'We can muster close to a hundred bows in our own defense. If you aid us, we might be able to drive off the attack.'
Farmers and merchants, fighting against hardened sellswords three times their number? Daried shook his head. There was no sense in it. If he had fifty or sixty skilled elf warriors, he could whittle down their strength with a strategy of ambush-and-retreat, keeping ahead of the slow-footed humans and avoiding a stand-up fight. But the folk of Glen would get themselves slaughtered if they tried any such thing-especially since the Chonda-thans evidently had at least one capable wizard leading their troops. It would be a slaughter.
They reached the old elven crossing about an hour before daybreak, and paused to splash cold water over their faces and brows. Daried's legs burned with fatigue and his wounds ached abominably, but he knew his own endurance. He'd be exhausted when he reached the town, but he would reach it.
Nilsa's hair was plastered to her head by sweat and the morning damp, and she looked pale in the gray glimmers of daybreak. She was careful not to sit down while they rested, walking in slow circles by the riverbank as she studied the old river-crossing. The river's song filled the air, murmuring of gravel and worn stone.
'I don't suppose you have any magic to make this place unusable, do you?' she asked Daried.
He shook his head. 'I have no illusions suitable for concealing it, and much of my battle magic is exhausted. Given a few hours of work with my hands, I could do something. But I do not think we have the time.' He glanced up at the gray streaks brightening the sky in the east. 'I expect the Chondathans are already marching. They know they've been found out. That means speed is their best weapon now.'
'Lathander preserve us, you're right,' Nilsa muttered. She turned away from the coming dawn, and hugged her arms to her chest. 'Could I have been any more stupid? The whole warband will be on our heels. I thought I was going to kill my father's murderers, but all IVe done is lead the rest of them back to Glen.'
Daried grimaced. In truth, he had no answers for her. He had little gift for meaningless words of comfort, and he simply couldn't lie about what he saw coming for the tiny village of Glen and its folk in the next few days. He'd seen the marauder's handiwork at the home of Nilsa's father and the homesteads along their bloodstained trail. Still, he tried.
'They were marching against Glen anyway, Nilsa,' he said. 'If you hadn't pursued the marauders, you would not have discovered the danger that approaches your village. And you would not have been close at hand to rescue me from the consequences of my own foolishness.'
She looked over her shoulder at him. 'My father's death is only the beginning, isn't it?'
The bladesinger studied the girl. In the growing half-light he could see the elf traces in her features more clearly. Her eyes were as green as spring, and yet she had a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Whatever else she was, she was hardly unfortunate in her heritage. In her face an elf's timelessness met a human's youth, a human's passion, and was transformed into something new again. He could read the despair, the exhaustion, the grief in her features, and yet fire and determination still nickered in her eyes. She was the daughter of heroes, after all. And a daughter of the People, too.
He met her eyes evenly. 'It will be hard on you and your people, Nilsa. But nothing is written yet. This is what we have won with our foolish chase-a few hours to make our choices. Perhaps we will choose more wisely today than we did yesterday.'
The girl shivered in the cool damp air. She glanced to the north, perhaps imagining the long miles still ahead of them. Then she looked down at her feet and said, 'Daried, I am sorry you weren't able to get your family's sword back. My grandfather shouldn't have taken it. I don't think he meant to hurt you or your folk, but that doesn't make it right.'
He shrugged awkwardly. 'I should have held my temper in check,' he said. 'Besides, I am not sure that I have lost my chance to get the Morvaeril moonblade back. I think I am not done yet with Lord Sarthos. Our paths will cross soon enough.'
Nilsa gave him a sharp look. 'You are going to help us fight the sellswords?'
Daried nodded. 'Yes… I owe you that much for saving my life in the marauders' camp.' He shouldered his pack again, and gestured at the river-crossing. 'Come, we have a hard day's travel ahead of us still.'
An hour before sunset, Daried and Nilsa parted ways at the smoking ruin of her father's farm. The girl hurried back to the town to carry warning of the Sembian column marching up from the south, while Daried sped back to his warriors' encampment by the banks of the Ashaba.
He stumbled into camp covered with road dust, his legs hollow and weak, his wounds throbbing and blazing like lines of fire drawn across his limbs and body. Distantly he noted the high clear call of welcome from the sentry, and the rustle of activity as elves emerged from shelters or came running from work in the woods nearby to hail his return. 'It seems I've been missed,' he muttered to no one in particular. Grimacing in pain, he allowed himself to fall to the ground by the shelter he used as his own. He seized a waterskin close at hand and drank long and deep, then upended the rest of its contents over his head.
'By Corellon's sword, Daried, what happened to you?' The mage Teriandyln appeared and knelt by his side. His face was sharp with anxiety. 'Where have you been?'
'Summon Andariel,' Daried said. 'I must have him carry a message to Lord Gaerth right away.'
Teriandyln frowned, but he motioned to a warrior standing nearby. The fellow nodded and hurried off to find the young moon elf. Daried forestalled the wizard's questions with a raised hand, fighting against his exhaustion and organizing his thoughts. 'Have our scouts found any sign of the Sembians in the area?'
'No, we have seen no signs that the Sembians are nearby. Another demon appeared yesterday, though. We spent the day tracking the monster.' The wizard paused, then added, 'Your sword was missed, Daried. Rollael and Feldyrr were badly wounded fighting the hellspawn.'
'I am sorry for that,' Daried said. He looked away. 'I should not have been so quick to set aside my responsibilities here. But it may have been for the best that I did.'
The moon elf Andariel ran up to the shelter and sketched a hasty bow. 'You sent for me, Lord Selsherryn?'
'I did. You must ride to Ashabenford at once, and take this message to Vesilde Gaerth-or whomever you find in command, if Gaerth is not there. Tell him that a strong force of Chondathan mercenaries is marching north through the forest. They've found an old trail through Cormanthor that opens into the western verge of the dale. It seems that there is an old elven crossing of the Ashaba there that we did not know about.'
The warriors around him exchanged grim looks at that. They understood the peril that threatened the elf army in Ashabenford.
'They are at least three hundred strong,' Daried continued, 'but there may be more following. As of moonset last night, they were about five miles south of the river, and twenty miles west of Glen. I think they will reach us here around sunset tomorrow, and Ashabenford late in the day after.
'It is my intention to oppose their march for as long as possible, and help the Glen-folk to defend their town.'
The other elves did not manage to conceal their surprise at that, either. They knew that he had had no plan to skirmish against such a large force or to let the elf company be tied down in the defense of a nameless human village. If he were not so tired, Daried would have found their guarded glances more than a little amusing. As it was, he pretended that he simply didn't notice. He looked up at Andariel, and said, 'Repeat what I have just told you.'
Andariel repeated his message, almost word for word. Daried judged it good enough. With a weary nod, he clasped Andariel's shoulder. 'You are our swiftest rider. Ride quickly, but ride safe. It is more important for the message to get to Gaerth than it is for you to astonish us with your speed.'
'I will not fail you, Lord Selsherryn,' the serious young moon elf replied. He bowed again and hurried off.
'That's taken care of,' Daried sighed. Wearily he pulled his dusty gauntlets from his hands, and began to unbuckle his fine golden mail. After three days of constant wear the armor, light and well-fitted as it was, felt like a lead shroud.
Teriandyln seated himself on the ground nearby. 'I don't recall that you had any intention of fighting such a strong force,' he said, speaking to Daried alone. 'Are you sure this is wise, my friend?'
'We need to give Lord Gaerth time to slip away from Ashabenford. Every hour we delay the Sembians' mercenaries gives our warriors a better chance to withdraw without a fight. And we will provide the folk who live in the eastern portion of this dale with a chance to escape the armies converging here.'
'If you are right, they are ten times our number, Daried. Perhaps twenty times.'
