ahead of all of us, getting to the shields. Delthal kept by my side as we set off at a hard run behind the rest of our warparty. That shaman, I fancied, had been possessed by demons at some time in the night and was now acting on their wits instead of his. But whether it was the shaman or one of his elvish companions, I had no idea.
As I ran, I peered out in the undergrowth. I saw only the foliage as it bent and rose. Then I tripped, crunching my toes into a fallen log.
That fall saved my life. A flat spear point hissed through the air above my head and stuck fast in the bark of an elm. Scrambling up, I gather ed my bow to let go two or three shots into the cedar brake.
Then all fell silent again.
We scrutinized the underbrush, but there was no sign of anyone, except the cedars that had absorbed my shots. I wrenched the stone spear-head from the tree. It was curiously ornamented with such a multitude of intricate carvings that I could not decipher whether it was elvish or dwarven. Perhaps, I thought, it could even be human. Then I discovered that the medley of colors was produced by inlaying the flint with small bits of a bright stone. The bright stones had been carved into a rude likeness of some birds.
“ What are these birds, Delthal?” I asked.
He fingered them closely. “Eagles.”
“ And the stone?”
“ Agate.”
Agate… the word called a picture to my mind of his big she-elf with malicious eyes and a girdle of agates.
“ Damn warmaids!” Gilli shouted, not suppressing his anger. “To the frozen depths of hell with you stubborn whores!”
Of course then I knew for whom those missiles had been intended —and from whom they had come. I must admit, it was a clever piece of rascality. Had the assassin maids succeeded, punishment would have fallen on the elves.
Chapter 16
Rowing swiftly, beyond the reach of the warmaids at last, the fascinations of the wild once again beckoned like a siren. Vast woodlands, where a dozen castles could be dropped without any hope of finding them, seemed to sweep on forever to the very ends of the earth. With the purple recesses of the hills on one side and the oceanic expanse of the forest on the other, all the charms of clean, fresh freedom were quickening my blood with a strange and fevered delight, which the old lands to the north and east are pleased to call the “southern madness”.
Indeed, this was about as far south in Yrkland as I had ever traveled, though I had once lived more southerly still, over in Delmark.
When southerners talk of Northern Madness or norther ners speak of Southern Madness, they swear by a real change in the mind, not just a change in the attitudes. And I feared they were right. But if they were, it was as delightful a madness as I have ever known. The river, with its greenish waters, flowed placidly beneath our vessel. For two days we went without so much as a hint of another soul existing on Earth. We hugged close to the numerous rocky shores to our left, which stood guard like a wall of adamant between us and the heavy winds of a quickly approaching spring.
When at last we passed a north-bound vessel, with dwarves clad in chainmail armor, I judged rightly that we were once again near the habitation of a town.
We arrived at a trading post and fort called Foxwash at sundown. Situated on the riverbank was a typical Dwarvish stronghold. Wooden palisades, twenty feet high, ran round the whole town and the inner court enclosed at least two hundred square yards. Heavily built blockhouses with spears and lances poking through arrow slits gave a military air to the trading post. The blockhouses were apparently to repel attack from the rear and the face of the fort commanded the river.
A banner with a wyrm was flying above the courtyard.
“Is that in our honor?” I joked up to Mighty Kenzo as we approached. He had asked to be at the lead of our party for
As I ran, I peered out in the undergrowth. I saw only the foliage as it bent and rose. Then I tripped, crunching my toes into a fallen log.
That fall saved my life. A flat spear point hissed through the air above my head and stuck fast in the bark of an elm. Scrambling up, I gather ed my bow to let go two or three shots into the cedar brake.
Then all fell silent again.
We scrutinized the underbrush, but there was no sign of anyone, except the cedars that had absorbed my shots. I wrenched the stone spear-head from the tree. It was curiously ornamented with such a multitude of intricate carvings that I could not decipher whether it was elvish or dwarven. Perhaps, I thought, it could even be human. Then I discovered that the medley of colors was produced by inlaying the flint with small bits of a bright stone. The bright stones had been carved into a rude likeness of some birds.
“ What are these birds, Delthal?” I asked.
He fingered them closely. “Eagles.”
“ And the stone?”
“ Agate.”
Agate… the word called a picture to my mind of his big she-elf with malicious eyes and a girdle of agates.
“ Damn warmaids!” Gilli shouted, not suppressing his anger. “To the frozen depths of hell with you stubborn whores!”
Of course then I knew for whom those missiles had been intended —and from whom they had come. I must admit, it was a clever piece of rascality. Had the assassin maids succeeded, punishment would have fallen on the elves.
Chapter 16
Rowing swiftly, beyond the reach of the warmaids at last, the fascinations of the wild once again beckoned like a siren. Vast woodlands, where a dozen castles could be dropped without any hope of finding them, seemed to sweep on forever to the very ends of the earth. With the purple recesses of the hills on one side and the oceanic expanse of the forest on the other, all the charms of clean, fresh freedom were quickening my blood with a strange and fevered delight, which the old lands to the north and east are pleased to call the “southern madness”.
Indeed, this was about as far south in Yrkland as I had ever traveled, though I had once lived more southerly still, over in Delmark.
When southerners talk of Northern Madness or norther ners speak of Southern Madness, they swear by a real change in the mind, not just a change in the attitudes. And I feared they were right. But if they were, it was as delightful a madness as I have ever known. The river, with its greenish waters, flowed placidly beneath our vessel. For two days we went without so much as a hint of another soul existing on Earth. We hugged close to the numerous rocky shores to our left, which stood guard like a wall of adamant between us and the heavy winds of a quickly approaching spring.
When at last we passed a north-bound vessel, with dwarves clad in chainmail armor, I judged rightly that we were once again near the habitation of a town.
We arrived at a trading post and fort called Foxwash at sundown. Situated on the riverbank was a typical Dwarvish stronghold. Wooden palisades, twenty feet high, ran round the whole town and the inner court enclosed at least two hundred square yards. Heavily built blockhouses with spears and lances poking through arrow slits gave a military air to the trading post. The blockhouses were apparently to repel attack from the rear and the face of the fort commanded the river.
A banner with a wyrm was flying above the courtyard.
“Is that in our honor?” I joked up to Mighty Kenzo as we approached. He had asked to be at the lead of our party for
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