Elfshadow

Arilyn stifled a sigh. It was going to be a very long trip to Waterdeep.

The sun was edging above the horizon when the half-elf finally nudged her well-fed and immaculately groomed hostage into his saddle. Worried by even a brief delay, Arilyn set as brisk a pace as she felt the horses could handle: it was important that they cross the Marsh of Chelimber before nightfall. As they left the rolling foothills of the Greycloak Mountains behind, the friendly, autumn-tinted woodlands gave way to a flat, grim valley littered with jagged boulders and scrubby brush. As the ground beneath their horses' hooves became increasingly soggy, even those pitiful bushes disappeared, and the only vegetation in sight were the rushes and cattails that ringed small pools of tea-colored water. The happy twitter of the forest birds had long ago faded, to be replaced by the incurious stare of an occasional heron.

Arilyn was not unhappy to note that the repressive ugliness of the landscape had curbed the nobleman's tongue, for his chatter had dwindled to an occasional question. He rode well, she was relieved to see, and as he rode he took in the sights like some slightly distressed pleasure-traveler.

"What's that?" he demanded, pointing to a large square depression in the bog. Arilyn looked, and her heart sank.

"Someone's been cutting peat," she said tersely.

"Whatever for?"

"Fuel. It burns well."

Danilo considered her words. "Why would someone want to come all the way into this flattened-out version of the Abyss for fuel? There are perfectly good woodlands between here and the nearest civilized area." When Arilyn didn't comment on his observation, Danilo puzzled it over. He finally snapped his fingers and smiled in triumph. "Wait a minute! I've got it! Our peat-cutting friends must be from one of the uncivilized races. Orcs, maybe? More likely goblins, given the terrain. Am I right?"

Arilyn cast him a sour look. "You needn't look so pleased about it. Listen, that peat was recently cut. Whatever did it is probably nearby."

"You jest," Danilo said, a hopeful note in his voice.

"Not very often. We're nearing the marsh. Hold your tongue until we're through it."

The dandy subsided. Soon the spongy texture of the peat bog gave way to open wetlands, and the air took on a repressive, swampy tang. Before highsun they had reached the edge of Chelimber Marsh.

"I say, this is a dismal place," Danilo noted with dismay.

Arilyn silently agreed. In her opinion, the Marsh of Chelimber could easily be mistaken for one of the lower levels of the Nine Hells.

There was no sign of animal life, yet an eerie, insectlike chirruping came from everywhere and nowhere. Bare, rock-covered ground alternated with soggy patches of waist-high marsh grasses, which swayed and beckoned despite an utter lack of wind. Many of the small pools that dotted the ground bubbled and seethed, sending up gushes of sulphur-scented steam. Even the air seemed heavy and oppressive beneath a slate-colored sky.

"Let's get it over with," Arilyn whispered, resolutely guiding her horse forward. Danilo followed, looking none too happy.

Despite the known and rumored dangers of the marsh, their ride was uneventful. Arilyn did not relax her guard, but listened alertly to the strange sounds of the marsh. From no discernable source, Chelimber emitted a continuous spate of chirps, pops, groans, and belches. The noise was u

That hope was premature. Almost lost in the swamp's music was a new note, a faint, grating sound that brought to Arilyn's mind the image of a dragon with hiccoughs. She hoped that the bizarre noise was just another of the marsh's aural tricks, but just to check she held up a hand to halt Danilo's progress. "Did you hear that?" she mouthed at him.

The nobleman's attention was elsewhere. Arilyn followed the direction of his gaze, and her throat tightened in foreboding: at her side, the moonblade glowed with an ominous blue light.

"What's that all about?" he asked, pointing to her sword.

"Lower your voice."

"Why is your sword blue?" he asked softly.

"Magic," she explained tersely, looking about for whatever the moonblade sensed. "A danger warning."

"Quaint. Very quaint," he drawled, regarding the pale blue light of the sword with casual interest. "A glowing sword. Tell me, does it come in green? If so, where can I get one?"

The lack of concern in his voice infuriated Arilyn. She glared at him, incredulous. "Goblins," she stressed in a quiet voice. "Remember your peat-cutting goblins? Surely not even you could find such creatures amusing."

Danilo pursed his lips and considered this. "Actually, there was this little fellow down in Cormyr…"

"Oh, be still," Arilyn hissed. Her fingers curved around the moonblade's grip, and she dismissed Danilo and his foolishness to concentrate on the battle that was sure to come. She eased her horse westward and gestured for the dandy to follow her. The ground was less flat here, and a small hill some hundred yards away bore the ruins of what appeared to be an ancient keep. The setting sun would be at their back, providing a disadvantage to any attackers. There they could take a stand.

No, there I can take a stand, Arilyn corrected silently, casting a derisive glance at the man beside her. Even if Danilo Tha

For the hundredth time since sunrise Arilyn cursed herself over her unfortunate choice of a hostage. She had fought goblinkind many times, and she knew better than to be too confident about the outcome of such a battle. Even the horses, pampered fancy mounts that they were, sensed that danger lay before them; their ears lay back against their heads and they whickered uneasily. Granted, Danilo Tha

Arilyn's angry thoughts were interrupted by an unearthly screech. The sound split the air and hung, reverberating, over the marsh. That was the final straw for her temperamental horse, who feared up violently and unexpectedly. Arilyn grabbed at the pommel of her saddle with both hands to keep from being thrown. Before she could reclaim the reins, the horse bolted.

"Hang on," Danilo yelled, urging his own horse close to Arilyn's panicked mount. What was he trying to do? she wondered. His horse looked no calmer than hers. It careened along with teeth bared, its ears flat back against its mane and the whites of its terrified eyes gleaming. Danilo seized Arilyn's reins, struggling to control his own mount with one hand.

That's it, Arilyn thought with a flash of resignation. We're both down. Before their spooked mounts had gone a dozen paces, by sheer strength of arm and will Danilo brought both horses to a halt.

Arilyn gaped at the noble in disbelief, earning one of his charming, infuriating smiles. He tossed her reins back to her. "Nice trick, eh? Luck is with you. You abducted the captain of Waterdeep's champion polo team. Next time, my dear, do try to steal battle-seasoned horses, hmmm?"

Before she could respond to his gibe, a second roar rolled across the marsh. Arilyn drew the moonblade and readied herself for the attack. One of the dangers of the marsh lay in the weird way in which it warped sound. The taunts of their unseen enemy seemed to come from everywhere at once. Where, then, could she and Danilo run?