summer warmth above.
Daried returned to the encampment an hour before sunset. It was a pleasant spot, a well-shaded forest glade a stone's throw from the gravel-voiced Ashaba, where a score of elf warriors under Daried's command kept watch. It was their task to make sure that the Sembian mercenaries in Battledale-allies or dupes of the daemonfey,
Daried did not know or care which-did not reach the west bank of the river by crossing unopposed in the green depths of the forest. Should the Sembians get across the Ashaba here, they would outflank the elf legions that stood ready to defend the main crossing at the town of Ashabenford fifteen miles farther north.
It struck Daried as a fool's errand. No one considered it very likely that the Sembians would search for a path through the trackless depths of the forest in order to try a river crossing where no easy fording-point existed. That was why Vesilde Gaerth, the knight-commander who captained the Crusade forces in Mistledale, had detached only two dozen warriors to guard against the possibility. If, by some amazing feat of endurance, the Sembians succeeded in the forest march and river crossing, Vesilde Gaerth needed a few hours' warning so that he could abandon his defenses at Ashabenford and retreat out of the trap.
Gaerth had also told Daried that he was to capture, drive off, or kill any Sembian scouts who tried to spy out the elven defenses in the southern verge of the dale. And for that matter, he was supposed to do what he could to deal with any demons, devils, or similar monsters who appeared to harry the human villagers and farmers who lived nearby. In fact, that was why Daried had been given this task. As a bladesinger, he at least had a chance of dealing with such monsters using his skill and magic. Most of the other elves in his small company would have been overwhelmed by a hellspawn of any real strength.
'Lord Selsherryn returns!' called a clear voice. Daried glanced up; the moon elf Andariel stood atop a large boulder-fall overlooking the camp, raising his bow in welcome. Young and impetuous, Andariel regarded Daried's high family and personal accomplishment with such seriousness that Daried sometimes suspected secret mockery in his manner. But he had never found a trace of sarcasm behind the younger elfs earnestness.
Daried returned Andariel's salute with a curt wave, and made his way to the temporary shelter that served as his resting-place and command post. Two more elves awaited him there-Hycellyn, another moon elf, and the sun elf mage Teriandyln, who might have been the closest Daried had to a true friend in all the Crusade. Very unusually for an elf, Teriandyln possessed a thin, pointed goatee of fine golden whiskers. Along with his grim manner and brilliant green eyes, the trace of beard lent him an acutely sinister, almost feral, appearance.
The mage glanced up at Daried and frowned. 'What in the world happened to you?'
'I met a devil in the wreckage of the Morvaeril manor.'
'A devil?' Hycellyn asked sharply. She set down the arrow she was fletching. 'Are you hurt, Lord Selsherryn?'
'Nothing serious,' Daried answered. He directed his attention to Teriandyln. 'I slew it, but its body did not vanish. It was not summoned.'
'The daemonfey must control a gate of some kind. Or perhaps the creature was one of the devils trapped in Myth Drannor. I have heard that many such monsters have roamed the ruins for years.' Teriandyln frowned deeper. 'What sort of creature was it? Do you know?'
'A half-foot taller than a tall elf, with a heavier build. It had no wings, but it was covered in great jutting spikes or barbs.'
'A hamatula, then-a barbed devil, as they are sometimes known.' The sharp-faced sun elf looked at Daried more closely. 'You are fortunate to have walked away from that fight, Daried.'
Daried shrugged and said nothing. But Hycellyn retrieved a slender wand of white ashwood from her belt and knelt beside him, murmuring the words of a healing prayer. The bladesinger winced as punctures, gouges, and bruises announced themselves again, but the pain of each injury faded at once, soothed away by the moon elf s magic. He took a deeper breath, and gave her a nod of gratitude.
'So what was a devil doing in the Morvaeril manor?' she asked as she put away the wand.
'The house lies in ruins now,' Daried said. 'It has been plundered, its warding spells broken. Even the vaults underneath have been despoiled. My mother's kin were robbed in their eternal sleep and left to lie wherever they fell. The thieves even stole the Morvaeril moonblade, dead for a hundred years now. Nothing is left.
'I grew up in that house. It's only been seventy summers since I left it. To see it now you might think our People's absence from this place had been counted in centuries, not decades.'
'Who would do such a thing?' Hycellyn wondered aloud.
'Someone who wore this emblem.' Daried held out his hand, showing the others the pendant with its image of the running horse. 'I found it on the skeleton of a human lying in the house.'
'I know that sign,' Teriandyln said. 'It hangs above the inn that stands in the human village called Glen.'
Daried closed his list around the pendant, and slipped it back into his tunic. 'I know.'
Hycellyn sighed and shook her head. 'Lord Selsherryn- Daried-how long has that skeleton been there? How long ago was your family's house broken into? Ten years? Twenty? Fifty? The humans who live in Glen now may have had nothing to do with it.'
'For their sake, I hope that is true.' Daried stood, and glanced at the sun sinking in the west. 'Have our scouts seen anything worth reporting this afternoon?'
'No, it has been quiet,' said Teriandyln. 'But Ilidyrr and Sarran are not due to report for a couple of hours yet, and they are the farthest east of any of our folk.'
'If nothing is happening, then I will leave you in charge for a while longer,' Daried told him. 'I am going to Glen. Someone there has much to answer for.'
Entered green tavern-sign in the human village of Glen. The emblem of a running horse graced the signboard, but the bright silver-white paint was threadbare and peeling. Insects buzzed in the summer twilight, filling the air with chirps and rasping calls. Thousands of tiny midges fluttered around the bright lanterns hanging from light-posts scattered through the hamlet.
Human farmers and townsfolk stood in pairs here and there throughout the village, dressed in ill-fitting leather jerkins and gripping rusty pikes or old bows. Since the daemonfey had begun stirring up old evils in Myth Drannor's ruins, the Dalesfolk had been subjected to deadly raids and rampages by all sorts of monsters and demons. They'd been posting a village watch for two or three tendays-not that some untried farmer had much of a chance against the sorts of infernal creatures Sarya Dlardrageth might send to harry Mistledale. Daried had heard from other elves that there was often more to the Dalesfolk than met the eye, and not a few of those who stood guard were seasoned veterans or onetime sellswords who still remembered how to swing a sword. But he hadn't seen any human watchmen in Glen that he'd trust with a sharp fork, let alone a spear or a sword.
The muted sounds of thick human voices and the clumsy strumming of a crude stringed instrument spilled out of the door. Setting his face in a scowl, Daried pushed open the door and entered the taproom.
It was a smoke-filled, low-ceilinged room with heavy black timbers for beams and posts. The sight made him wince. Could they have killed any more trees when they raised up this oversized kennel? he wondered. He shook his head and turned his attention to the people in the room.
A half-dozen humans sat staring at him, their conversations faltering in mid-word. Between the smoke and the humid warmth of the night, the taproom was quite warm, and sweat flowed freely over hairy faces and around thick homespun tunics. One tall, lanky fellow with long hands and a lanternlike jaw stood behind a weathered bar- the innkeeper, or so Daried assumed.
The tall man managed an awkward bow, and addressed Daried in the common speech the humans used. 'Good evening, sir. We heard that some of the Fair Folk were camped in the forest nearby. What can I get for you?'
'Answers,' Daried grated. He dropped the tarnished emblem on the rough countertop before the innkeeper. 'This pendant was left in an elf manor five miles east of here. The human who wore it has lain dead in that house for some time, but I know he visited that manor no more than seventy years ago. Who among you would know anything about what happened there?'
The innkeeper frowned and shuffled his feet. Daried's vehemence had taken him by surprise, and he finally turned away to wipe his hands on his apron and back a couple of steps away from the bladesinger.
