The kender wolfed down chunks of quith-pa, a rich elven bread, and bites of a winesap apple. “This little fellow may be a great help to us,” she said confidentially to Merith. “Send a message to Lord Ambrodel informing him of what we’ve learned.”
Merith saluted. “Yes, Captain.” His expression turned grim as he added, “You realize what this means, don’t you? If the slavers are on the other side of the mountain, then they are operating within sight of the city.”
He turned on one heel and strode away to send the dispatch to Lord Ambrodel. Verhanna watched him for a moment, then pulled on her gauntlets and said to Rufus, “Can you ride pillion?”
The kender hastily lowered a water bottle from his lips, dribbling sweet spring water down his sunbrowned cheeks. “Ride a what?” he asked suspiciously.
Not pausing to explain, Verhanna swung onto her black horse and grabbed the kender by the hood attached to the back of his deerhide tunic. Yelping, Rufus felt himself lifted into the air and settled on the short leather tail of her saddle.
“That’s a pillion,” she said. “Now hold on!”
2 — The Raid
The kender led Verhanna’s troops across the mountains to a bluff overlooking the River of Hope, which formed Qualinost’s western boundary. The towers and bridges of the city rose up to the northeast not three miles away. The sun was setting behind the mountains at the warriors’ backs. Its light washed the capital, and the arched bridges glowed like golden tiaras. Nestled in the light green of spring leaves, thousands of windows reflected the crimson sun. Brightest of all, the Tower of the Sun mirrored the fiery glow with a vigor that nearly burned Verhanna’s eyes.
Verhanna gazed over the city her father had founded, and a deep sense of peace filled her. Her home was beautiful; the thought that dealers in elven and human misery operated within sight of Qualinost’s beauty sent a wave of resolute anger washing over her.
Rufus broke her reverie. “Captain,” he whispered, “I smell smoke.”
Verhanna strained until she caught a faint tang of wood smoke on the gentle breeze. It was coming from below, from the base of the bluff. “Is there a way down there?” she queried.
“Not on horseback. The path’s too narrow,” Rufus replied.
Quietly Verhanna ordered her troops to dismount. The horses were tethered among the rocks, and a group of five warriors was set to watch them. The remaining fifteen followed Verhanna to the path. She, in turn, followed Rufus Wrinklecap.
It was obvious that others had been using this path. Sand from the riverbank had been spread over the rocky ground, no doubt to soften footfalls. Now the sand served the guards as they crept down the path two abreast. They were careful to keep their shields from banging against anything. The smell of wood smoke grew stronger.
The base of the bluff was some thirty yards from the river’s edge. Scrub pines dotted the landscape, and halfway out from the cliff, there was nothing but sand deposited by the river during spring floods. Verhanna caught Rufus by the shoulder and stopped him. The warriors crouched silently behind their captain, shielded from the camp by the small trees.
Voices drifted to them—voices and sounds of movement.
“Can’t see how many there are,” Verhanna said in a tense whisper.
“I can find out,” Rufus said confidently, and before she could stop him, he had eased out from under her hand and started forward.
“No! Come back!” the captain hissed.
It was too late. With the fearlessness, some might say foolishness, of his race, the kender scrambled forward a few paces, stood, and dusted the sand from his knees. Then, whistling a cheery air, he marched into the unseen slavers’ camp.
Merith crawled to his captain. “The little thief will give us away,” he murmured.
“I don’t think so,” she replied. “By the gods, he’s a brave little mite.”
Moments later, rough laughter filled the air. Rufus’s treble voice, saying something unintelligible, followed, then more laughter. To Verhanna’s surprise, the kender came rolling through the scrub pines, knees tucked under his chin. He made a graceful flip onto his feet and flung out his arms. There was more laughter, and a spattering of applause. Verhanna understood; the kender was playing the fool, doing acrobatic tricks to amuse the slavers.
Rufus scuffed his feet on the sand and dove headfirst into a somersault. From her hiding place, Verhanna could just make out what he’d marked in the dirt. A one and a zero. There were ten slavers in the camp.
“Good fellow,” she whispered fiercely. “We’ll rush them. Spread out along the riverbank. I don’t want any of them jumping in the water and swimming away.” Burdened by armor, her guards wouldn’t be able to pursue the slavers in the river.
Swords whisked out of scabbards. Verhanna stood, silently thrusting her blade in the air. The last rays of daylight fell across her face, highlighting its mix of human and elven features. Almond-shaped elven eyes, rather broad human cheeks, and a sharp Silvanesti chin proclaimed the captain’s ancestry. Her braid of light brown hair hung forward across her chest, and she flicked it behind her. She nodded curtly to her warriors. The guards swept forward.
As Verhanna hurried through the screen of scrawny trees, she took in the slavers’ camp in a quick glance. At the foot of the cliff stood several huts made of beach stone chinked with moss. They blended in so well with their surroundings that from a distance no one would have recognized them as dwellings. Two small campfires burned on the open ground in front of the huts. The slavers stood in a ragged group between the fires. Rufus, his red topknot dripping perspiration and his blizzard of freckles lost on his flushed face, was standing on his hands before them.
The astonished slavers shouted when they saw the guards crashing toward them. A few reached for weapons, but most elected to flee. Verhanna pounded across the sand, straight at the nearest armed slaver. He appeared to be a Kagonesti, with dark braided hair and red triangles painted on his cheeks. In his hands he held a short spear with a wicked barbed head. Verhanna fended off the spear point with her shield and hacked at the shaft with her sword, lopping off the spearhead. The Kagonesti cursed, flung the wooden shaft at her, and turned to run. She was on him in a heartbeat, her long legs far swifter than his. The captain lowered her sword and slashed the fleeing slaver on the back of his leg. He fell, clutching his wounded limb. Verhanna hopped over him and kept going.
The slavers fell back, driven in toward the cliff base by the swords of the guards. Some chose to fight the Qualinesti, and these died in a brief, bloody skirmish. The ragged band was poorly armed and outnumbered, and soon they were on their knees, crying out for quarter.
“Down on your bellies!” Verhanna shouted. “Put your hands out flat on the ground.”
She heard a warning shout from her left and turned in time to see one of the slavers sprinting for the river. He had too much of a head start for any of the guards to catch him, but he hadn’t reckoned on Rufus Wrinklecap. The kender whipped out a sling and quickly loosed a pellet. With a thunk, the stone hit the back of the slaver’s head, and the escaping human fell and lay still. Rufus trotted over to him, and his hands began moving through the fellow’s clothing.
The fight was over. The slavers were searched and bound hand and foot. Of the ten in the camp, four were human men, four were Kagonesti, and two were half-humans. Merith remarked on the fact that the three who died fighting were all Kagonesti.
“They’re not inclined to submit,” Verhanna replied grudgingly. “Have those huts searched, Merith.”
Rufus came sauntering up, swinging his sling jauntily. “Pretty good fight, eh, Captain?” he said cheerfully.
“More a pigeon shoot than a fight, thanks to you.”
The kender beamed. Verhanna dug into her belt pouch and found a gold piece. Her father’s graven image stared up from the coin. She tossed it to Rufus.