Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 The Solitary Arrow by Mack the Knife

   Part Twenty

   The battle had commenced.

   Powerful spells were loosed by the combat wizards on both sides,
throwing both magical attacks and defenses.  Great shimmering shields
interposed themselves between ranks of troops and incoming arrow volleys.
Powerful explosions rent into massed ranks and shredded the palisade wall
in places by turns.  Through the ensuing smoking roil ran screaming
footmen, their spears glinting in the newborn firelight.

   Harlen ducked back as a fireball screamed skyward from below the command
platform.  It trailed blue and white sparks behind it as it accelerated
into the air overhead.  It reached its zenith and exploded, a great
orange-yellow ball of roiling flame.  A half a heartbeat later an
impressive thud reached the ground.

   Scattered folk all over the field of battle glanced up, wondering what
this might be.  Soon, it was obvious that it had no effect on one side or
the other, and eyes turned back to the urgent task of killing one's
opponents.

   The bowmen upon the left palisade were a touch confused, however.  Their
opposites on the traitor side did not charge forward to bring themselves
into range to fire upon the wall.  They paused a short moment before their
captain ordered them to turn and fire at the main mass of Isolationist
troops.

   It was a few moments later that Cendiolor noted the lack of movement to
his right and cast his sight that way.  "What are those idiots waiting
for?" He yelled to his lieutenant.

   Just then, suddenly, there were three great muffled whumps from the
ranks of the unmoving archers.  Three white columns of fire lanced into the
heavens over the battle.  As eyes tracked the movement upward, again
wondering what was afoot, the three columns stopped and were replaced by a
trio of suns.

   Two seconds later, Cendiolor yelled at his lieutenant.  "Find out what
those fools are doing!" There was no answer.  He turned to see arrows
raining down on his massed troops from their right.  His lieutenant was
pierced several times and lay dying upon the earth.

   Screaming a curse, he wheeled his horse about as the second volley of
arrow fire fell amid the massed formation and around the wall-like force
barriers the wizards had constructed.

   "Turn about!" He screamed to his captains.  "We are flanked!"

   The elven forces were quick-witted compared to human troops, but they
still wheeled slowly.  Cendiolor winced as he watched the foremost ranks of
the right-side company detach themselves from the main body and charge into
the flank of his main mass.  Swords appeared in the hands of the archers,
who rightly would only carry hyandai, typically.  As the foremost of these
attackers smashed into the side of the formation, he noted a disparity of
size that caused his heart to quail.

   The rightmost company was not elven!  Light gray cloaks were being
ripped aside now, and revealed humans in green tabards and silver mail. 
Rangers!  How had the Windy Islanders sent so many so far?

   The commands of the leaders of the rangers could now be heard; they were
speaking Westron, not the dialect of Syrisian spoken on the Windy Isles. 
Cendiolor's forces were now turned about and facing their attackers, but
the humans had already decimated them badly, cutting a huge notch into
their ranks.  Arrows still rained down upon them from the walls, as well.

   He prepared to call down the archers from the left flank, turning to see
their situation.  Just as the massed cavalry of the village smashed into
them at some phenomenal speed.  The cavalrymen were not even bothering to
attack; they simply plowed through the ranks on magically accelerated
mounts.  Elven archers were crushed, trampled, and flung about like rag
dolls.

   The attack was beginning to route.  Some of the rearmost were already
fleeing into the woods.  He turned to a trio of wizards nearby, who were
busily shielding the command section from incoming arrows.

   "Give me fog!" He screamed.  "Give me a LOT of fog!"

   The leader of the wizards nodded and they changed their incantation. 
Soon, roiling up from the ground came a dense fog, spreading quickly.

   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

   Harlen watched with pride as the huntsmen of Morrovale turned upon the
attackers.  The nobles with stunned, gaping mouths, and Hyandai with
obvious and open glee.  Even Harlen was startled when she whooped loudly as
the first ranks of the huntsmen plowed into the flank of the elven forces,
tearing aside their cloaks of concealment.

   "Release the cavalry!" She screamed to her aides.  "Take down their
archers." Two aides took off south at a sprint.

   Turning she yelled at the captain of the left wall.  "Get your spearmen
to the gate, sally forth and assist the humans!" The captain nodded, and
relayed the yell, spearmen began leaping from the wall and running toward
the gates.

   "What, what is happening?" Lord Ircandann asked, his eyes wide.  "Where
did those rangers come from?"

   Harlen smiled broadly.  "My lands." He said.  "They are my colleagues,
other huntsmen.  From the look of it, damn near all of them." He appraised
the number.  "Perhaps even some others from my homelands."

   "We sent not for aid from the human lands." Lady Melewen said, dismayed.
"How did they know to come?"

   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

   Tammer looked over the field as the charge commenced.  "Come on boy,
give us a sign." He muttered.

   As the spells started flying and elves started dying, a fireball shot up
from behind the fortifications of the village.  It screamed to height, then
detonated.

   "Good enough!" Tammer hissed, then turned toward the apprentices manning
the mortars.  "Fire those damn things!"

   The report from the launch of the flares was deafening.  A moment later,
the dark field was lit brightly by the flying alchemical flares.  "Take
down their wizards!" Tammer yelled, lifting his bow and firing.  The sound
of arrows flying overhead was like the whistling winds.

   The first volley hardly was noticed in the confusion, but upon the
second, the elven army began to wheel about, realizing they had foes upon
their own field.

   "First and second rank.  Engage!" Tammer screamed.  The first two rows
of huntsmen dropped their bows and drew sword, charging forward.

   The shock alone counted for much.  As the stolen cloaks were cast aside,
the elves were dismayed, then overborne by the massive human warriors,
wielding heavy-bladed broadswords.

   For sixty years, Tammer had kept the arsenal and the uniforms in his
cellar.  He also kept the oath.

   All those whom the original forty had trained, and their apprentice's
apprentices had taken the oath, though they thought it just idle speech, a
relic of bygone days.

   `To defend the lands of Morrovale and uphold the ways of the Windirii.'
Most simply thought it was just an homage to the elven philosophy on game
management and conservation.  They were reminded of that oath, and a few
shirked it, most did not.

   Perhaps more for Harlen, one of their own, than for the elves, they had
come.  They marched into this foreign land and they were doing battle for
people they did not know.  This was the legacy that the elves had wrought
so many years before.  Morrovale enjoyed prosperity in part from that
legacy, and now Morrovale was repaying the debt.

   He pulled his own gray cloak off, and those about him were doing the
same.  They had acquired these fine garments from that wayward company of
traitorous elves.  It had been sheer luck that Tammer and the huntsmen had
stumbled upon the slumbering encampment in broad daylight.  The elves had
been resting up for this night's sortie.

   There had not even been many deaths.  They had so surprised the elves in
their forest fastness that they were taken alive, for the most part.  He
had to leave fifty men behind to guard them.  This was much debated, and
thought was given to putting the traitors to the sword and moving on with
all forces.

   The three elder rangers had vetoed that very idea.  They could hardly be
upholding the ways of the Windiri and then commit such a heinous crime.

   He looked on with pride as his daughter ducked under an elven spearman's
thrust and skewered the traitorous scum with her own sword.  He had tried
to talk her out of coming, but once she knew that Harlen and Hyandai were
in dire straights, she not only insisted, but half her company had come
with them as well.  The females that Wendy was grouped with were quickly
earning the title of the `Three Banshees,' as they screamed like hellions
as they attacked and sent men to their deaths.

   "Let's do this, I'm weary of the battle already." Tammer yelled out. 
Bows were dropped and swords drawn by the remaining ranks of the huntsmen.
"Charge!" Tammer screamed.

   The second hundred humans threw their weight behind the first and the
elven lines began to waver dangerously.

   Then the fog descended.

   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

   Harlen watched the fog billow from the earth.  "What sorcery is this?"
He asked.

   Hyandai looked down at the wizards below.  "Put a stop to this!" She
yelled, waving a hand at the fog.

   "We will try Warleader." One of the wizards replied, already he was
invisible in the roiling gray mist.

   Somehow, hearing men die invisibly was even more horrible than when it
was witnessed.  Screams were heard out in the distance, but how far?  And
who had it been, friend or foe?  Was the victor of that skirmish now
running onward with murderous intent?

   Shapes moved in the fog and emerged.  Things were now utterly confused,
which had been the intent, Harlen was sure.  He watched as a figure in a
gray cloak emerged from the fog and was cut down by an arrow from Hyandai's
bow.

   "They are among us, but it is no longer an organized assault." She said.
"Go find Tammer, get the rangers into the village."

   Harlen nodded and ran for the gates.  He drew forth his broadsword and
was glad that he had.  A cloaked shape rushed out of the fog with a long
spear aimed at Harlen's chest.  He parried the point and turned as the elf
tried to cancel his momentum.  Harlen aimed a blow and felt it land upon
the elven footman's back, the shock of the blow shot up his arm, and he
heard the sound of ribs being rent asunder.

   Harlen did not even wait to be certain of his opponent's death, he
turned and continued running, hearing the screams of elves, men, and the
deadly whistle of arrows loosed blindly.

   At the gate was carnage; bodies of both Loyalist and Isolationist elves
littered the ground here.  He stepped through the treacherous footing and
started hearing words of Westron.  Aiming for that he moved forward
cautiously.  Three men ran up to him.  He recognized them, fellow huntsmen.

   "Harlen!" One shouted.  "We've gotten separated."

   Harlen pointed toward the open gate, though it was obscured in the
mists. "Go into the village, find elves not cloaked, aid them!"

   They all nodded and headed toward the village gates.

   "You lot, turn about, find that damn leader!" A voice screamed, one
Harlen recalled screaming at him many times in his apprenticeship.

   That's Tammer, Harlen thought, else I'm a wood nymph.

   Harlen moved forward, and saw his old mentor materialize out of the fog,
commanding a small knot of huntsmen.  "Tammer!" Harlen yelled.  "The duke
will have your balls for breakfast when he hears of this!"

   Tammer turned about.  "No he won't." He smiled back at Harlen.  "There's
a clause in the agreement, long forgotten, I'm sure, but it is there.  `The
Agreement' was the charter under which the huntsmen operated.  It was oft
referred to but seldom actually looked upon.  Tammer somehow looked
younger, or so Harlen perceived.  He knew the old man to be at least
eighty, perhaps even ninety.  Yet, now he looked no older than fifty or so
summers.

   "Hyandai says your swords would serve better in this devil's murk inside
the walls." Harlen said, watching for cloaked shapes.

   Tammer nodded.  "You lot!" He yelled.  "Find others and come to the
wall, go into the village!"

   Trevir emerged from the mist.  "I thought I heard you two bickering like
old ladies." He said, smiling.  He had his bow in hand and an arrow
knocked.

   Another flare fired into the air, illuminating the fog eerily as it
sparked in the sky to sun-brightness.

   "You brought the apprentices?" Harlen asked, as a handful of youths and
one young girl emerged behind Trevir, from the dense fog.

   Tammer chuckled.  "Trevir wouldn't accept no.  And when he came, the
others came, too." He replied.  "They're huntsmen, Harlen, don't expect
them to bow out because they're young."

   "I took the oath, same as you." Trevir said indignantly.  "And my bow
will kill just as readily, though my arm isn't quite so fat.  Master
Harlen."

   This brought a round of chuckles from the other apprentices and caused
Harlen to smile, as well.

   "To the wall, you brats." Tammer yelled.  "We've elven women to
liberate!"

   The solitary female apprentice looked at him with scathing reproach. 
"And lads, too, I'm sure, Nadia." Tammer added, waving his hand toward the
wall as she smiled and sprinted after the boys.  He smiled after them. 
"Really, Harlen, did you think these lot would abandon their mentors to a
battle?" Tammer looked at him knowingly.  "Would you have stayed when you
were that age?"

   Harlen shook his head.  "No, I wouldn't have." He agreed.  "I would have
snuck behind you even if ordered to stay."

   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

   Ceriandel heard the battle start and chafed at being placed so far from
the action.  He paced back and forth as the sky lit up with flares.  "What
happens there?" He asked rhetorically.

   The footmen simply shrugged in response.

   A young elf, one of Hyandai's aides, came running by them.

   "What passes, aide?" Ceriandel asked.

   The aide stopped for a brief moment, panting.  "The rangers have
arrived, we're saved!" He said excitedly.  "I must not tarry, the cavalry
is ordered to attack their archers." The youth took off at a sprint again.

   "Rangers?" Ceriandel asked no one in particular.  "What rangers?"

   One of the footmen said.  "There were rumors that a company of rangers
was coming to help.  They must have arrived."

   The blade dancer looked at him oddly.  "That was just a rumor, soldier."
He said.  "Hyandai started it to trick the enemy into sparing more of their
number scouting in all directions."

   A human ran past them, being pursued by three cloaked elves.  It was not
Harlen.  The blade dancer spun into action, cutting the leading elf down in
an instant, then spinning his blade through the spear shafts of the other
two.  They both fled into the fog that followed them.  The human turned,
realizing he was no longer pursued.

   He was wearing the green tabard of a ranger.

   "Rumor, ehladrim?" Asked one of the footmen.  "A damn convincing one, in
my eyes."

   "Ranger, whence came you?" Ceriandel asked in Syrisian.

   The man walked back toward them, smiling broadly.  "I don't speak that
tongue, blade dancer." He said, in Westron.  "But I thank you.  Those
bastards ganged up on me."

   The fog now engulfed them and there were screams and sounds of the fight
all about.

   "Westron rangers?" Ceriandel asked.

   The man looked into the fog.  "If you would have it so, sure." He said.
"Tammer seems to think so, crazy old coot."

   Ceriandel shrugged.  "Why not?" He asked.  "I would rather have Westron
rangers than traitors in Embalis."

   The man nodded.  "That's the spirit, always look for the cloud behind
the silver lining." He said.  "If you'll excuse me, I need to find my
squad." The man tromped off into the fog.

   Ceriandel blinked.  "Enough of this." He said.  "Let us move, there are
enemy in the village, and we are going to kill a few." The spearmen
murmured agreement and picked up their weapons.

   Just then a dozen cloaked figures ran out of the fog toward them, spears
leveled.

   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

   As Harlen disappeared into the fog, Hyandai turned about and ran for the
throne chamber.  The Ehladrel needed to be protected.

   As she entered the chamber, she saw Cendiolor strike down Lord
Ircandann. "Now, he would not tell me.  Perhaps you will, bitch." He yelled
at Lady Melewen, who also had just entered the room.  "Where is the
Ehladrel?"

   Lady Melewen drew her sword.  "You traitorous bastard son of a orc." She
said, her eyes flashing with rage.  She advanced toward the former captain.

   Cendiolor chuckled.  "A warrior clan you may be of, Melewen." He said.
"But you are no match for me in combat." He lifted his warsword and faced
her.  "Shall we commence?"

   They joined combat with one another, and despite his braggadocio, she
was not nearly as incompetent as he had thought.  Hyandai used the moment
to slip behind one of the curtains inside the columns and grab up the
Ehladrel.  She slung it onto her back and emerged from the alcove.

   Cendiolor had wounded the lady, and was approaching her with a murderous
glint in his silvern eyes.  "Well, I shall search at leisure after
dispatching you." He said.  "I warned you that you were not match, stupid
cur."

   "Excuse me for interrupting, Captain Cendiolor." Hyandai said, drawing
out the Ehladrel.  "Was this what you sought?"

   His eyes widened as she pulled forth the weapon.  Hyandai charged toward
him, the blade humming in the misty air as she whirled it in rapid, deadly
arcs.

   The Captain fled the chamber, and ran into the fog.  She let him go,
kneeling beside Ircandann.  He still lived, but barely.  "Lady Melewen,
please attend your husband." Hyandai said, needlessly, as Melewen was
already running forward as best she could on a wounded leg.

   Hyandai rose from the fallen lord and scanned the fog.  An aide ran up
out of the mist.  "Warleader!" He exclaimed.  "The Lady Melewen's aide,
Rannalath, has betrayed us, he has slain Centhan and stolen the Ehladrel
from your chamber." Her voice slowed as she spoke, eyeing the weapon in
Hyandai's hands.  "Lady Hyandai?" She asked.

   "He stole only a copy." Hyandai said.  "And showed his treason for it."
She turned toward the gate.  A small group of huntsmen turned rangers
emerged from the fog, forming from blurry outlines.

   "Lady Hyandai." One said.  "You are well, I see." She vaguely recognized
him from Morrovale.

   "Please protect the lord and lady." Hyandai said tersely, then ran into
the fog, headed for the front gate.

   The huntsmen shrugged at each other and murmured a moment.  Lady Melewen
lifted her eyes from her tending to her husband and regarded the massive
men.

   "Thank you." She said, her eyes grateful and her lips smiling.

   The huntsmen nodded.  "Happy to do it." Said the leader.

   The men spread out into a loose circle around the two elves as she went
back to tending Ircandann.  It was not for long moments that she realized
the irony of the moment.

   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

   Tammer and Harlen moved through the fog quickly, seeking for enemies and
allies alike.  The apprentices had disappeared, but could be heard from
time to time shouting at one another.  Harlen heard a whistle past his ear,
and turned to see an elven spearman, wearing the gray robes of the
Isolationists, take an arrow to his shoulder.  He dropped his spear as
Tammer ran the elf through with his sword.

   Harlen looked back over his shoulder to see a grinning Trevir stringing
another arrow into his bow.  "You could have hit me, you twerp." Harlen
said.

   "But I didn't, I'll aim better next time." Trevir said, giggling and
disappearing back into the roiling mist.  He would excuse Trevir's tongue
this night, Harlen decided, he was a soldier for now, and should be given
all the latitude a man who risks life and limb deserved.

   The two of them walked down the path and finally came upon the throne
chamber, and upon the surreal scene of humans guarding elven nobility.

   Tammer shook his head.  "This night proves to grow odder by the moment."
He said.

   Harlen walked over to the huntsmen and asked about Hyandai.

   "Miss Hyandai went that direction." One huntsman said, pointing toward
the stair into the Turaorn.

   Harlen nodded.  "Tammer, you may want to stay here and watch over the
lord and lady." He said.

   Tammer looked at him.  "Oh, just leave me here to languish." He groused.
"But I relish not a climb of many stairs, so go."

   The huntsman took off for the stair at a sprint.

   Another flare rocketed skyward and flashed into blinding brilliance
overhead.  Harlen noted how dedicated the firers must be to hold their
place to keep those things in the sky.

   He began the climb into the Turaorn.

   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

   The fog was a bane, Ceriandel decided, turning to find himself alone. 
He had lost his little contingent of footmen somehow.  Blade dancers often
lost perception of their surroundings as they fought, but never their foes.
He looked about and saw, emerging from the mists, seven enemy footmen, and
one blade dancer.

   His heart began to race.  Blade dancers often got into discussions of
relative skill, rarely could they boast having actually crossed blades with
another of their own kind.  While regretting the necessity of the battle to
come, he relished the opportunity.

   The footmen would present a problem, though.  He leveled his blade and
adopted the starting stance for over a dozen possible maneuvers.  The other
blade dancer did the same, but the spearmen spread out, preparing to attack
Ceriandel from many sides.

   "You fear to fight me alone?" Ceriandel taunted.  "Traitor AND coward,
then?"

   "As opposed to traitor AND fool." Replied the other blade dancer.

   An ear splitting screech came from behind the enemy blade dancer and
suddenly two of the seven footmen fell, arrows in their backs.  Then
another fell, a long spear through his very spine, pinning him to the
ground.

   As the spearmen turned to face this new threat three shapes came forth
from the obscuring mist, swords flashing and hair flying.  Two fell
instantly to the skilled hands of the woman warriors.  The third attempted
to back toward his remaining ally, but the smallest of the women brought
her left hand around, with a hyandai in it, slitting the elf's neck
cleanly.

   The Isolationist ehledrim looked about watching the last footman flee
into the fog.  "Will you now take the advantage of numbers?" He taunted.

   Ceriandel looked at the three women, watching them as they panted and
watched the two blade dancers face off.  "No." He said.  "For I still have
my honor."

   The other blade dancer gave a quick head bow and began his attack. 
Ceriandel responded with his own maneuver.

   The human women watched the deadly and beautiful engagement of the two
elves.  Shining blades flashed under the harsh, sterile glow of the flare.
The blades never stopped their maneuvers, coming around in split heartbeats
and meeting again and again.  Wendy quickly lost count of the number of
blows launched and parried.

   Back and forth the two fought, moving about one another.  One moment
nearly touching as they dodged a blow, another they were at almost three
paces apart, only to close again with another resounding clash of steel on
steel.

   Maegan leaned on her sword.  "I put five down on the one in gray." She
said, causing Ceriandel to raise an eyebrow of concern.

   Tessa laughed.  "I'll cover that, the other one is much better looking."
She commented.  This caused Ceriandel to blush.

   Wendy looked at the two of them.  "I will shoot the gray one if he
wins." She said simply, knocking an arrow into her bow.  "Then again, it
was not I who promised a fair fight."

   Something in the tone of her voice made the Isolationist blade dancer
quail.  Ceriandel pressed the attack.  "What vexes you, blade dancer?"
Ceriandel asked.  "Do mere humans worry you?  Should your victory not be
assured if my allies are but human?"

   Powerful blow after powerful blow landed upon the gray-cloaked blade
dancer's weapon, forcing it aside again and again as he fought to regain
the initiative.  He had quit bantering with Ceriandel.

   An arc of gleaming steel flowed around the two almost like spheres made
up of ribbons of shining silver.  Ceriandel was pushing the other blade
dancer back, though, and soon he was out of room.  Ceriandel chuckled. 
"You are losing, friend." He said.  "Surrender and I will spare you."

   The other blade dancer flicked his eyes at the human women, and
especially at the one with the bow at the ready.  Resignation filled his
eyes.  Though whether it meant resigned to surrender or resigned to die,
Ceriandel did not yet know.

   Bested by another blade singer, and disgraced by allowing himself to be
shown up by mere humans.  He took the only option his pride would allow. 
As Ceriandel aimed another curving blow for his neck, he dropped his
defenses.

   All three human women flinched as his head fell to the ground.  Even
Ceriandel felt himself robbed of a victory, in part.  He knelt beside this
fallen blade dancer.  Twice fallen, in Ceriandel's opinion.

   "May the spirits forgive you." Ceriandel murmured.

   He stood up and turned toward the women.  "My thanks." He said, noting
that the largest of them stood right before him.

   It was Tessa.  His eyes barely had time to register that she was really
quite attractive, in a massive way.  Then she grabbed him about the waist
and, bending him backwards, kissed him thoroughly and deeply.

   A moment, when she stood back upright, lifting him easily with her, she
said, "Yes, it's that good." over her shoulder to the other women. 
Releasing the blade singer to regain his feet under him.

   Ceriandel just blinked while Maegan walked up to him and put a hand on
his shoulder.  "You're not plaited or married are you?" She asked,
conversationally.

   He shook his head negatively, just now starting to reanimate his body.

   "Good." Maegan said, her eyes flashing.  "Then I'll try the other traits
you elves seem to possess later." With that, she kissed him gently on the
forehead.

   He looked over toward the smaller woman, fearing she too would desire to
extract some unspoken reward from him.  She simply smiled at him.

   "You're cute." She said, and turned toward where the other two were
heading northward.

   He slowly followed the trio, not wanting to be alone.  Admittedly, he
did not mind the view from behind the three women, as well.  "Perhaps
Hyandai knows something I do not." He murmured to himself.

   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

   The cadre protecting Lord Ircandann and Lady Melewen had grown to
twenty-five men now, and a dozen elves, loyal to the village.  The sounds
of fighting were now lessened, and it seemed that the sky was lightening in
the east.

   Also, the fog was breaking.  Strong winds were blowing now, from the
north, cold, but cleaning the air of the unwanted mists.  Tammer regarded
the area around him as his view extended by the second.

   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

   Harlen found Hyandai in her chamber, standing over the body of the
lord's aide, Centhan.  The fake Ehladrel was lying upon her cot.  She was
weeping and her shoulders sagged.

   "I cannot do it any more, Harlen." She said.  "The fight is over for
me."

   The huntsman put his hands on her shoulders.  "It's okay, beloved, I
think the worst of it is over."

   He picked up the false Hyandai and took the real one from her numb
fingers.  He slipped the two into the loose sheath that he had crafted
earlier.  Apparently, Hyandai had lost the tailored one he had more
recently made.

   Harlen put an arm about her slim waist and guided her from the room,
slipping the pouch over his shoulder.  The two of them watched as the fog
below was being driven before the wind.  The main bulk of the battle was
obviously over.  Down below, there were hundreds of bodies strewn about the
field outside the battered palisades and inside the village itself.

   Hyandai shook her head and walked over the catwalk to the command
chamber.  This would make the obvious place to organize the aftermath of
the fight.  As they came to the chamber door, Harlen saw the form of an elf
within, holding a hyandai.  It was Ranalath.  He looked at the two of them.

   "Wretched slut!" Ranalath screamed as he lunged toward them.  Harlen
drew his sword and pushed Hyandai out of the doorway.

   The hyandai cut Harlen's arm as the elf swung at him.  But the former
aide was already backing away, his eyes fearful.

   "That was foolish." Harlen said, advancing slowly.  "You only get one
shot, you know?"

   The elf aimed another attack at Harlen, but barely moved a single pace
as Harlen brought the heavy broadsword around and sliced him deeply across
the chest, caving the ribs in.  Ranalath was dead before he struck the
floor.

   Harlen turned about to find Hyandai and saw her.  She was being held
about the neck by Cendiolor, and a dagger was pressed to her neck.

   "Come closer, human, and your little whore dies." The former captain
said.

   Harlen's shoulders slumped.

   Cendiolor grinned broadly.  "You can save her, you know?" He said.  "I
see you have the Ehladrel on your shoulder there."

   Harlen looked at him.  "As if I should give it to you." He said.

   The dagger twitched and Hyandai squeaked in pain as blood flowed over
the blade.

   "Okay, okay!" Harlen exclaimed.  "You'll let her go?"

   "Of course." Cendiolor said.

   Harlen reached into the pouch and gripped the wooden Ehladrel.  He sat
it upon the table, where the glowing map overlay it with odd reflections.

   Cendiolor chuckled.  "Very good for a trained ape." He said.  Now move
around and toss your sword out the door and off the platform.

   Harlen moved about, Cendiolor echoing his movements opposite him,
keeping the large table between them.

   The sword bounced off the handrail then tumbled into space, falling.

   "You humans really are idiots." Cendiolor said.  Reaching for the
Ehladrel, and letting Hyandai's arm go.

   Hyandai moved like lightning, ducking under his arm and jumping away. 
Cendiolor chuckled and gripped the handle.  "Now you both die." He said,
lifting the weapon and swinging it at Hyandai.  It struck her chest.

   It shattered into dozens of pieces of painted hardwood.  The look of
shock upon Cendiolor's face would have been classically funny were it not
such a grim situation.  Even as it was, Harlen could not resist but to grin
slightly as he drew out the real Ehladrel and leaped up onto the table.

   The elven captain watched the enraged human approach with a certain
detached fascination.  He made a half-hearted grab for his warsword, but it
never cleared the scabbard.  Blood splattered the wall behind him and the
ceiling over where his head used to be as Harlen brought the Ehladrel
around in a lethal, tight curve that would have made any blade dancer
proud. The wall behind where Cendiolor had stood bore testament to the
force used to decapitate the traitorous captain.  A deep rent scored it for
two feet, piercing through the thick wooden planks to the outside air in
the center.

   Harlen landed upon the floor panting and cocking back the long blade for
another swipe at the dead elf.

   "Harlen, no." Hyandai said quietly.  "He is gone now.  May the spirits
correct his ways."

   It took a moment for Harlen to realize Hyandai was speaking.  He looked
up at Hyandai with hostile eyes, not for her, but for what he had been
forced to do.

   "How is it that elves, whom I have always fantasized about, can cause me
to be so violent?" Harlen asked.

   Hyandai smiled gently, pulling the Ehladrel from his grip.  "Because we
are people, just like humans are.  We are not perfect beings, Harlen,
though I think you humans wish us to be."

   Sitting upon the table, Harlen nodded.  "We do." He admitted.  "It's why
we call you angels.  We want badly for something out there not so base as
us."

   An aide came running into the room.  "Lady Hyandai." He said.  "The
traitors have left the village, we are victorious." His face was splattered
with blood as well, and he had several small wounds.

   Hyandai nodded.  "Go clean yourself and tend those wounds, Lennat." She
said.  "We are done with battle for now, let us restore order."

   The aide nodded and left the chamber.  Hyandai stroked Harlen's hair as
he looked down at the corpses of Cendiolor and Ranalath.

   A few minutes later, Tammer came in, winded but hale and hearty.  "Well
lad." He said, "It seems we've won."

   He sat next to Harlen on the edge of the table.  "We lost sixty two."
Tammer said.  "They'll be missed sorely."

   Hyandai's eyes began shedding tears.  "So many." She said.

   Tammer nodded.  "The elven folk are still counting and finding who is
whom." He said.  "It's confused by the fact that some of the traitors shed
their cloaks toward the end to escape, and even put a few on dead
villagers."

   Hyandai shook her head.  "We thank you, Tammer, for helping us." She
said quietly.  "There is no way we can repay you for what you have done."

   With a shrug, Tammer summed it up.  "We did it for you." He said.

   She looked up at him with wide green eyes.  "Me?" She said, her voice
cracking.  "Why me?"

   Tammer grinned foolishly.  "You made a lot of friends in Morrovale in
your short stay, Hyandai." Tammer said.  "You also had one hell of a
propagandist." He added.

   Trevir came running in, also grinning.  "Harlen, we did it!" He
exclaimed, running up to the knot of people.  "They said the bad guys are
running for the hills."

   Harlen tousled his hair.  "Yes, Trevir, good job." He said.  "Where are
the other apprentices?"

   "They're all over the place, helping clean up and stuff." Trevir said.
"I was told to seek you out and tell you to come down to the throne
chamber."

   A moment passed as Harlen looked at the lad's florid face.  There was
nothing for it, though; youth were excited by all novelty.  Trying to
dampen his high spirits after this fight would be pointless, and maybe
hurtful.

   "We will be down shortly." Harlen said.  "Go aid in the cleanup,
please."

   "Yes, Master Harlen." Trevir said, and ran back out.

   The three stood and departed the command chamber and found their way
down the many ramps and stairs to the base of the Turaorn.  Harlen looked
over the morning lit field.

   "By the One." He said quietly as he watched people carrying linen sacks
past him with bodies inside.  "It is bitterly won, is it not?" He asked
Tammer.

   "Most wars are, son." Tammer said, patting Harlen's shoulder.  Hyandai
put her arm around Harlen's waist and walked beside him to the pavilion
where the throne chamber lay.

   "Interesting part of elven warfare." Tammer said as they entered the
pavilion.  "If you're not slain outright, you can almost always count on a
quick recovery."

   Harlen nodded.  "That's better than we boast." He said.  "No walking
wounded, it is somewhat an improvement, I suppose."

   Lord Ircandann and Lady Melewen sat upon their thrones again.  The lord
sported fresh clothes.  They were both surrounded by a phalanx of elven
footmen and a dozen huntsmen, as well.

   Harlen looked at one of the huntsmen.  "Why are you still here?" He
asked.  "I am certain that you are free to stand down."

   The burly huntsman, named Chenitt, looked at him.  "The Warleader has
not released us." He said, looking at Hyandai.

   Hyandai smiled.  "You may stand down." She said happily.  "Your service
to Embalis has been a credit to yourselves, your land, and your race."

   The huntsmen bowed toward her then toward the seated nobles, then
withdrew to the edge of the chamber, where another large knot of troops
awaited.

   Ircandann rose from his seat.  "You have done well Warleader." He said.
"Are you ready for your duty to be lifted?"

   She smiled broadly.  "More than you know, Lord Ircandann." She replied
with a sigh.

   He touched her shoulder.  "Then it is done.  Lady Hyandai of Clan
Yavanhaur, you are hereby relieved of the duties of Warleader, and
permitted to take up your old profession and liberties." He said formally.

   Hyandai gave a low bow and regained her feet.  "I take my leave then,
lord, for I wish to find my family." She said.  "I have not seen my
brother, father, or sister since before the battle."

   The lord gave her a quick head bow and Hyandai turned about smartly and
walked away from the thrones.  Harlen gave a quick bow of his own and
chased after her to the nobles' smiles.

   She cornered a couple of the aides, and after explaining her demotion
back to normal citizen she asked about her family.  One of them pointed
toward the gates in the palisade.

   The couple walked across the once verdant lawn of the village, now
churned with dirt and blood and signs of combat.  They walked through the
gate and witnessed the carnage that had been wrought most there.  Over
three hundreds of the traitor army lay dead in the field just outside the
gates, where the hammer had smashed them against the anvil.  The archers
who had been on the right flank lay in disarray about that portion of the
field.

   Hyandai began to cry anew.  "The Spirits did not smile this day." She
said.  She looked over the wide patch of corpses and saw her family there,
among the corpses of the fallen.  They had a wagon from the village's
stables.

   As Harlen and Hyandai approached, they saw that they were picking the
human corpses out of the mass of dead.  Hyandai's father and brother were
loading the fallen and Loskenhaur sewing them into linen wrappings quickly
on the tailgate of the wagon.

   A look of concern crossed Hyandai's face.  "Did we learn nothing?" She
asked as she approached them, causing the three to look at her.  "We
separate out the humans from even our dead?"

   Her upset was quite evident and her color was deepening toward red.

   Hyandai's father smiled.  "But we do not." He said.  "We seek to give
ceremony to the humans along with our own dead, but not with these
traitors. They died as heroes of Embalis."

   Ceriandel smiled at her.  "You think we would dishonor them with being
burned in the same pyre as these vagabonds?" He asked.

   Hyandai blushed a deep crimson.  "I apologize." She said.  "I did not
think through my words."

   Loskenhaur, whom Harlen had yet to meet, smiled a lovely, bright smile.
"It matters little, sister.  Your concern for them does you credit." She
looked up at Harlen.  "You must be my sister's handsome betrothed." She
said.  Loskenhaur was beautiful in the typically elven way, which made her
rather too beautiful for Harlen's tastes, or too perfect.

   "Yes, and you are Loskenhaur." Harlen said.  "Tammer spoke much of you."

   She graced him with another smile of unsurpassed beauty.  "I heard he is
here, I shall have to find him and find out if his kissing talents have
lessened over the years." Loskenhaur said, playfully.

   For the next hour, Harlen and Hyandai helped load up the wagon with the
bodies of the fallen Rangers of Morrovale.  When they had finished,
Hyandai's father led the two back toward the gate.

   "You two go, get out of that wargear and be at rest." He said.  "You
have pressed yourself sorely, Hyandai.  Now you can relax."

   Ceriandel called over toward them.  "If you see Maegan or Tessa, tell
them where I live, hmm?" He said toward Hyandai.

   Hyandai gave him a shocked look, but with a wide smile.  "Of course."
She said.  "Should I tell them what you like girls to wear?"

   The blade dancer thought a moment.  "They can come nude if they like."
He said.  "I am not particular." This last earned him a sharp jab to the
ribs by Loskenhaur, who laughed at him.

   Climbing back up the tree toward her chamber Harlen spied Trevir coming
back down again.

   "What passes, boy?" Harlen asked.

   Trevir smiled brightly.  "I'm running messages for the lord and lady."
He said.  "Lady Melewen said I was cute!" He added excitedly.  "She's
almost as pretty as you, Miss Hyandai."

   They watched as Trevir disappeared around the spiraling stairs downward.
She then took Harlen's hand and led him upward.  They passed by her
chamber. "I thought . . .." Harlen said.

   "You wish to wear the grime of battle?" She said.  "Come with me." She
led him around the wide platform to another door into the building that
stood upon it.  They walked a long passage that seemed too deep, then he
realized they were inside the very trunk of the massive tree.

   Coming to a door, they halted, and Hyandai pushed it open, lighting a
candle upon the torch burning there already.  Harlen felt moisture on his
face.  They entered the room and Hyandai pushed the door shut.

   She spent a moment lighting more candles about the little room.  In the
center was a deep trough cut into the wood, and it was full of sparkling
clear water.

   "A bath, inside the tree?" Harlen asked.

   Hyandai giggled.  "Where else?" She said.  "Though I fear it is not
quite so warm as your bath."

   She unfastened the chainmail and let it fall to the floor with a loud
metallic sound.  As it fell from her, she grabbed Harlen's arm.

   "Oh, dear." She said.  "I had forgotten my own weakness."

   Harlen grabbed her by her waist and lowered her onto a long bench, also
shaped from the living wood.  He slowly and carefully helped her undress,
pulling her boots off and then her padded coat.  Soon, she was nude upon
the bench and leaning back against the wall.

   "I hope now, my appetite returns." Hyandai said.  "I can let Verus go
for now."

   Harlen nodded and helped her into the cool water.  She shivered for a
moment, then relaxed and sat upon submerged ledges under the surface.

   He began to take off his own chainmail, and Hyandai watched with
interest.  He noted the observation.

   "You watching for something in particular?" Harlen asked.

   She smiled.  "Oh, yes." She said.  "I wonder if humans are so debauched
as to be eager for love play after a battle."

   Harlen smiled as he took off the horse blanket he had been wearing, then
kicked off his boots.  Unclasping his belt he let his pants drop to the
floor.

   "Is that sufficient answer?" He asked.

   She smiled broadly.  "I was certainly hoping, for I know this elf was
more than ready to be loved." She said.

   Harlen slipped into the water and knelt before her as she sat upon the
seat.  "I have a feeling, anytime you are in the mood, I will be as well."
He said.

   She smiled.  "And that is just and proper." Hyandai said.  Her face
taking on a look of assumed haughtiness.

   She giggled at her own crude wit, and then moaned as Harlen kissed her
feverishly.  His hands clasped the back of her head, and entwined into her
long red hair.

   They held the kiss for a long moment, then Harlen pulled back.  "How
will this work, with you in such a frail state?" He asked.

   Hyandai smiled.  "You will simply have to do all the work." She said. 
"While I shout encouraging words."

   Harlen laughed at this and began kissing her again, upon the neck and
then down her chest, even into the water to kiss and suck her breasts.  As
he came up for air, Hyandai caught his head in her hands.

   "I think you will drown if you try anything more, beloved." She said. 
"Trust in me, I am ready for you."

   He now felt her slender hands moving down his back, pulling him toward
her.  He moved his knees up against the small ledge she was on and felt her
opening with the end of his organ.

   She kissed his chin, and tugged at his waist.  "Take me." She whispered
into his ear.

   Slowly, he pushed into her, and he found it surprisingly easy, given the
water of the bath.  He had expected it to wash away any slickness she might
have.  She smiled and held out her hand.  There was a clear liquid in it,
and smelled somewhat of lilacs.

   "What is that?" Harlen asked, sniffing the liquid.

   Hyandai smiled.  "Something that Wendy told me about." She replied. 
"Just enjoy its benefits."

   He pushed into her again and felt no resistance.  Hyandai moaned loudly
as he began giving her his energy now, gripping her hips and thrusting into
her in long powerful strokes.  Her small mouth moved over his chin and
neck, kissing and caressing him.

   She grunted as he thrust anew, pulling her to the edge of the little
shelf she sat upon, then lifting her from it, standing.  He used his
powerful arms to lift and drop her onto his thick shaft and she began to
cry out with each entry.

   Harlen felt her opening tighten around the base of his cock and knew she
was nearing her release.  With almost an angry expenditure of energy, he
began ramming her down onto his pole and lifting her up as quickly as he
could manage.  Her arms were clasped around his neck, bearing some small
part of her weight, and soon his left ear rang with her cries of pleasure,
and the sound of his name being called out in her release.

   His name being spoken in ecstasy gave him such a thrill he could not
resist climaxing at that moment.  Pushing her down one final time onto his
engorged cock.  He could feel his seed shooting forth into her and felt her
cunt clamp down on him as she used her waning strength to grind her hips a
little, helping him along.

   They slowly stopped moving, only pressing their lips to one another and
kissing slowly as their bodies cooled down quickly in the soothing water.
Harlen lowered her back to her submerged bench and knelt again before her.

   "I love you, Harlen of Morrovale." She whispered into his ear.  The
smile so broad on her face that he could actually hear it.

   He kissed her gently on the tip of her ear.  "And I love you, Hyandai of
Clan Yavanhaur." His own smile was very likely audible, he thought.

   She picked up a rag from a pile near the bath, and a bar of soap.  "Now,
perhaps we can do what we were supposed to be doing here." She said,
teasing him.

   "It was your idea." Harlen said, defending himself.  "You started it."

   "Of course I did." She taunted, beginning to scrub his chest.  "And now
we bathe." She tilted her head and regarded him.  "Is there a problem with
that, Ranger?"

   Harlen shook his head, snatching up a rag and lathering it up with the
sweet-smelling soap.  "Only if this soap removes your scent." He said.

   "It will not." Hyandai confirmed.  "I do not think I will be using any
soaps that would do so from now on."

   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

   Ceriandel smiled as he settled into the tub of warm water in his room.
They had spent hours clearing up the dead and he was now ready for a long
break.

   There was a loud knock upon his chamber door.  "Blade dancer?" A male
voice called from outside the door, a human voice.

   "Yes, ranger?" Ceriandel asked.

   "I have a note here from the leader of the rangers for you." The man
said.  "Something about a debt."

   "A what?" Ceriandel asked.  "Please bring it in and leave it on the
table inside the door."

   "Yes sir." The human said, and Ceriandel heard, beyond the thin
partition he was bathing behind the door open, then close.

   He started to relax again, sliding down in the water and enjoying
letting it soak into him, the warmth loosening sore muscles and tight knots
in his joints.

   It was almost like a hot hand was running over his shoulders, he
thought. Then realized his shoulders were not in the tub.  His eyes snapped
open with shock and he found himself staring up into the eyes of the human
woman, Maegan.  She was seated on the edge of the tub, before him, wearing
nothing but a robe.  Her thick red hair was matted with moisture to her
head.

   "Well." Ceriandel said.  "This is a pleasant surprise." He smiled at her
and she returned it.

   "It will be." She agreed, sliding her hand into the warm water and over
his leg.  She looked over his head.  "Will it not Tessa?"

   "Very much so." Tessa said from behind him, it was her strong hands
kneading his tensed muscles, causing them to turn to a liquid under her
powerful massaging motions.

   He tilted his head back to look at the blonde woman, a giant even among
her own people.  "Hello again, Tessa." He said and she leaned down and
kissed him, pressing her lips to his, upside down and sliding her soft
tongue into his mouth.  He could smell scented oil, perhaps lavender, in
her long hair as it shrouded their faces.

   There was a bit of a start as Maegan's hand moved over his swelling
organ, then gripped it gently.  She kissed his chest as she leaned down
over the tub.

   "I thought elves were smaller than men?" She said, kissing his nipple,
then playfully giving it a nip with her teeth.

   Tessa broke the kiss to look down at his growing cock.  "I suppose you
should not put much credence in rumors, hmm?" She said.

   Ceriandel moved slowly and stood up from the tub, water dripping off of
him.  Maegan pressed herself to his chest and kissed him while Tessa did
the same to his back, running her lips and tongue over his neck and ears.

   He ran his hands over the smooth skin of the redhead, and watched as she
moaned at the touch as he tickled her nipples.  He found her freckles
fascinating, and vowed to make sure he touched each one.

   Tessa was now kissing his shoulder and then biting it gently.  Each
touch of her teeth sent a thrill down his spine to make his cock pulse with
excitement.

   Finally, Maegan broke the kisses off and took Ceriandel's hand, and led
him to his bed.  She pushed him gently down upon the bed and stood back up.
Tessa came up beside her and looked down at the elven blade singer.

   "How best to extract our reward?" Tessa said quietly, regarding him with
a critical eye.

   Maegan untied her robe.  "You know me, direct and to the point." She
said.  The robe slid off her shoulders revealing a long, muscular body with
curving hips and round, soft breasts.  Her pink nipples were already erect
and pointed at him.

   Ceriandel moved forward and cupped the breasts in his slim hands,
squeezing them with surprising strength.  Maegan gasped as he sucked on one
nipple, flicking his tongue over it with amazing speed.

   She smiled down.  "I think I have found one elven talent I wish to
explore." She said, stroking his long hair.

   Tessa was upon her knees by the bed and leaned down between their
bodies, licking her way up his thigh.  Once she reached his stomach she
turned inward and engulfed his cock with her soft lips.  She took him down
to the very root of his organ, causing him to groan softly as she sucked
hard and pulled back up.  When only the head remained between her lips, she
flicked her tongue over it and felt his pole twitch with the sensation.

   He grunted after a long moment of this and Tessa felt one of his hands
on the back of her head.  She rolled her eyes up to see him now leaning to
the side and Maegan's legs to either side of his angular face as he looked
upward.  His tongue was moving like a blur over her clit.  Tessa knew now
what `elven talent' Maegan had been speaking of.

   She felt his organ twitch in her mouth and felt her mouth fill with
something warm and slick, and vaguely tasting of cinnamon.  She moaned as
she sucked it down, though, and found the taste anything but disagreeable.
Looking up at him, she saw him take a moment from pleasing Maegan to close
his eyes and concentrate.

   The organ, which had been growing flaccid in her hand, suddenly twitched
and started swelling into a full erection again.  "By the One, THAT is a
talent!" Tessa said, her voice full of awe.

   Maegan watched it, too, but then was obliged to close her eyes again as
he reapplied his flicking tongue to her clitoris.  The sensation throughout
her body was that of a tightly cocked crossbow, its string thrumming with
anticipation of being fired off.

   She felt another tongue upon her clit alongside his.  Tessa had
straddled him and was lying atop him as she joined him in lapping at her
cunt.  Tessa's hand moved down between herself and Ceriandel as Maegan
angled back and supported herself on her arms while Ceriandel held up her
waist.

   Grabbing up the elf's cock, Tessa pushed herself down upon it and felt
it slide into her smoothly.  She groaned as it entered her and loved the
feel of his smooth pelvis on her clitoris.

   Maegan soon climaxed as the two tongue flicked and lapped at her,
Ceriandel's quick one and Tessa's knowledgeable one.  She screamed out her
orgasm and her body writhed in Ceriandel's strong grip.  Finally she had
given up her last groans and moved up to sit upon the bed.

   Tessa sat upward and changed the angle of entry for Ceriandel's pole
into her body.  Moaning, she picked up the pace and began grinding herself
upon his organ.  She finally reached back and grabbed his knees, lying back
at a severe angle to do so.

   Maegan, not one to miss a cue, moved over Ceriandel and began to lap at
Tessa's opening herself, sliding her tongue over the clit and the elf's
shaft as it went into her.

   The orgasm that wracked Tessa was apparently shattering, as she nearly
fainted back, only stopping when Maegan grabbed her shoulders and sitting
her back upright.  The blonde smiled down at the blade dancer.

   "Wow." She said.  "How did you get it to bend?" She asked.

   He looked down at her.  "I did not." He said as she continued her slow
and steady motion.

   She grinned down at him.  "Then what was that?" She said as the
sensation hit her again, causing her body to twitch.

   He smiled enigmatically.  "Elven talent." He said.  "Just enjoy it." He
teased and did it again, then again, increasing the force of the `bend' and
pressing hard upon a very sensitive spot within her.  She gasped as she was
nearing another climax, and then did faint when it hit her, his `bend'
surging within her and hammering the spot that seemed to work so well with
this woman.

   Maegan looked at him with wide eyes.  "What did you do?" She asked as
she helped lower the unconscious girl to the bed, beside him.

   He kissed her neck.  "Elven talent." He said again and she felt
something stir inside her.  She looked down and saw that nothing was there,
not his hand, not his cock, nothing.  He kissed her, and something moved
into her, filling her up and then spreading her gently open, wider and
deeper.

   "One save me." She moaned as it forced its way past anything she had
known.  She fell onto the bed and then felt it moving out of her, then back
in.

   With a face of ultimate placidity, Ceriandel moved atop her and entered,
her.  It felt as if she were being mounted by a stallion.  She pushed up to
take him and felt his organ swell within her to massive proportions. 
Maegan had always liked large cocks, but this was beyond amazing, she was
in pure bliss as he thrust into her with enough force and depth to make her
exhale strongly with each push.

   Soon, she too cried out as she felt one last surge in his cock and felt
her womb fill with his seed.  Her orgasm arrived a moment later, locking
her arms and legs into place and causing her mind to completely shut down
with the power of the sensory overload.

   When the two girls came to, Ceriandel was sitting between them, stroking
their breasts, stomachs, and thighs with his fingertips, examining them and
exploring them.  They did not regain consciousness quickly but in small
steps.

   "What did you do to us?" Tessa said, smiling "Not that we are likely to
complain, whatever it was."

   Ceriandel smiled again, and kissed her brow.  "Let a man have his
secrets, hmm?" He said quietly, and gently.  "To know too much may ruin
it."

   She nodded.  "Okay." She said.  "I'm not likely to argue against that
kind of pleasure."

   Maegan rubbed her forehead.  "Did someone at least see the color of that
horse?" She asked, rubbing her head and stomach at the same time.  "I fear
I may foal in a few months."

   Tessa giggled.  "What are you talking about?" She asked.  "It wasn't
THAT big."

   Ceriandel smiled quietly and sat upon a small stool, sharpening his
ehladrel, and whistling as he dragged the whetstone over the steel-gray
metal of the blade.

   "Wasn't that big?" Maegan gasped.  "You're daft!"

   Tessa looked at her oddly.  "It wasn't." She said, defensively.  "It
bent in the middle, and wiggled about, but it was pretty normal sized."

   "Wiggled about!" Maegan laughed.  "Now who's talking like a mad woman?"

   They both stared at each other a second then at Ceriandel, turning in
unison to regard him.  "What did you do?" They asked, close enough together
to make it one question.

   The elf smiled slightly and both of them felt fingers moving up their
thighs, squeezing and stroking their soft flesh.

   Tessa gasped.  "Magic." She said, and looked down at herself.  Indeed
there was nothing there to see.  But just as there was nothing beheld,
there most definitely was something to be felt.

   An unseen appendage, remarkably tumescent slid into her, filling her
with one smooth motion.  Her eyes widened in surprise and pleasure.  She
parted her lips and looked over at Maegan, who was quite obviously enjoying
much the same sensation.

   The two giggled and turned toward one another as the phantom cocks moved
inside them, penetrating deeper and deeper into their stretched cunts. 
They began to kiss and stroke each other's breasts and nuzzle the other's
neck.

   Finally, they wound up facing opposite directions, their mouths and
tongues moving over one another's clitorises and folded lips.

   Ceriandel sat back, propping his shoulders against the wall and closed
his eyes.  Both women squealed as another pair of illusory organs entered
them.  The penetrating feeling started out rapier thin as they slid into
their tight anuses, then stretching slowly in girth, spreading them open
with utmost gentleness, but unstoppable inevitability.

   Tessa proceeded Maegan to climax, but not by very much.  By the time
hers was dying down, and the twitching in her groin slowed, the girl with
the intricate network of freckles was groaning out her own release,
grabbing Tessa's head and rubbing her pelvis over the blonde's willing
mouth wantonly.

   Then they were gone.  The non-existent cocks left, and disappeared into
the aether from which they were cast.  Maegan collapsed onto Tessa, panting
and feeling the slick perspiration they had both exuded.  Tessa turned her
head toward Ceriandel, smiling.

   "I see now why elves are so elusive." She murmured, her legs still
writhing involuntarily, clutching at Maegan's smooth thigh, and gently
rubbing her raw, tingling clit on the other woman's skin.  "More than a few
about and no one would ever get any work done."

   Ceriandel smiled.  "You enjoyed that then?" He asked.

   Maegan made some sort of unintelligible sound and Tessa giggled.  "Yes,
blade dancer, if you find Maegan short of words, then you have done
something well and thoroughly." She said.  "But, please, tell me, what were
you doing?"

   He smiled again.  "It is, as you say, an `elven talent'." Ceriandel
said. "All members of my bloodline have some form of it or another.  My
gift is to move things and be able to feel them at a distance, with my
mind."

   Tessa gave a half-lidded smile.  "And a fine gift the One has bestowed
upon you." She said.  "Or the Spirits, if they be the culprits." Maegan
vaguely nodded, as if to agree, she seemed to slowly be recovering.  Tessa
gently stroked Maegan's spine to comfort her friend as if wounded or ill.

   "You may have broken my friend, here." Tessa said playfully.  "She may
well never be quite the same.  I've never seen her so, well, so thoroughly
done in."

   Ceriandel nodded.  "I will be a bit gentler next time." He said,
standing and kneeling beside the prone women.  He stroked Maegan's hair and
the redhead turned to him, opening one eye half way.

   "No gentler." Maegan managed to murmur.  "Same." She added with great
effort.  Then her mouth formed into a smile, a tired, well-worn smile. 
"Harder." She sighed as she closed the eye again.

   Rising from his knees, Ceriandel turned and reclaimed his stool, again
sharpening his ehladrel, which had many small nicks and scrapes along the
razor-honed edge.

   Tessa said.  "Will you be here when we awake?"

   The elf considered this a moment.  "Of course." He said.  "This is my
room."

   Tessa opened her eyes halfway again.  "Oh, yeah." She murmured and then
closed them again.

   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

   "Master Tammer." Lady Melewen said.  "You look very worn, please allow
Ealina to show you to a guest chamber and rest a while."

   Tammer nodded, he was exhausted, truth be told.  He was not as young as
he had once been.  The pretty young maiden took his dry old hand and guided
him up a low flight of stairs into one of the lesser ornthalion of the
village.  There she folded back the linen upon the cot and drew the
curtains closed to cut out the morning light.

   "Rest well, ranger." She said quietly as he sat upon the bed and started
to remove his boots.

   The door shut and he started unclasping the straps that held the
chainmail around him.  "Gor, but I'm too old for this shit." Tammer grunted
as he let the armor slide off his shoulders and onto the bed.  The padded
suit beneath he untied slowly, his tired hands uncooperative.  "Dammit.  I
guess I'll just sleep in the damn thing." He said sourly and began to lay
down.

   There was a quiet rap upon the door of his chamber.

   "What?" He said crossly.

   The door opened and another elven woman was silhouetted in the doorway
by the morning sun.  "What is it, miss?" He asked.

   The elf stepped into his room and said.  "Do you wish help with your
armor, Master Tammer?"

   "Do you think it proper for a young lady to help an old man disrobe?"
Tammer asked, his voice somewhat impatient.  Who had sent this poor girl on
such a silly errand?

   The elf maiden stepped closer.  "You think, Tammer, that there is
anything you have beneath that quilted coat that I have not witnessed
before?" The elven girl said.  Her voice made thoughts, long suppressed,
swim up from his memories.

   "Loskenhaur?" Tammer said, blinking in the dim room.  "Is it you?  After
these years?"

   The elven girl knelt before him.  "It is, Tammer." She said, her cool,
slender fingers touching his wrinkled face.  "The years for you have been
long."

   Tammer chuckled.  "Yes, they have, but they have been good years." He
said.  "And for you?"

   "Good, yes, they have been good to me, also." Loskenhaur said, her
fingers deftly unstitching the padded suit.

   His eyes were growing used to the low light, and he could see her fine
dark hair, red that neared black in color.  He could also see her large,
luminous eyes, watching his face, their silver flashing with collected
light.

   Tammer reached out a hand, somewhat gnarled with age and misuse, but
still strong, and stroked her flawless cheek.  "You're still the most
beautiful creature my eyes have ever beheld." Tammer said, tears rolling
down his cheeks.

   The last knot came loose and she lifted the padded tunic from him.  He
was an old man, she could see, his once powerful body sagged now, and was a
little bent.  He was still strong though, Loskenhaur could also see,
muscles still flexed under the loose skin.  She then knelt again, setting
the tunic aside and unfastening his belt.

   "I can manage that much." Tammer said.

   She smiled up at him.  "You act as if I do not wish to unclothe you."
She said.  "I do."

   He stood as she pulled down the loose pants and slid them off one of his
feet, then the other.  With a lithe, smooth motion, she rose to her own
feet, and regarded him.

   Nervously, Tammer reached out his hands and slipped the thin straps of
the gown Loskenhaur was wearing to the sides of her shoulders.  The gown,
some cloth of very sheer material, accordioned and pooled about her tiny
feet, like it was a cream-colored liquid.

   He beheld her long, slim form again, after long years, and the memory
that had seared itself into his mind did not betray him.  She looked almost
identical, perhaps a bit more hip, and her breasts may be a touch fuller
now, but this body was one he beheld, and touched, and loved for a year and
a day.

   Loskenhaur took him about the waist and pulled him to her.  Pressing her
taut, warm body to his.  Her lips felt like liquid fire as she kissed him,
then parted his lips with her small, darting tongue.  As the kiss lingered,
he felt a warmth entering him, subtle but present, she was feeding him
energy, as she sometimes had in his youth, when his strength flagged.

   This was different, though, he felt, it went deeper, and it filled him
with a fire, not just a warmth.  His arms, heavy with fatigue, lightened,
then became once again the strong instruments of his will.  His legs,
wavering in his exhaustion, strengthened, and once more bore him
effortlessly.

   After long moments, the kiss ended, and Loskenhaur looked upon him,
smiling.  "Tammer, it took you long enough to become a true hero." She
said.

   He smiled at her, stroking her hair.  "Had I known that such a reward
was granted a hero, I would have become one years ago." His eyes widened as
he caught sight of something in her hair, and he tilted his head and moved
closer.

   Interspersed with her long, nearly black strands of red were now dozens,
nay, hundreds of silver strands, glinting in the little light that
penetrated the curtains.  He looked again upon her face, and beheld slight
wrinkles about her eyes and mouth, smile lines, that had not been there
before.

   "What have you done?" Tammer asked Loskenhaur.

   She smiled very gently and kissed him again.  "I gave you your reward
from my people." She said, pulling back.  She looked at him a moment then
said.  "Now, I offer you your reward from Loskenhaur."

   He kissed her again, and they then held one another as she felt his
tears upon her shoulder.  She stroked the long hairs of his pony tail,
formerly all silver, and now peppered with black strands once again, the
black she remembered from many years before.

   Her ruby lips pressed to the cup of his ear.  "Tammer, do you remember
how you would take me after being gone for a few days upon a long hunt?"
She whispered, her warm breath causing shocks of energy to shoot down his
spine.  "You said that it was because we were apart so long."

   Tammer nodded.  "Yes." He said.

   She smiled so widely, he could feel her muscles move against his cheek.
"It has been a very, very long time."

   Suddenly, she was lifted from the floor by arms that seemed no longer
tired, nor old.  With a giggle she had the air knocked from her lungs as
Tammer slammed her back to a wall with his entire body.  Troskenhaur would
have sworn the entire bower rocked with the impact.

   She wrapped her long arms and legs about him and coaxed him with her
voice.  "Take me as if you really missed me." She said, into his ear.  "For
I have sorely missed you, Ranger of Morrovale."

   The head of his organ pressed against her tight opening, then into her
moist insides.  She pitched her hips forward and felt Tammer grab her rump
with both hands and pull her onto him, driving the shaft of his cock deep
into her in one fast motion.

   She cried out in the mixture of pleasure and pain that marked their
lovemaking years before.  Her soprano voice called out his name as he
thrust into her again and again, earnestly and with an intense longing.  He
had missed her, and seemed to wish to make it up in one bout of ferocious
energy.

   The force and intensity caused her some pain, but she forbore it,
desiring to give this man she had loved, did love, what he wished to take.
Soon, though, her body grew used to the size of his organ and accommodated
him, then felt pleasure as he continued driving into her slight body.

   The two of them had been good together, she recalled as her climax
approached.  Much the same thought ran through Tammer's mind.  They both
gauged their timing, as they had often and they both came in the same
moment.  Tammer and Loskenhaur screamed their pleasure into the darkened
room and startled passers by upon the platform nearby.

   She smiled as he slowed and then moved her legs under herself.  "Now
that was a well received gift.  But, I am not sure who was the giver."
Loskenhaur said, panting into his neck.

   Tammer grinned.  "I've no doubt who gave something and who received the
blessing." He said.  Kissing her soft neck still through her silken hair.

   Loskenhaur held him as she gently moved them toward the bed.  "Now, let
us rest, so that we will be refreshed for the celebrations sure to come
this night." She said as she pushed him back upon the bed and sat beside
him.

   They curled up with one another and were soon asleep, Loskenhaur pressed
to his front and the two interfolded with each other in a way Harlen and
Hyandai would well recognize.
   All in all, the aftermath of the battle was far from utterly forlorn.