“There are few goblins, and they keep well to the north of here,” said Baerauble.
“I take it your elves keep them at bay,” said Ondeth.
“We guard this land,” said Baerauble simply. “That is one reason I’m here.”
Ondeth thought of his wife’s talk of ghosts and watchers. How long had this rail-thin stranger been watching them?
“As for settling in this particular place,” said Ondeth, “we struck west from Marsember, following the hunting and game trails along the coast, looking for enough open space to farm. We found this spot, open to the sky, with some ancient trees already felled. It’s easier than cutting timber on our own.”
He swung one muscular arm south. “The shoreline is close… nothing but sharp-toothed rocks, but we can build a small dock if need be… eventually. The soil’s rich here, and it should bring in a good crop. Have you claimed this land already?”
The farmer hefted his hammer, as if to indicate he would contest any such claim.
The newcomer surprised Ondeth. He gave a thin, worried smile. “No, I was a… guest of the original inhabitants.”
“Your elves killed those original inhabitants.” It was a statement, not a question.
The lean man started. “You know?”
“I’ve found bits of bone and broken swords when I was plowing. You don’t have to be Sage Alaundo to figure out there were other inhabitants here earlier. Haven’t told Suzara, she’d just worry.”
Another pause between the two. Ondeth broke it finally with a direct look up from his hammer and the gruff question, “So-are you here to kill us as well?”
Baerauble started again. Ondeth wondered if he was being too hard-tongued with the stranger, but this one had called himself a friend of the elves and had probably not been near humans for a decade.
Baerauble blinked and then said slowly, “Perhaps. They sent me to determine your intentions.”
Ondeth nodded. “I intend to farm. My sons do a little snaring. Brother’s going down to Marsember tomorrow to fetch his wife and family. If you want to kill us, I’d appreciate your doing it before the younger folk arrive.”
The stranger did not-quite-smile. “How many folk do you intend to have here in this settlement?”
Ondeth shrugged. “I know of a dozen, maybe two dozen folk who’d trade Marsember for some dry land.” After a moment, he asked, “Your elves aren’t going to destroy Marsember as well?”
The lean man shook his head. “The elves claim the wild forest, this part of the great forest known as Cormanthir-what you call the wolf woods, or Cormyr. Marsember is, as you may have noticed, a swamp. Two dozen, eh? Farmers like yourself?”
“Some are. Some will hunt, likely. There may be more. I can’t very well speak for every human along the western shores.”
“Leave the rothe-the forest buffalo. You can take enough deer for your settlement, but if you drive out the native herds, the elves will take their own measures. Take deadfall branches, not live wood for your fires and buildings… and I think they will let you stay.”
“Extremely generous of them,” said Ondeth sharply. “And where are these elven masters who we’re being so gracious to?”
Baerauble looked at the large man, brows drawing down, as Ondeth continued. “I’ve been here with my family for four months now, and you’re the first thinking creature we’ve seen since we left Marsember. Now you tell me this is elven land, and if I want to remain I have to tailor my life and that of my family to the dictates of these elves. I’ll need a good reason to do that… a very good reason. So my question is-where are these elves?”
The thin man was still for a moment. Looking at him, Ondeth thought a stiff wind would uproot him. Then he said, “I will take you to them.”
With both hands, the lean newcomer traced out a large circle in the air, indicating an area of the trodden ground around them as if he were one of the women back home telling Suzara how big her next gown was going to be. As he did so, he spat out a cascade of harsh words. Neither elvish nor the trade tongue, the words rolled out, rich and sinuous with power, and Ondeth almost shivered. These words were deep, they’d been old when the legendary dragons were young. As the bearded man moved his hands, they trailed scars of light in the air, lines of radiance that continued to glow and spread outward.
Ondeth took a step back and brought up his hammer, more to ward off the magic than attack the newcomer. The glow rose all around him, it was blinding for a moment.
And when it subsided, they were somewhere else.
“You’re a wizard!” exclaimed Ondeth, realizing how stupid that sounded even as he said it. “You could have warned me,” he added, and after another pause, “Suzara is going to be peeved if she finds me gone.”
The mage stood stock-still. “You wanted to see the elves of Cormanthir. Watch.”
They were standing somewhere deep in the forest, in cool, green shade. The woods were relatively free of ground cover. It felt to Ondeth as if he were in a green hail, the huge, moss-girt trees its pillars and the leaves above a roof of jade-colored glass. There was a sharpness to everything around him, as if the rest of the world had been wrapped in fog.
They were scattered around the two men in a rough line that curved like welcoming arms-or waiting claws. At first the elves were indistinguishable from the forest itself. Then Ondeth realized that they were dressed in tunics made of solid shades of green and yellow, and their trappings and accoutrements were gold.
The nearest elf was a female, her features clear and sharp enough to etch glass. She was dressed like the others. Ondeth saw that her tunic was really a chain mail shirt, its links so small that they appeared as no more than loops of fabric. She held a thin ivory spear, its barbed tip of beaten gold.
She shifted her head to regard the two humans. Ondeth suddenly felt as rough and uncouth as a dung-smeared hobgoblin in his worn linen jacket and heavy pants.
Then she smiled, a thin flash of pure white between her lips, and it was as if daylight had broken through the forest canopy. A small smile, but enough to lift Ondeth’s heart above the trees.
The smile was not for him. Baerauble the wizard bowed with stiff formality back at the elf, but his face was wide with a grin. Ondeth felt a flash of jealousy.
“What…” he began, but the mage raised a hand, stilling his question before it could be asked.
“It’s beginning,” Baerauble said. “The Hunt.”
The elves were all facing the same way, and from that direction came the blast of a great horn. A second horn call joined it, and then another, each in perfect thirds to form a single swelling, melodious chord. The elves along the line shifted positions and readied their spears.
Then lights shone out beneath the forest canopy. Soft blue and green glows, like the radiant fungus found on rotting wood. Yellow and orange balls of lightning sang in and out of the trees, joined now by red spheres as bright as an angry dragon’s eye.
To Ondeth, they looked like lanterns held aloft in a procession. But as they bobbed and weaved through the trees, the farmer knew they were magical, controlled by approaching elves, no doubt.
Beaters. These lights and horns were intended to drive prey forward, toward the line of waiting elves. But what beast was so powerful it needed such effort?
The answer was quick in coming. Ondeth heard a crashing in the forest depths, a crunching of brambles and trees in several places, that soon grew so loud and frantic that it overwhelmed the cacophony of blasting horns.
Trees swayed and shed their leaves in clouds as great, shaggy beasts burst past them, bounding through the forest, wild-eyed and snorting. Their hooves shook the earth and made a sound like thunder as they rushed toward the elves. These were the small buffalo of the forest, surging in a flight as wild and fleet as a herd of deer. Ondeth saw red-rimmed eyes shining with fear, and he swallowed in spite of himself as the huge beasts rushed down upon the line of elves, who stood calmly waiting, spears ready… and passed through unimpeded. A few elves stepped deftly aside to let a snorting buffalo pass. Ondeth watched the monstrous creatures race past, as tall as the huts he’d been building. The ground shook under their charge, and the farmer hefted his sledge, his breath quickening, but then the beasts were gone in a cloud of drifting dust and fading thunder, running hard into the distance.