The Reign Of Istar (15 page)

The elf licked his lips and went on. “The sword was named the Sword of Change. We wanted
to fulfill my cousin's dearest dream, whatever the gods would grant, so we gave the sword
the power to do just that. It will grant its user one wish. It is not all-powerful, but
the gods of magic will grant the user what he asks for if it is within reason.” He
grimaced at a thought. “I've been guilty of worrying more about the sword than my cousin's
life, but the sword could do much harm in the wrong hands. The Kingpriest no doubt could find a use for it to build his power. He could root out traitors, gain victory
in battle, grant himself many more years of life. Now it's ...” He lifted his hands, then
let them fall, his shoulders sagging.

The goblin quietly digested this. The idea that a sword was capable of so much power was
almost too ridiculous to believe, but the practical aspects of having a sword like that
were not lost on him at all. A parade of wishes flowed through his head. Food, riches,
women, physical might, rulership, immortality - he would ask for any of these if the sword
were his - or if it became his, one day. It began to seep into his mind that perhaps the
sword wasn't totally out of his grasp. It certainly couldn't hurt to find out if the elf
knew anything more that would be useful in obtaining the sword. The goblin would have to
prepare himself for the journey, though it meant abandoning the elf, the minotaur, and -

“Wow,” said the kender.

The elf spun around and nearly fell again. The goblin jumped in surprise. Eyes full of
wonder, the kender was sitting on the hillside over the cave mouth, beside a few small
saplings only thirty feet away. The goblin had never seen him.

“A sword that can do all that,” said the kender in awe. “And you cast magic, too? I can't
believe it. That's incredible. Are you going to capture the sword? Can we see it if you
do? What's it look like? My mother and father told me all about magic, and they said it
was the best thing. I'd love to see a magic sword. Where is it? Can you find it?”

The elf slowly swallowed, appearing confused and unsure. He glanced from the goblin to the
kender. “If I knew where the men who took it were, I might have a chance to get it back,”
the elf said. “If my cousin is ... if he is dead, then I should see that the sword stays
out of Istarian hands. I could not sleep, knowing they had it and could use it.”

“Great!” shouted the kender, leaping to his feet. “Can we go with you? He and I are great
hunters” - he pointed to the goblin - “and we can track and set traps and do all kinds of
stuff. And the minotaur can carry things. He's strong! We won't get in the way, I promise.
We'll be good! Are you going to cast spells to get the sword back? I can't wait!”

Both the elf and the goblin stared at the kender in astonishment. The goblin looked at the elf. The elf looked back at the minotaur, who was
now sitting under a tree, taking a nap.

“Well...” said the elf.

“Then let's get going!” shouted the kender. “I'll grab my stuff!” HeScooted down the slope
and ran into the cave, past the camouflage branches.

The elf and goblin stared at each other. Each seemed to be about to ask a question.
Neither did.

The elf cleared his throat. “I really should recover that sword. The Istarians will use it
against us and against everyone not of their faith, and we will suffer for it. Making that
sword was foolishness. Letting it go to the likes of them is worse.”

The goblin shrugged and glanced at the minotaur. “You know, that fine by me, you get
sword. Fine that we go for walk. But maybe big one not like to take walk with us,” he said
in a very low voice, nodding in the minotaur's direction. “Hard to tell with big one.”

The elf thought. “Maybe I can do something about that,” he said. “I don't like doing this,
but ... could you find that white book you said you found? I think I have a spell there
that might...” He let his voice trail off.

The goblin made a show of looking up into the trees, then motioned for the elf to follow
him into the cave.

Everything was working out so perfectly that the goblin had trouble believing it. The
possibility that he would soon have the sword in his hands made it hard to think. He'd
have to calm down and use his head. There was too much at stake to blow this. And he'd
have to start thinking about the wish he would make the moment his hand closed on the
sword's hilt. There were so many things he had always wanted, and now ...

There was no sound in the forest but the rustling of dry leaves and the cold wind in the
bare branches. Beneath the tree where it rested, the minotaur leaned back, eyes almost
closed, perfectly still except for the gentle rise and fall of its barrel-sized chest. One
of its broad, cupped ears flicked away a horsefly, then curled back like the other toward
the cave mouth.

*****

They traveled east under a dark sky for the rest of the day. Behind them were the woods
that the kender had known all his life. The kender was quite excited about the trip and
talked incessantly, though he looked back now and then, too, and was sometimes silent.
Nervously eyeing the placid minotaur, the goblin marched along quickly to keep up with
everyone else. The elf's spell of charming did indeed seem to have tamed the huge beast,
though the goblin was careful never to annoy it. There was no sense in pressing one's
luck. Once the elf felt certain of the minotaur's obedience and that it understood the
widely used trade tongue, the elf paid little attention to the beast and merely had it
carry their heavier supplies. These included a few bags the elf had dropped when the
humans had captured him. The elf fussed over these for several minutes before assuring
himself that they were safe and unharmed.

The Istarian free rangers had left a remarkably clear trail behind them. The goblin spat
on the ground as the kender traced it back with ease. In the old days, the goblin had
heard, no living thing could find the path a ranger took. Obviously, that had been a VERY
long time ago.

They bedded down that night, too exhausted to talk. The kender took first watch in the
evening, unable to sleep from excitement. He talked to himself a lot, however, which kept
the elf and goblin awake until the elf relieved the kender and forced him to get some
sleep himself.

On the afternoon of the second day, the foot trail of the rangers merged with that of a
larger party of humans with horses and wagons. The signs of a camp on the edge of the
forest were fairly fresh, abandoned not more than a day ago. A bonfire had been built in a
broad clearing;

the large ash pile was still smoking slightly.

There was a grave, too, with an elf's battered helmet pounded into the soil above it. The
elf rested his hand on the soil for a few moments, then stood, said nothing. The goblin
noticed, though, that the elf's eyes seemed unusually red thereafter. The goblin shrugged;
vengeance would make the wizard fight all the harder. And it meant one less elf in the
world.

“We've got to move more carefully,” said the kender, scuffing his bare feet through some
flattened tall grass. “If they rest in the evenings, we could catch them as early as
tomorrow morning. But they could catch us, too. We killed three of their scouts, but they might not miss them right away. It looks like they have
about twenty men, probably in armor. They might have slaves, too. Those footprints right
there are barefoot. The slaves probably stay in the wagons when the Istarians are
traveling. Looks like children, maybe a woman, too.”

“Where are they heading?” the elf asked, shading his eyes to look into the distance. The
sky was overcast, but the cold sun managed to peek through irregular breaks in the clouds.

“East, probably back to Istar. It looks like a regular patrol, border checkers. They must
all want to get back home. They used to come into the woods when I was small, but not so
much lately. We should stay low and near trees whenever possible.” The kender turned to
look up at the elf. “Say, what spells are you going to use when we find the humans,
anyway?”

The elf looked down with a faint smile. “This was all your idea. I thought you knew.”

“No, really,” said the kender. “You're a wizard. You should know about stuff like this.
Are you planning to throw a blast of fire at them? Are you going to blow them up just like
that? Can I watch if I'm quiet?”

The goblin, who had turned to continue the trek, stopped to hear the elf's response. The
same thought about their tactics had been going through his mind, too, but he had planned
to ask about it this evening when they made camp. Would the elf do all the work for them?

The elf's lips pressed tightly together. His face was now less puffy, but it was an
off-green color, the bruises and cuts fading away slowly. “We'll see,” he said. “I have a
few things with me that might help. I'll need to think it out, but we should be able to
put on quite a show. I doubt that the patrol will ever forget it.”

The kender nodded with excitement, the goblin with satisfaction. The minotaur wandered on
ahead to kick at some rocks.

The kender's guesswork on the location of the Istarians proved to be reasonably accurate.
By late evening, even the goblin could tell that they were not far behind the humans. The
oddly assorted companions elected to camp for the night, forgoing a fire to prevent their
being spotted. They planned to catch the humans on the following night. The elf guessed it would be their last chance to do so before the humans entered territory that
was more heavily defended.

That evening, before the light in the sky was gone, the elf carefully outlined the plan he
had developed for assaulting the Istarian camp. He brought out the things that the order
had gifted him with before he had left with the Sword of Change, and he went over their
uses, point by point. It would be difficult to take on the Istarian force, especially
since the four of them were far outnumbered. But the elf pointed out that they had the
weight of magic and surprise. If a kender and a goblin could kill three rangers, they
certainly had a chance against the rest.

The kender was beside himself with excitement at the plans; the minotaur seemed
indifferent and uninterested. The goblin listened carefully to the explanation and fought
to control his mounting tension. He mentally thanked himself for not having burned the
wizard's books and for the silver tongue it had taken to open up the elf's foolish trust.
This elf was truly dangerous. It seemed he could do everything.

And it was that very thought that brought back a tale the goblin had heard, and his blood
ran cold with fear. Nonetheless, he asked the question with earnest innocence.

He cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. “Hear talk from men of Istar, back
when, that priests of Istar hear you think when you not talk.” The goblin tapped the side
of his head with a red finger. “Maybe they do this to you or us, find us out?”

“I doubt that they have a priest with them, but it's possible,” the elf replied, unhappy
with the thought. “I've heard about the priests' mind-reading, too. Only the more
important priests can do that, but ... let's hope for the best.”

The goblin grinned. “Eh, hope for best, yes. Maybe you can do this listen-to-thoughts
trick also, eh? You hear their thoughts so we know what they think?”

“No, I'm afraid not. There were a few spells I was never able to learn, and the
mind-reading spell was one of them. I couldn't learn to cast a fireball spell, either, but
I think I've taken care of that. I've always wanted to throw a fireball, but what I've got
is better.”