friend or enemy dared to tell Little Shoulders the truth, Tanis swore he'd slay the offender. Scowarr's delusion was the ultimate blessing from the gods. Tanis hoped that when his time came, he could die as full of pride.
The front line of human soldiers, swords and battle- axes at the ready, clambered up the barricade toward Tanis and the others, yelling oaths and battle cries.
Tanis stood his ground stoically, but not Scowarr. Little Shoulders taunted them in return, shouting through his pain, 'I'll give you death by the bellyful! You think you have an advantage in numbers, but all it means is that more of you will die by my sword! Come! Die!'
If Scowarr had frightened the enemy before with his incoherent screams, he unnerved them now with his unreserved boldness. The humans appeared unwilling to take on a blood-streaked warrior who was so obviously in the throes of insanity. The humans split their ranks and climbed the ramparts on either side of Scowarr, choosing to attack any of the others rather than the figure with the blood-covered, bandaged head.
Tanis held a shield that he had picked up earlier from a fallen human. He threw it at one onrushing soldier, deciding that his fighting arm was too weak to hold the broadsword with one hand. He gripped the handle of his blade with both hands for what he knew would be his final fight.
Without any warning, a strange tingling shot through his fingers and up his arms. In the fading light of sunset, his sword appeared to glow red and, to his astonishment, became extraordinarily light. He wondered if he, like Scowarr, was experiencing a delusion. If he was, he intended to enjoy it.
He brought his sword to bear on a charging soldier. With a swiftness more often seen with a knife than with a sword, he swung his blade in a wide arc, slicing off the soldier's hand in one quick, clean stroke.
Catching Tanis off balance, another human tried to stab him in the side. With the speed of lightning, the half- elf recovered, his broadsword flashing back to block his enemy's lunge. A moment later, the human lay bleeding on the barricade, a victim of Tanis's glowing red sword.
Off to his right, Tanis heard Scowarr shout, 'Afraid to fight me, eh? Then I'll bring the battle to you!'
Oh, no, thought Tanis. Don't do it, Scowarr!
Waving his sword over his head, Scowarr did exactly what Tanis feared he would do: He charged down the barricade alone into the oncoming enemy troops.
Tanis couldn't let Little Shoulders die without trying to help him. It was suicide for both, but if Tanis was going to die, too, he would do it with the same flair as Scowarr. 'Bring me more victims!' Tanis cried wildly, mimicking Little Shoulders's choleric tantrum as he raced down the front of the barricade after his friend, cutting down everyone who stood in his path. 'Death to those who block my way! Who will fight me? Who wants to die?'
Tanis stabbed a human who was about to bring a battle-axe down on Scowarr's head. He cut open another soldier who tried to impale Little Shoulders with a lance. For his part, Scowarr didn't seem to have the slightest notion that he was in danger. He kept waving his sword and shouting, a man possessed by his own sense of immortality.
As for Tanis, he knew that death had to come soon. Yet his sword arm refused to grow weary, and his blade flew everywhere. Another soldier went down, then another. But Tanis's battle sense told him that there were too many of the enemy, crowding too close. He couldn't fight them all. Behind him, Tanis heard the wild shouts of the remaining elves with whom he had fought to regain the barricade.
Then the humans broke and ran!
'What on Krynn…?' Tanis burst out as he watched the soldiers leave their dead and flee, leaping, down the barricade.
Another elven shout broke the twilight air. Scowarr's wrathful outburst had spread to his fellow warriors, inspiring them to a level of courage that went far beyond bravery. Seeing Scowarr and Tanis charge down the battlement, they had thrown caution to the wind and joined madly, wildly, almost joyously, into the fray.
The humans had had enough. Fighting eight such mad creatures was too much to contemplate. Instead, they turned and fled.
'Come on back, you cowards!' Scowarr taunted, apparently unwilling to end what was, no doubt, the shining hour of his life. He began running after the enemy.
Tanis was quick to grab him by the flapping edge of his bandages, which were finally coming undone.
'It's over!' the half-elf told Scowarr firmly. 'You can rest now.'
The funny man stared at Tanis through the slits in his bandages. His eyes seemed to cloud over… and then he passed out.
Torches burned that night in every street and alley of the village. Human soldiers roamed within Ankatavaka, and they had to be found. That wasn't all. New defense plans had to be devised in case the human army attacked again at daybreak-which was all but certain.
Tanis, his strangely glowing sword safely ensconced in his scabbard, prepared to leave Scowarr in the care of his comrades-in-arms. The elves had repaired to the front of a nearby hall and were busily unwinding Scowarr's bandage by torchlight, eager to see the brave soul who had helped spur the victory. Tanis watched from the back.
Finally, the last bandage fell away, revealing a thin man with tufts of short, light brown hair.
'A human?' cried one elven soldier.
'What?' 'Human?' came the responses from the other elves, who stared at Scowarr in shock. 'He's not elven!' cried an injured elf. 'Not elven?' replied still others.
Silence fell over the group as nearly a dozen pairs of almond-shaped eyes studied Scowarr's distinctly non- elven features. A piece of bandage still clung to one rounded ear, and Scowarr's smile grew crooked as he gazed back at his companions of only a few minutes before. Finally, he cleared his throat. 'Have you heard the one about the cleric, the mage, and the tinker?' he asked hopefully.
Tanis froze, hoping he wouldn't have to defend the human against the elves whom Scowarr had helped save. The silence stretched longer as Scowarr's smile faded and the elves continued to exchange dumbfounded glances. One old elf chortled, then drew in his breath sharply and looked sideways at his colleagues. 'A human!' he muttered wonderingly.
Another elf, streaked with dirt and sweat, let loose with a chuckle. 'I'll be a slig!' he commented, then reached over and clapped Scowarr on the back. Another elven mouth stretched into a smile and opened into guffaws.
As laughter spread from elf to elf, Tanis relaxed and slipped out the door. As he slipped into the street, he overheard talk of raising a monument to honor Scowarr's heroics… if Ankatavaka survived, of course.
The light from more than five hundred torches bathed the seacoast village in a flickering orange glow as Tanis searched the streets for clues that might lead him to Brandella or deliver him to his father.
'Do you know a woman named Brandella?' he asked many a scurrying elf.
'Yes,' replied everyone he questioned.
'Where can I find her?' he immediately countered.
They all answered, 'With Kishpa, of course.'
'And where is he?'
None knew.
No one had seen the mage since late afternoon. The wizard apparently had vanished. Teams of elves had been sent out to search for him. Without his magic, the villagers couldn't hope to hold the human army at bay.
Tanis tried another way of finding Kishpa's lover. He remembered Clotnik had said Brandella was a weaver. 'Where does Brandella work at her loom?' he asked a rotund elven smith.
'Works and lives in the same place, m'boy,' said the smith as he sharpened one of countless swords and knives that had been left with him overnight. 'Y'know, my wife is rather fond of the shawls Brandella makes; wears them all the time. Costs me a fortune. But it's worth it. Keeps the wife happy, y'know.'
'That's important,' agreed Tanis, trying to remain patient. Perhaps ordinary chitchat helped the smith remain calm, maintaining the illusion that life as usual was still possible. 'But can you tell me where she lives?' Tanis pressed.
'Try the second floor over that way,' the smith said', using a worn hammer to point down the cobbled street. 'See that overhang?'
