The mage looked up at them with eyes suddenly malignant, and Tanis fought back second thoughts. He'd always been cautious-too cautious, his companions sometimes told him. This time he would push ahead without continual second-guessing, he vowed.
With some effort, the ancient wizard plucked two objects from a small, charred, watertight pouch that hung from his belt; he held them up. The first was a tattered piece of cloth that Tanis could see had once been bright and colorful, full of shades of red, yellow, and purple. The second object was a simple wooden writing instrument. The wizard handed Tanis the quill but kept the fragment of fabric.
"The cloth is all I have left from her," the mage said sadly. "It is the last remaining shred of a scarf she once made for me. Take it and give it to her as a token of my love."
"And the quill?" asked Tanis.
'Take it with you, also, and leave it in the past. It was for this that the sligs were after me. This plan is the safest way of keeping it out of their reach."
Sligs, known for their sharp teeth, ugliness, and generally antisocial attitudes, were rare near Solace. "Why would these sligs want your quill?" questioned Tanis. "It looks ordinary."
'The quill foretells danger," the mage replied. "Whoever possesses it will never be caught by surprise. You can see how valuable it would be to an army of such creatures intent upon conquest." Kishpa's lips tightened in resolve. "They must not have it, Tanthalasl"
Tanis was about to ask another question when Clotnik interceded. "Kishpa is weak. We must hurry." The mage stroked the faded piece of cloth and handed it reluctantly to Tanis. The half-elf carefully concealed the cloth and the quill inside his tunic.
The wizard nodded his thanks and then closed his eyes.
But suddenly just before he began his spell-casting, the relic of a being that once was full of life lifted his raw, bleeding hands, seemingly oblivious to pain, and pointed at the half-elf. 'There is one more thing you must know," Kishpa whispered. "Someone will try to stop you from freeing my Brandella."
"Who?" asked Tanis, leaning lower to hear better.
"Me."
As Tanis recovered from his surprise, the mage intoned words that Tanis had never heard before. The otherworldly sounds were musical, not so much language as an intricate series of notes. Kishpa repeated them again, then a third time. Tanis glanced at Clotnik.
"It's not working," the half-elf said softly.
Clotnik glared. "Shhh!"
But then the mage closed his hands into two fists, shook them, and then opened them again. Dead skin dropped from his fingers in ribbons, but the mage didn't appear to notice. He closed his fists a second time. Shook them. Opened them. Closed them a third time. Shook them… and then Tanis disappeared.
5
Tanis was still looking down, but instead of seeing Kishpa lying on the ground, he saw the black leather boots of a soldier, toes pointed in his direction. Tanis immediately lifted his eyes, catching a glint of sunlight on the blade of a broadsword swooping straight down toward his headl
Elves revere life. Before a battle, elven troops and leaders gather to ask forgiveness for the lives they will take in the coming dispute. But this time, there was no time to move, think, or feel. Suddenly, another sword came from out of nowhere to block the downward sweep of the first. There was a loud clang as steel struck steel. and a voice shouted, "Draw your blade!"
Tanis didn't need to be told twice. Instinct from a lifetime of battle experience took over. He threw his right shoulder into his attacker, knocking him down, then pulled his own silver-inlaid broadsword from its scabbard. He intended to protect himself while getting away from whatever madness he had been plunged into. Standing at the ready, he quickly realized that he was in the midst of a small group of elven and human soldiers engaged in deadly hand-to-hand combat in an opening in a forest.
The half-elf had but one problem. He didn't know which side he was on.
A human soldier, his long, brown hair greasy, settled the issue when he lunged at the half-elf, his sword's point aimed at Tanis's heart. Tanis parried deftly. The human countered by swinging his sword in a wide arc, trying to slash the half-elf's left arm. Tanis sidestepped the flashing blade, kicking the human in the stomach. The soldier clutched his belly and doubled over in pain, his groans mingling with the cries of other humans and elves in the glade.
An elven soldier, seeing the human down and defenseless, stepped in front of Tanis and brought his saber down hard across the back of his enemy's exposed neck. A life ended.
Tanis wanted to look at the faces of the soldiers and search for his father. But with the air heavy with the stench of blood and sweat, with death at every turn, he didn't have the luxury of studying the features of all these potential killers. Better to get away, he decided. Before he could manage it, though, another human attacked, slamming his shield into Tanis's back. The half-elf went down face first. Leaping onto Tanis's prostrate body, the soldier threw away his shield and pinned the half-elf under his greater weight. From the corner of his eye, Tanis saw a huge, slablike hand scoop up a heavy rock. The half-elf fought for survival, wrapping his arm around one of the human's legs and then heaving with all his might.
The rock went flying out of the soldier's hands as he fell over onto his back and spun halfway around. Tanis didn't kill this one, either. Instead, he swiftly rolled in the other direction, grabbed the human's shield, and used it and his sword to hold back the surging skirmish line of enemy soldiers.
But not for long.
"More humans!" cried an elven voice in warning. Tanis instinctively knew exactly where to look. He felt the ground shaking, and he knew it was cavalry. The horsemen could only be coming from the open field to the east. In the strong light of late morning, they thundered across the meadow and swooped down on the small elven defense force with cries of vengeance. Lances impaled the elves, and swords cut them to pieces.
It was a rout. Tanis managed to knock one rider off his horse and break the lance of another, but there were too many.
"Retreat!" cried an elven leader. Then, more to the point, he yelled, "Run!"
Tanis fled, pursued by two humans on horseback. It was a hopeless race, and Tanis knew it. He needed protection fast. Off to his left, he saw a tree stump. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. He veered, the horsemen gaining on him with every step.
He reached the stump and circled behind it just moments before the pair of horsemen closed in on him. Delaying the inevitable, Tanis swung his sword and hacked off the point of one lance before ducking below the point of the second spear, which whooshed past his ear.
The horsemen galloped by him, kicking up a cloud of dust that blinded and choked Tanis. He tried to breathe, to clear his eyes, knowing that he had to be ready for the horsemen when they turned to make another pass at him.
He heard the horses rear and neigh, and then came their pounding hooves, drawing closer yet remaining unseen somewhere beyond the slowly settling cloud of dust. He heard the screams of other elves, unseen beyond the cloud, as they suffered death blows from the humans. Tanis steeled himself, hoping he would see the horsemen before it was too late. Then, just a short distance away, he saw the horses. The riders leaned forward to get a better look at their victim as they charged in for the kill
That's when the two hands reached up out of what proved to be a hollow tree trunk and grabbed Tanis from behind, pulling him down into the darkness.
Tanis lay stunned on the damp ground, his face caught in a dim shaft of light from the killing field up above. He felt something-A sword? No, too blunt. A stick7- poking him in the side. He stirred.