"This I also know," the male said softly. "But I thank you for your concern. Come. We should join the others."
The elves drew near the circle and entered into a heated debate concerning the best strategy for dealing with a human wizard.
Arilyn nodded to her friend and then turned back to the discussion, for in it, she saw an opportunity to explain Tinkersdam's presence at the coming battle. *You have all witnessed the damage the human wizard inflicted. Not only the destruction of Talltrees, but the way he could turn elven arrows back against their archers. Imagine what such could do if he had time to prepare for battle in a place of his choosing! The spells he could cast, the traps he could lay?"
Several of the elves nodded grimly. None who had fought that first battle would forget the sight of their kindred burned to cinder in the span of a heartbeat.
"I know someone who can spring these traps and best the wizard in battle. He is a human, a scholar, and a priest of a goodly god. He has been an ally of mine for many years. Even the lythari accept him. They have taken him ahead to the battle site, along with two warriors to protect him, so he can scout and prepare."
"A wise precaution," Foxfire said quickly, seeing the grimaces on the faces of most present. "Even in the days of Cormanthor, humans fought beside the People against a common evil."
1 will speak truly. This man is nothing like the humans of ancient Myth Drannor. He has no love for the elven people or our way of life," Arilyn said with all candor. "But neither does he bear us any ill will. He does hate all things Halruaan, and you can be assured that he will make this fight against the wizard his own!"
"So be it," Zoastria said, and the others, still awed by the return of their ancient hero, were content to accept her word as final.
The elves debated briefly about the best way to approach the Suldusk lands. Less than two days' march to the east lay the valley known as the Swanmay's Glade. Here was the largest lake in the forest, and from it a small river wound its way toward Suldusk territory. They could build rafts and float downstream more rapidly than they could walk. It was agreed that they would leave at first light, after a night spent in reverie, meditation, and prayers to the Seldarine.
When the chorus of morning birdsong began with the first few tentative, somnolent chirps, the elves were already on the move. They followed the trails the retreating humans had left, not a difficult thing to do.
As usual, Tamsin had gone up ahead to scout. He had not cried back a warning, but none of the elves doubted that he had come to grief, for his sister Tamara suddenly stopped walking and cringed, and placed both hands over- her eyes.
A silence fell over the elves, for what could the fey female have seen that would cast such desolation over her, but the death of her twin-born brother?
Tamara's shoulders rose and fell in a long, steadying breath, and she lifted her eyes to Foxfire's face. "It is as you have said. The humans are luring us to them. They will be waiting for us, and for you. Come. You will not want to see this, but you must."
Several hundred paces down the trail, a sapling had been stripped of its branches and turned into a post. To it was tied the body of an elf. Not Tamsin-this one was a stranger, a Suldusk elf, dead for perhaps three days. Flies buzzed about the body, lingering on the shape of a flower that had been cut into one of the dead elf s cheeks.
"How many more elves mark the trail south?" Tamsin murmured in a despairing voice. "How many more will die in captivity before we reach the southern forest?"
Ganamede, who had returned to the Elmanesse with the dawn, padded over to Zoastria's side. "I have seen the human camp," the wolflike lythari said. "Their numbers are far greater than ours, and they have had time to set up defenses. Our only hope of prevailing-and freeing those elves who have not yet been slain-is surprise. I have spoken with my clan. The lythari will take you between the worlds to a place much nearer the camp than the Swanmay's Glade-a day's walk, no more."
"The humans have had more than three days* head start," Rhothomir observed. "Even so, they will not arrive at their camp long before we do and will surely not expect us so soon. They will no doubt have scouts watching for our passage. With what you suggest, we could slip past unseen and catch the humans utterly unaware! If your clan is willing to take us, we accept most gratefully."
The elves set about dividing into small groups so they could travel with the dozen or so lythari through the gates to the battle site. Foxfire was among the first to go, as was Rhothomir. It seemed best to send the leaders first, but Zoastria waved aside her turn and motioned for Arilyn to come with her.
The two elven females walked away from the others. When they came to a small clearing beneath the shade of some ancient oaks, Zoastria came to a halt. The battle comes sooner than I had expected," she said abruptly. "It is time."
Arilyn gazed down at the smaller elf, not understanding. She followed the elf woman's gaze to the moonblade on her hip.
"You have worn it well, for a half-elf," Zoastria admitted. "But my time has come again. I will have my moon-blade returned to me."
Twenty-one
Arilyn stared at her ancestor, dumbfounded by this demand. She had not foreseen this result of raising the sleeping warrior!
"The moonblade has accepted me as its wielder. The sword and I are joined!** she protested. "I cannot turn it over to another as if it were no more than a common weapon!"
"Only one can wield the sword," Zoastria said sternly. "If you have another weapon, draw it, and we will let skill decide the matter."
The half-elf rejected this notion at once. As much as she admired the elf woman's skill at arms, Arilyn suspected she could best Zoastria in battle. And she had not restored this ancient elven hero to the demoralized Elmanesse only to destroy her now. Nor had she ever once thrown a fight. This Arilyn simply could not do, not even for the sake of the forest folk.
Zoastria must have seen some of this in the hajf-elfs eyes, for she quickly offered another suggestion. "Or follow your heart's desire. Give the sword to me willingly and be free of the moonblade once and for all. In relinquishing the sword to a former wielder-and its rightful owner-your duty to the People would be honorably fulfilled, and your pledge to the moonblade's service would be returned to you."
As the half-elf pondered this unexpected solution, an enormous weight lifted from her heart-and the void was filled at once with a strange sense of sadness and loss. "And the power with which I endowed the sword?" she asked tentatively.
"It would be removed. If this is your wish, we will proceed."
"One moment," Arilyn murmured. She drew the sword and held it, savoring for a moment the only link she had ever had with her elven heritage. As much as she feared the moonblade, and resented and at times even hated it, she never thought she would be called upon to give it up. Yet this she would do, for the good of the elven People, and for sake of the beloved spirit that would otherwise be trapped within.
Arilyn squared her shoulders and lifted the moon-blade high one last time. She envisioned her eldritch double, and also the second shadow that she had unwittingly consigned to the service of the blade. Then she commanded them to come forth.
The paired elfshadows poured from the blade and took shape before her. Arilyn's throat tightened as she looked upon Danilo's mirror image. She wondered, briefly, if her friend would have any knowledge of what had transpired in the woodlands of Tethir. Before she had learned of her own elfshadow, and when the entity of the sword was under the control of her teacher, Arilyn had often been beset by dreams whenever the elfshadow was called forth to do Kymil Nimesin's bidding. She only hoped that in his dreams Danilo understood what she was about to do and why.