The power the cleric had used to compel Bakali mystified Iydahoe-and, he was forced to admit, frightened him more than a little. How could the wild elves fight this kind of magic? Yet he couldn't abandon the young warrior, not while there was a chance that he lived and could be rescued.
Another part of him could not deny a feeling, however slight, of gratitude. The mysterious elven cleric, after all, must have gone to great lengths of persuasion to spare Bakall's life. Why would he deprive the legionnaires the vengeance they so obviously had craved? Dozens of their number had been slain, and one of the killers had emerged into plain view. What sort of discipline could have held their hands? Another question arose, pestering: For what purpose did the priest want a Kagonesti prisoner?
Soon the gorge walls opened up, the pathway meandering through a series of hardwood groves mingled with a number of small meadows. A clear stream splashed through the center of the valley, providing fresh water along the entire route. The procession made camp around the largest clearing they could find, but even so they were forced to picket the horses and halt the wagons under the boughs of many tall hardwoods. As the sun set and stars sparkled in the sky, large blazes crackled upward from a number of campfires. The humans seemed jumpy, and even from a distance the wild elf heard men bickering, shouting, and cursing at each other. Unsettled by the ambush, the men obviously suspected that additional danger lurked in the surrounding darkness.
Iydahoe approached the bivouac with every bit of stealth in his warrior's and hunter's repertoire. During the first two hours of full darkness, he circled the place, locating the numerous and well-placed sentries by their dull outlines, the warmth of their bodies illuminating them in the darkness to his elven eyes. The men had formed a ring of steel-armed vigilance around their camp, but it was a circle with an inherent weakness: All the sentries stood on the ground.
Climbing into the branches of a widespread oak fifty feet outside the ring of sentries, the wild elf was careful to keep the heavy bole of the tree between himself and the wagons. With silent care, he hoisted himself from limb to limb until he was several dozen feet above the ground. Here, the boughs of the tree were still thick and sturdy, but a lower, leafy level of branches provided him good concealment from the human men-at-arms below.
Climbing from tree to tree, moving along one limb to the next with patient deliberation-more like a snake than a monkey-the Kagonesti brave approached the camp of the humans. A guard stood beneath the third tree Iydahoe reached, and he crept with ultimate stealth along the limbs and around the trunk of the forest giant. He heard the man sniff his nose and spit, but by moving with incredible deliberation the elf passed overhead without making a sound audible to the watcher below. It took him the better part of an hour to traverse that tree, but by the time he slipped into the next, the wild elf was within the perimeter of the procession's camp.
He waited for a long time, watching. His bow and arrows were ready to hand, and he desperately hoped that the gray-robed magic-user would wander into sight. Though he saw dozens of legionnaires among the camp- fires and corrals, there was no sign of the wizard or the House Elves.
Iydahoe had marked the wagon holding the cleric and Bakali by its blue canopy, which was embroidered on each side with a series of silver discs. Now the Kagonesti was not surprised to find that wagon near the very center of the bivouac-yet even here the humans had been careless, for several large trees extended their embrace of branches into the space over it. Iydahoe continued his meticulous advance, well aware of the humans cooking, eating, and talking directly below him.
By midnight he had reached a branch that extended almost directly above the cleric's wagon. Here he crept onto the low limb and lay still, twenty feet off the ground, while he studied the surroundings. Gradually the camp fell silent, though the legionnaires-still fearful after the brutally effective ambush-would no doubt remain jumpy and vigilant throughout the night. Several of the nearby sentries slumped listlessly at their posts, and a few of them even began to snore.
Finally, certain that he had located every human within sight-and that all of these were either sleeping or absorbed in their own musings-Iydahoe swung downward, suspending himself by his arms. With a last look around, he dropped to the grassy meadow, collapsing into a crouch that muffled the sound of his landing into an almost inaudible whisper.
Crawling to the wagon, Iydahoe could hear nothing from within. Narrow cracks in the canvas were utterly dark, so the wild elf deduced that the occupants had no lamp burning-a good thing, since the pulling back of the flap would otherwise have cast a sudden, alarming illumination through the camp.
Iydahoe froze, suddenly alarmed by the sensation that someone was very near. Moving his head only slightly, he looked around, his keen eyes penetrating the shadows cloaking the large wagon. He saw no one, but the peculiar apprehension did not go away.
As he reached toward the flap of the wagon, he heard a single word, spoken practically in his ear. With the quickness of thought, he spun, bringing the steel-edged axe up. There, a few feet away, in a space that had been empty when Iydahoe had looked a moment earlier, stood a human-the gray-robed mage! The man's finger pointed, as if in accusation, at the frantic wild elf.
Before Iydahoe could swing the axe, he felt gooey strands encircle his arm, quickly expanding into a cocoon around his chest, torso, and legs. Struggling in his fury, he tried to twist away, but succeeded only in tripping himself. The wizard gazed coldly downward, then snapped his fingers. Immediately a bright light emanated from his hand, and, as he held it up, dozens of legionnaires advanced from the darkness to form a ring around the immobilized elf.
With bitter bile in his throat, Iydahoe knew he had been taken by magic. The web caster must have been lurking beside the wagon for hours, waiting for a chance. The brave even wondered if magic had somehow silenced the sound of the mage's own breathing-he suspected that it had, or the keen-eared wild elf would have known of his presence.
"So, Feigh, you've taken the wild elf assassin!" declared a loud voice. A human dressed in a golden breastplate and cloak pushed through the crowd. Iydahoe recognized the garb. It was the same worn by the first man he had killed during the ambush. This fellow's hair was longer and neatly combed, his mustache drooping but well- trimmed. His face might have been handsome, except for a cold vacancy in his black eyes that seemed to absorb every bit of light cast by the wizard's spell.
"Aye, Captain-General Castille. Your guess was correct. The murderous wretch thought to approach the wagon undetected." Feigh, the wizard, spat at Iydahoe as he spoke. "He was easy to capture."
The wizard clapped his hands, and flecks of diamondlike dust flew into the air. The stuff seemed to coat much of the mage's body, sparkling into sight with the man himself when he had cast his web spell.
"These savages never stop to think about magic," continued the gaunt-faced mage, expansively. "I used the same trick to sneak up on their villages, years back when we tried to exterminate them."