“Know it?” asked Dagii. “I expected it.”
Ekhaas glanced from the ears-both left ears, so cut from two elves-to him. “You expected it?”
“It would be difficult to move a company of soldiers through territory controlled by the enemy without being noticed.” He sat back. “I’ve never fought the Valenar before. I’ve only heard stories. If we’re going to beat them, I want to see them fight firsthand. I want to see their tactics.”
“I could tell you a dozen stories about battle with the Valaes Tairn,” Ekhaas said.
“Stories,” said Dagii. “I need to fight them myself.”
“You approve of this?” she asked Chetiin. The old goblin frowned.
“I didn’t know about it until now. It’s not the shaarat’khesh way.” His frown became thoughtful. “It makes some sense-if the Valenar don’t decide to overwhelm you in numbers. Their idea of honor is not atcha or muut. To them, a victory is a victory, no matter how it’s achieved. The only things they hold sacred are their ancestors and their horses. You can’t count on a fair fight.”
Dagii’s face was calm, his voice assured. “They respond to the same challenge Haruuc put to the warlords of Darguun. Dar and elves are ancient enemies. I am told the Valenar venerate their ancestors by testing themselves. Their ancestors fought our ancestors. This will be a matter of honor-such as their honor is-for them. They won’t try to crush us, I think, but only send a force equivalent in strength to ours. Just enough to best us.” A spark entered his voice and his ears stood up straight. “I want to see how many they consider ‘enough.’”
Chetiin’s expression tightened. “Geth was right to send me to protect you. You’re mad.” He flicked the elf ears to Marrow, who snapped them out of the air and began to chew at the tough cartilage.
A chill passed through Ekhaas. “If their force is evenly matched to ours, both sides could suffer heavy losses.”
“Then it will be a test of strategy and will. If we can’t beat them here, how will we beat them if they come against the main army?”
“The main army is bigger,” Ekhaas said.
Dagii smiled-and put his hand on her knee. The touch was hesitant but it wasn’t fleeting or accidental. It lingered and Ekhaas could feel it even through the stout steel-studded leather she wore. It took her breath away. Dagii’s face had turned a little dark, but he kept his voice steady. “We’ll beat them, Ekhaas. I promise you.” When he moved his hand, he slipped it away as if reluctant to break the moment of contact.
Ekhaas tried to find words. Chetiin had looked away, politely ignoring the awkward, intimate moment.
“What about the scouts?” Ekhaas managed to say.
Dagii’s smile faded. “They have orders to go back to the main army if they return and we’re not here,” he said. “Not all of them are truly scouting either-a few have stayed and concealed themselves to watch Tii’ator. They’ll carry word back to the army if we’re defeated.”
Ekhaas’s ears flicked. “I begin to doubt your promise of victory. If we’re defeated, will the scouts be able to evade the Valenar?”
“I sent out the best available. Only taarka’khesh of the Silent Clans would have been better,” he said.
Chetiin looked back at that and even Marrow perked up in the midst of her chewing. Ekhaas recalled what Chetiin had once told her, that the worg’s pack had an ancient alliance with the legendary scouts of the taarka’khesh and that she traveled with him as a favor.
Dagii nodded at them both. “I tried to make contact with the taarka’khesh,” he said. “I had no response in either Rhukaan Draal or Zarrthec.”
“The Silent Wolves stay away from Rhukaan Draal at the best of times,” said Chetiin. “They’ve abandoned the city altogether in the wake of Haruuc’s assassination. It isn’t safe for any of the Silent Clans. In Zarrthec, they avoided you because your ties to Haruuc and to Tariic stain you. You’ll have to convince the taarka’khesh of your good will before they’ll work for you.”
“I thought that might be the case,” Dagii said. “I have faith in those I’ve chosen, though. How we proceed will depend on what information they bring back.” He scraped a patch of dirt clear and leaned forward to draw in it with a stick. “The border of the Mournland, the Ghaal River, Zarrthec, Tii’ator, Ketkeet, Lyrenton, the Orien trade road”-the stick made two crooked lines, one straight line, and four dots in the black soil-“these mark the limits of Valenar raids so far as we know. A worst-case scenario is that the raiding warbands are operating independently, forcing us to chase them down separately.”
“The Gan’duur did the same thing in their rebellion against Haruuc,” said Ekhaas. “Could Keraal give you insight into that tactic?”
“I asked him. The Gan’duur sought to starve Rhukaan Draal, It’s not clear what the Valenar are trying to accomplish by burning fields and clanholds in an isolated area.” Dagii tapped his crude map. “Ideally, the scouts will find some kind of central staging area and uncover some clue of the elves’ plans.”
“An attack on Zarrthec.” Chetiin touched one of the points on the map.
Dagii nodded. “Maybe, but it seems wrong to me. It’s too obvious.” He made a new mark on the ground, extending the Orien trade road and poking a hole into the middle of it. “The Gathering Stone,” he said. “House Deneith’s primary enclave in Darguun. All of our trade in mercenaries with Deneith flows through there. It would be a difficult target, but a strike against it would be incredibly disruptive.”
“You think they would attack a Deneith holding?” asked Ekhaas. “They contract mercenaries to Deneith, too.”
“Attacking the Gathering Stone would hurt us far more than it would hurt them. I’m expecting anything of the Valaes Tairn. Chetiin is right. To them, a victory is a vic-”
Marrow’s head rose suddenly, her nostrils flaring. She gave a low growl that could almost have been a word and climbed to her feet. Chetiin stiffened and turned around. “Elves!” he said.
Dagii twisted around. Ekhaas’s head snapped up.
She was just in time to see a flash of color among the trees and to catch the blur of motion as arrows flew from singing bowstrings. Chetiin twisted and seemed to vanish into the shadows. With a solid thunk, an arrow sprouted from the trunk of the fallen tree. Dagii grunted and turned his twist into a dive in front of Marrow. A second arrow rang on the plates of his armor, bunched up across his shoulders. A third sank into Marrow’s hindquarters, bringing out a yelp of pain, but at least the one meant for her chest had been deflected by Dagii’s actions.
At almost the same moment, bells jangled loudly up the slope of the hill and closer to the camp. There were other bells as well and voices raised in alarm. “Toh! Toh! Itaa!”
Someone cried out orders but all of Ekhaas’s attention was on the small clearing and the wood around it. Three arrows. At least three elves, trying to take down their unarmored enemies first. She had to make sure they didn’t get another opportunity. Surging to her feet, Ekhaas focused her will, drew song up from inside of her, and flung it at the trees where color had flashed.
Sound burst outward in a wave of dissonance. Leaves stiffened and fluttered as if struck by a strong wind, some of them tearing free to dance on the air. For an instant, she caught a glimpse of two elves still clutching short bows as hands covered ears, dark red leggings and short, close-fitting robes worn over light armor fluttering as the leaves fluttered.
Only two. Where was the third?
A figure leaped out of the trees to her left. Somewhat shorter than a hobgoblin but far more slender, the elf moved with a grace that made Ekhaas feel heavy and slow. Violet eyes blazed beneath a cloth-swaddled, cap-like helm and above a concealing veil. It was difficult to tell if the elf was male or female beneath the veil and the wrapped robes, but there was a delicacy to the brow above the fierce eyes that made Ekhaas guess female.
She held a curved scimitar, broad, but elegant as a hawk’s wing, already raised.
Ekhaas dragged at her own sword, trying to free the blade and knowing she was already too late.
Then Chetiin leaped out of the shadows, launching himself at the elf’s shoulders and head. He tackled her from the left, where she could not easily bring her scimitar around, and swung across to her back. The dagger he carried flashed-and screeched across a metal gorget hidden beneath the veil. The elf ducked and whirled like a dancer. Chetiin’s legs swung free. He jerked his dagger up. Flesh and fabric tore, then Chetiin leaped clear to land in a cat’s crouch.
The elf straightened. Her veil hung askew and blood ran from a wound that sliced across jaw and cheek to a pointed ear. She swung her curved sword at Chetiin and missed but continued around in a scything strike at Ekhaas.
