elfsong

Morgalla fought her way over to Danilo’s side, with Wyn in her wake. “What’s that fool up to?” she demanded as they continued their struggle toward the dais.

“Saving face. We four will have to get the harp if Vartain fails, or if the bard does not honor the terms of the challenge.”

“What four?” Morgalla demanded. “That silver serpent o’ yers took off afore we got over to you.”

Danilo scanned the crowd. There was no sign of Elaith. At that moment, Vartain cleared his throat and gave the riddle challenge:

“Now tell me, why did King Khalzol’s subjects bury him in a copper coffin?”

“He’s daft to try that one agin!” Morgalla exploded.

“Wait a minute,” Danilo said, noting the thoughtful absorption on the sorceress’s face. She was doing precisely what Vartain had done: she was giving the complex riddle all the consideration that a traditional conundrum required. Sure enough, she gave the same intelligent and incorrect answer that Vartain had given the dragon.

Vartain smiled broadly, vastly increasing his resemblance to a buzzard. “The answer to the question, ‘Why was King Khalzol buried in a copper coffin?’ is far simpler that you would make it, and I regret that it has nothing to do with the site of his grave. They buried him because he was dead. ”

Garnet snatched up the harp. She struck a single ringing note and flung a hand toward the sky. Instantly the clouds began to gather, and a familiar rumbling sounded over the arena. The people nearest the exits fled at once in search of cover.

Suddenly a vast, green form burst from the roiling purple clouds. With a roar, a full-grown green dragon swooped down upon the city. Pandemonium struck the arena People shrieked, shoving and pushing for the exits.

In the confusion that followed, Danilo caught sight of the rogue elf. Elaith was at the head of a band of rough-looking fighters. The mercenaries pushed toward the platform where the bard stood. Piergeiron’s personal guard moved forward to protect the First Lord. Within moments, a nasty gutter-fight melee surrounded the platform, obscuring the bard and her harp from view.

“Now this is a proper fight,” the dwarf announced with relish. She bared her spear and charged into the fray. Dan and Wyn exchanged a dismayed glance and then drew their swords, guarding the dwarf’s back as she plowed a path toward the center of the battle. Morgalla worked her way forward, yelling colorful dwarven insults as she clobbered a brawling tough with the blunt end of her spear.

Before they could reach the platform, the sorceress mounted her steed and urged it into the sky. With a roar of rage, the dragon bore down. The asperii darted to the side like a huge white hummingbird, barely evading the dragon’s lunge. The horse rose straight up into the air, away from the dragon, but into the midst of the gathering storm.

A streak of lightning flashed past the wind steed. The horse went into a panic-stricken dive, with the half-elf clinging to its neck. Hail began to pelt the frightened wind steed, and the horse’s whinny of fear and protest shrilled through the screams of the people and the regular, thumping whoosh of the dragon’s beating wings.

The asperii reared in midair, sending the sorceress and her harp falling toward the crowd. As she tumbled toward death, Garnet flailed helplessly in a futile attempt to regain the enchanted instrument.

With the precision of a bat snatching a flying insect from the air, Grimnosh swooped down and grabbed the sorceress in his talons. The dragon’s laughter rolled over the city like thunder as he flapped off toward the east with his prey. The harp plummeted to the ground and was lost int the brawl beside the dais.

Garnet was gone, but her spell raged on. Hail bounced off the platform and pelted those who still remained in the arena.

“We’ve got to get the harp!” Danilo said, pressing toward the dais. Their process was easier now, for the crowd was rapidly dissipating. Clerics and healers carried off those who had been trampled in the first rush to escape. Most of Elaith’s ruffians had been subdued, and members of the guard were dragging off those who still showed an inclination to fight. Vartain remained near the platform, his hands folded over his paunch in a triumphant pose and a smile on his bronze face.

Morgalla shoved her way through and leveled her spear at Vartain’s throat. “Where’s the harp, you over-growed halfling sneak-thief?” she demanded.

“It’s not Vartain this time,” Danilo said. “Elaith has the harp.”

The sun was setting as Danilo raced toward the elven temple. Wyn and Morgalla followed close on his heels. Huge gray and indigo clouds continued to rove the sky, pelting parts of the city with rain and hail. The western horizon was streaked with spires of vivid purple and crimson, and the sun peered over the Sea of Swords like a single flaming red eye.

The three friends rounded the corner to the temple courtyard just as Elaith started up the broad, white marble steps of the main building. He was alone, and the Morninglark harp was tucked under one arm. Danilo pulled his sword and hailed the moon elf. Elaith spun about and fixed a look of pure malevolence upon the Harper.

“Do not hinder me, fool! Too much is at stake.”

“My point precisely,” Danilo said in a voice that was equally cold. “The Knights of the Shield are earning a foothold in the city, the archmage has been brought low by a charm spell, music-wielding monsters feed upon farmers and travelers, and the bards have become unwitting tools of evil.”

“That is a problem for you and yours, Harper . It has nothing to do with me.”

Danilo advanced a step. “Really! Then you are content to rear the Lady Azariah in the type of world I’ve just described?”

The elf’s face turned white with rage. “You must never speak that name,” he commanded. “No one in Waterdeep can know of her. I have many enemies who would pay dearly for such information. Many of my associates, for that matter, would not hesitate to seize her for ransom or harm her in revenge against me.”

Elaith put down the harp and drew his own sword, advancing with menacing slowness down the steps. “I have the harp now. By the terms of our agreement, my search is over. Our partnership is at an end.”

“No, it isn’t,” Danilo responded, taking a battle stance and raising his sword in guard position. “By your word, I was to undo the spell before turning over the harp to you. Or doesn’t your word matter?”

“Azariah is all that matters.”

The Harper brought his sword up in time to meet Elaith’s first lightning-fast strike. “So she’ll be our little secret, is that what you’re saying?”

“In a manner of speaking.” The elf’s smile was grim, and he advanced with a flurry of blows that stretched Danilo’s swordsmanship to its limit and beyond. The Harper had little doubt that Elaith could kill him at will, but the elf was not content with a fast strike. The battle between them had been too long in coming.

“Why isn’t your faithful dwarven guard dog coming to your aid?” the elf taunted, tossing his silver head in the direction of the grim and watchful warrior.

“This is between you and me. Morgalla understands the concept of honor.”

Elaith laughed unpleasantly. “If that allusion was intended to draw blood, you failed sadly, Harper.” He drew a long dirk and advanced on the Harper, keeping his attacks deliberately slow so that Danilo could fend off both blades. The elf was openly, blatantly toying with his prey.