“You killed this elf?”
Faalo straightened. “Yes. My first kill in real combat.”
“A good clean blow.” Dagii examined the wounds on the body. “Well done.” He clapped Faalo on the shoulder, a moment of contact between two comrades in victory. Faalo seemed to stand even straighter, his ears high and proud. Dagii released him and came to Ekhaas.
“I saw what you did,” he said.
“Driving off seven elves or giving you a chance to join your soldiers?” she asked him.
“I was thinking of the elves.” His gray eyes narrowed. “The diversion was not so well done. I could have made it back on my own. You put yourself at risk.”
“At more of a risk than facing seven elves?” Amber eyes met gray.
“Chetiin shouldn’t have let you do that either.”
“Chetiin went to deal with the elf archers.” She dropped her eyes and looked him over. His armor had new dents and scratches. The links of mail protecting one side of his torso were broken and his stance favored that side, though no blood seeped through the padding beneath the armor. A thin bloody scratch traced the line of his jaw just beneath his helmet. She stepped around him, examined the stump of the arrow that still stuck out from the back of his shoulder, and snorted. “I’ll give you healing now.”
“There are warriors who need it more than me.”
“You are their leader. They look to you for command. You need to be healthy.” She pushed him over to one of the remaining campfires. “Take off your armor so I can get the arrowhead out.”
His face flushed. “Not in front of the troops!”
“Why? I’m a duur’kala. I’m offering you healing.”
The muscles of Dagii’s jaw tightened and his mouth pressed into a thin line. He reached up-a little awkwardly because of his side and his shoulder-and pulled off his helmet. The shadow-gray hair that had come early to him fell lank and sweaty. Ekhaas helped him remove his mail coat and the padding beneath. Ekhaas started to peel away the light linen shirt he wore beside his orange-red skin but Dagii caught her hand. “Leave it on,” he said with a little embarrassment in his voice.
“It will be ruined.”
“I have others.”
She nodded. Dagii sat down on an abandoned pack and she went around behind him. Slowed by his armor, the arrow hadn’t penetrated deep, but it had dragged bits of padding and linen with it into the wound. Ekhaas tore the hole in the shirt a little wider, then took a firm hold of the broken shaft and pulled. Crusted blood broke and fresh blood seeped out. Dagii grunted softly, but she could feel the tension in the broad muscles beneath her fingers. A leather flask had also been abandoned by the fire. She opened it, sniffed and tasted the contents, then sluiced water over the wound until it was clean. Then she pressed one hand over the hole and sang a healing song.
Dagii drew a short breath as the magic worked on him. Ekhaas could feel a little of the song as well, vibrant and energizing. She shifted the song, sending it deep into his flesh, and reached around him with her other hand to touch the place where an elf scimitar had broken his armor. He flinched slightly at the second touch, then relaxed into it.
Maybe she allowed herself to sing slightly longer than was absolutely necessary.
The clearing of a throat made both her and Dagii jump a little bit. Keraal and the two lhurusk stood a discreet distance away, carefully looking anywhere but directly at them. Ekhaas ended her song and stepped back. Dagii rose and the three waiting hobgoblins came forward as if they had only just seen the two of them standing there. All three were smiling, even the lhurusk that Dagii had struck. “A triumph, Dagii!” he said.
“You fought well, Uukam-and you, Biiri.” He nodded to both lhurusk, then to Keraal. “And you, Keraal. Ta muut.”
Keraal didn’t bend his head. “Ekhaas duur’kala turned the tide,” he said. “Her song started them running. But a triumph?” His ears lowered and he shook his head. “I wouldn’t call it that.”
Biiri and Uukam looked ready to protest but Dagii raised a hand to them. “I agree with Keraal. How many warriors did we lose?”
“About half,” said Biiri. “Twenty or so. It could have been worse.”
“Yes,” said Dagii, “but it could have been better. I count ten dead elves.”
“Five more fled at the end,” said Keraal. “Ekhaas forced seven away.”
“Four archers lie dead in the dark. Plus three who tried to ambush us.” Chetiin came strolling past Ekhaas.
The reaction from Keraal, Uukam, and Biiri was immediate. They grabbed for their weapons and dropped into defensive crouches, their ears back and their teeth bared. “Shaarat’khesh!” snarled Uukam.
“Easy!” Dagii said. “He’s a friend. He’s-”
“I’m Maanin,” said Chetiin smoothly. “I’m with Dagii to redeem the honor of the Silent Clans.” He crossed his arms and waited. Slowly the three warriors lowered their weapons, though Keraal was the last to do so. His ears twitched and he looked to Dagii and Ekhaas, then nodded.
“Maanin,” he said. He looked back to Dagii. “One of the Silent Blades instead of one of the Silent Wolves?”
“Do you want to argue with four more elves dead?” Ekhaas asked him.
Keraal’s eyes narrowed but he bent his neck in the slightest of nods.
“Maanin’s place here is not the issue,” Dagii said. “Ten elves dead here, four and three dead below the hill, twelve fled in fear or defeat.” He put his hands on his hips and looked around at all of them. “Twenty-nine Valaes Tairn sent against forty Darguuls. If not for Ekhaas’s song, I think that more than half our number would be dead right now. Don’t claim a victory here-claim a lesson learned.”
The others had no response.
Dagii nodded. “Uukam, Biiri, give the warriors a short time to celebrate, then order them back to discipline. The camp needs to be restored and sentries set again. It’s possible the elves may try their luck again. Keraal, pick out those who fought worst in the battle-they’re to collect the dead and bury them in the morning.”
Keraal’s ears flicked. “Those who fought worst are already among the dead,” he said with the ghost of a smile.
Dagii returned the smile, then jerked his head dismissing all three. When they had gone, he looked down at Chetiin. “Maanin?”
The goblin seated himself on the pack by the fire. “You don’t want to be seen with Haruuc’s assassin, do you? Trying to defend my innocence to all your warriors would only raise more questions. Better that I be someone else for a while.”
“You could have stayed in hiding,” said Ekhaas. “Keraal knows something isn’t right.”
“Hiding isn’t always an advantage. Tell Keraal the truth later. When there are fewer things to concern him-and you.” Chetiin glanced up at them. “I followed the fleeing elves a short way. I doubt that they’ll return tonight, but the odd thing is that they had no horses.”
Ekhaas narrowed her eyes. “You told me that not all Valaes Tairn fight from horseback.”
“They don’t,” said Dagii, “but all of them use horses for transportation. If they didn’t ride, their camp must be close.” His smile became grim. “We can scout them out.”
“Marrow can track them by scent,” Chetiin said.
Dagii nodded. “Let me find some light armor. Something that won’t give us away.” He looked at Ekhaas. “You’ll come?”
“Try to stop me.”
“You should find some light armor and a less rattling weapon for Keraal and bring him too,” said Chetiin.
Dagii’s ears rose at the suggestion. So did Ekhaas’s.
“He’s already suspicious of you,” she said.
“Suspicions are like gardens-left untended, they grow wild.” The goblin’s thin lips pressed together for a moment. “But in this case, I like the idea of an extra sword at my side. The Valaes Tairn are cunning.”
“I’ll find Keraal,” said Dagii.
Keraal, outfitted in leather with a sword at his side, reacted to Marrow with surprise at first, then gave her a deep, respectful nod. The worg growled something to Chetiin, who smiled.