Gradually the rushes thinned, and Elyn found herself on the edge of a small slough, perhaps thirty feet across. And there near the center floundered a terror-stricken pony; and behind, mired up to his chest, struggling and cursing-Elyn’s eyes narrowed in a sudden rush of hatred-thrashed a Dwarf!
As Wind stepped forth from the reeds, suddenly the pony stopped its struggling. The Dwarf looked up, and his gaze locked with Elyn’s, his eyes narrowing-just as hers had-at the sight of this tall, fair, leather-clad, steel-helmed, green-eyed, copper-haired Woman!
Steadily the twilight deepened. Long, tense moments fled as they stared in loathing at one another, neither saying a word.
Should I, can I, rescue one of Them? Elyn’s emotions churned, her mind in a turmoil. But as her hand strayed toward the rope at her saddle-
“Think not to help me, Woman, for I’d sooner sink down through this quaghole to Neddra itself, than to be aided by a Rider.” In his mouth the words Woman and Rider sounded as oaths, and hostility glared forth from the Dwarf’s shadowed eyes, his gaze still locked with hers.
Sheathing her saber, Elyn flicked Wind’s reins, turning to go. Faugh! I was a fool to have ever considered saving a Dwarf in the first place. But just as the mare started fetching about, the pony began to thrash again, grunting, snorting, eyes rolling in terror. Grinding her teeth, Elyn swung Wind back once more, loosening the rope as she did so. “I cannot let a steed die by my neglect, Dwarf; I am Vanadurin.” Now it was Elyn whose mouth formed an oath, as she spoke the word Dwarf.
Fashioning a noose, Elyn cast the loop toward the pony’s head, but missed as the panic-stricken horseling thrashed back and forth. Elyn drew in the rope and cast again, this time landing fair ’round the struggling pony’s head, only to be thrown off by the steed’s wild tossings.
Snorting with disgust, pulling and hauling on the saddle trappings, the Dwarf managed to flounder to the pony’s left fore. “Here, Woman, the rope,” he haughtily commanded.
Elyn cast the line again, and the Dwarf slipped the loop over the pony’s head, setting it low ’round the neck.
Elyn took two turns of the rope around the fore cantle, and called, “Back, Wind! Hup!”
And with Elyn holding tightly to the clinched line and calling out to her mount, and Wind backing and hauling, and the pony thrashing toward safety, and the Dwarf floundering as well through the sucking mire, pulling up behind using the steed’s tail, standing, shoving, at last the horseling was free.
And so, too, was the Dwarf.
Elyn could not see just what the detested adversary looked like, for he was covered with muck and slime, and a cloud of insects darted about him; and he smelled of marsh gas-the foul odor of rotten eggs rose up from him and the pony and assailed her nostrils, and she was near to gagging upon the stench of it. Yet, like all Dwarves, he stood somewhere between four and five feet tall-four seven or eight, she judged-with shoulders half again as broad as a Man’s. Other than that she could tell nought, for twilight had fallen unto gloom, and he was but a vague silhouette ’gainst darkness.
Elyn sat high upon her horse and stared down in loathing at this hated Dwarf, her hand on the pommel of her sword; and he stared up at this hated Rider, a warhammer and double-bitted axe at hand. And neither said aught.
What would have happened next is not told, for at that very moment, with a squeal of terror, the pony reared up and back and would have bolted had it not been for the rope.
Sss! Shssh! Seemingly out of nowhere, black-shafted arrows sissed past, hissing of Death in their whispering flight. Wild howls shattered forth from all sides, and a crashing of reeds.
“Wha-?” cried Elyn, unable to see the deadly bolts sissing through the dark, yet recognizing the sound for what it was; while at the same time “Squam!” shouted the Dwarf, leaping to the pony’s saddle, casting the rope from the horseling’s neck. “Fly!”
Easterly they bolted, Elyn unaccountably in the lead, drawing her saber. Dark shapes rose up before her: Foe! Armed and attacking!
Shkkk! Shkkk! Elyn’s saber rived, and black grume spurted forth from wildly swinging enemy as they fell before her blade, dead ere they struck the earth.
Wind burst through the ring of steel, and suddenly was running free through the rushes. Behind, Elyn could hear the ancient Dwarven battle cry: “Châkka shok! Châkka cor!” And she could hear the Chnnk! of Dwarven hammer smashing through bone, as the pony won free of the ambush as well.
And in the distance hindward she could hear howls of pursuit.
Shsss. . hissed the reeds, slicing like supple swords along Wind’s flanks and Elyn’s legs, as if trying to cut these intruders, to wound them, as horse and rider fled through the dire marsh.
As they plunged headlong through the thickset rushes, cursing, Elyn cast loose the rope wildly trailing behind from the forecantle horn, fearing that the line would snag to bring down horse and rider alike.
Elyn could see nought but black on shadow in the hurtling darkness, vague ebon shapes flying by. I can’t keep up this breakneck-
— Suddenly Wind was floundering belly-deep in water!
Rach! Hauling hard on Wind’s reins, Elyn pressed the mare back toward the shore. At that moment, the pony galloped up, the Dwarf tugging leftward and back on the halter, stopping.
“Kruk, Woman,” the Dwarf’s voice rasped out from ebon shadow, “they are hard on our track! You ride as if you are blind!”
Elyn kicked her heels into Wind’s flanks, shrieking, “You stupid jackass of a Dwarf-”
Ululating howls split the night. Shsss! Ssszzz! Sisss! Again, black-shafted arrows hissed through the darkness, just as Wind gained the shore.
“Follow me, Rider; Châkka eyes see better than yours.” The Dwarf spurred the pony forward, straight into the face of a dark shape leaping out of the rushes to bar the way. Chnk! Dwarven warhammer bashed through tulwar to crush the foe’s helm and skull.
Elyn spurred Wind after the racing pony, as an unseen arrow glanced off her helmet.
Twisting and darting, the pony ran a zigzag course through the foetid swamp, always bearing easterly, seeking to escape, seeking the far edge of the great Khalian Mire. Elyn did not know just what obstacles the Dwarf dodged, be they sloughs, mires, quags, quicksand, bogs, whatever, and she did not know why she followed, given the circumstances in which she had first found him, but follow she did. Only at times in the flying black did Elyn catch a darkling glimpse of the Dwarf and pony on the twisted course they ran, darting and veering this way and that through the slashing rushes ebon in the night. But it was Wind, not Elyn, who followed; and it was all that the mare could do to keep up with the careening nimble pony.
Off to the right, Elyn could hear the yawling of enemy voices, and the splash of running pursuit. Through this foul bog the foe knew the way, and they took the short route, seeking to cut off their quarry.
Again, the pony caromed left, then right, Wind sheering after. Off to the east before them, Elyn could see the Moon rising above the trees, its pale rays glancing silvery across the Mire. Her eyes welcomed the argent orb, for now she could recognize some of the shapes for what they were: hummocks, gnarled trees hung with moss, clumps of tall flowering weeds and clots of rushes in an endless sea of rushes. Too, she began to see what obstacles the Dwarf and pony avoided, as the ever-growing light reflected a-glance from glistening surfaces to right and left, although here and there ’twas not mirrored gleams she saw, but instead the eerie glimmers of spectral will-o’-the-wisps, called ghost-candles by some.