trip, not conducted at a blind run, was much slower. By the time Gundabyr reached the clearing where the east wall had stood, the morning sun was bathing the ruins of the fortress. There were no Dargonesti in sight. Many Silvanesti lay dead on the field, slain in flight by Dargonesti spears. He looked them over, thankful Vixa couldn’t be found among them.
The kraken was gone, presumably back into the sea, but its nasty smell still fouled the air. Gundabyr picked his way up the hill through the litter of broken stones and dead elves. He reached the top and could see a long distance in all directions. Nothing was stirring. No elves-of any nation-no sea monsters, not even any animals broke the unnatural quiet.
As the dwarf clambered down the north side of the ruins, all the while his mind was working. Where had the Dargonesti gone? They had taken the fort, or the kraken had, yet they’d left the site of their great victory.
The low sun blinded Gundabyr as he continued to search the ruins for Vixa. When he shielded his eyes against the glare, a thought came to him. Perhaps that was why the Dargonesti had departed so hastily. They wanted to avoid the sunlight. Taking this line of reasoning further, Gundabyr decided they were not likely to attack again until dusk at the least. Living in the ocean depths as they did, they were most likely unable to bear the direct heat and light of the sun. That could be a boon for the Silvanesti, and right now they needed any advantage.
He was satisfied that Vixa had not been killed at the fortress. Now, he just had to find her. His knowledge of Silvanesti geography was meager, but he knew the city of Silvanost lay upriver, on an island in the midst of the Thon-Thalas. Shouldering his axe, he started north, keeping a discreet distance from the water’s edge. No sense tempting the blueskins to try their luck during the day.
Near midday, when the sun was scorching his bare head, Gundabyr smelled smoke-a campfire, he thought. He slipped into the brush beside the river road and worked his way toward the source. Care was needed. He didn’t think the Dargonesti had taken to frying their fish these days, but he was a foreigner in Silvanesti territory and he’d seen enough elven prisons to last him several lifetimes.
Voices filtered through the foliage. He tightened his grip on his axe. The weight of it was comforting. Gundabyr caught a glimpse of movement in a clearing ahead. The odor of cooking was much stronger. It smelled like apples baking. His mouth watered.
“These will be ready soon,” said a familiar voice. Samcadaris?
“I hope so. The general is in a bad way. He needs food.”
Vixa! Popping out of a tangle of ivy, Gundabyr called, “Save an apple for me, Princess!”
The dwarf’s sudden appearance startled the group around the campfire. Vixa, Samcadaris, and four Silvanesti soldiers leapt to their feet. Gundabyr found arrows and swords aimed at his broad chest.
“Wait!” he cried, throwing up his arms. “It’s me!”
“Hold!” Vixa commanded. The warriors lowered their weapons. The Qualinesti princess shook her head. “Gundabyr, it’s good to see you, but it’s dangerous sneaking up like that.”
“My apologies!” He stepped out into the open. “I’m mighty glad to see you, too.”
“What happened to you?”
He briefly sketched his morning activities, including his return to Thonbec.
“And there was no one left alive?” Samcadaris asked grimly.
The dwarf shook his head. “Are you all that’s left?” he asked, gesturing around at the small group.
Vixa replied, “We scattered when the walls and towers came down around us. I found Samca here, and we picked up the others with General Axarandes.”
She cast a worried look upon the still figure that lay on a crude stretcher made from a cloak and two green saplings. A terrible wound showed on the general’s head. He’d been hit by falling masonry, Vixa explained.
“Will he live?” whispered Gundabyr.
“It’s very serious, but if we can get him to a healer soon-” Her voice trailed off, then she added, “Have you seen any Dargonesti?”
“Not this morning.” He told them his theory that the sea elves couldn’t bear direct sunlight. Vixa concurred.
“We’ve seen signs they’ve raided both sides of the river,” Samcadaris said. “We’ve encountered no farmers or fishers at all.”
They were camped on the outskirts of the extensive orchard country that surrounded Silvanost. Green apples, plucked from the trees, were all they could find to eat. The soldiers were cooking the fruit to make it more palatable. The little band crouched around the fire, digging browned apples from the ashes and eating the hot fruit gingerly.
Gundabyr watched Vixa for several minutes. She talked and even joked with the others, keeping their spirits up in the face of their crushing defeat. She herself looked surprisingly well, considering all that had happened. The dwarf commented on this.
“I’m on dry land,” she said simply. “It’s amazing what a difference that simple fact makes. Everything else can be dealt with.”
Samcadaris frowned. “I wish I shared your confidence, lady,” he said. “I’m not afraid of these blue-skinned warriors, but if they can command monsters of the deep, then all may be lost.”
Vixa swallowed a bite of warm apple. She pointed through the widely spaced trees to the river, visible as a sparkling ribbon at the bottom of the hill. “How wide would you say the river is here, Samca?”
“How wide? Maybe two hundred yards, two-fifty at most.”
“The kraken is more than a mile wide. I know. I walked on its back and mistook it for an island. I doubt it can drag itself this far from deep water. Even at Thonbec it was too large for the river channel and stayed in the much broader delta area. And once the sun came up, it went back to deep water with the sea elves. Silvanost is safe from it, I think.”
Samcadaris looked at the distant Thon-Thalas. “Thank Astarin for that, at least.”
“What we really need are horses,” Vixa said, rising. “We need to take a warning to Silvanost with all possible speed.”
The elf captain managed a smile. He stood and dusted his hands. “I can do something about that, lady.”
He went to General Axarandes. Vixa and Gundabyr followed. They could see the general’s thin chest rising and falling as he breathed. Samcadaris knelt by his commander, placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Sir? My lord Axarandes?”
Under a bruised brow, the general’s eyes slowly opened. “Samca,” he rasped.
“Sir, we need horses. We must get to Silvanost as quickly as possible.”
“Sent … couriers.”
“Yes, sir, I know,” Samcadaris said patiently. “But we don’t know if they got through. And you, my lord, are in need of a healer. Your wound is very serious.”
“I should be dead. My citadel pulled down like a wattle hut, elves of Silvanesti fleeing in panic … you should have left me in the rubble.”
Vixa knelt on the general’s other side. “Look here, General. You’re alive and there’s a lot of fighting to be done yet. Will you give up on your country when it needs you most?”
He regarded her with bloodshot eyes. “Are you really a princess of the House of Kith-Kanan?”
Her back stiffened. She looked down on him with proud eyes. “I am Vixa Ambrodel, granddaughter of Kith- Kanan, first Speaker of the Sun.”
A tiny smile lifted Axarandes’s lips. “I’m sorry I doubted you, lady. You have the spirit, the carriage of a princess. I should have known it.”
“Don’t let it trouble you, sir. If I’d been in your shoes, I wouldn’t have believed me either.”
Samcadaris cleared his throat. “Sir, the horses?”
“Ah, yes.”
Axarandes raised a hand stiffly to his neck and groped in the folds of his tunic. He produced a small golden talisman, which hung around his neck on a thong. It was a horse rampant, beautifully worked. Closing his hand around the figurine, he began to speak, though no sound passed his lips.
Gundabyr leaned over Vixa’s shoulder and whispered loudly, “What’s up? Is he praying?”
“The general is summoning horses,” Samcadaris explained quietly. “Some elders of House Protector have the ability to call horses to them in times of emergency.”
It was a long spell Axarandes soundlessly chanted. When at last the talisman fell from his fingers, he lost
