Alliances

Theryontas and a dozen elves armed with a mixture of weapons formed up behind her. Another volley of arrows rained down. Heeding the Lioness’s warning, shields came up and the elves warded off the arrows—all but one. One elf found the thrum of missiles in flight too much for his curiosity. He peered over the rim of his shield and took a shaft in the face.

“Keep your shields up!” Kerian dismounted and ran to the uphill side of the road. “Stay together! Let’s go!”

With the remaining guards holding off the scattered goblins, Kerian led her small band up the slope toward the hidden archers. More elves were cowering behind boulders and bushes. The Lioness told them to follow. By the time she reached the thin line of trees along Birch Trail, Kerian had close to sixty followers. A few were armed with bows. She set them to sniping at the archers half hidden down the trail.

While the groups traded arrows, she led a band of twenty higher up the hillside under cover of boulders, broken masonry, and twisted trees. At the first level spot, she directed them to crouch and follow her as she worked her way toward the bandit archers.

Unfortunately, one member of her band was too eager. Impatient with the Lioness’s careful approach, Theryontas went rushing down the slope. He’d taken no more than three steps before an archer put a black-fletched arrow in his chest. The two elves who followed him also were struck down. Kerian gave the order, and the Bianost elves attacked the archers-seventeen humans in dark red brigandines. Most of the humans were still sniping at the elves below and didn’t react in time. They quickly fell to the furious elves.

The enraged town elves would have killed every one, but Kerian halted them. She wanted to question the two remaining archers.

One, with a heavy dark beard, had a slash on his neck and could not speak. The other, a clean-shaven, teenaged boy, was so terrified Kerian had to ask his name twice before he stammered out the answer. He was Wycul, part of the Frenost Free Company, a mercenary band loosely affiliated with Gathan Grayden’s host. The main body of the army had marched to Mereklar after receiving reports of uprisings in that town. The Free Company and the goblin infantry had been ordered to follow the outlaw elves wherever they went. The goblins weren’t happy about entering the environs of the Lake of Death. There were things there that ate goblins, they said.

A horn blared from below. Several of Alhana’s guards were waving to catch Kerian’s attention. She ordered her little company back down to Silveran’s Way. They helped themselves to the dead men’s weapons. Bearing the bodies of Theryontas and their other fallen, and with Wycul supporting his wounded comrade, they descended.

With the defeat of the archer trap, the goblin infantry had fallen back out of sight, leaving the ruined road strewn with dead. Horses trotted back and forth, looking for their fallen riders.

Two of Alhana’s royal guard met Kerian at the edge of the road. “Lady! A catastrophe!” exclaimed one. “Our royal mistress—!”

Fearing the worst, Kerian was already, sprinting for the trees. She left the two human captives with the riders.

Alhana was not dead. She lay unconscious on the ground, her head cradled in Chathendor’s lap. They were surrounded by anxious elves, but the rise and fall of Alhana’s chest brought a relief so strong Kerian’s knees felt weak. Samar lay unconscious beside Alhana. The wound under his left arm was tightly bound. He’d lost much blood, and his face was waxen, but he breathed. Kerian could see no visible wound on Alhana.

“What happened?” she demanded.

Chathendor said, “An arrow struck her horse. It bolted and she was thrown.”

Carefully, Kerian touched the back of Alhana’s neck. She thanked the gods Alhana’s neck wasn’t broken, but when her questing fingers found a wet spot above and behind her left ear, Kerian grimaced. A heavy blow could cause bleeding inside the skull, resulting in slow death. Alhana couldn’t be moved for fear of worsening her condition Yet the elves were in a terribly exposed position, athwart the road, with active mercenary bands at their heels.

With Alhana and Samar down, and Theryontas dead, the Bianost elves looked to the Lioness for leadership. She acted quickly.

“Everyone will ascend to Birch Trail. The rest of the carts and wagons will be left here, their loads divided and carried up the hill. Scavenge wood from the empty wagons to make litters for the wounded.”

Elves hurried to carry out her orders. Chathendor’s tear-filled eyes lifted from his mistress’s still face. “What do we do, lady?” he whispered to Kerian. “Will she live?”

“She will. I won’t allow her to die.”

Porthios approached. For once, Kerian was extremely glad to see him.

He commanded the royal guards to block’ the road, to protect Alhana, who must remain where she was. His voice and bearing were such that the warriors obeyed without demur.