After a too-brief rest, they started out again, following paths that diverged from the main cavern followed by the Delver army. Hiyram was a good climber, and seemed content enough to stay with the two dwarves.
Some uncounted number of cycles later they paused for a bite of dried fungus and water. The coolglow had faded so that each of the three companions was a bare ghost in the darkness. And then it was that Karkald noticed the phenomenon before them, a glow of powerful brightness originating beyond a few more twists and turns of the cave. He stood, and Hiyram drew a long, snuffling breath and nodded.
“A breeze,” Darann said in wonder. She, too, sniffed the air. “And so many scents.”
But Karkald’s attention was all on the brightness. He was aware of the others trailing behind, but he made his way as quickly as he could, scrambling over rocks and through a shallow streambed. Rich moss coated the boulders, and he squinted against the steadily growing illumination.
He came around another bend and he saw it, finally. He was looking out of a cave mouth, into the shade of a forest. But everywhere there was dazzling brightness, flowers aglow as if burning, shafts of sunlight sparkling through the thick limbs overhead.
He had found it. He had reached the land of the sun.
Belynda ran beside Tamarwind, but looked over her shoulder as they neared the woods. Her eyes blurred with tears, anger and frustration combining to fill her with anguish. By the Goddess, she wanted him dead! And Natac had refused to kill him!
Vaguely she saw speeding shapes coming closer, realized that the centaurs were galloping toward them from all parts of Sir Christopher’s camp. Something flashed across her vision-arrows! Abruptly the galloping centaurs halted, one of them tumbling to the ground and others cursing or grunting in pain.
Then Belynda and her rescuers reached the trees. She saw other elves around them, elves with bows and arrows. These archers fired another volley, and the stinging missiles drove the rest of the centaurs into a hasty retreat, a pair of them dragging their wounded comrade by his human arms.
But more of Sir Christopher’s cohorts closed in, sweeping around the centaurs to form a line in the clearing. They brandished clubs wildly, and many waved crude, stone-tipped spears. The Knight Templar, now carrying his great staff, was in the lead.
“There they are!” shouted the knight, his voice a thundering roar. “Tools of Satan, minions of the she-witch. I compel you, Crusaders, in the name of God-kill them!”
Immediately five hundred throats echoed their leader’s cry, the wave of sound hitting Belynda like a physical blow. Her anger still burned, but for the first time a new possibility intruded into her mind: She had her proof now. She should carry testimony to the Senate, should alert Circle at Center to this very real threat.
“Go!” cried Natac, shouting to Tamarwind and Belynda. “Get away from here-we’ll hold them off!”
“No!” roared a fresh voice. “We’ll hold them!”
The sage-ambassador was stunned by the sight of a burly giant swaggering through the woods. Her first thought was that they were trapped, attacked from behind before they could make their escape. She was stunned when Tamarwind let out a whoop of recognition.
“Rawknuckle! Rawknuckle Barefist of the Greens!”
The black-bearded giant grinned darkly, greeting the elf with a gentle tap on the shoulder-a tap that sent the laughing Tamarwind stumbling to the side.
“What’s going on?” Natac demanded, sword drawn, his eyes on the looming newcomer.
“We’re friends o’ yours, and enemies o’ that lot!” snorted Rawknuckle, gesturing to the Crusaders, who were rushing closer. “Now, let us through!”
“My pleasure,” Natac replied, standing back as fully two dozen or more giants lumbered out of the woods after Rawknuckle Barefist. They bellowed fearsomely, and the mob of startled Crusaders hesitated as they were confronted by this new threat.
“Now-hit ’em while they’re mixed up!” shouted Owen. “Rout ’em with a Viking charge!”
“Yes!” Natac agreed instantly. “Stay here with the sage-ambassador!” he barked to Tam, as Owen and Fionn rallied the elves.
They swept from the woods in a quick rush, following the giants into the clearing. Belynda saw that there were many more elves here than the dozen or so who had rescued her from the camp. The two big, shaggy men and Natac led them in the attack, while others-following Deltan Columbine’s instructions-drew back long bows and launched steel-headed arrows into the mass of the Crusaders.
“Take the fight to them!” roared the Viking.
“For Ireland!” shouted the other human, his voice a bellow cutting through the chaos.
Those two brawny humans were clearly bold warriors. One bore a club, the other a staff-and with these weapons they cracked the heads of the elves and goblins who had skidded to a surprised stop in the face of the charge. The giants, too, kicked through Sir Christopher’s warriors. Rawknuckle swung his club and landed a crushing blow to the face of an enemy giant. Other elves rushed forward, wielding staves and a few stone-headed spears.
The shocking attack was too much for the disorganized Crusaders, and the mob turned as one and raced away. Under Natac’s shouted order, the giants, humans, and elves on their side halted almost immediately, then quickly started falling back toward the woods. Before they reached the trees, Belynda, Tamarwind, and the elven archers had already started away from the camp.
They moved in single file, along a trail. Though the sage-ambassador gasped for breath in her effort to keep up, she would allow no slowing of their pace. Deltan Columbine was directly before her, and Natac was right behind.
“Where’s Tamarwind?” she asked anxiously, when she couldn’t find the scout among the small portion of the column within her view.
“He’s picking out the path,” Natac said. “He is the captain of this company, and seems to have a good head for directions.”
“Tam… captain?” Belynda was nonplused. So many changes… and then her memory hardened again. Of course the world had changed-she herself had become a key instrument of that transformation just the night before.
And how many more nights would pass before she had her revenge?
Her dark thoughts propelled her, gave strength to her legs and wind to her lungs, as the small band fled through the long day. Finally, as night approached, the column veered to the side. Belynda saw the vague outlines of a bluff rising from the woods, and then she saw a darkness that was surely a cave mouth.
All of those realizations faded away as she saw a familiar figure step into view.
“Nistel!” she cried, rushing forward to sweep the stubby gnome into her arms. She felt a sharp pain in her throat, and then her eyes were spilling tears, her mouth making strange, sobbing noises. The gnome, too, was sniffling, and when finally they stepped apart he blew long and hard into his handkerchief.
“I thought you were slain,” she said softly. “I am so glad to see you.” She stroked his long white hair, fussed over the spectacular bruise that blackened one cheek and eye. “But how did you escape?”
“I, er-I went to get help for you, and ran into Gallupper first. We were going to look together when we, um, found Tamarwind here. He introduced me to Natac, and I told them what had happened. They went to look for you.” Blinker burst into tears again. “Oh, lady-I wanted to go too, but they were too fierce. Gallupper and I waited here for you.”
“I understand,” Belynda said gently, deeply touched by the gnome’s devotion. Such loyalty… surely it had lain within him for years. She had sensed it, had come to take it for granted. “There’s no doubt that you saved my life,” she added, feeling a rush of affection for her assistant of so many years. He was more than that, surely! Belynda laid a hand on Blinker’s shoulder and looked into the moist eyes. “My friend.”