wenches?'
'Because the Kingpriest likes to hear them sing,' declared the other, in a tone of rebuke. 'Are you going to argue with him?'
'Me? Are you nuts? Not now, especially-when everyone's talking about this great cleansing he's going to do. He'll banish evil from the world, they say.'
'Don't believe everything 'they' say,' cautioned the older legionnaire. 'But remember, the elven chorus has been a hallmark of the Evening Prayer in his palace every night, and if s time for a new bunch of elves to get up there. And, besides, who do you think could sing as pretty?'
'Or look as pretty,' the other allowed with a rude chuckle. 'I tell you, there's a few of them little vixens I wouldn't mind one bit if…'
The men's lackluster search took them out of earshot before the elves could hear more. Another hour passed, with the two elves remaining as still as before. Finally the riders began to move forward, and they knew that the scouts must have signaled from the other end of the gorge.
Carefully, Iydahoe and Bakali moved into position. The first hundred riders filed into the shallow canyon, and the wagons trundled into view behind. Iydahoe saw the curtain tugged back on the compartment of the lead wagon, and he was startled as an elven maiden, golden hair flying in the breeze, leapt onto the ground.
'Vanisia!' came a stern voice from within, but the girl avoided the summons. A male elf, wearing the blue mantle of a priest, stuck his head out of the wagon and gestured the maiden back.
With a carefree laugh, she knelt beside the path and quickly picked a cluster of bright blossoms. Her face flicked upward before she jumped back to the wagon, and in that instant Iydahoe was stunned by an image of perfect, exquisite beauty. Not since he had shyly watched Moxilli, alive and carefree about the Whitetail village, had his heart pounded to the kind of excitement that suddenly rose, unbidden, within him.
'Now?' asked Bakall, holding his taut bowstring against his cheek and waiting for Iydahoe's command. With a start, the brave realized that the legionnaires had advanced to well within arrow range.
'Now,' he agreed.
Both Kagonesti shot. Their sleek arrows flashed into the gorge, dropping the captain and his nearest attendant from their saddles. Consternation erupted as men shouted, horses bucked, and dozens of swords slid from oiled scabbards.
But already the elves had fired second and third volleys. The legionnaires milled about in panic, seeking escape from the deadly hail that had already dropped a half dozen from their saddles. The wagons blocked escape to the rear, and the facing walls of the gorge prevented any sideways movement, so the lead riders put their spurs to their steeds and charged headlong into the continuing canyon.
Iydahoe shot again and again, each missile claiming the life of a panicked rider. In earlier ambushes, he had vividly remembered the massacre of his village, drawing on the hatred fueled by that butchery to commit himself to his own killings. But by now the murderous tactic had become virtually automatic, with all his thoughts focused on the locating of his next target.
The wagons rocked forward, creaking and bumping over the bodies of slain legionnaires as their drivers hurried them through the gorge. The first wagon compartment's curtain pulled back, and again Iydahoe saw that beautiful image-the elfmaiden Vanisia staring upward, wide-eyed. Oddly, she seemed more curious than afraid.
Abruptly she was pulled back into the wagon, her place taken by the dour figure of the elven cleric. Iydahoe looked back to the legionnaires, having little interest in killing a Silvanesti when Istarians were within range of his bow. Carefully he released another shot.
The cleric raised a hand, and Iydahoe gaped in shock as his arrow suddenly became a long-stemmed flower, fluttering gently against the chest of the human it had been intended to kill. Bakall's shot, too, vanished into the shape of a harmless blossom!
Again and again Iydahoe released further arrows, altering his aim, seeking difficult targets, but each time the elven priest chanted his arcane command, and the arrow was rendered not only harmless, but beautiful.
Furious, Iydahoe changed his aim, this time drawing a bead on the cleric himself. But while the arrow started on a true flight, it suddenly swerved upward. Aghast, the Kagonesti saw white wings sprout from the shaft. Then, miraculously, the arrow was a bird, a snowy dove winging upward and away. Two more shots he released, and two more doves flew away.
The cleric fixed a burning stare on the cliff where the wild elves were concealed. His chant grew in strength, tugging at Iydahoe with a strangely compelling pull. Thwarted, the warrior backed away from the edge of the cliff.
'Come on. Let's give them the false trail,' he hissed, turning to Bakali.
But the young warrior did not accompany him! Astonished, Iydahoe saw Bakali rise and step forward, exposing himself to plain view at the edge of the cliff. Then, before Iydahoe could do anything to stop him, the young warrior turned his face to the cliff and began to descend- straight toward the milling mass of the legionnaires and their Silvanesti allies!
Chapter 26
Iydahoe lunged toward the cliff's edge, but his split second of astonishment gave Bakall time to slip down the steep slope, dropping out of the older warrior's reach. Below, legionnaires raised crossbows, drawing a bead on the young Kagonesti's unarmored back. Apparently oblivious to his companion above and his enemies below, Bakall resolutely worked his way down the precipice, choosing his toeholds with almost reckless haste.
Carefully creeping forward, Iydahoe peered through a narrow crack between two of the rocks at the lip of the cliff. He saw legionnaires with their crossbows sighted upward, yet for long seconds they held their fire. Iydahoe couldn't see Bakall, but from the lowering of the cross- bows, he deduced that the young elf had not been shot- for the moment, at least.
Only then did he hear the other voice-first stern and commanding, then softer, more convincing. Iydahoe saw the elven cleric he had observed earlier. Now the priest stood atop the seat of the wagon, addressing the legionnaires with words Iydahoe couldn't understand. Their captain and officers slain by the first of the elven arrows, the men-at-arms wavered between vengeance and the eloquence of the cleric's arguments. Ultimately they held their fire, watching carefully as the young warrior reached the foot of the cliff and advanced toward the Silvanesti who still exhorted from his wheeled pulpit.
Iydahoe's bow and the dozen arrows remaining in his quiver were forgotten in the wild elf's wonder at the scene below. He saw Bakali reach the side of the wagon, taking the cleric's extended hand to step upward. As the young brave disappeared into the curtained interior, the cleric shouted something to the legionnaires.
Another man emerged from a different wagon-Iydahoe felt a mixture of horror and fury when he saw the dark gray robes of a wizard. He was out of arrow range, or the elf would have shot immediately. The fellow set a small, iron brazier on the ground and squinted upward, beginning to chant something aloud.
Even at this great distance the wild elf felt the flash of cold recognition. This was the face he had seen on the robed rider, fourteen years before. Flinging himself flat on the rocks, Iydahoe took shelter against the unknown threat of magical attack. His mind seethed with the hatred that had so long burned for this magic-user, the man who had enabled the armies of Istar to reach the wild elf villages undetected. If there was one man, beside the Kingpriest himself, who was to blame for that butchery, Iydahoe knew this wizard was that killer.
The mage shouted something, his words crackling in triumph. Iydahoe, peering around the rock, gaped in astonishment as the wizard's pot of coals suddenly spewed out a great column of flame. The fire crackled upward and out, like a living being-a creature cringing before the commands of its human master. The twisting, blazing shape broke away from the brazier. The wizard shouted again, pointing up the bluff, and the fiery creature followed the magic-user's command. Bushes and trees crackled into flame as it moved, but the fire-being didn't pause. When it reached the base of the precipice, it began to surge upward, bounding with a series of uncanny leaps.
Abruptly the legionnaires kicked spurs to their horses, while the wagon drivers shouted, unsparing in the use
