He shrugged awkwardly. "I should have held my temper in check," he said. "Besides, I am not sure that I have lost my chance to get the Morvaeril moonblade back. I think I am not done yet with Lord Sarthos. Our paths will cross soon enough."
Nilsa gave him a sharp look. "You are going to help us fight the sellswords?"
Daried nodded. "Yes… I owe you that much for saving my life in the marauders' camp." He shouldered his pack again, and gestured at the river-crossing. "Come, we have a hard day's travel ahead of us still."
An hour before sunset, Daried and Nilsa parted ways at the smoking ruin of her father's farm. The girl hurried back to the town to carry warning of the Sembian column marching up from the south, while Daried sped back to his warriors' encampment by the banks of the Ashaba.
He stumbled into camp covered with road dust, his legs hollow and weak, his wounds throbbing and blazing like lines of fire drawn across his limbs and body. Distantly he noted the high clear call of welcome from the sentry, and the rustle of activity as elves emerged from shelters or came running from work in the woods nearby to hail his return. "It seems I've been missed," he muttered to no one in particular. Grimacing in pain, he allowed himself to fall to the ground by the shelter he used as his own. He seized a waterskin close at hand and drank long and deep, then upended the rest of its contents over his head.
"By Corellon's sword, Daried, what happened to you?" The mage Teriandyln appeared and knelt by his side. His face was sharp with anxiety. "Where have you been?"
"Summon Andariel," Daried said. "I must have him carry a message to Lord Gaerth right away."
Teriandyln frowned, but he motioned to a warrior standing nearby. The fellow nodded and hurried off to find the young moon elf. Daried forestalled the wizard's questions with a raised hand, fighting against his exhaustion and organizing his thoughts. "Have our scouts found any sign of the Sembians in the area?"
"No, we have seen no signs that the Sembians are nearby. Another demon appeared yesterday, though. We spent the day tracking the monster." The wizard paused, then added, "Your sword was missed, Daried. Rollael and Feldyrr were badly wounded fighting the hellspawn."
"I am sorry for that," Daried said. He looked away. "I should not have been so quick to set aside my responsibilities here. But it may have been for the best that I did."
The moon elf Andariel ran up to the shelter and sketched a hasty bow. "You sent for me, Lord Selsherryn?"
"I did. You must ride to Ashabenford at once, and take this message to Vesilde Gaerth-or whomever you find in command, if Gaerth is not there. Tell him that a strong force of Chondathan mercenaries is marching north through the forest. They've found an old trail through Cormanthor that opens into the western verge of the dale. It seems that there is an old elven crossing of the Ashaba there that we did not know about."
The warriors around him exchanged grim looks at that. They understood the peril that threatened the elf army in Ashabenford.
"They are at least three hundred strong," Daried continued, "but there may be more following. As of moonset last night, they were about five miles south of the river, and twenty miles west of Glen. I think they will reach us here around sunset tomorrow, and Ashabenford late in the day after.
"It is my intention to oppose their march for as long as possible, and help the Glen-folk to defend their town."
The other elves did not manage to conceal their surprise at that, either. They knew that he had had no plan to skirmish against such a large force or to let the elf company be tied down in the defense of a nameless human village. If he were not so tired, Daried would have found their guarded glances more than a little amusing. As it was, he pretended that he simply didn't notice. He looked up at Andariel, and said, "Repeat what I have just told you."
Andariel repeated his message, almost word for word. Daried judged it good enough. With a weary nod, he clasped Andariel's shoulder. "You are our swiftest rider. Ride quickly, but ride safe. It is more important for the message to get to Gaerth than it is for you to astonish us with your speed."
"I will not fail you, Lord Selsherryn," the serious young moon elf replied. He bowed again and hurried off.
"That's taken care of," Daried sighed. Wearily he pulled his dusty gauntlets from his hands, and began to unbuckle his fine golden mail. After three days of constant wear the armor, light and well-fitted as it was, felt like a lead shroud.
Teriandyln seated himself on the ground nearby. "I don't recall that you had any intention of fighting such a strong force," he said, speaking to Daried alone. "Are you sure this is wise, my friend?"
"We need to give Lord Gaerth time to slip away from Ashabenford. Every hour we delay the Sembians' mercenaries gives our warriors a better chance to withdraw without a fight. And we will provide the folk who live in the eastern portion of this dale with a chance to escape the armies converging here."
"If you are right, they are ten times our number, Daried. Perhaps twenty times."
"We do not have to face them alone. The Glen-folk can muster a hundred bows in their own defense."
The wizard looked at Daried thoughtfully. "You did not give much account to that when we first took up our watch here."
"I hadn't seen any of them shoot then. Now I have." Daried laid his armor on the ground, and stretched himself out on the blankets, loosening his tunic. He could already feel Reverie stealing over him, but he resisted long enough to add, "Make sure you set watchers along the track leading southwest out of Glen. That's the road the mercenaries will follow. We need to find the mercenaries and shadow them until they get here."
"It will be as you say," Teriandyln answered. "Get some rest, Daried. We will rouse you when we need you."
The bladesinger nodded once, and sank into silence.
Late the following afternoon, scouts sighted the mercenary warband marching on Glen. They had moved faster than Daried expected, but many of the mercenaries were mounted. A few of the Chondathans rode big warhorses draped in leather barding, while most of the other riders made do with a saddle and blanket. The men who weren't riding simply walked alongside the column, with dust caking their faces and sweat staining their dirty leather jerkins.
They must have brought most of the horses with them, Daried decided. It seemed unlikely that the marauders could have appropriated so many horses from the farmsteads dotting the countryside south of Glen. And that meant they faced even more enemies than he'd feared- Nilsa would certainly have noticed any horses corralled near the camp she had found. Given that, Daried couldn't avoid concluding that some of them at least were mercenaries they had not yet encountered.
"I did not expect so many riders," Teriandyln said softly.
"Nor did I," Daried admitted.
He brushed the hair out of his eyes. It was another hot day. Insects hummed and chirped in the still air. They stood in the apple orchards of Andar's manor, warm and fragrant in the late afternoon sun. The blossoms had fallen long ago, and small, tart golden fruit clustered in the branches. In a tenday or so they'd be ready to pick, but Daried wondered if anyone would be left to tend to that work by the time the apples ripened.
The Chondathans approached slowly, following the dusty cart track through broad grainfields that shone golden in the sun. A few hundred yards farther, and their road would lead them past the orchard where Daried and his warriors waited.
The sharp-featured mage frowned. "The cavalry ruin your battle plan, Daried. Perhaps it would be wiser to just let them pass. Most of the Glen-folk have taken shelter across the Ashaba in Cormanthor. These marauders will find nothing but an empty village."