'Then you must think me incapable of carrying my weight in such an elite band of phaerimm killers.' She grabbed one of the barbed trophy tails tucked into his belt and gave it a flick. 'Perhaps you think I am not brave enough.' 'I know you are brave enough,' Dexon said, looking to his fellows for help-and finding nothing but amused grins, 'b-but you don't have a darksword.' 'Neither does Khelben,' Keya pointed out.
Dexon rolled his eyes. 'Khelben is one of the Chosen.'
'Dexon just couldn't stand to see you hurt.' Kuhl grabbed them by the arms and led them after Khelben, who was already halfway down the trail to Dawnsglory Pond. He leaned closer to Keya, then added in a quiet voice, 'If you ask me, I think all those moonlight swims have gone and made him sweet on you.'
Keya blushed and, unsure whether Kuhl was joking or really had not noticed how close she and Dexon had become, disengaged herself and glanced over at her Vaasan lover. As large and hairy as a bear, his emotions were in many ways just as alien to her. She had no doubts about the depths of his feelings-she would have known that by the way Khelben frowned whenever he saw them together, if nothing else-but it had never occurred to her that his passion would manifest itself in such a protective streak. To an elf, such paternalism implied that he believed her incapable of making her own decisions, and elves were not in the habit of falling in love with those whom they held in such low regard.
But humans were different. She had seen the way Dexon glowered when the other Vaasans looked at her during their swims, and she had noticed how he often tried to keep them away from her when the water games began. His affection for her seemed to manifest itself as though she were a treasure he feared someone might steal-and, with a sudden rush of comprehension, she understood that was almost true.
Their love was a treasure-and humans viewed treasure not as beautiful artwork to be shared with others, but as coins and gems to be hidden safely away. They were like dragons that way-and they would fight just as ferociously to protect their hoard. If, on the battlefield, Keya were to be threatened, Dexon would forget all else-his own safety, his duty to help Khelben, even the many thousand Evereskans whose lives were at peril-and rush to defend her.
They reached Dawnsglory Pond, where Khelben turned uphill toward Cloudhome, Lord Duirsar's citadel. Burlen and Kuhl started after him at once, but Keya stopped and turned down the slope toward the Livery Gate.
Dexon caught her arm and motioned up the hill. 'Lord Blackstaff went this way.'
'I know,' Keya said, pointing down the hill, 'but I must go that way.'
'Then you're not coming with us?' Dexon looked almost as confused as he did relieved.
Keya shook her head. 'My place is with the Long Watch.'
'The Long Watch?' Dexon gasped. 'But they've no training!'
Keya frowned. 'More than you know,' she said, raising her chin. 'Our hearts are brave. We'll give a good accounting of ourselves.'
'For as long as it takes the phaerimm to cast one spell!' Dexon objected, trying to pull her up the hill. 'The Long Watch is fodder. You're coming with us.'
Keya twisted her arm free. 'No, Dex, you were right. I don't belong in Khelben's company.'
She grabbed his shoulders and pulled herself up to kiss him on the lips, then let go and dropped back to the ground a pace away. 'I'll see you after the battle,' she said.
'If we win,' Dexon said, shaking his head and starting after her. 'I can't let you-'
'Yes, Dexon, you can, and you will.' Khelben's strong hand caught him by the shoulder and pulled him back. 'Say your farewells.'
Dexon's eyes grew a little glassy, then he kissed his beefy fingers and turned them toward Keya. 'Till swords part.'
Keya smiled and returned the gesture. 'Back soon for soft songs and bright wine.'
Khelben pushed Dexon into the arms of his waiting companions. He made a shooing motion and mumbled something Keya did not quite catch. 'I'm sorry,' she said. 'What was that?'
'Just the usual,' Khelben said, turning away. 'Sweet water and light laughter.'
To Keya, that didn't sound like what he'd mumbled. Not even close.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
20 Mirtul, the Year of Wild Magic Loose
Keya released her bowstring on command. Her arrow hissed skyward with a thousand others, passing through the mythal and arcing down toward the thin line of beholders and phaerimm floating out in the Vine Vale. Shimmering rays of disintegration magic swept back and forth across the volley, dissolving hundreds of shafts before they neared the blackened vineyards. One of the mythal's golden meteors came streaking down from the heavens and burned a twenty-foot swath through the sizzling cloud of sticks. Hundreds of missiles missed their targets and planted themselves in the soil like a crop of newly sprouted feather sticks. Of the few dozen arrows that found their marks, most were deflected by powerful shielding magic and clattered harmlessly to ground, but a few enchanted shafts penetrated the phaerimm defenses and lodged themselves deep in enemy bodies.
One phaerimm and two beholders went limp and began to sink toward the ground, then a fierce counterattack blossomed against the mythal and prevented Keya from seeing if they recovered. She nocked another arrow-the last in her quiver-and awaited the next command. Like the rest of the Long Watch, she was standing inside the Meadow Wall with nothing between her and the enemy but the battered mythal and seventy paces of open ground-close enough that when she was not trying to blink the magic-dazzle from her eyes, she could see the big central eyes of the attacking beholders.
What Keya could not see were any bugbears, illithids, captured elves, or any other phaerimm mind-slaves. There were only the thornbacks themselves-less than two hundred in the whole vale, according to rumor-and perhaps a thousand beholders. With a full ten thousand elves ringing the city, it definitely appeared that the odds favored Evereska, but where the phaerimm were concerned, appearances were always deceiving. The mind- slaves could be anywhere, lurking invisibly on the other side of the Meadow Wall or hiding in tunnels under the Vine Vale, ready to burrow under the elven defenses the instant their masters weakened the mythal. 'Loose!' came the command.
Keya set her aim on the eye of the closest beholder and released her bowstring. She lost sight of her arrow as it joined the dark cloud sailing into the Vine Vale, but she chose to believe that hers was the shaft that survived to plant itself between two of her target's writhing eye-stalks. Another phaerimm spell-storm exploded against the mythal.
An arrow runner lifted Keya's empty quiver off her belt and replaced it with a full one. She grabbed the next shaft and was horrified to feel green, moist wood. To save Evereska, even the trees had to sacrifice-not that they would live long if the mythal fell. She slipped the nock onto her bowstring and raised the tip to the air.
The phaerimm began to retreat, fleeing so fast that one flew into a mythal-meteor and vanished in a golden flash. In the next instant, a cone of sparkling gray flame shot out from behind the Meadow Wall, engulfing a pair of phaerimm who had made the mistake of drifting into a single line. They erupted into screeching tornadoes of silver fire.
Khelben Arunsun appeared at the Meadow Wall where the cone had originated, his hand still pointing at the two burning phaerimm. In the next instant, the Vaasans and the rest of the archmage's escort appeared to both sides of him, ail grunting with effort as they hurled a flight of golden javelins after the fleeing phaerimm. The beholders caught the first wave of spears in their disintegration rays, which only turned them into pure magic and sent them streaking into their targets with the speed of lightning bolts. The second wave followed a little more slowly, but two dozen weapons found their marks. Three phaerimm dropped to the ground and disintegrated into piles of dust, and two more were injured so badly they teleported away.
The surviving thornbacks came streaking back, driving their beholder slaves ahead of them and hurling such a spell tempest at the mythal that Keya had to turn her face away from the heat of the dissipating magic. Khelben and his escort simply laughed and strolled calmly away from the Meadow Wall, their backs to the enemy. They passed through the Long Watch lines not twenty paces from where Keya stood awaiting the command to loose her next arrow. If Dexon-or any of the Vaasans- noticed her standing in line, they did not betray the fact by looking in
