Alliances

They passed north of Lesser Fang in utter silence. Wapah thought it likely his people would station lookouts there, although he had no way of knowing exactly where they might be. Dawn was only four hours away when they reached Chisel. Wapah held up his hand. The command to stop was relayed silently down the column. Every elf knelt and waited.

Hamaramis came forward to the Speaker. “Taranath’s signal?”

“Not yet.”

Gilthas’s column could not make a sound or show any light, lest the nomads nearby discover them. It was entirely up to Taranath to time the meeting correctly and signal them.

Wapah calmed their fear of discovery by reminding them the nomad camps were all south of the Lion’s Teeth. Mounted patrols would be abroad, but by dawn the elves would be shielded by Great Fang, largest of the peaks, which lay northwest of Chisel. By day, they could take cover in the caves that riddled Great Fang. Each night they would move farther north and west. The last of the Lion’s Teeth, Pincer, was thirty miles from the mouth of Inath-Wakenti. When they left Pincer’s cover, they would face their greatest danger.

Many interminable moments passed before a smoky red light flared on the side of Chisel. The light bobbed up and down a few times then plunged. Striking the rocks below, it burst into a shower of sparks.

The Speaker signed for everyone to stand. Limbs weakened by age, deprivation, and wounds had stiffened in the cold night air. From all along the line of refugees came muffled groans and gasps. Hamaramis frowned, but Gilthas could only shake his head ruefully. They were not the race of bygone years, whose grace and elegance had set the standard for the world. One day they would be again, he vowed. Within the shelter of Inath-Wakenti, they would grow strong. Elf civilization would rebound, becoming greater than ever. He believed it. He had to.

A double line of riderless horses emerged from the darkness. Each pair was led by a closely cowled elf warrior. The animals were laden with waterskins. The lead elf halted before Gilthas and whispered a greeting. Lord Taranath, he said, had sent water for the Speaker’s company.

With hushed words and hand signals, the water caravan I was brought forward. Soon, spring water was being doled out to elves who hadn’t tasted fresh water in many days.

Wapah circled back. “This delay is not wise,” he insisted. “We should move on.”

“My people have suffered much. Let them drink,” Gilthas said.

Taranath rode out of Chisel’s shadow into the starlight. With him was the balance of the remaining cavalry.

“Great Speaker!” he said. “I rejoice to see you!”

“Rejoice more quietly, if you please,” Gilthas warned, although he was smiling. He clasped Taranath’s hand.

The cavalry went ahead to screen the slow-moving column from surprise attacks, and Gilthas led the rest forward. They would be well hidden by the peak of Great Fang by the time dawn began to lighten the sky. The next obstacle would be to cross the mile-wide gap between Great Fang and Ripper. Hamaramis counseled waiting for night to cross the open desert, but Gilthas considered delay risky. The nomads might discover them at any time.

Wapah also advised they keep moving. The deception on Broken Tooth wouldn’t fool the Weyadan for long, and she would come looking for her hated foes. He said there was a wadi north of Great Fang. It ran northwest and would conceal them from riders on the desert plain above. However, using it would take the elves away from the shelter of the Lion’s Teeth.

“We must quit the peaks sooner or later,” Gilthas said. “We will follow where you lead, Wapah.”

“It is a wise man who travels the lighted path.”

“And wiser still is he who keeps his sword in his hand,” countered Hamaramis.

The elves set out again. If all went well, they would reach the pass into Inath-Wakenti in three days.

* * * * *

Breetan Everride and Sergeant Jeralund entered the city of Mereklar at the end of a mile-long procession of foot soldiers. Virtually the entire army of Gathan Grayden was marshaled in the city. Jeralund cast a practiced eye over the assemblage of men, goblins, even a battalion of ogres hired out of Kern, and estimated the total strength at forty thousand. It might not be a cohesive force, but it was a formidable one.

The great concentration of might had been prompted by the debacle at the Lake of Death, where forces commanded by Lord Haym, bandit governor of Mereklar, had been bloodily repulsed. The time for economy was over. Lord Gathan intended to crush the elf rebellion once and for all, even if it meant using every able-bodied warrior in the region. Aside from a few small garrisons remaining in towns such as Shrivost, he had stripped his realm of every soldier he could find. The Knights of Neraka could seize western Qualinesti with no more than a palace guard if they chose. Breetan intended to use the Order’s Mereklar envoy, Tagath Ellimer, to send a message saying just that.