“Aren’t they?”
“What—Eliathanis, no!” Kevin gasped. “Oh no, don’t, you can’t!”
With a wild shout in the elven tongue, Eliathanis charged the foe. His hair flamed out behind him, blazing gold against the darkness, his mail and outthrust sword and the hide of his rain-slick horse were molten silver.
And time seemed to stop. There was nothing living save for that one shining rider on a shining horse. So stunned was the enemy that they made no effective move to defend themselves. Eliathanis’ sword was a brand, sweeping through their ranks, and wherever it struck, a soldier fell.
“The fire’s low enough to cross,” Naitachal muttered, hands clenched on the hilt of his sword. “Come back, you idiot. You’ve bought us enough rime. Come back before they realize you’re only flesh-and-blood.”
As if he’d heard, Eliathanis turned and forced his horse back into a gallop. But the horse was weary from fright and effort. It stumbled on the slick grass, caught itself, stumbled again—
“He’s still within bowshot.” Naitachal’s voice was tight with alarm. “He’s not going to make it.”
“Yes, he is!” Kevin heard his own voice come out high and shrill, like the voice of a child begging for a happy ending.
“No,” the Dark Elf murmured, and then, in wild anguish, “Eliathanis, no!”
Even as Naitachal forced his horse forward, Kevin saw an arrow flash, saw Eliathanis fall. Heartsick, he watched the Dark Elf lean low over his horse’s neck, urging the animal to greater speed. Naitachal dropped the knotted reins on the horse’s neck, then bent out and down, catching the fallen elf and pulling him up across his saddle bow. As Kevin watched, breath caught in his throat, the Dark Elf came thundering back in a storm of arrows. To the bardling’s horror, he saw Naitachal suddenly seem to falter in the saddle..
He’s been hit, too! Dear Powers—
Almost directly before them, the Dark Elf’s horse went down. Naitachal fell free, Eliathanis in his arms.
Lydia was first to reach their side, kneeling in the mud, staring at the White Elf. Kevin heard her sharp inhalation and saw her face pale beneath its tan. “Naitachal, come on. We’ve got to get out of here.”
The Dark Elf glared up at her. “We can’t leave Eliathanis!”
“We must”
“No!”
“Naitachal, look at him.” Her voice quivered with pity. “Look. More than one arrow caught him. He’s dead, Naitachal. Eliathanis is dead. He must have died almost instantly.”
The Dark Elf was too well acquainted with death to deny its presence now. “Damn them.” It was so low a growl Kevin almost didn’t hear it “Ann, damn them!”
Very carefully, Naitachal let Eliathanis’ body sag to the ground, then looked up. And for once his eyes were the terrible, cruel, empty eyes of a true Dark Elf. “If they want death,” he murmured, “then death they shall have.”
“Oh, don’t!” the bardling cried in sudden panic, terrified that they were about to lose Naitachal forever Bo Darkness, terrified of what evil he might release.
But the elf was already on his feet, striding boldly forward into the open. Heedless of the arrows raining about him, he called out harsh, ugly, commanding Words, catching the storm winds, twisting them to his use, heightening them. focusing them, turning them to a savage, terrible frenzy. The attacking army was swept back by the whirlwind, horses screaming, men shouting as they were hurled off their feet. And still the wind’s fury grew until—
“No! Naitachal, stop it!” Struggling beneath the weight of wind tearing at him, whipping the hair painfully into his face, dragging the very air from his lungs, Kevin fought his way to Naitachal’s side. “You’ve got to stop this!”
The Dark Elf’s eyes were blazing with sorcerous Power, totally wild, totally without mercy. He showed not the slightest sign he’d heard Kevin.
“Naitachal, listen to me!” Kevin shouted with all his might to be heard above the roar of the storm. “Those men aren’t evil! They don’t have any choice in what they’re doing! Carlotta enslaved them!”
“They slew my friend.” The Dark Elf’s voice was inhumanly chill. “I shall slay them.”
