Tanis fell with the creature, landing at the foot of the barricade.
Mertwig hurried to the half-elf, kneeling at his side. "Are you hurt?" The dwarf shook uncontrollably, his face ashen.
Tanis, breathless from the fall, could not answer at first. He pulled himself into a seated position, but his head whirled.
Mertwig shoved the half-elf's swimming head down between his knees. "Yeblidod makes people do this when they feel faint. Stay there, and breathe slowly. I'll fetch the healer," the dwarf ordered. But Tanis reached out for Mertwig's arm and held him there. After a few moments, Tanis was able to speak. He lifted his head. "I'm all right," he wheezed. "Help me up."
With the dwarf's assistance, Tanis got to his feet. Despite some wooziness, he was relieved to find that he was still in one piece. Which was more than could be said of the spider.
"I've never seen anything like it-" Mertwig began.
Tanis would not let him finish. Instead, the half-elf said, "If not for you…" He fought back another wave of dizziness, then continued. "I owe you my life, Mertwig. If there is anything I can ever do-" This time Mertwig cut him off, looking up with an insulted expression. "It is I who owed you a great debt for saving my Yebbie." But then he paused as the two heard the distant sound of people storming up the street. "But now that you mention it," Mertwig hurriedly amended, "there is something you can do. I beg of you, tell no one I was here. You never saw me. Never. What you did, you did alone. May I have your word?"
Tanis was bewildered. "But why…?"
"Please. I must have your word!" insisted the dwarf.
"Of course, but-"
"Then it's a solemn oath," said Mertwig. With that, he dashed over to the heavy sack he had dropped earlier, hoisted it over his shoulder, and then ran down a dark alley. He was already out of sight when Scowarr, Kishpa, and Brandella turned a corner, leading hundreds of elves in the half-elf's direction.
Scowarr and the others slowed and then stopped. The sight of Tanis standing alone near the fallen spider filled them all with a sense of awe.
Kishpa studied the half-elf.
"I feared to find you dead and the spiders rampaging through the village," said the mage, visibly relieved.
Brandella's reaction surprised everyone-especially Kishpa, it seemed. After stopping and taking in the scene, she suddenly dashed ahead of them all and wrapped her arms around the half-elf, hugging him close.
Eyebrows were raised over numerous pairs of almond- shaped eyes, but no one spoke except Kishpa, who, when he reached Tanis, said with considerable restraint, "We are grateful for what you have done for Ankatavaka." And then he gently but inexorably pulled Brandella away from the bloodstained half-elf.
'Tell us how you did it," Scowarr asked excitedly, mindless of Kishpa's jealousy and the embarrassment of the rest of the elves. Tanis, taken aback by Brandella's uninhibited approval, tried to minimize his actions, saying, "I could not have survived if not for the spell Kishpa cast over my sword. Beyond that, I simply had much luck."
"And much bravery," added Scowarr, proud of his friend.
Kishpa's eyes narrowed. He seemed to be battling several emotions-discomfiture with Brandella's reaction to Tanis, respect for his bravery, and perhaps jealousy over sharing the spotlight with a half-elf who increasingly appeared to be his rival. Tanis, watching, wondered which sentiment would emerge victorious.
He got his answer when the red-robed mage turned to face the crowd. "We have yet another victory to celebrate today," the wizard cried. "To the feast!"
21
It was a feast that would be remembered for years ever after.
The bonfires burned along the beach, and there was much rejoicing. Scowarr was pleased that Tanis had been right. Throughout late morning and early afternoon, the human was besieged by well-wishers who praised him for his heroism. He had not been forgotten, after all. He beamed.
Later, when Scowarr finally sought out Tanis, he found the half-elf sitting by himself on a rock ledge at the fringe of the merriment, watching the soothing monotony of the waves.
"Where have you been?" asked Little Shoulders.
"Sleeping. I'd almost forgotten what it was like."
Just then, Mertwig arrived with Yeblidod on his arm, the bandaged cut on her temple partially concealed by a wide-brimmed hat. She was pale but seemed much stronger. The shock of the attack apparently had worn off, and a good, long rest had done her wonders.
Canpho, the healer, rushed over to Yeblidod to see how she was feeling. He was obviously pleased with the answer because he smiled broadly and called out, "Friends, we have cheered many heroes today, but there is one here now who remains unsung. With her considerable healing skills, she helped to save many of you and your friends from certain death after the first day of battle. Herself nearly killed last night, she has come back to us whole and happy! I give you Yeblidod!"
Everyone cheered.
Mertwig's face was blissful. He looked at his wife with a gaze bordering on reverence. She returned his look with one of awkward embarrassment. "I don't know what to say," she whispered to her husband.
"Just say thank you," he replied sweetly.
She lowered her head humbly, unable to speak. Kishpa and Brandella applauded lustily along with everyone else.
Mertwig quieted the crowd and proclaimed, "Canpho, you and all of our friends know how much my wife and son mean to me. Like yourselves, I wanted to send my family away before the attack. But Yeblidod, like several of the women"-and Kishpa sent a barbed look in Brandella's direction-"would not go. She sent our boy away for his safety, but she stayed behind to add her healing powers to those of the wondrous Canpho."
One elf, obviously a bit worse for wear after imbibing a few tankards of victory ale, stood on the sand and burst into another hearty cheer-although it was uncertain whether he applauded Yeblidod, Canpho, the victory, or the ale. His compatriots, giggling, pulled him back down on the sand. Mertwig cast a patient look at the sky and waited for silence.
"For my own part, like all of you. I did what I could on the barricades," he said, the sun casting strange shadows on his craggy face. "With the danger we all faced, many of you, I'm sure, made promises to your loved ones that you would do this or do that for them if all went well with the battle. I, too, made such a promise."
Yeblidod looked surprised as her husband continued, "And before all of you, I now keep that vow."
Mertwig opened a small box and took from it a fragile, delicately detailed glass ball that shimmered like a huge diamond in the sunlight. This, before all of you, I give to my beloved Yeblidod."
The glass globe, which rested comfortably in Mertwig's hand, was mostly clear, with subtle traces of azure and moss. Mertwig used two hands to pass it gently to Yeblidod. 'The clearness of the glass is for the purity of my wife's love," he proclaimed, looking steadily at Yeblidod. "The strands of blue celebrate the sky that witnesses this moment. The green threads in the glass… well, they simply reminded me of the gentle green eyes of my own true love," he concluded.
The crowd heeved a collective sigh as Yeblidod, oblivious to two huge tears creeping down her cheek, stroked the glass bauble and held it up to the sun. Even Tanis was moved. There were thunderous applause and cheers from everyone-except Kishpa. The mage frowned with dismay and looked at Brandella. She, too, had a worried expression. It did not stop her, however, from clapping her hands in appreciation of the old dwarf's romantic gesture.