And so it was in the valley below him. Goblins rushed every which way, and on came the skilled and disciplined elf warriors, their fine blades gleaming in the sun. It looked to be a fast and uneventful rout.
But then a yellow banner, shot with red so that it looked like the bloodshot eye of an orc, appeared in the west, moving quickly through a pass between a pair of small, round-topped hills. Tos’un peered hard, and harder still as the standard-bearer and its cohorts came into view. He could almost smell them from his perch. They were orcs, but huge by orc standards, even more broad-shouldered than Obould’s elite guards, some even bigger than Obould himself.
So caught up in the spectacle, Tos’un stood up and leaned forward, out of the shelter of the stones. He looked back to the rout, and saw that there, too, things had changed, for other groups of those hulking orcs had appeared, some coming up from under the snow near the center of the battle.
“A trap for the elves,” the drow whispered in disbelief. A myriad of thoughts flitted through his mind at that realization. Did he want the elves destroyed? Did he care?
He didn’t allow himself time to sort through those emotions, though, for the drow realized that he, too, might get swept up in the tumult—and that was something he most certainly did not want.
He looked back to the approaching banner, then to the fight, then back again, measuring the time. With a quick glance all around to ensure his own safety, he rushed out from his perch and back to the hidden tunnel entrance. When he got there, he saw that the battle had been fully joined, and fully reversed.
The elves, badly outnumbered, were on the run. They didn’t flee like the goblins, though, and kept their defenses in place against incursions from the brutish orcs. They even managed a couple of stop-and-pivot maneuvers that allowed them to send a volley of arrows at the orc mass.
But that dark wall rolled on after them.
The winged horse appeared again, flying low over the battlefield then climbing gradually as it passed over the orcs, who of course threw a few spears in its direction. The rider and pegasus went up even higher as they glided over the elves.
The rider meant to direct the retreat, obviously, and good fortune sent the winged horse in Tos’un’s general direction. As it neared, the drow’s eyes widened, for though looking up at the midday sky surely stung his sensitive eyes, he recognized that elf rider, Sinnafain.
For a moment, the drow held his position just inside the tunnel, not sure whether to retreat through the passage or go back out into Sinnafain’s view.
Hardly aware of his movements, he came out of that hole and waved at Sinnafain, and when she didn’t look his way, he called out to her.
What are you doing? Khazid’hea imparted to him.
The sudden jerk of the reins had the pegasus banking sharply and told Tos’un that Sinnafain had spotted him. He took some comfort in the fact that her next movement was not to draw out her bow.
You would go back to them? Khazid’hea asked and the telepathic communication was edged with no small amount of anger.
Sinnafain brought the winged horse in a slow turn, her eyes locked on the drow the entire time. She was too far away for Tos’un to see her face or fathom what she might be thinking, but still she did not draw her bow. Nor had she signaled to her retreating friends to veer away.
Drizzt will kill you! Khazid’hea warned. When he takes me from you, you will find yourself defenseless against the truth-finding spells of elf clerics!
Tos’un lifted the twig barrier that covered his hole, and began motioning to the entrance.
Sinnafain continued to guide the pegasus in a slow circle. When she at last turned back to her companions, Tos’un sprinted off to the side, disappearing into the shadows of the foothills, much to the relief of his demanding sword.
The drow glanced back only one time, to see the elves filtering into the tunnel. He looked up for the pegasus, but it had flown over the ridge and out of sight at that moment.
But Sinnafain had trusted him.
Unbelievably, Sinnafain had trusted him.
Tos’un wasn’t sure whether he should take pride in that, or whether his respect for the elves had just diminished.
Perhaps a bit of both.
Sinnafain couldn’t track their progress, nor could she join her comrades in the tunnel, obviously, while riding Sunrise. She came back over the high ridge and flew near the entrance of the small cave. She drew out her bow and began peppering the leading edge of the orc advance.
She kept up her barrage even after all the elves had disappeared underground. But the huge orcs carried heavy shields to frustrate such attacks, and Sinnafain could only hope that she had held them back long enough for her friends to escape. She put Sunrise up higher then, and angled back the other way, over the rise once more. She looked for Tos’un as much as for her friends, but there was no sign of the drow.
A long while later, with Sunrise tiring beneath her, the elf was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief, as a flash of white from a copse of trees some distance to the east signaled to her that Albondiel and the other elves had gotten through the tunnel.
Sinnafain took a roundabout route to get to them, not wanting to tip off any orc spotters who might watch her descending from on high, and by the time she got down to the ground, much activity was already underway. Deep in the woods, in a small clearing, the wounded had been laid out side by side, with priests tending them. Another group carried heavy logs and stones to seal the tunnel exit, and the rest had taken to the trees on the perimeter of the copse, setting up a defensive line that allowed them many overlapping angles of fire on approaching enemies.
As she walked Sunrise along a path through the trees, Sinnafain heard whispers of King Obould over and over again, many of the elves certain that he had come. She found Albondiel near the wounded, standing off to the side of the field and sorting the extra packs and weapons.
“You saved many,” Albondiel greeted when she approached. “Had you not directed us to that tunnel, more of us would have fallen. Perhaps a complete rout.”
Sinnafain thought to mention that it was not her doing, but that of a certain drow, but she kept the thought to herself. “How many were taken down?”
“Four casualties,” Albondiel said grimly. He nodded toward the small field, where the quartet of wounded lay on blankets on the snow. “Two of them were wounded seriously, perhaps mortally.”
“We…I, should have seen the trap from on high,” Sinnafain said, turning back to the ridge in the east that blocked the view of the battlefield.
“The orc ambush was well set,” Albondiel replied. “Those who prepared this battlefield understood our tactics well. They have studied us and learned to counter our methods. Perhaps it is time for us to head back across the Surbrin.”
“We are low on supplies,” Sinnafain reminded him.
“Perhaps it is time for us to stay across the Surbrin,” Albondiel clarified.
Again, thoughts of a certain dark elf popped into Sinnafain’s mind. Had Tos’un betrayed them? He had fought beside them for a short while, and he knew much of their tactics. Plus, he was a drow, and no race in all the world knew better how to lay an ambush than the treacherous dark elves. Though of course, he had shown the elves the way to escape. With any other race, that alone might serve to dispel Sinnafain’s suspicions. But Sinnafain could not allow herself to forget that Tos’un was a dark elf, and no Drizzt Do’Urden, who had proven himself repeatedly over a matter of years. Perhaps Tos’un was playing the elves and orcs against each other for personal gain, or simply for his own amusement.