adventurer was fearful that she would come to grief. Still, he knew by now that trying to call off the race was useless, so his only recourse was to slow Windeater so that Leda's own horse would not compete with the stallion, and stay close behind, just in case. They covered about four hundred yards thus, and then Gord spotted the dead gazelle at the same instant that she pointed to it. 'You win!' he shouted to her. 'I see the kill!'
Leda slowed her horse, jumped off when it stopped several yards away from the quarry, and ran to where the gazelle lay. 'I shot it, Gord, so you must skin and dress it for supper,' she told him gleefully as he stumped up beside her.
Grumbling in mock displeasure, the young man complied. Soon he had the task completed, and the two made a little camp. It was already late afternoon, and this was a good place to spend the night.
'What troubles you, girl?' Gord asked after he and Leda had finished a fine meal of game and wild berries. She had stopped speaking a while ago and was now staring moodily into the little flames of the dying bonfire.
'Have you ever heard of a tribe called Al Crevad?' she asked in reply to his query.
'No, but I am no expert on the west, Leda. Why do you ask?'
'I am troubled by the whole situation, Gord — wouldn't you be? When you rescued me a week ago, I thought my loss of memory was only a temporary thing, a fault of the fall and no more. Leda is a nice name, and I like it, but it doesn't seem quite right.'
Gord smiled reassuringly at her. 'Come on, girl! A week is not sufficient time to fully recover from such a nasty fall as that, you know. In a few more days your memory will come back.'
'Gord, I hope you are right, but I am uneasy about the matter. Who am I? Why was I riding with a group of Yoli to Karnoosh? Where are my people? You and I both know that this is not a land where elves roam, yet I am surely half-elven. It all seems wrong, very wrong!'
Gord had to agree in his heart, but he wasn't about to reveal his doubts to the girl. 'Leda* I think the answer lies in Ghastoor. The caravan was coming from there when the Arroden struck. I still think you should have let me take you back there.'
'And delay your mission? How could I? If it is as important as you have told me — and I know you are speaking whole truth, Gord — it would be unthinkable for me to put myself above your duty.' The young man started to speak, but the half-elven girl hushed him, adding in a gently scolding tone, 'Besides, as I have told you before, I have some deep conviction that I too must go southward; that is probably why I was with the Yoli caravan to begin with. There is a vague sense somewhere within my mind, a feeling that I am needed for some purpose that lies to the south — just as you are.'
'There are strange and unknown forces at work in this matter, Leda,' Gord said seriously, 'and it is possible that you are an agent of one, just as I am. I was doubtful about you at first, I admit. When I saw how well you managed a sword and dagger, I was only slightly less so. Now that we have spent a week traveling across these arid plains, Leda, I am becoming convinced of your ability to survive, and your need to press on with me.' The young man paused for a minute, thinking. 'I do agree with you,' he continued. 'You — we — must do all we can to bring your memory back. If you are a part of this business, there must be knowledge hidden in your mind that will aid us in winning through.'
Leda replied as earnestly. 'Yes, Gord, I know. That's why I asked about the Al Crevad — the name just came to me, unbidden. Perhaps the tribal name is El Cravad… well, no matter. I think I am… from a secret tribe of folk who keep their presence hidden from the savage nomads around them. I… we… are a careful folk who must always be alert, for there are enemies out on the plains around us. Yes!' she said excitedly. 'I am sure of that. Perhaps I am from the mountains to the south, the very place we are going! I know those peaks are the Grandsuels, and the thought of mountains seems sort of comforting to me, like home.'
'Good. This could mean that you are slowly recovering. And a solid night of sleep will help you, I'm sure. You turn in now, Leda, and I'll stand watch. When it's dawn, I'll rouse you to break camp and make some breakfast. I'll grab an hour's sleep then, and then doze in the saddle as we travel. I've become used to living that way,' he said matter-of-factly. 'Besides, I can catnap and feel refreshed,' he finished, smiling at his own joke.
After a half-hearted protest against such coddling treatment, Leda rolled herself in her burnous and seemed to fall asleep instantly. Gord went off a bit from the fire and began his silent patrol around the outcropping they were camped by. They had covered a lot of ground since the night he had pulled the girl free from beneath her dead horse.
Windeater had found no difficulty in carrying the two of them away from the area of the battle, but it was a good thing the steed did not have to be taxed this way for long. At dawn the next morning they had come across a saddled horse grazing peacefully beside its dead rider. The animal accepted the half-elven girl readily, and the arms of the dead Yoli provided her with the wherewithal to protect herself. The dead warrior was a smallish man, and Leda put on his armor as naturally as if she had been a veteran fighter herself. She had likewise picked up the fallen man's weapons and tested them with a show of such experience at handling scimitar and dagger that Gord was convinced the girl was no soft courtesan or noble lady.
'Just who and what are you?' he asked her then.
The question stunned the girl, and she nearly collapsed from distress when she realized that she was unable to answer. 'I… I… don't know!' she cried. 'What's wrong with me? Trying to think of my name, who I am, where I come from — it makes my head hurt and my stomach twist.' She reeled as she said that, and Gord had to rush and grab her to keep the girl from toppling over in a faint.
'Never mind that now,' he told her reassuringly as he helped her to sit down. 'Enough for now that you are alive. Memory will come soon enough.'
That day he had suggested names as they rode along. When he began on names that started with the letter L, she had seemed more interested than before, so when Gord came to Leda, a name he personally liked, she had agreed that it sounded right — at least until she could recall her real name.
In the intervening days, Gord had kept trying to help her remember about herself, but the process was strange and slow. Leda seemed to be able to draw upon ingrained abilities to do what she had to do — handle weapons, ride a horse, shoot a bow. It was unsettling, though, that her memory of each skill made her uneasy even as it pleased her to recall information. The name 'Leda' pleased her and bothered her at the same time — she said the word like it was an echo of her real name. At first, using the dead warrior's arms seemed to provoke stirrings that gave her a headache, as if the familiarity was trying to evoke another memory. Even riding made the half-elf uneasy at times.
'You are the strongest part-elf I have ever seen, Leda,' he had remarked once. She got angry at the remark, seeming to take special exception to the phrase 'part-elf,' although she admitted later she didn't know why this happened. 'Your pardon, girl, but I have met many elves and half-elven folk in my travels,' Gord went on. 'Even the dark-haired sort have fair skins. The elves of the west must indeed be of unique sort, with such a deeply tanned complexion and pale hair as you have.'
'As a child of two races, Gord,' she had said crossly, 'could it not be that I inherited my dark skin from the Bakluni?'
'You have neither the olive cast nor the bold nose of the Baklunish folk… but I suppose it could be. You do look more elven than human at that!' Then they had spoken of other things, and no more was said about the subject.
Now, as he mulled over recent words and events, it seemed likely to Gord that Leda was right about her heritage, for she did ply the Bakluni weapons with skill, as her bowshot the previous afternoon had demonstrated. In any case, Gord was happy to have her company. Not only was she very lovely, but Leda was able and lent strength to this mission. Until this night she had been taking her turn on sentry duty as staunchly as any man, and her elven eyesight was most useful in the dark.
The usual nocturnal carnivores prowled the land as Gord stood guard, but no animal was so fierce that the little fire, a bit of noise, or a well-aimed stone from his sling didn't discourage it.
As the eastern sky became faintly light, Gord went to where the half-elven girl slept. She awoke at his slight touch, and in minutes she was on guard and Gord fast asleep. Leda let him doze longer than he had wanted to, for she felt they could easily spare another hour or so. Then she knelt beside him and gently poked him In the ribs.
'Come on, sleepy man!' she said boisterously. The sun is up two hours now, and you are still abed! Food is ready, and the horses saddled. Refresh yourself, eat, and then we can be on our way.'
Gord rolled over and was just starting to get to his feet when his eyes spotted several specks on the northern
