"We're halfway between Heartspring and the settlement, too far from either to be seen," Iryl said, her voice low and panicked. "A perfect spot for an ambush. Why? Who would do this? We've nothing of value!"
"Except blankets," Camilla muttered.
Gair glanced over his shoulder to make sure Camilla was all right. She was extricating herself from the drift he had pushed her into and was now crouched in the narrow path they'd been making, edging her head up and looking to the south.
The elf returned his concentration to his spell and felt a tingling warmth in his fingertips, though his exposed skin was cherry-red from the cold. Directing the warmth away from him, his senses grew even more acute. He smelled the faint scent of pine, carried from the distant row of evergreens, smelled rotting wood where a bush had died and the snow was decaying the dead branches, smelled the snow, which had a clean, almost mystical scent. And he smelled wolves, mixed with the scent of men, the scent of the latter being more prominent. Men were wearing the skin of wolves for warmth, he decided. Indeed, there were seven to the north. To the south? He directed the warmth away and behind him, where he heard the shush of steel as Camilla drew her sword, then more whispers of steel as her two knights followed suit. Next he heard a fluttering noise. Camilla released her woolen cloak so it would not hamper her.
I can direct you out of here, the elder Graymist said. Alone, you would have a chance to escape. The barbarians would concentrate on the knights.
"Out of the question," Gair hissed.
Save yourself
The elf blocked out his father's insistent urgings, not bothering to shut the door, since the effort to do so might disrupt his other enchantment. His senses continued flowing farther to the south, where he discovered more men, wearing the skins of wolves and beavers. His acute hearing picked up their hushed conversation, but it was of a language he could not comprehend. The group was about thirty feet from the trail, well hidden behind snowdrifts and crawling closer. From the west, one large figure was approaching.
"Camilla," Gair whispered. "There are six to the south, seven to the north and one coming from the west."
"How… how do you know that?"
"Magic."
Camilla growled softly in her throat. "Badly outnumbered," the knight said, "and they've got us pinned down."
"Maybe we can crawl back to the settlement," Iryl suggested. "It's not dignified, but-"
"We stay put. They'll have to come closer if they want us," Camilla said. "Everyone stay alert."
"Unless they intend to freeze us out," one of the knights whispered.
The wind continued to chase the snow across their path, blowing stronger now. Gair squinted and cupped a hand over his eyes to keep the snow from getting in them. He noticed a white mound moving a little closer, and he dropped his hand to his belt, tugging free a knife. His other hand reached for the pommel of his long sword. His fingers were so painfully cold. Still, he kept his concentration on the spell so he could follow the barbarians' movements.
"What do you want?" Gair called out to them. "We've no coins with us!"
"The elves!" a strong voice from the north called. "The knights can go on their way."
Listen to me, Son. I can find you a path out of here.
Gair gritted his teeth.
"What is this all about?" Gair challenged. "We've done nothing to you!"
"You defy the gods!" This a softer voice from the south. "You and all in your settlement, all of you must die!" A spear followed the words.
"I can see them!" Iryl chirped. "By the blessed memory of Habbakuk, they're Que-Nal!"
Gair swung his gaze to the south. There were six barbarians, standing on a stretch of hard-packed snow, white and gray wolfskins and dark brown beaver furs covering their tall forms. The one in the lead carried a shield made of deerskin. There were symbols painted on it similar to those the elf had seen on the trees near the burial ground.
The shield-bearer spoke. "Silver knights! Our fight is not with you."
"Then leave us be!" Camilla called out.
"We will fight you if we have to," the shield-bearer continued, "unless you surrender the elves from the settlement, and unless you promise to leave the cursed settlement forever. We offer you life."
Son, there is still a chance I can direct you out of here! Listen to me!
To the north, Gair heard the sounds of more snow crunching, watched seven wolf-clad forms rise from behind a drift. Thirteen Que-Nal altogether, plus whoever the large figure was, were advancing from the west. The barbarians readied spears.
Listen to me!
The elf closed his eyes, tilted his head until his chin touched the snow. He released the enchantment he'd been holding and focused on another, and on the snow beneath him, reaching out with his thoughts to the north to sense the snow beneath the seven warriors' feet.
"Peace," Gair whispered. "Peace, warriors. I have peace in my heart. Find the peace in your hearts, too." It was a mystic spell similar to the one he'd used on the boars. He sensed their rapid pulses and tried to slow them, chattering comforting words as a mother would to calm an upset child. He directed all of his energy into trying to convince the men to be calm and to drop their spears. "There is no reason to threaten us," he murmured. "We do not threaten you. Find peace inside your hearts."
The elf discerned that four of the seven relaxed. Their fingers quivered, and they dropped their spears. Their breathing slowed. "Peace," they murmured, almost in unison.
Their fellows snapped at them and shouted that sorcery was at work. Gair continued to concentrate, and the quartet remained at ease, did nothing to regain their weapons. "Peace," the elf repeated. The word was echoed by the four barbarians. "Friends."
There were other words swirling amid the blowing snow-unintelligible words from the barbarians to the south, who were moving closer, words of concern and disbelief from Iryl Songbrook, orders from Camilla. There was a crunch of snow as the Solamnic knights stood to meet the challenge.
Listen to reason, Gair. Save yourself. It is not yet your time to die.
Gair used the last of his mental strength to reach out to the other three barbarians to the north. "We are no threat," he repeated emphatically. "Let me be your ally, not your enemy."
"No threat," two finally parroted. They dropped their spears. "Allies."
Iryl gasped. "Camilla, Gair's spellbound… ."
"No!" bellowed the last of the Que-Nal warriors. Gair touched the man's mind and was instantly repulsed. His will was strong, and he was angry. That ire was a shield that kept the elf's soothing words at bay. The barbarian cursed to his companions, who continued to stand docilely. Then the barbarian bolted toward Gair.
The elf struggled to get to his feet, but his coat tangled in his legs and cost him precious seconds. Behind him, the knights advanced to the south to meet the charge of the six approaching barbarians.
"Take the woman knight first!" one of them roared.
"I don't want to kill you," Camilla hissed through clenched teeth. To Iryl, she said, "Keep yourself down and watch for more."
Gair managed to make it to his feet just as the angry Que-Nal warrior was upon him. The elf held his sword parallel in front of him, using it to fend off the barbarian's attack. The Que-Nal was young, perhaps only fourteen or fifteen. The scattering of blood-soaked beads in his hair clacked together as he dropped to a crouch, thrusting up with his spear.
"They don't sink into the snow!" Gair reported, studying the odd, wide boots his attacker wore. It distributed the youth's weight and kept him on the surface. The elf easily parried each jab, while at the same time, he kept a corner of his mind focused on the six submissive warriors to the north. He needed to keep them calm so they would not join the fray.