battles that would not occur until the next season was a thing that seemed pointless, even defeatist.
'I believe it was,' Sir Kamford declared, though he shook his head with a weariness that belied his words. 'To lose Sir Blayne… to see so many other good men fall, never to rise. Who can say? If those arrows, that steel, were destined to kill a hundred men in the future, the cost was just. If they never were to have been used…'
The knight lapsed into silence, and only after a moment's reflection did Ash realize that the human was patiently, elven-fashion, awaiting the Kagonesti's response.
'Even so, many ogres were slain. And some slaves were freed. I think that those are good things,' Ashtaway replied.
'And I would like to think that the knights have made a friend-a good friend-among the proudest, the finest elves on all of Ansalon.'
The Kagonesti Pathfinder, deeply moved, touched his hand to the knight's shoulder. 'You have,' he promised, knowing that Sir Kamford Willis was a warrior as courageous, as mighty-in his own way-as Faltath, or any heroic wild elf brave.
Ashtaway stood still, remembering and meditating, while the knights allowed their horses to graze and drink. He still hadn't moved when they mounted, though he finally raised a hand in farewell as Sir Kamford, riding at the rear, disappeared into the trees.
After a few brief minutes spent rigging several snares, Ash spent the rest of the day swimming in the stream and sunbathing. The snares provided him with two plump rabbits for dinner, and afterward he slept under the stars. Every time he awakened, he rejoiced to the array of lights that gleamed and twinkled at him from the moonless vault of the sky. He felt newly alive, as if he had emerged from the tunnels a different person, a different kind of Pathfinder.
He took five days in returning to the south, following valleys that became steadily more familiar as he moved closer to the Bluelake. All the while his mind worked, as he wrestled with an expanded view of his world. For the first time in his life, he considered the notion that there were good people in the world-people who were not of the Kagonesti. Sir Kamford, and even Highbulp Toofer, had forced Ashtaway to reconsider the traditions that had kept his tribe in an almost constant state of war. Surely some enemies, such as the ogres and the bakali, were worthy foes. But perhaps it was wrong to assume that humans, that dwarves, were enemies, simply because they were humans or dwarves.
Ashtaway even speculated about the Silvanesti-might the Kagonesti learn that the ancient clans of the House Elves were not filled with the despicable villains that Ash had always been taught resided there? He had known Kagonesti who had been killed by Silvanesti swords, and of the deadly traps laid by the House Elves to protect their precious cities. He had seen Silvanesti slain by arrows fired from wild elven ambush. He sensed that such depths of hatred could not be wrong. The House Elves and the wild elves were forever destined to be foes.
As he traveled through the eternal woodland, Ashtaway discarded some of his earlier beliefs and embraced others. He reflected on war and peace, on the worth of life and death when a hated foe stood before one's blade or bow. He wondered about the nature of hatred, such as that which had raged between his people and humankind through all the ages of Krynn. And still the inner torment raged within him. It was not until he had reached a familiar valley within a day's march of the village that he understood why.
Turning to the side, he made his way toward the foothill valley, climbing through the rocky notch to see the black, obsidian wall. He wished he had the time to hunt, to bring fresh game with him, but his urgency wouldn't allow delay.
Once again he found Hammana in the woods-though this time he didn't surprise her. Instead, she stood in the midst of the clearing, watching the woods as he emerged from the underbrush.
'Hello, Pathfinder,' she said quietly. Her hazel eyes shined as she looked at him, her chin held proudly raised.
'Hammana…' He crossed to her in long strides and took her hands in his.
'No.' She pulled back, and he saw that the shining in her eyes came from unshed tears. 'I cannot let myself love you.'
He didn't pursue, though his hands remained outstretched, reaching. 'I am the Pathfinder now. I didn't ask for the horn, but it's a destiny that came to me-and I shall bear it, I hope, well.
'But 1 know already, Hammana, that I'm a different Pathfinder than those who came before me. I am not Iydaway or Barcalla or Father Kagonesti. Just as Iydaway changed the tasks of leadership by speaking and persuading rather than guiding in aloof silence, I, too, shall change. I will not make war against the humans, simply because they are human. Already I have done a thing unlike any other Pathfinder of the Kagonesti.'
'You… you will be a great leader of our people. This I know.' She seemed proud when she said this, and sad as well.
'But this peace with humankind is not the only way I will be different,' Ash persisted. He stepped forward and took her hands again, holding too tightly for Hammana to easily pull away. 'Other taboos, too, date from an earlier time. They may have been right in the past, but I know they are wrong for me.'
She looked at him intently now, surprised and wondering.
'I will also be the first Pathfinder who takes a wife… if she will have me.'
For a moment, he didn't know what she would say. The tears spilled down her cheeks then, overwhelming her efforts to blink them away.
'She will,' the elfwoman said, and his arms wrapped her as she fell against him.
'This is a wonderful development, truly splendid!' Lectral declared when, hand in hand, they went to the cave and shared their news. 'A bit of departure from tradition, though, isn't it?'
'It is,' Ashtaway agreed. 'We live long lives, your people and mine, but I have learned that times can change, peoples can change-many things change.'
Lectral blinked sagely. 'Even for elves and dragons,' he said with a contented nod.
Chapter 21
Thee two wild elves returned to the village together. As they entered the vallenwood glade, Ashtaway saw Faltath, bearing the fresh, plump carcass of a wild pig on his shoulders, emerge from the forest on the opposite side of the clearing.
'Ashtaway!' cried the delighted brave, casting his prize to the ground. 'I thanked the gods for sending me this gift of game-and now I know the cause of our joy! We shall have a feast to celebrate your return!'
'I thank you, my friend. And know that there is even more to celebrate-on this day I shall speak to Wallaki about the taking of his daughter's hand.' Faltath's eyes widened, then he threw back his head and whooped in delight. 'You are the Pathfinder!' he declared heartily. 'And you are sure to show the tribe some very interesting trails!'
The tribe immediately set to the preparations for a feast. Older women took Faltath's pig and began to skin it, while several braves laid a bed of hardwood on the base of the fire pit.
Ashtaway crossed to the bark lodge where Wallaki, Hammana's father, sat outside the door, enjoying the afternoon's warmth. Blocked by the hut, the elder Kagonesti had not seen the pair return to the village.
'Welcome back, Pathfinder. Come sit with me and rest your feet after your long march. Do you have any further word of my daughter, or have you come straight from the Three Smoking Mountains?'
'Thank you.' Ash squatted beside the old warrior. 'Hammana has returned to the village with me. She will come to see you soon.'
'But first…?'
'I would speak with you.' Ashtaway drew a deep breath and told Wallaki about the changes that he would make in his time-honored role. 'I shall bear the Ram's Horn as long as the tribe wants me to have it,' he concluded. 'But, also, I will take a wife.'
Now Wallaki's eyebrows raised and he looked at Ashtaway with keen interest. 'Hammana is a precious girl, and a wonderful prize for any brave. She knows the arts of curing in ways that many healers who have studied for
