Elfshadow

Seven

Arilyn shook her hostage awake while it was still dark.

“Whazzat?” Danilo sat up abruptly, staring bleary-eyed into the grim face of the half-elf until his vision focused. “Oh. Hello there. I suppose it’s time for my watch?”

“Time to leave,” she said flatly.

“Oh. If you say so.” Danilo struggled to his feet and stretched, shifting this way and that and wincing as he worked out some stiff spots. “Where are we going?”

“Waterdeep.”

“Oh, marvelous,” he said, brightening. “We can probably catch up with one of the merchant trains within a few days and—”

“No,” she broke in quietly.

“No?” Danilo looked puzzled, stopping in mid-stretch. “Whyever not?”

Arilyn explained with the patience usually afforded a rather slow child. “A very skillful tracker has been following me. I was headed west when he lost me. I’m assuming he knows my routes and habits well enough to consider Waterdeep my logical destination. He is likely to take the most common route, the trade route. If we were to travel with a merchant train, he could easily catch up.”

“Ah. Never overlook the obvious,” Danilo commented, nodding sagely.

“Something like that,” Arilyn admitted. “So we’ll take the northern route.”

The dandy shook his head and sputtered in disbelief, “Surely you jest. The northern route? As in, troll country? I’ll have you know I detest trolls. Utterly.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll skirt the High Moors.”

“No trolls?”

“No trolls.” Danilo still looked distressed, so Arilyn elaborated. “It’s riskier than the southern trade route, but we’ll get to Waterdeep faster. Also, we pass through open country. If my guess is wrong and someone is still trying to track us, we’ll see them as soon as they see us.” She thought it best not to tell the nervous dandy that she would actually prefer such a confrontation, and she paused before dropping the other boot. “And another thing. We’ll save more time if we cut through the bottom lip of the marsh.”

Danilo caught his breath and held up both hands in a gesture of protest. “The marsh? We’re talking about the Marsh of Chelimber, I assume? We are. Well, no thank you. I think I’ll just take my horse and head south, if it’s all the same to you.”

Arilyn had anticipated this reaction. “I’m sorry,” she told him firmly, “but you’re going to come with me.”

He sighed with resignation, then smirked. “I do grow on people, don’t I?”

“Hardly. I need to reach Waterdeep and disappear without alerting the assassin. But,” she added pointedly, “if I let you loose along the merchant route, you would sing this song to anyone who would listen, and I’ll be back where I started.”

Danilo considered her argument for a brief moment, then nodded. “All right,” he said agreeably. He started to stuff his belongings back into his magic sack.

His ready compliance surprised Arilyn. “You agree? Just like that?”

Still packing, he arched an eyebrow at her. “Do I have much choice in the matter?”

“No.”

“Well then, no sense in whining about things you can’t change, is there?” he concluded cheerfully. He picked up the last item—a silver flask—and took a bracing pull at it before he slipped it into the sack. Thus fortified, he rose and faced Arilyn.

“There. Packing’s done. I say, do you think you could catch us something for breakfast? Anything at all? At this point I could eat a pickled wyvern. And while you hunt, I’ll just freshen up a tad. Not that we’re likely to meet anyone from polite society along the route you’ve chosen, but one can’t travel looking like leftovers from a gnoll’s feast, can one?”

Danilo’s gaze swept over Arilyn, who was clad for travel in boots and trousers, a simple blue tunic over her loose shirt, and her dark cloak. “By the way,” he added casually, with an obvious and exaggerated attempt at diplomacy, “that outfit is very … well, it’s certainly very practical. It looks comfortable, really! For whatever it’s worth, I vastly prefer the clothes you wore at the inn. Maybe all those veils would be a bit much for the road, but at least let me lend you a few pieces of jewelry to brighten up your ensemble?”

Arilyn stifled a sigh. It was going to be a very long trip to Waterdeep.

The sun was edging above the horizon when the half-elf finally nudged her well-fed and immaculately groomed hostage into his saddle. Worried by even a brief delay, Arilyn set as brisk a pace as she felt the horses could handle: it was important that they cross the Marsh of Chelimber before nightfall.

As they left the rolling foothills of the Greycloak Mountains behind, the friendly, autumn-tinted woodlands gave way to a flat, grim valley littered with jagged boulders and scrubby brush. As the ground beneath their horses’ hooves became increasingly soggy, even those pitiful bushes disappeared, and the only vegetation in sight were the rushes and cattails that ringed small pools of tea-colored water. The happy twitter of the forest birds had long ago faded, to be replaced by the incurious stare of an occasional heron.

Arilyn was not unhappy to note that the repressive ugliness of the landscape had curbed the nobleman’s tongue, for his chatter had dwindled to an occasional question. He rode well, she was relieved to see, and as he rode he took in the sights like some slightly distressed pleasure-traveler.

“What’s that?” he demanded, pointing to a large square depression in the bog. Arilyn looked, and her heart sank.

“Someone’s been cutting peat,” she said tersely.

“Whatever for?”

“Fuel. It burns well.”

Danilo considered her words. “Why would someone want to come all the way into this flattened-out version of the Abyss for fuel? There are perfectly good woodlands between here and the nearest civilized area.” When Arilyn didn’t comment on his observation, Danilo puzzled it over. He finally snapped his fingers and smiled in triumph. “Wait a minute! I’ve got it! Our peat-cutting friends must be from one of the uncivilized races. Orcs, maybe? More likely goblins, given the terrain. Am I right?”

Arilyn cast him a sour look. “You needn’t look so pleased about it. Listen, that peat was recently cut. Whatever did it is probably nearby.”

“You jest,” Danilo said, a hopeful note in his voice.

“Not very often. We’re nearing the marsh. Hold your tongue until we’re through it.”

The dandy subsided. Soon the spongy texture of the peat bog gave way to open wetlands, and the air took on a repressive, swampy tang. Before highsun they had reached the edge of Chelimber Marsh.

“I say, this is a dismal place,” Danilo noted with dismay.

Arilyn silently agreed. In her opinion, the Marsh of Chelimber could easily be mistaken for one of the lower levels of the Nine Hells.

There was no sign of animal life, yet an eerie, insectlike chirruping came from everywhere and nowhere. Bare, rock-covered ground alternated with soggy patches of waist-high marsh grasses, which swayed and beckoned despite an utter lack of wind. Many of the small pools that dotted the ground bubbled and seethed, sending up gushes of sulphur-scented steam. Even the air seemed heavy and oppressive beneath a slate-colored sky.

“Let’s get it over with,” Arilyn whispered, resolutely guiding her horse forward. Danilo followed, looking none too happy.

Despite the known and rumored dangers of the marsh, their ride was uneventful. Arilyn did not relax her guard, but listened alertly to the strange sounds of the marsh. From no discernable source, Chelimber emitted a continuous spate of chirps, pops, groans, and belches. The noise was unnerving, and Arilyn noted the toll it took on the high-strung mares. Yet there was no sign of danger, and by late afternoon it began to appear that the trip would pass without incident. Even Danilo managed to hold his tongue until, by Arilyn’s reckoning, they neared the western border of the marsh. The mist-shrouded sun hung just above the marsh grass. Tension began to drain from Arilyn’s taut body as the horses picked their way toward relative safety. They would escape Chelimber before nightfall, despite the morning’s delay.

That hope was premature. Almost lost in the swamp’s music was a new note, a faint, grating sound that brought to Arilyn’s mind the image of a dragon with hiccoughs. She hoped that the bizarre noise was just another of the marsh’s aural tricks, but just to check she held up a hand to halt Danilo’s progress. “Did you hear that?” she mouthed at him.

The nobleman’s attention was elsewhere. Arilyn followed the direction of his gaze, and her throat tightened in foreboding: at her side, the moonblade glowed with an ominous blue light.

“What’s that all about?” he asked, pointing to her sword.

“Lower your voice.”

“Why is your sword blue?” he asked softly.

“Magic,” she explained tersely, looking about for whatever the moonblade sensed. “A danger warning.”

“Quaint. Very quaint,” he drawled, regarding the pale blue light of the sword with casual interest. “A glowing sword. Tell me, does it come in green? If so, where can I get one?”

The lack of concern in his voice infuriated Arilyn. She glared at him, incredulous. “Goblins,” she stressed in a quiet voice. “Remember your peat-cutting goblins? Surely not even you could find such creatures amusing.”

Danilo pursed his lips and considered this. “Actually, there was this little fellow down in Cormyr …”

“Oh, be still,” Arilyn hissed. Her fingers curved around the moonblade’s grip, and she dismissed Danilo and his foolishness to concentrate on the battle that was sure to come. She eased her horse westward and gestured for the dandy to follow her. The ground was less flat here, and a small hill some hundred yards away bore the ruins of what appeared to be an ancient keep. The setting sun would be at their back, providing a disadvantage to any attackers. There they could take a stand.

No, there I can take a stand, Arilyn corrected silently, casting a derisive glance at the man beside her. Even if Danilo Thann were capable of holding his own in a fight—which she doubted—he would never risk getting blood on his big-city finery.

For the hundredth time since sunrise Arilyn cursed herself over her unfortunate choice of a hostage. She had fought goblinkind many times, and she knew better than to be too confident about the outcome of such a battle. Even the horses, pampered fancy mounts that they were, sensed that danger lay before them; their ears lay back against their heads and they whickered uneasily. Granted, Danilo Thann was not traveling with her of his own choice, therefore she was honor-bound to give him what protection she could. But by all the gods, she would much rather turn him over to the goblins. Perhaps they could wipe that complacent look off his foolish face!

Arilyn’s angry thoughts were interrupted by an unearthly screech. The sound split the air and hung, reverberating, over the marsh. That was the final straw for her temperamental horse, who reared up violently and unexpectedly. Arilyn grabbed at the pommel of her saddle with both hands to keep from being thrown. Before she could reclaim the reins, the horse bolted.

“Hang on,” Danilo yelled, urging his own horse close to Arilyn’s panicked mount. What was he trying to do? she wondered. His horse looked no calmer than hers. It careened along with teeth bared, its ears flat back against its mane and the whites of its terrified eyes gleaming. Danilo seized Arilyn’s reins, struggling to control his own mount with one hand.

That’s it, Arilyn thought with a flash of resignation. We’re both down. Before their spooked mounts had gone a dozen paces, by sheer strength of arm and will Danilo brought both horses to a halt.

Arilyn gaped at the noble in disbelief, earning one of his charming, infuriating smiles. He tossed her reins back to her. “Nice trick, eh? Luck is with you. You abducted the captain of Waterdeep’s champion polo team. Next time, my dear, do try to steal battle-seasoned horses, hmmm?”

Before she could respond to his gibe, a second roar rolled across the marsh. Arilyn drew the moonblade and readied herself for the attack. One of the dangers of the marsh lay in the weird way in which it warped sound. The taunts of their unseen enemy seemed to come from everywhere at once. Where, then, could she and Danilo run?

From behind the ridge of a nearby hillock rose half a score of enormous, scale-covered nightmares. Arilyn had heard tales of the lizard men of Chelimber Marsh, but the reality brought a quick lump of horror to her throat.

Tall as men, the scaly gray-green creatures lurched toward them through the mist and the marsh grass on heavily muscled legs, shrieking and roaring with bloodlust as they brandished blades and battlehammers in their massive, taloned hands.

“Wait a minute! You said there’d be goblins. Those don’t look like goblins to me,” Danilo protested. “I could be wrong, of course.”

“Lizard men,” Arilyn snapped, struggling to control her terrified horse as she formulated a battle plan. Outnumbered as they were, five-to-one, flight seemed the best course. As she flashed a look over her shoulder, she saw a small band of goblins—a hunting party, most likely—rising from the marsh grass, effectively cutting off the chance of a southward retreat.

“So. Do we fight or run?” Danilo asked.

The half-elf spun back around. The lizard men had fanned out into a line, blocking escape to the north or east. “I’ll fight. You run,” she shouted, pointing with the moonblade toward the ruined keep.

Danilo extended his hand. “My sword?”

Arilyn had forgotten. She reached behind her saddle, snatched his blade from its scabbard, and tossed it to him. Danilo deftly caught the weapon, then squinted toward the setting sun. “Now those,” he remarked, “are goblins.”

The half-elf groaned. Three more of the creatures had sprung from behind the piles of stone and rubble, their weapons drawn. Gibbering and snarling, they rushed forward, and Arilyn caught a whiff of the stench that rose from their dark orange skin and filthy leather armor. All three goblins waved rusted swords, and their snarls bared rows of short, sharp fangs. Lemon-colored eyes gleamed with eagerness for battle.

“I’ll take those little ones,” the dandy volunteered.

“Go, you half-witted troll,” she shouted.

Danilo saluted her and wheeled his horse around, galloping toward the ruins and the onrushing goblins. On horseback, Arilyn reasoned, even Danilo should be able to handle three unmounted goblins. To her surprise, he slashed at the western-most lizard man as he rushed past it, as if daring the creatures to follow him.

Good tactics, she acknowledged briefly. If we divide them, they can’t surround us as easily. Then there was no more time for thought. The lizard men were almost upon her.

All of the lizard men.

A moment’s surprise, and then Arilyn understood. The creatures might hunt in a band, but they had little intelligence. Their instincts were for survival, not strategy. Thus, each individual lizard man chose to attack the smaller, seemingly weaker member of the pair. Their mistake, she thought with a thin smile. Raising the glowing moonblade aloft, she forced her horse into a charge.

The first of the lizard men lumbered into range, swinging a curved scimitar in a wicked arc. With a lightning combination, Arilyn parried its first blow and then ran the creature through. The next lizard she disarmed by lopping off its taloned hand. Its shrieks of rage and pain set the rest of the pack rocking back a step, buying Arilyn an instant’s respite. She struggled to control her horse as she flashed a glance in Danilo’s direction.

He was faring far better than she’d dared to hope. Somehow he had managed to fell two of the goblins. Still on horseback, he was making short work of the third. The lizard men, having decided on Arilyn, were paying him no heed whatsoever. For the span of one heartbeat, Arilyn knew despair. Her hostage would surely take the opportunity handed him and flee, leaving her to face the monsters alone. Well then, she would give them a fight. With a fierce battle cry, she raised the sword in challenge and dared the lizard men to come within its range.

The creatures halted, uncertain. Long, reptilian tongues flickered in and out between daggerlike fangs as the lizard men weighed their hunger and the encouraging shouts of the goblin band against the glowing sword and half-elf’s unexpectedly strong resistance. Arilyn’s prancing mare whinnied in terror, and the sound seemed to shatter the lizard men’s momentary reluctance. Sensing a weakness, they shrieked anew and pressed forward, almost climbing over each other in their eagerness.

The moonblade danced and twinkled as Arilyn slashed at her attackers. Three more lizard men fell, clutching at sliced throats or severed limbs. One of the remaining creatures came in low with a large, upturned knife and a bright idea: attack the horse. Perceiving the monster’s intent, Arilyn viciously dug her heels into her horse’s side and jerked back the reins. The terrified mare reared, just barely avoiding a slash that would have gutted it.

Arilyn used the momentum of the horse’s movement to dismount. Throwing herself backward in a somersault, the agile half-elf rolled out of the saddle and landed on her feet, moonblade in hand. With the flat of her blade she smacked the mare’s flanks, hard. The horse fled, dodging the clutching talons of the five still-standing, hungry lizards. The lizard men, robbed of the promise of horseflesh, surrounded Arilyn and closed in.

The half-elf could hear excited squeaks and harsh, high-pitched chattering just outside the tight circle of scales and blades. Wonderful, Arilyn thought with dismay. The goblin hunting party had finally decided to join in. As if she didn’t have enough to deal with.

One of the lizard men got through her guard, and the tip of its sword slashed a burning line across her left shoulder. With her next swing Arilyn cut the lizard across the face. Blinded and roaring, the creature pawed at its eyes and reeled away, knocking one of its brothers to the ground in its frenzy. The fallen lizard man thrashed about, struggling to regain its footing on the marshy, blood-slick ground. With a quick jab, the moonblade found its heart, and the monster lay still. Arilyn leaped over it toward the blinded lizard, and quickly ended that beast’s suffering.

Now there were but three of the lizard men left. Even tired and wounded, Arilyn felt confident of winning against those odds. She doubted, however, whether she would have the strength at battle’s end to wade through a band of goblins.

As she fought, Arilyn heard a strange battle hymn drifting from somewhere on the marsh. It was a bawdy ballad, set to a well-known drinking song, and it was rendered triply incongruous by the refined tone of a well-trained tenor voice:

Blasted human! Arilyn ducked a battle axe and gritted her teeth in annoyance. To her surprise, she found that the foolish song rallied her more effectively than the battle skirl of Moonshae pipes. She fought on, buoyed up by a mixture of relief and irritation. Danilo would get away, and in his own flamboyant fashion.

Unimpressed by the music, the three lizard men pressed in. One of them lunged at her with a dagger. Arilyn knocked the weapon from its claws and darted forward, thrusting the moonblade deep into its reptilian eye and immediately killing it. The creature fell heavily forward, and the half-elf tore her sword free and leaped clear of the toppling corpse.

With a triumphant roar, a huge, brown-scaled lizard man hefted his battle axe and took a mighty swipe at the half-elf’s knees. She leaped high to avoid the blade, but on the backswing the axe’s handle caught her and knocked her sideways. Thrown off balance, she flew several feet before she hit the ground hard. She stopped face down beside a steaming, sulphur-scented pool. Arilyn scrambled to her feet. If she had been hurt by the fall, the pain would come later.

The remaining pair of lizards, smelling blood, closed in. Arilyn faced them and crouched in a defensive stance, holding the moonblade before her in a two-handed grip. The sword glowed a brilliant blue in the gathering darkness, lighting the half-elf’s grim face and reflecting the cold fire of her eyes. The monsters, expecting a wounded half-elf and an easy kill, fell back in surprise and fear. Taking advantage of their reaction, Arilyn advanced, raising the magic sword high.

A clatter of hooves distracted the lizard men. Brandishing his sword, Danilo Thann rode his dainty chestnut mare in tight circles around the creatures and the half-elf, his blade prodding and teasing as he harried the monsters, as if trying to draw their attention away from Arilyn.

What now? she thought in exasperation. The fool would get dizzy and fall off his horse before he managed to accomplish anything of value.

Roaring its annoyance, one of the creatures raised a length of rusty chain and tried to swat away the pesky human. Its first blow knocked the sword from Danilo’s hand, and with a triumphant snarl the creature started whirling the chain, preparing to launch the weapon at the nobleman.

Arilyn pulled a knife from her boot and hurled it into the creature’s open, snarling mouth. With a strangled gurgle, the beast stopped dead. The chain kept whirling, however, wrapping itself around the lizard man’s arm with a cracking of bone. To Arilyn’s surprise the monster merely spat blood and switched its weapon to its other hand.

Danilo’s wild ride brought him too close to the axe-wielding brown lizard. The monster hoisted his weapon and swung, slashing the nobleman’s silk sleeve from elbow to wrist and drawing blood.

Danilo galloped several yards away, then reined in his horse and regarded his ruined garment with dismay. He jabbed a finger at the lizards. “That’s it. Now I’m angry,” he informed them. The lizard men roared and continued to lumber toward Danilo, chain and axe raised for the kill.

“When in doubt, run,” Danilo announced to the marsh at large. He wheeled his horse around and headed to the north. The lizard men fell in behind him.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Arilyn shouted at the monsters. For lack of another weapon to hurl, she snatched up a stone and threw it. “Stand and fight, you overgrown sacks of shoe leather!”

The missile struck the axe-wielding lizard man in the back of the head. Bellowing its fury, it threw its weapon aside and thundered back toward Arilyn. The beast lunged forward in an elemental frenzy, its fangs bared. Arilyn stood her ground until the last moment, then she dove to one side and rolled safely away. The charging lizard’s jaws closed on air, and the monster skidded to a stop, arms windmilling wildly as it struggled to maintain its balance.

Arilyn came in low and sliced the lizard man cleanly across its throat. The beast crashed nose-first into the ground. With a brief nod of satisfaction, the half-elf headed off at a run in the direction of Danilo and the final foe. She easily overtook the wounded and slow-moving beast, and stomped hard on its tail to distract it from its overdressed prey.

With an incongruous squeak, the lizard spun around. Ignoring Arilyn, it dropped its chain weapon and gathered up its tail and draped it over its wounded arm, gazing mournfully down at the tip and emitting pitiful, chirruping whimpers. Involuntarily, Arilyn’s sword arm lowered.

Suddenly the beast stiffened. It hissed, gurgled, and slumped twitching to the earth. A sword protruded from its neck at a hideous angle.

Behind the fallen lizard man stood Danilo Thann. Not bothering to advertise his intent, the dandy had quietly skewered the monster through the back of the neck. Arilyn felt a sudden and unreasonable flash of anger. “Where are the goblins?” she demanded, thinking it better to vent her rage on them than on her hostage.

Danilo pointed. To Arilyn’s surprise, all six members of the goblin hunting party lay in a bloody pile.

Breathing heavily, she held the moonblade up before her. Its light was almost gone, a sure sign that the danger was past and the battle over. She sheathed the weapon and turned to the nobleman. For a long moment they regarded each other silently over the dead body of the brown lizard man. “You had to kill him like that?”

Danilo recoiled, blinking in surprise. “Whatever are you talking about? Him who? There’s a lot of dead ‘hims’ out here to choose from, you know. A few ‘hers’ too, I would imagine, although I’m no expert on lizard anatomy.”

Arilyn raked one hand through her sweat-soaked black curls. “Forget it. Where’s my horse?”

“She won’t be far away,” Danilo said. He placed one boot gingerly on the brown scales of the lizard man and yanked out his sword. After fastidiously wiping it clean on a clump of marsh grass, Danilo took the reins of his mare and went in search of the other mount. Arilyn trudged after him.

They hadn’t far to go, for Arilyn’s horse milled just inside the walls of the ruined keep. Danilo produced some sugar lumps from his magic sack, and coaxed the mare to him. The horse sniffed, then its rubbery lips folded around the sugar in Danilo’s outstretched palm. The dandy smiled and scratched the white star on the horse’s forehead. “The sugar should sweeten your temper a tad, my pretty,” he said. The horse nickered softly and nudged at Danilo with her muzzle.

“It worked!” he said. He cast a speculative look at Arilyn, then with a sly smile he offered her a sugar lump.

Arilyn blinked, her mouth dropping open in astonishment. Then her worn face lit up unexpectedly and she laughed.

“I shall accept that as an apology,” Danilo stated, an expression of delight flooding his face as he surveyed the loveliness of her usually stern visage. “Quite a fight, eh?”

His frank admiration disconcerted her, and his casual approach to battle defied her perception of him. Danilo Thann was not quite the helpless, shallow dandy he appeared. He was dangerous, in more ways than one. Arilyn’s smile faded, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“The goblins are dead,” she observed.

Danilo quirked an eyebrow as he surveyed the carnage around them. “You have a firm grasp on the obvious.”

“How?” she persisted, ignoring his teasing.

He shrugged lightly. “You know goblins. They’re always fighting among themselves and …”

“Enough!” Arilyn snapped, rounding on him. “I am not a fool. I do not enjoy being treated like one.”

“You get used to it,” Danilo interjected mildly as he adjusted the angle of his hat.

“To which, no doubt, you can attest,” she noted with asperity. “Whatever else you may be, though, you can fight. Where did you learn to fight goblins?”

He grinned disarmingly. “I have five older brothers.”

“Very amusing,” she said dryly, crossing her arms over her chest as she studied the man. “That is not enough to explain your skill or your confidence in battle.”

“All right then, would you believe six brothers?”

Arilyn’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “This isn’t getting me anywhere,” she muttered to herself. She straightened and addressed the young man in a brisk tone. “All right. Your secrets are your own. You saved my life, and I owe you. You have more than earned your freedom.”

From beneath the brim of his hat, Danilo gazed pointedly around the forbidding landscape. “How lovely,” he drawled. “Now that I’m no longer strictly necessary to you, you no longer require my company. In compensation, I get to pass some time in the Marsh of Chelimber, taking in the sights, conversing with the natives. A bargain, by my eyes. Tell me, am I to undertake this suicidal journey on foot?”

“Of course not,” she retorted. “You’ll ride.”

Danilo lay one hand on his chest, a dramatic gesture of gratitude. “Ah, the lady gifts me indeed—freedom that I could have taken for myself and one of my own steeds. They are my horses, by the way. Truly, I’m overwhelmed.”

Arilyn gritted her teeth and silently counted to ten. With sorely tested patience she spelled out her intent: “At daybreak, we head south. Both of us. Once we find a merchant train, I’ll leave you in their care. Now do you understand?”

“Ah. Thank you for the kind thought, but no.”

Exasperated, the half-elf sank onto the ground and dropped her weary head into her hands. It would seem that the fop had something of the merchant in him after all; judging from his tone, he was prepared to barter like a Calimshite peddlar.

“I take it you have something else in mind?” she observed.

He sat down on a rock facing her, grimacing as he held his richly embroidered robe clear of the lizard blood that pooled on the ground near his feet. “As it happens, I do,” he said lightly. “You.”

Startled, she sat upright and eyed him with suspicion. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your company,” he clarified. “From now on, we shall be partners and travel-mates.”

Arilyn stared at the nobleman. Remarkable though it seemed, Danilo appeared to be serious. “That’s impossible.”

“Why?”

Leveling a stern look at Danilo, she said, “I work alone. I walk alone.”

“Or so it is written in the stars,” he intoned, gently mocking the stiffness of her tone.

Arilyn flushed and looked away. “I didn’t mean to sound so pompous,” she continued quietly. “I simply do not wish to travel with another.”

“What have we been doing for the better part of two days?” he asked, then raised one hand to cut off the argument she had ready. “Yes, yes. I know. Escape, hostage, secrecy, that sort of thing. All that aside, you said you would keep me with you until you reached Waterdeep. Is the word of Arilyn Moonblade given with such fervor, but taken back so lightly?” He smiled at the angry flash that came to her eyes. “No, I thought not. Here it is, then: by your own words, you owe me. As payment for your life, I choose to stay with you, to Waterdeep and perhaps a while longer.”

Arilyn massaged her aching temples as she tried to sort this through. “Why?”

“Why not?”

Arilyn’s patience was thinning rapidly. “Why?” she demanded through clenched teeth.

“If the truth must be told, I’m a bit of an amateur bard. Well thought of in some circles, too, if I may say so.”

“Eventually, this will have a point?” she asked wearily.

“Naturally. You heard me sing the Ballad of the Zhentish Raiders?” Danilo waited, his expression obviously courting praise. Arilyn’s only response was a continued glare, so after a moment the dandy shrugged and continued.

“Yes. Well. This journey is turning out to be quite the adventure, isn’t it? I’ve decided to seize the opportunity and write an original ballad about the Harper Assassin. The first! My fame will be assured! You’ll feature largely in the tale, of course,” he noted hastily and magnanimously. “Part of it is written already. Would you like to hear what I’ve got so far?” Without waiting for encouragement, Danilo cleared his throat and began to sing in his fine tenor voice some of the most strained verse Arilyn had ever heard.

Arilyn sat through two stanzas before drawing a knife and placing the tip at Danilo’s larynx. “Sing another note,” she said calmly, “and I’D carve that song from your throat.”

Grimacing, Danilo took the blade between his thumb and forefinger and eased it away. “Merciful Milil! And I thought the critics in Waterdeep were harsh! What do you expect from someone who’s merely a gifted amateur?”

“A straight answer would be nice,” she suggested.

“All right then,” he said bluntly, “I’m concerned about survival, plain and simple. I have no desire to be on my own, and you’re as good a bodyguard as any I’ve seen. Frankly I doubt I’d be any safer traveling with a merchant caravan, so my present lot suits me just fine.”

Arilyn considered the statement for a moment. His words rang true, and he looked as serious as his foolish countenance would probably allow. If he wanted protection, Arilyn acknowledged, she owed him that much. She thrust the blade back into her boot and gave in to the inevitable.

“All right,” she conceded. “We ride hard and split the watch, the hunting, and the cooking. There’ll be no chatter, no magic, and no singing.”

“Anything,” he agreed readily. “Get me safely to Waterdeep, my dear, and I’ll even polish your weapons for you. By Tempus, they could use a good once-over.” As he spoke, Danilo reached out to stroke the moonblade’s ancient, tarnished sheath.

Immediately a spark of blue light lit the marsh. With a sharp oath, Danilo recoiled, jerking back his hand. He held up his index finger, regarding it with disbelief. The skin at the tip was blackened, blasted by the sword’s magic.

“What did I do wrong? What prompted that thing to attack me?” he demanded. “Didn’t you say it couldn’t draw innocent blood? Oh, wait a minute—no blood. Forget the last question.”

Keeping her eyes steady on Danilo and her voice level, she added, “There will be one more condition to this ‘partnership.’ You must never touch that sword again.”

Sucking on the offended digit, Danilo nodded avidly. “That goes without saying.”

The half-elf abruptly rose to her feet and swung herself up into the saddle. “Let’s go.”

“Shouldn’t we tend to our wounds first?” Danilo asked, eyeing Arilyn’s torn and bloodied shirt with concern.

She looked down at him with disbelief and disdain, assuming he referred to his finger. “You’ll live,” she said flatly. “Just be thankful you didn’t try to draw the sword.”

“Oh? What would have happened? And how do you keep it from doing that to you?” he asked as he rose to his feet.

Arilyn swore silently. No one had ever touched the moonblade without her permission. Why had she let her guard down now?

“Well?” he prompted.

“Night has fallen,” she said in a tight voice. “You may have noticed that we are still in the Marsh of Chelimber. Would you rather ride out of here, or talk?”

“Can’t we do both?”

“No.”

The dandy gave a resigned shrug and mounted his horse. “I suppose we’ll hunt for supper sometime soon?”

“Your turn to hunt.” Arilyn pressed her heels to her horse’s sides and headed westward out of Chelimber.

Danilo fell in beside her. He cocked his head and asked in a tentative voice, “Have you ever eaten lizard? I hear it tastes a little like chicken.”

Thoroughly appalled, Arilyn twisted in her saddle to level an icy glare at the dandy. “If I thought you were serious, I’d leave you in the marsh.”

“I’ll hunt!” he said hastily. “Really!”

The pair rode in silence until they’d left the marsh behind. As the foul-smelling mists faded, the ground firmed beneath the horses’ hooves. Stars began to twinkle, forming the autumn constellations that had been Arilyn’s friends since childhood: Correlian, Esetar, and the Shard of Selûne. Still far in the distance, a few trees formed dim silhouettes against the night sky. Trees, Arilyn thought with a silent sigh of relief. Trees were a sure sign that Chelimber was no more than a memory. Never had she been so glad to see trees. From deep within her elven soul welled a prayer of thanks, a silent song of welcome to the stars and the forest.

“I say,” Danilo blurted out, “how far is it to Waterdeep?”

Arilyn’s private joy evaporated like dew at highsun. “Too far.”

Dark though the night was, Arilyn’s elven vision took in the dandy’s uncertain smile. “Have I been insulted, or is it just my imagination?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, it’s just my imagination?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

The exchange silenced Danilo. Arilyn urged her horse forward, intending to make camp at the stream that lay just beyond the far bank of trees.

They ate well that night, for a couple of plump rabbits inexplicably wandered into Danilo’s snares. He swore roundly that skill, not magic, had been employed in the hunt. Arilyn did not believe him for a moment, but she was too tired and hungry to argue. Danilo even dressed and roasted the rabbits, seasoning them with the herbs and wine his magic sack yielded. The result was surprisingly good, and the travelers ate the greasy, savory meat in silence. Finally they slept, watched over by the vigilant magic of the moonblade. When daybreak came, Arilyn set their course for Waterdeep.

Sunrise colors still stained the sky when a large, shadowy figure slipped from his hiding place among the trees. He watched as the unlikely pair mounted and headed westward. To his way of thinking, with the High Moor to the south and the rugged Greypeak Mountains to the north, the half-elf had only one logical path to Waterdeep. She had surprised him before, of course, in choosing to brave the dangers of Chelimber.

The dark figure doubted that Arilyn Moonblade would take on the moor’s trolls, or the orc tribes and black dragons that roamed the craggy Greypeak range. He’d followed and watched her since she’d left the Vale of Darkhold, and she seemed to know this area as well as he himself did. She must know that only one route offered relative safety. So he waited, allowing the adventurer and her companion a good lead. There had been several times when she had almost seen him, and he would not take any more chances, not until he was ready to make his move.

The morning was half spent when finally he urged his mount forward. Effortlessly he picked up the trail of the two pampered polo horses, and with a sense of reluctance he followed his latest quarry.