Jean Rabe - The Silver Stair

"Camilla," Gair whispered. "There are six to the south, seven to the north and one coming from the west."

"How… how do you know that?"

"Magic."

Camilla growled softly in her throat. "Badly outnumbered," the knight said, "and they've got us pinned down."

"Maybe we can crawl back to the settlement," Iryl suggested. "It's not dignified, but-"

"We stay put. They'll have to come closer if they want us," Camilla said. "Everyone stay alert."

"Unless they intend to freeze us out," one of the knights whispered.

The wind continued to chase the snow across their path, blowing stronger now. Gair squinted and cupped a hand over his eyes to keep the snow from getting in them. He noticed a white mound moving a little closer, and he dropped his hand to his belt, tugging free a knife. His other hand reached for the pommel of his long sword. His fingers were so painfully cold. Still, he kept his concentration on the spell so he could follow the barbarians' movements.

"What do you want?" Gair called out to them. "We've no coins with us!"

"The elves!" a strong voice from the north called. "The knights can go on their way."

Listen to me, Son. I can find you a path out of here.

Gair gritted his teeth.

"What is this all about?" Gair challenged. "We've done nothing to you!"

"You defy the gods!" This a softer voice from the south. "You and all in your settlement, all of you must die!" A spear followed the words.

"I can see them!" Iryl chirped. "By the blessed memory of Habbakuk, they're Que-Nal!"

Gair swung his gaze to the south. There were six barbarians, standing on a stretch of hard-packed snow, white and gray wolfskins and dark brown beaver furs covering their tall forms. The one in the lead carried a shield made of deerskin. There were symbols painted on it similar to those the elf had seen on the trees near the burial ground.

The shield-bearer spoke. "Silver knights! Our fight is not with you."

"Then leave us be!" Camilla called out.

"We will fight you if we have to," the shield-bearer continued, "unless you surrender the elves from the settlement, and unless you promise to leave the cursed settlement forever. We offer you life."

Son, there is still a chance I can direct you out of here! Listen to me!

To the north, Gair heard the sounds of more snow crunching, watched seven wolf-clad forms rise from behind a drift. Thirteen Que-Nal altogether, plus whoever the large figure was, were advancing from the west. The barbarians readied spears.

Listen to me!

The elf closed his eyes, tilted his head until his chin touched the snow. He released the enchantment he'd been holding and focused on another, and on the snow beneath him, reaching out with his thoughts to the north to sense the snow beneath the seven warriors' feet.

"Peace," Gair whispered. "Peace, warriors. I have peace in my heart. Find the peace in your hearts, too." It was a mystic spell similar to the one he'd used on the boars. He sensed their rapid pulses and tried to slow them, chattering comforting words as a mother would to calm an upset child. He directed all of his energy into trying to convince the men to be calm and to drop their spears. "There is no reason to threaten us," he murmured. "We do not threaten you. Find peace inside your hearts."

The elf discerned that four of the seven relaxed. Their fingers quivered, and they dropped their spears. Their breathing slowed. "Peace," they murmured, almost in unison.

Their fellows snapped at them and shouted that sorcery was at work. Gair continued to concentrate, and the quartet remained at ease, did nothing to regain their weapons. "Peace," the elf repeated. The word was echoed by the four barbarians. "Friends."

There were other words swirling amid the blowing snow-unintelligible words from the barbarians to the south, who were moving closer, words of concern and disbelief from Iryl Songbrook, orders from Camilla. There was a crunch of snow as the Solamnic knights stood to meet the challenge.

Listen to reason, Gair. Save yourself. It is not yet your time to die.

Gair used the last of his mental strength to reach out to the other three barbarians to the north. "We are no threat," he repeated emphatically. "Let me be your ally, not your enemy."

"No threat," two finally parroted. They dropped their spears. "Allies."

Iryl gasped. "Camilla, Gair's spellbound… ."

"No!" bellowed the last of the Que-Nal warriors. Gair touched the man's mind and was instantly repulsed. His will was strong, and he was angry. That ire was a shield that kept the elf's soothing words at bay. The barbarian cursed to his companions, who continued to stand docilely. Then the barbarian bolted toward Gair.

The elf struggled to get to his feet, but his coat tangled in his legs and cost him precious seconds. Behind him, the knights advanced to the south to meet the charge of the six approaching barbarians.

"Take the woman knight first!" one of them roared.

"I don't want to kill you," Camilla hissed through clenched teeth. To Iryl, she said, "Keep yourself down and watch for more."

Gair managed to make it to his feet just as the angry Que-Nal warrior was upon him. The elf held his sword parallel in front of him, using it to fend off the barbarian's attack. The Que-Nal was young, perhaps only fourteen or fifteen. The scattering of blood-soaked beads in his hair clacked together as he dropped to a crouch, thrusting up with his spear.

"They don't sink into the snow!" Gair reported, studying the odd, wide boots his attacker wore. It distributed the youth's weight and kept him on the surface. The elf easily parried each jab, while at the same time, he kept a corner of his mind focused on the six submissive warriors to the north. He needed to keep them calm so they would not join the fray.

"No!" It was Camilla's voice, and Gair risked a glance behind him.

One of her Solamnic knights was staggering, hands clutched in front of him. He fell onto his back, a spear protruding from his throat, and beneath the weight of his plate mail, he was quickly swallowed by the snow.

Still parrying the young warrior's frantic attacks, Gair noticed that Iryl had retrieved a miscast spear. She held it in front of her, evidencing that she knew how to use it, and kept her eyes glued to the west, where a shadow on the horizon suggested the large figure was closing.

Camilla and the remaining knight were back to back, thigh-deep in snow. The two knights were exchanging blows with the six attackers who had ringed them and were at a disadvantage because of their lower position. Still Camilla managed a lucky blow, her sword cleaving deep into the leg of one of the barbarians. He fell, howling, and the Solamnic commander brought her sword down hard, finishing him off.

"This is senseless!" Iryl spat. The lithe elf had discarded her voluminous cloak and was heading toward the knights, plodding through the snow and waving the spear back and forth in front of her. "The Que-Nal are peaceful. My friends, stop this!"

A young warrior broke away from the knights and charged Iryl. "Friends! Only the weak Que-Nal befriend outsiders," he proclaimed with a sneer. "Only they ignore the trespassers at the stair. Not Shadowwalker's clan!"

"Shadowwalker!" Iryl declared. "By the blessed memory of Habbakuk!"

She used her spear to knock away his first thrust, whirled in the snow, and fell prone as his second attack passed over her head. She rolled to the right as he moved in and jabbed downward. Covered with snow, she managed to get to her feet and continued to parry the warrior's attacks.

To the north, Gair tried to reason with his foe. "I have no desire to kill you!" he said.

The youth laughed. "Zebyr Jotun does not trouble my mind with such concerns." He drove forward, pressing the elf back and jamming his spear down, trying to impale the elf.