contain his own anger, understanding that careful alertness might be the only way to save his life. Forcefully he pressed aside an urge to throw himself wildly at the House Elf, swinging the axe in mad, furious swipes.
'There can be no peace for me, as long as you live!' Quithas declared. For a moment, his face became earnest, as if he really wanted the Pathfinder to understand his murderous intent. 'There is more than vengeance in my mind, Kagonos. I shall kill you, but not only for revenge.'
Kagonos ducked as the silver sword slashed forward. Skipping backward, the Elderwild parried a series of fast cuts, meeting each with the head of his long-hafted axe. He took great care to parry metal against metal, knowing that the keen longsword, if it met the wooden shaft, could possibly chop his weapon into two useless pieces. Deftly the wild elf backed away, watching his enemy expend energy on a series of futile slashes.
'What is this if not your revenge?' demanded Kagonos, falling back for a moment, trying to keep his enemy talking. He was surprisingly shaken by the House Elf's words.
Quithas barked a laugh. 'Silvanos is speaking to the Elderwild. Under a banner of high honors, he has promised to lead them to his capital in the south, to fete them with gifts and treasure.'
'They will not go!'
'Already they agree. Barcalla and Felltree have been dazzled by jeweled bracelets-the shamans are fighting over baubles,' Quithas declared with a smirk. 'I told the great ruler that I would seek you, persuade you of the wisdom of this course.'
'He knew you would try to kill me!' Kagonos declared. The Pathfinder's rage expanded outward to include the elven patriarch in its embrace.
'Perhaps,' Quithas noted with a shrug. 'I don't think he really cared-he doesn't understand, as do I, that your people will be much more malleable without your disruptive presence.'
'My people love the life in the forests-they will not turn their backs on it!'
'Silvanos can be very… persuasive. He has showered them with countless things they could never gain in their usual savage state.'
This time Kagonos didn't hold back the fury. He exploded toward Quithas with a wicked slash of his axe. Drawing back before the griffontamer's parry, the wild elf reversed his swing, driving his opponent back toward the steeply dropping riverbank. One step from the edge, Quithas halted, defending against the attacks with skill that was the match of the Elderwild's. Finally Kagonos retreated, realizing that he would not yet find the fatal opening. Once more Quithas breathed heavily, drawing deep gasps through his open mouth even as he tried to grin triumphantly.
Within Kagonos's mind raged a storm of dissension and fear. Could it be as Quithas had boasted? Would the elves of his tribe turn their backs on the woodlands, choosing instead the 'protection' of city walls? And what use would their polished cousins find for them- painted, unclothed, unschooled in matters of poetry and arts? As House Servitor? No! They must be wild!
He remembered Darlantan's commands-only Kagonos, the Pathfinder, could show his people the way.
Quithas moved so quickly that Kagonos barely saw the attack. One moment the swordsman leaned forward, gasping to regain his wind, and the next he burst into violence, silver blade lashing from the darkness like the tongue of a striking snake.
Again and again the axe bashed the sword aside, though the tip of Quithas's weapon gouged a stinging cut across Kagonos's chest. Now it was the wild elf who fell back, struggling to block each potentially fatal blow, striving to avoid the roots and branches that suddenly seemed to thrive on ground that had been smooth a few minutes earlier.
Then the House Elf stabbed with a lightning thrust that grazed the Elderwild's side as Kagonos twisted away. Grunting, Quithas twisted his weapon, carving deeply into his enemy's flesh. The Pathfinder gasped as cold steel ripped over his rib cage.
But this time Quithas overreached himself, though he realized the mistake immediately. Planting both feet, crouching, the swordsman jerked his blade back, flipping it upward to parry Kagonos's blow-which he expected from the left.
The Elderwild feinted with a drop of his shoulder, but at the same time he flipped the axe into his other hand. When Quithas raised his weapon to block the anticipated blow, the axe head swept inward from the opposite direction, striking the elf cleanly in the neck, slicing with cruel force, the blade coming free, emerging into the air above Quithas's opposite shoulder.
With a reflexive shiver, the House Elf's body flexed backward, the longsword flying harmlessly into the mud. When the corpse started to topple, Kagonos reached forward and grasped Quithas's head, seizing the locks of long blond hair. While the body flopped onto the ground, the head swung freely from the Elderwild's hand.
Instinctively Kagonos tipped back his head and raised the horn to the sky. He blew, and the braying wail carried across the plains, into the camp of the celebrating army, perhaps even to the distant stars themselves. He wondered if Darlantan heard-and took some comfort from the hope that he did.
Then Kagonos turned toward the House Elf camp. His fury pounded, and he held his grisly trophy up toward the sky. He would go there, carrying the head of Quithas Griffontamer, and present it to Silvanos himself!
Kagonos would speak to his people, would wrap them in his fury. They would fight if they had to, battling through the camp of the craven, villainous House Elves. He would show them the path with his rage, with his righteous condemnation of Silvanos. He would lead them to the wild places!
If they would come.
Chapter 8
As be trotted along, fueled by fury, tbe Pathfinder clutched the head of his enemy and grasped the smooth haft of his weapon. Only gradually did Kagonos begin to perceive the effect that his entrance to the camp-bearing the gruesome head-would have.
The grisly talisman would certainly have the power to inflame the elves of Silvanos, perhaps driving them to a frenzy of vengeance that would bring open warfare to the camp. The Elderwild, outnumbered and surrounded to begin with, would certainly lose-but Kagonos knew that none of his braves would shrink from such a battle. That was one way to bind them to their chieftain, and in a way that would allow them to fight in the finest traditions of warlike elven valor.
Of course, there were the women and the young and the old elves who were not warriors but would nonetheless be caught up in the slaughter. Or else, left without their braves, they would have no choice but to give themselves into the hands of the House Elves, joining the ranks of House Servitor. Was this not the fate that so many of them desired?
Yet even as the martial beat of his heart intensified, and though he did not waver in his direction or his pace, Kagonos began to question the wisdom of his tactics. Truly, he saw, if the tribes were to sunder themselves from the House Elves, they could only do so peaceably. The severed head of Silvanos's cavalry general would do nothing to make this easier.
With a scornful gesture, he threw the trophy to the side, cleaning his hands by wiping them on tufts of dry prairie grass. Then he resumed his rhythmic lope, stretching each step into a lengthy, gliding stride that betrayed his growing urgency.
He trotted into the camp, past armed pickets who stared at him in surprise, but made no effort to impede his progress. Kagonos continued jogging forward, ignoring the numerous elves who, apparently startled by the intensity of his gaze, scattered out of his way. The followers of Silvanos thronged to watch his arrival, gathering to form a long aisle for their leader. Steadily the wild elf continued along this impromptu passageway.
Before him the clans of the Elderwild chanted and sang, gathered around one of the largest of the victory fires. They cheered at the Pathfinder's approach, and Kagonos saw a look of relief on Barcalla's face as that normally reserved warrior raised his voice in a lusty shout. He saw others, including women and the children, and knew that he must not give way to the anger that once again began to burn within him.
Many of the wild elf warriors crowded forward as their chieftain approached. Still painted, their faces flushed
