"Goldmoon will help you. Let her help you. Come with me."
"Goldmoon…" The elf's sword arm shook almost imperceptibly. "I fear not even Goldmoon could forgive me, Jasper. I-"
"There he is!" One of the soldiers had spotted Gair, and Jasper and was pointing frantically in the air. "The elf! Tell Goldmoon he's on the Silver Stair! Way up there!"
The elf's expression instantly hardened, and he raised the sword to Jasper's throat. The dwarf backed up a step.
Goldmoon had gathered most of the settlers around her, was calming them and telling them to stay together. She watched a dozen soldiers and some of her followers head toward the Silver Stair. Then she spotted more soldiers lining up across the eastern side of the settlement. There were nearly a dozen more Solamnic knights whom Camilla had not taken with her. Fully in their armor now, they were receiving orders from a lieutenant whose name Goldmoon could not recall.
"What's going on?" This from one of the Thorbardin dwarves. "We heard screams."
"From down the trail," one of the fishermen explained. "Maybe them renegade Que-Nal again."
"No." It was Iryl. "I spoke to Skydancer. He said there would be no more trouble. He would keep Shadowwalker in line."
The fisherman scratched his head. "Well, if it ain't the barbarians, who is it?"
"Whisperers." Orvago had emerged from the building site, his clawed fingers wrapped around the ivory pommel of the broadsword. A ridge of hair stood up from the top of his head and ran down his back, disappearing into his tunic. He growled softly, a trail of spittle finding its way over his bottom lip and landing on the bald head of a man who stood in front of him. "Sorry," he added softly.
The bald man growled back and wiped at his head. He glared at Goldmoon and opened his mouth as if to say something, but his words were drowned out by high-pitched shouts coming from the southern edge of the settlement.
Goldmoon threaded her way through the gathering and saw an ancient Que-Nal standing on a crate. The light from the dwarves' campfire showed his face was so deeply lined it looked like the rough bark on a tree. Feathers were stuck, seemingly haphazardly, in his hair, and beads dangled from a wild mane of grayblack braids, clacking as he shook his head. He wasn't wearing much, despite the cold, only a tunic smeared with what Goldmoon suspected was blood, plus furry boots, the tops of which were ringed with bird skulls. With surprising agility for one so old, he leapt off the crate and made a piercing yipping sound. It was echoed by many voices.
More Que-Nal sprang up from behind crates and drifts of snow, from around the edges of tents that were on the fringes of the settlement. They were young and muscular, their faces smeared with blood and ashes, beads clacking. Their eyes were wild and darted to the ancient shaman, who was raising a spear in his hand.
"Kill the Que-Shu!" Shadowwalker cried. "Kill all of them!"
The Que-Nal surged forward, spears and knives in their hands and cries of death on their lips.
Iryl stood stunned for only a moment, shaking her head in disbelief and whispering, "Skydancer promised."
Orvago roused her into action as he brushed by, knocking her into the Solace twins as he thundered toward the shaman. The elf's eyes still held a touch of incredulity as she reached to her belt and pulled free a long knife, then rushed to join the fray.
Goldmoon was shouting for people to protect their children and for those who were able and armed to defend the settlement. Some who carried no weapons made do with makeshift ones, grabbing torches to use as clubs and pulling tent poles loose.
The soldiers on the eastern edge of the settlement were charging the Que-Nal, not bothering to wait for orders. Swords and spears clashed, and in less than a moment there were dead men on each side.
The Solamnic knights spread out, the lieutenant ordering them to keep the barbarians from reaching the settlers. The knights made a valiant effort, but there were too many renegade Que-Nal. Most of the young barbarians met the knights head-on, Shadowwalker screaming to strike where the plates of armor joined. Some skirted past and directly into the path of Orvago, Iryl, and the others.
Goldmoon hesitated only a second as she surveyed the scene. There were soldiers and barbarians falling, and barbarians falling to the knights, who presented more formidable foes in their heavy armor. The gnoll had dropped three barbarians in as many swings, his magical broad sword fairly whistling through the air. Iryl was at his side, crouched and slashing with her long knife, blood dripping from the blade.
At the Silver Stair, the soldiers were pointing into the air and shouting, but there was so much noise from the battle with the Que-Nal that Goldmoon couldn't make out what they were saying.
Another soldier fell, a spear lodged in his leg, and Goldmoon ran toward the man. She nearly trampled Redstone, who was hurling spikes from the building site at a trio of young barbarians.
"Can you use a staff?" the healer shouted to her.
The dwarf nodded. "Any weapon." Her voice gruff and breathy. "I can use anything."
Goldmoon thrust her treasured staff into the woman's thick hands. "Use this well. My other talents are needed."
The dwarf looked at her quizzically for a moment as the healer continued to dash toward the fallen soldier, then her stubby legs churned over the snow-packed ground and toward the trio, a Thorbardin battle cry spewing from her lips.
Redstone cracked the staff into the head of the lead barbarian, happily surprised that he fell with the first blow. She brought the other end around to smack into the second barbarian's stomach, felling him, too. The third looked at her through narrowed eyes and jammed his spear forward, but the squat dwarf dropped to a crouch, and as the spear passed over her head, she jammed the tip of the staff forward, nearly impaling him. He crumpled, and she drove the staff against his head to make sure he wouldn't be getting back up.
"Well indeed," she said, as she pounded toward a rank of soldiers and barbarians. "I better take good care o' this for Goldmoon. Wish Jasper could see me now. Wonder where he is?"
Jasper watched some of the settlers leave the base of the Silver Stair, running toward the far end of the settlement. He could hear the sounds of battle. The soldiers seemed torn between staying and pursuing the elf or joining their comrades. Within a heartbeat, some of them were running away, leaving only six behind. The six began to climb up the stair.
"What are you doin', Gair?" The dwarf's broad face was etched with anger.
"Doing?"
"The fight." The dwarf cocked his head toward the ruckus.
"Some friends of mine. Living ones. They don't care much for Goldmoon and the settlement and are bent on destroying both."
"You'll get them killed, Gair. There's knights down there."
The elf shook his head. "Most of the knights are in Heartspring. If some of my new friends down there die, I'll bring them back… their spirits at least."
Jasper sputtered as he climbed up a dozen more steps, the elf following, urging him higher with the tip of his sword. The dwarf made out the tiny forms of the soldiers guardedly making their way up from far below.
"You owe Goldmoon. You owe her everything Gair! She took you in, taught you mysticism, saved your life on more'n one account."
"You saved my life, too, Jasper." For the briefest moment, the elf's face lost some of its harshness, and he lowered the sword an inch. "On the trail to the settlement, and then…" The elf shook his head, the meanness returning to his visage. "Because you saved my life, I will let you live forever-at my side. Goldmoon, too."
"No." Jasper shook his head and raised his hammer in front of him as the elf forced him upward a few more steps. "Let Goldmoon be, Gair. I'll give you my life if you only…" The dwarf's eyes grew wide as Gair's free hand reached to the step.