Kagonesti

Chapter 28

"Here. There's a door in the floorboards. We can go out that way." Vanisia pulled back an ornately patterned rug, revealing a brass handle and the outline of a small square.

"Good." Iydahoe nodded as Bakali handed him his bow and quiver. He quickly sprinkled the disappearing dust over Bakali, Vanisia, and himself, marveling at the way their flesh vanished. He could see nothing of his companions and was startled when the brass ring of the trapdoor lifted upward from the floor.

"Wait," he told Bakali, sensing the young warrior's eagerness to be gone. He doused the two lanterns that cast shadowy illumination through the wagon, knowing that their spill of light would have drawn the attention of every guard within a hundred paces. "I'll go first," Iydahoe declared in a whisper, touching Bakall's unseen shoulder.

Even through the magical concealment the older warrior felt his young companion's imploring gaze. "Please, let me," Bakall whispered.

The curious trance that had earlier captured Bakall had been Wellerane's doing, Iydahoe knew, but he always felt more confident when he himself was in the lead. Still, he sensed the young warrior's need to restore his own pride, so he reluctantly agreed.

The door rose silently, and Iydahoe heard Bakall drop to the ground. He saw puffs of dust as the warrior scuttled on his belly to the rear of the wagon. Swiftly, soundlessly, Iydahoe came behind.

Vanisia followed Iydahoe out of the wagon, dropping to the ground with surprising stealth. Together they crawled into the shadows beneath the nearby tree and looked around. Iydahoe saw guards gathered around a huge fire, while others still collected more tinder for the execution blaze. Numerous guards were posted around the wagon, and without the concealment of invisibility the elves certainly would have been seen-even by the night-blind humans. As it was, however, none of them took note of the elves' stealthy departure.

Bakall sprang upward and disappeared into the branches. Iydahoe leapt, pulling himself upward, then reached down from the tree branch to help the novice priestess with her initial upward leap. Here their invisibility hampered him. He didn't know where she was until the branch drooped slightly, sagging as Vanisia pulled herself up. Bakall moved on, slipping silently into the darkness, and the warrior worried for a moment that the female would not be able to keep her balance or move without noise among the dense limbs of the forest canopy.

Yet when Vanisia crawled behind Iydahoe on the limb, he could sense that she had no trouble keeping her balance. The Kagonesti warrior felt a glimmering of respect for this Silvanesti female, a feeling that he was strangely fortunate to have her come along with them.

He saw a great ring of legionnaires gathered around a heavy stake. Piles of brush towered nearby, while several branches were thrown around the base of the sturdy post.

"It's time!" shouted a man-Captain-General Castille, Iydahoe saw. "Fetch me the elf!"

"Hurry!" hissed the wild elf warrior, helping Vanisia to slip past him, urging her after Bakali. Iydahoe paused to nock an arrow and draw back his bow. He had a clear view of the captain-general through a gap in the trees.

He sensed Vanisia pausing, knew that she was watching him, even though she couldn't see his skin or his weapon. He could not bring himself to shoot. Confused, he relaxed his bowstring and shook his head. Perhaps this was the practical choice. Killing Castille would only alert the legionnaires to their escape that much sooner, whereas the execution of Feigh had given them additional time to flee. He knew, however, that there was more to his reluctance than this pragmatic concern.

He hastened after Vanisia, following her progress by seeing the leaves that she brushed out of her way. Even though she remained invisible, he knew that her chances would be bad if she fell among the angry humans below. Taking care to avoid the branches directly over the human sentries, the three elves passed from each tree to the next. They followed the middle terrace of branches, thirty feet or more above the ground, sometimes crawling along, snakelike, and in other places standing to scurry down the broad, rounded limbs.

They had barely moved beyond the outer pickets when they heard the cries of alarm from the center of the caravan camp. Iydahoe imagined the human's fury. A grim smile tightened his face as he pictured the discovery of the headless wizard.

"Humans can't see in the dark like we can. Let's run for it!" he whispered to his companions, who voiced quiet agreement.

They dropped to the forest floor thirty paces beyond the outer guard posts and trotted through the darkness. Relying on their elven eyesight, they avoided the deadfalls, underbrush, and moss-covered rocks that occasionally blocked their path. Furthermore, Iydahoe led them on a roundabout, rough trail in an effort to discourage and mislead any potential pursuers.

As they jogged, Iydahoe was as impressed with Vanisia's endurance as he had been with her stealth. Never complaining, she held the same pace as the two wild elves, though the warrior suspected that her ornate sandals must be causing her no small amount of pain.

Finally, several miles from the Istarian camp, the dust of invisibility began to wear off. In a matter of moments, all three of them could clearly be seen-and since they were well beyond the nearest humans, Iydahoe found their reappearance to be something of a relief. No pursuit was audible, so the warrior allowed a brief rest. Vanisia collapsed to the ground while Bakall, his head held low, muttered something about making a circuit around the place to make sure they weren't observed. Iydahoe sensed that the young warrior was embarrassed by the lack of willpower he had displayed atop the bluff, and didn't want to discuss the matter. Knowing that solitary meditation might be the best cure for Bakall's guilt, Iydahoe agreed.

For a short time, he sat in silence with the elfmaid, but curiosity finally compelled him to speak.

"Why did you stop the wizard from burning me? You spoke of going to Istar, of singing the Evening Prayers. Why did you turn away from that?"

He was afraid that she would be terribly upset, but when she spoke, her voice was strong, her words clear. "Istar is meaningless now-or at least, it will be in a matter of days."

Iydahoe remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

"Loralan has preached this prophecy for many decades, more than a century. I have heard about the spi- raling descent of Istar's rulers. The current Kingpriest is the worst, and it was only with reluctance that Loralan consented to allow our chorale to make the journey this year. Then, from things he said in the wagon, to Wellerane-" Here her voice cracked for the first time. "-I believe the end is near."

"The end? Of what?"

"Of Istar-and, perhaps, of Krynn. The wrath of the gods will strike our world, and the legions of Istar will perish. If that happens, and I cannot be with my father, I did not want to be among the humans of that wretched procession."

"In the forest we live with little, by House Elf standards," Iydahoe pointed out.

She smiled slightly. "Little? There are those in Silvanesti who have nothing amid the splendor and plenty."

"Spoken like a Kagonesti," the warrior admitted, impressed.

"I've treasured the solitude of the wild places since I was a little girl," Vanisia said. "I chose the fields of Misha- kal's flowers over the greatest crystal citadels of our elven architects. Often I slept outside, on the banks of the Thon- Thalas, just to hear the music of the river in the dawn."

"We have no architects in the forest," Iydahoe replied, "but I, too, know the song of flowing water." In his heart, he wondered if she would be able to survive-and enjoy a life-in the mud-and-deer-hide lodges of the Kagonesti. Surprising himself with his vehemence, he desperately hoped that she would. Only then did he wonder if there could possibly be any substance to her fears. There couldn't. She was frightened by the strange disappearance of her father. Surely that was all.

"I–I thank you for taking me away."

"You took yourself away," Iydahoe said with a shrug that was an attempt to conceal his pleasure at her companionship. All this talk of gods' wrath unsettled him, but he could not bring himself to believe that the end of the world was a real possibility. Still, he pressed her on the point. "What words did this cleric say to you, to your father, to make you believe the future is so dire?"

"He has talked of the growing arrogance of the King- priest, of that man's belief that someday he will be able to command the gods themselves. When he tries, the gods will punish him-and all of Ansalon as well."

"How will they mete out this punishment?"

"Loralan did not know. But he said that the true clerics might be summoned away beforehand, and that many days-twelve or thirteen, I think he said-of terror would befall the land. And that none of the warnings could cause the Kingpriest to turn from his disastrous path."

"The priest did say something about that, about the road to Istar taking more than thirteen days," Iydahoe remembered, still unwilling to accept the veracity of her fears.

Vanisia only nodded.

"And you believe that the first of these predictions has come to pass, that the priests have been summoned away?" Iydahoe did not place a great deal of faith in prophecies, but the young elfmaid's words disturbed him nonetheless.

"Loralan came to get my father, just as he is taking the other clerics-the true speakers of the gods who live across Ansalon. I suspect they are all gone now."

"Clerics and wizards of the House Elves may come and go as they wish," Iydahoe replied skeptically, "but other priests still dwell among the peoples of the world. My father, Hawkan, is a shaman who knows the ways of the gods-and he awaits us in our village. We will see him by the end of the day."

"I hope you're right," said Vanisia, and he knew that she meant it.

Yet Iydahoe was disquieted by her conviction, sensing that she would be honestly surprised to find the wild elf shaman in the camp.

"Why do you think the clerics were taken from the world?" he asked, grappling with the mystery.

"I can't say for sure. Perhaps because we have allowed the arrogance of the Kingpriest to grow too strong. Neither elves nor men have been able to prevent his mad condemnation of everything he dislikes. He brands a thing, or a people, as evil-then he has it killed. Dwarves, ogres, even elves have felt this hatred."

"Then why did Silvanesti make a road to his citadel?"

"For more than a century we had shunned Istar, banished all trade and commerce with that realm. But some of our priests-notably Loralan-convinced our rulers that we must try to communicate with the Kingpriest. He felt that only thus could they even have a chance to change his disastrous path."

"We have no need for such superstitions in the wild. You will find that life is simpler in the forest." In Iydahoe's own mind he began to wonder if, too, it might not become more peaceful. How many more humans would he have to kill before the four tribes were avenged? For the first time, he realized that he had embarked on a hopeless task-and he gave real thought to laying aside his quest for vengeance.

"I think this is more than superstition, though I pray that I might be wrong."

They rested uneasily for a few hours, then rose to take the trail in a peculiarly dim and misty dawn. The light seeping through the trees seemed pale, sickly, as though a greenish filter had been laid across the sun. It was not until midmorning, when they emerged from the trees onto a low promontory with a view of hills, valleys, and sky, that Iydahoe understood why.

The entire expanse of cloudless heaven had become a dank, putrid green.

Like a sweep of fetid marshlands, the pale, sickly color stained the sky. It was not in any way a healthy, verdant green, like the budding of spring or the rippling of a lush field of grass. Instead, it filled the upper air with a dead, shadowy layer of rot. The vast space overhead took on a vivid, dire cast, like the skin of a person who had become seriously ill.

Iydahoe vividly remembered Vanisia's words, her predictions of godly warnings that would pace off the days before disaster. Certainly it did not take much imagination to think that this coloring of the sky must be such a warning. Indeed, it could be nothing else!

The three elves did not speak, but took the homeward trail with renewed urgency. Iydahoe was shaken to his core, though he tried not to display his unsettled state to his two companions. Bakall looked around wildly, holding an arrow constantly ready in his bow, while Vanisia became listless and downcast, plodding dully along with her gaze fixed on the ground.

They jogged as quickly as possible.. Iydahoe taking the lead, now seeking the shortest path back to the grotto of the small tribe's village. Under the pall of the bizarre sky, he felt that the legionnaires would hasten back to Istar and not waste a lot of time seeking the two wild elves. Undoubtedly the human soldiers, bereft of their wizard and their priest, were reacting with horror to the phenomenon.

The memory of the dead wizard left Iydahoe cold, even numb. Always before the slaying of his enemies had been a thing that gave him satisfaction. Now he had killed perhaps the deadliest enemy in the history of the four tribes — and yet the memory of that justifiable death gave him no pleasure at all.

He wondered if the humans would realize that the Kagonesti had taken Vanisia-or if they would believe that they had abducted Wellerane as well. The Istarians' consternation didn't matter to him, except insofar as his enemies would be too distraught to bother with following the wild elves. This, of course, was a good thing.

Near sunset, they approached the grotto, traveling more slowly than the two Kagonesti would have by themselves. Still, the elfwoman trotted without complaint, though raw blisters were clearly visible on each of her feet. The three hurried among the tall trunks leading to the gorge and the sheltered village.

Vanisia's piercing scream shot through the forest like a lightning bolt, and Iydahoe whirled to see what had frightened her. With a moan, she pointed toward the bole of a tree, sinking to her knees in shock.

As Iydahoe followed her pointing finger, he felt a chill descend into the very pit of his stomach. The bark of the tree trunk had split apart like some kind of festering wound, and from the opening dripped glistening, crimson blood! Streaming onto the ground in a thick, congealing flood, the liquid gushed as if it poured from a fresh, deep cut.

The elves stared in dull disbelief. Vanisia and Bakali recoiled a step, while Iydahoe's fists clenched in impotent rage. What kind of horror was it that could rend the very trees of the forest? He saw the pool of blood expand, pouring over the dike formed by a gnarled root, starting a small trickle along the forest trail.

The bark tore on another tree, nearby, and more scarlet liquid flooded out. All around them trunks ripped, and soon the stench of spilled blood overpowered everything else in the forest. Fueled by steadily growing panic, Iydahoe led the pair through the woods, racing as fast as their feet could carry them. They leapt splashing rivulets of gore, desperately skirted growing pools of the horrid stuff. The warrior ran as if he fled a nightmare, no longer certain of what they would find in the grotto. He no longer felt certain about anything!

When they slipped through the narrow, twisting gorge that led to the concealed village, Iydahoe tried unsuccessfully to calm his pounding heart. Finally they reached the clear pool of water, and he saw the small lodges of the makeshift tribe. The young Kagonesti, all the survivors of the Istarian massacre of fourteen years earlier, came run- i ning toward them, shouting in relief.

But only the younger elves were here. He saw the fragments of the Ram's Horn, sitting as always on the smooth, mossy blanket before his father's lodge. The coals of Hawkan's fire were out, and there was no sign of movement within the shadowed interior of the little hut.

"Hawkan? Where's my father?" demanded Iydahoe. The boy Kagwallas, who was almost as old as Bakall, stepped forward, his eyes filled with tears. "A person came last night, a House Elf," he explained. "He took your father by the hand. Together they went away." "They just disappeared! It was magic!" wailed little Faylai. Iydahoe staggered under the onslaught of monstrous fear, sinking to the ground from unbearable weight, knowing that Vanisia had spoken the truth. The end of the world had begun.