She was just settling in for yet another try, the deepest part of the night reached, when a prickly face poked into view directly in front of her. She jumped in fright.
“Hssst! Easy, Wren Elessedil!” said a familiar voice.
Hurriedly she pushed herself up on one elbow. “Stresa!”
Faun squeaked in recognition, and the Splinterscat hissed it into silence. Lumbering close, it sat back on its haunches and regarded her with those strange blue eyes. “It didn’t seem phhttt a good idea to let you go off on your own.”
She smiled in spite of herself. “You nearly scared me to death! How did you get past the guards?”
The Splinterscat’s tongue licked out, and she could have sworn that it smiled. “Really, now, Elf girl. They are only men. Sssstt! If you want to give me a challenge phffttt put me back on Morrowindl.” The eyes blinked, luminous. “On second thought, don’t. I like it here, in your world.”
Wren hugged Faun into her body as the Tree Squeak tried to squirm away. “I’m glad you’re here,” she told Stresa. “I worry about you sometimes.”
“Worry about me. Phaagg! Whatever for? After Morrowindl, nothing much frightens me. This is a good world you live in, Wren of the Elves.”
“But not so good where we’re going. Do you know?”
“Hsssttt. I heard. More of the dark things, the same as Morrowindl’s. But how bad are these, Elf girl? Are they things like the rrowwwll Wisteron?”
The Splinterscat’s nose was damp and glistening in the starlight. “No,” she answered. “Not yet, at least. These are men, but many more than we are and determined to destroy us.”
Stresa thought about it for a moment. “Still, better than the monsters.”
“Yes, better.” She breathed the hot night air in a sigh. “But some of these men make monsters, too.”
“So nothing changes, does it?” The Splinterscat ruffled its quills and rose. “I’ll be close to you hssttt but you won’t see me. If you need me, though phhfftt I’ll be there.”
“You could stay,” she suggested.
Stresa spit. “I’m happier in the forest. Safer, too. Rowwlll. You’d be safer as well, but you won’t go. I’ll have to be your eyes. Hssstt! What I see, you’ll know about first.” The tongue licked out. “Watch yourself, Wren Elessedil. Don’t forget the lessons of Morrowindl.”
She nodded. “I won’t.”
Stresa turned and started away. “Send the Squeak ssttt if you need me,” he whispered back, and then was gone.
She stared after him into the darkness for a time, Faun cradled in her arms, small and warm. Finally she lay back again, smiled, and closed her eyes. She felt better for knowing that the Splinterscat was there for her.
In seconds she was asleep once more. She did not wake again until morning.
Chapter Seventeen
At daybreak, the vanguard of the Elven army prepared to set out again. Wren summoned Tib Arne and advised him that she was sending him back to the free-born to make certain that they knew he had found them and to urge them to come as quickly as possible. She assured him that it was important that he go or she would have honored his request to stay. She told him he was welcome to return when the message was delivered. Tib pouted a bit and expressed his disappointment, but in the end he agreed that she was right and promised to do his best to hurry the free-born to their aid. Desidio gave him a pair of Elven Hunters to act as escorts and protectors—despite his repeated protests that he needed no one—and the trio set out through the valley to the Streleheim Plains. Gloon did not make an appearance, and Wren was just as glad.
It took the Elves the better part of two days to close the gap between themselves and the Federation. They traveled swiftly and steadily, using the open grasslands to speed their passage, relying on the Wing Riders and the cavalry scouts to keep from being discovered. The Wing Riders brought back regular reports of the Southland army’s progress, which had slowed. One day had been used in crossing the Mermidon and a second in repairs to equipment caused by water damage. The Federation had not traveled far beyond the north bank of the Mermidon when, by midafternoon of the second day, the Elves found themselves within striking distance.
The Wing Riders brought word of the contact, two of them, speeding out of the sun where it hung against the sky in a blazing white heat. The Elves were spread out along the edges of the Westland forests not far from where the Mermidon bent back upon itself coming out of the Pykon. When Wren was informed that the approaching army was no more than five miles distant and closing, she had Desidio order the Elves back into the shelter of the trees to wait for nightfall. There, in the cool of the shade, she called together the expedition’s commanders.
“We have a choice to make,” she informed them.
They were five in all, Triss, Desidio, Tiger Ty, Erring Rift, and herself. Rift was a tall, stoop-shouldered Elf with a shaggy black beard and thinning hair and eyes like chips of obsidian. As the leader of the Wing Riders, his presence was essential. Tiger Ty was there as a personal courtesy and because Wren trusted his judgment. They were gathered in a loose circle under an aging shagbark hickory, nudging at nut shells and twigs with their boots as they listened to her speak.
“We’ve found them,” she continued, “but that’s not enough. Now we have to decide what to do about it. I think we all realize what sort of progress they are making. A massive army, but moving at a decent rate of speed—much quicker than we had anticipated. Five days, and they have already crossed the Mermidon and gotten here. Our own army is at least a week away from where we sit. The Federation is not going to wait on us. Left alone, they will reach the Rhenn in that week’s time, and we will be making our first stand in the place where we had hoped to make our last.”
“The heat might slow them some on these open grasslands,” Desidio observed.
“A fire would slow them worse,” Rift suggested. He rubbed at his beard. “Set properly, the wind would carry it right into them.”
“And right into the Westland forests as well,” Triss finished.
“Or the wind could shift it into us,” Wren shook her head. “Too risky, except as a last resort. No, I think we have a better choice.”
“An engagement,” Desidio declared quietly. “What you have planned for all along, my lady. What I am forbidden by order of the general to do.”
Wren smiled and faced him squarely. “I told you there would come a time when it was necessary for you to hear me out. The time is now, Commander. I know what your orders are. I know what I promised General Oridio. I also know what I didn’t promise him.”
She shifted her weight and leaned forward. “If we sit here and do nothing, the Federation will reach the Rhenn before we do and bottle us up. Arborlon will be finished. There will be no time for anyone to come to our aid, free-born or otherwise. We need to slow this army down, to give our own time to come forward where it can be effective. Orders are orders, Commander, but in the field events dictate how closely those orders must be adhered to.”
Desidio said nothing.
“We both promised that the vanguard would not be taken into battle against the Federation army until General Oridio arrived. Very well, we’ll keep that promise. But nothing binds the actions of the Home Guard, which I command, or the Wing Riders, who are free to act on their own. I think we should consider ways in which they might be used against this enemy.”