With a loud war cry, the captain drove her nervous mount hard at Greenhands. Birds thumped off her armored head and against her horse. Verhanna pushed through the swarm. Completely unaware of the havoc he was causing, the elf was walking along in the center of an avian maelstrom, playing Rufus’s flute.
Verhanna struck the pipe from the elf’s hands with the flat of her blade. The instant the notes ceased, the birds stopped their mad whirling and dispersed quickly in all directions.
Greenhands stared at the broken flute lying in the grass. He picked up the two halves and then turned accusing eyes upon Verhanna.
“Your playing drove those birds mad,” she explained, panting. He clearly had no idea what she was talking about. “We could’ve been killed!”
Understanding dawned on his face, and he apologized. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make trouble.”
Rufus rode up, brushing feathers from his topknot. “Blind me with beeswax! What was that all about?”
Verhanna pointed to the chastened Greenhands. “Our friend here doesn’t understand the power he has.”
Humbly he repeated, “I’m sorry.”
They resumed their march, guided by Greenhands. Though he honestly disavowed any knowledge of the fortress, it was obviously their destination.
The flowering grassland gave way to piles of boulders spotted by patches of dark green lichen. Coolness crept into the warm air of daytime, promising a brisk night. The sun sank behind the mountain peaks, washing the sky in gold, crimson, and finally deepest burgundy. As the last of the light was dying from the day, Verhanna dismounted. They had come to a wide spot in the pass, only a few hundred paces from the entrance. “We can camp here for the night,” she decided.
The kender and the elf were agreeable. They tethered their horses and built a campfire. Rufus did the cooking for the little band. Considering a kender’s ideas about dinner, things weren’t bad. He busied himself warming a soup of dried vegetables, bread crumbs, and water while his captain curried their animals.
Greenhands settled down by the fire, staring unblinking into the flames. The yellow light made his green eyes and fingers stand out against the dark background of his poncho. Verhanna found herself peering at him over the back of her horse. Her right hand, wielding the curry comb, slowed and stopped in its motion as her scrutiny of the elf intensified. The light tan of his skin was deepened by the golden glow of the firelight. Though at rest, his well-formed body showed a lithe grace and beauty she found arresting. His profile was somehow quite attractive. Strong brow, rather a long nose, firm lips, a good chin….
She brought herself up short. What was she doing? So many unfamiliar thoughts tumbled in her head. But one, quite odd, idea took precedence.
Could Greenhands be the husband she never thought she’d find?
A smile tugged the corners of her mouth upward. Wouldn’t her father be surprised? He’d wanted her to marry for a long time. Though he never pushed openly, the warrior maiden knew he longed for her to be wife and mother. As quickly as this thought occurred to her, a sharp chill set her to shuddering. The mountain air had cooled rapidly with the setting of the sun.
When she’d finished with the horses, Verhanna wrapped her bedroll around her shoulders and settled by the fire. The kender was just downing the last of his soup. He handed her a bowl and, while she ate, he skipped around the campsite, humming his tuneless kender songs.
“What are you so happy about?” Verhanna asked him with a smile.
“I like the mountains,” he said. “When the air is thin and the nights are cold, then Rufus Wrinklecap is at home!”
Verhanna laughed, but Greenhands’ eyes were closed, and gentle snores issued from his mouth. Though still sitting upright, the elf had fallen fast asleep.
The kender scaled a pile of boulders resting against the sheer wall of the mountain behind the warrior maiden. When she asked what he was doing, Rufus replied, “In these parts, it’s not wise to lie on low ground.”
Her brow wrinkled in thought. “Why not?”
“Falling rocks, sudden floods, prowling wolves, poisonous snakes ….” The kender spoke a cheerful litany of disaster. He stopped and added a blithe “Good night, my captain. Sleep well!”
How well could she sleep after his listing of all those dangers? Her brown eyes searched the darkness beyond their dying fire. Moonlight and starlight washed the mountain pass, and the air was filled with the faint but normal sounds of night. The warrior maiden set her empty soup bowl down and sidled around the fire until she was close to Greenhands. Laying her head down by his crossed legs, she reasoned that since he seemed so connected to the wild, then he was probably safe from any natural disasters or creatures of the night.
The strange elf still slept upright, his head drooping toward the embers. The white light of Solinari washed his hair in silver. The dying firelight tinged the silver with rose. A single coral-hued strand had fallen across his closed eyes. Verhanna put up a hand to brush it away, but as her finger drew near, she shivered violently. It wasn’t the cold of the night, for under her bedroll, by the fire, she was quite warm.
It must be tiredness, she decided, and the lingering effects of the goblin bite. The Qualinesti princess withdrew her hand and put her head down to sleep.
Verhanna’s rest was troubled. She wasn’t usually prone to disturbing dreams, but on this occasion, visions appeared in her mind, images of magic and power in a dark forest peopled by her father, Ulvian, Greenhands, and some others she didn’t recognize. One countenance appeared frequently—a Kagonesti woman unknown to her. The wild elf woman had eyes the same brilliant green as Greenhands, and her face was painted with yellow and red lines. Her expression was ineffably sad, but in spite of the barbaric face paint, it was also regal and proud.
A faint noise intruded on Verhanna’s visions. The warrior maiden’s trained senses brought her fully awake. Only her eyes shifted as she tried to discover what had disturbed her. The fire was out, though a thin ribbon of white smoke rose from the bed of cinders. Her half-human eyes weren’t as sharp as those of her fullblooded elf kin, but they were better than any human’s. The moons had set, but the light of the stars was enough for her to make out a dark shape hovering over their pile of baggage, only a few yards from where she lay.
Kender, if you’re trying to scare me, I’ll have your topknot for a feather duster, she vowed silently. The black shape rose from its crouch. It was far too tall to be Rufus Wrinklecap.
In a flash, Verhanna rolled to her feet and drew her sword. She’d been lying on it, just in case Rufus was right about wolves. The intruder flinched and backed away. She heard hooves striking the stony ground. Her opponent must be mounted.
“Who are you?” Verhanna demanded. A strong animal smell invaded her nostrils.
More hoofbeats thumped in the shadows beyond Verhanna’s line of sight. She was getting worried; there was no telling how many foes she faced. Advancing to the firepit, she kicked some of the kindling Rufus had piled up onto the coals. The dry bark caught quickly and blazed up.
“Kothlolo!” With a loud bass cry, the thing near their baggage threw up an arm to shield its eyes. Verhanna gasped when she saw it clearly—it had the head, arms, and torso of a man, but four legs and a swishing horse’s tail. A centaur!
“Kothlolo!” shouted the centaur again. The circle of firelight caught the movement of other centaurs a few paces away. Verhanna shouted to Rufus and Greenhands to wake up.
“Rufus! Rufus, you dung beetle! Where are you?” she called.
“Here, my captain.” He was just behind her. She wrenched her gaze from the nearest centaur long enough to spy the kender sitting atop a large boulder. “Who are your new friends?” he asked innocently.