Again and again the axe bashed the sword aside, though the tip of Quithas's weapon gouged a stinging cut across Kagonos's chest. Now it was the wild elf who fell back, struggling to block each potentially fatal blow, striving to avoid the roots and branches that suddenly seemed to thrive on ground that had been smooth a few minutes earlier.

Then the House Elf stabbed with a lightning thrust that grazed the Elderwild's side as Kagonos twisted away. Grunting, Quithas twisted his weapon, carving deeply into his enemy's flesh. The Pathfinder gasped as cold steel ripped over his rib cage.

But this time Quithas overreached himself, though he realized the mistake immediately. Planting both feet, crouching, the swordsman jerked his blade back, flipping it upward to parry Kagonos's blow-which he expected from the left.

The Elderwild feinted with a drop of his shoulder, but at the same time he flipped the axe into his other hand. When Quithas raised his weapon to block the anticipated blow, the axe head swept inward from the opposite direction, striking the elf cleanly in the neck, slicing with cruel force, the blade coming free, emerging into the air above Quithas's opposite shoulder.

With a reflexive shiver, the House Elf's body flexed backward, the longsword flying harmlessly into the mud. When the corpse started to topple, Kagonos reached forward and grasped Quithas's head, seizing the locks of long blond hair. While the body flopped onto the ground, the head swung freely from the Elderwild's hand.

Instinctively Kagonos tipped back his head and raised the horn to the sky. He blew, and the braying wail carried across the plains, into the camp of the celebrating army, perhaps even to the distant stars themselves. He wondered if Darlantan heard-and took some comfort from the hope that he did.

Then Kagonos turned toward the House Elf camp. His fury pounded, and he held his grisly trophy up toward the sky. He would go there, carrying the head of Quithas Griffontamer, and present it to Silvanos himself!

Kagonos would speak to his people, would wrap them in his fury. They would fight if they had to, battling through the camp of the craven, villainous House Elves. He would show them the path with his rage, with his righteous condemnation of Silvanos. He would lead them to the wild places!

If they would come.

As be trotted along, fueled by fury, tbe Pathfinder clutched the head of his enemy and grasped the smooth haft of his weapon. Only gradually did Kagonos begin to perceive the effect that his entrance to the camp-bearing the gruesome head-would have.

The grisly talisman would certainly have the power to inflame the elves of Silvanos, perhaps driving them to a frenzy of vengeance that would bring open warfare to the camp. The Elderwild, outnumbered and surrounded to begin with, would certainly lose-but Kagonos knew that none of his braves would shrink from such a battle. That was one way to bind them to their chieftain, and in a way that would allow them to fight in the finest traditions of warlike elven valor.

Of course, there were the women and the young and the old elves who were not warriors but would nonetheless be caught up in the slaughter. Or else, left without their braves, they would have no choice but to give themselves into the hands of the House Elves, joining the ranks of House Servitor. Was this not the fate that so many of them desired?

Yet even as the martial beat of his heart intensified, and though he did not waver in his direction or his pace, Kagonos began to question the wisdom of his tactics. Truly, he saw, if the tribes were to sunder themselves from the House Elves, they could only do so peaceably. The severed head of Silvanos's cavalry general would do nothing to make this easier.

With a scornful gesture, he threw the trophy to the side, cleaning his hands by wiping them on tufts of dry prairie grass. Then he resumed his rhythmic lope, stretching each step into a lengthy, gliding stride that betrayed his growing urgency.

He trotted into the camp, past armed pickets who stared at him in surprise, but made no effort to impede his progress. Kagonos continued jogging forward, ignoring the numerous elves who, apparently startled by the intensity of his gaze, scattered out of his way. The followers of Silvanos thronged to watch his arrival, gathering to form a long aisle for their leader. Steadily the wild elf continued along this impromptu passageway.

Before him the clans of the Elderwild chanted and sang, gathered around one of the largest of the victory fires. They cheered at the Pathfinder's approach, and Kagonos saw a look of relief on Barcalla's face as that normally reserved warrior raised his voice in a lusty shout. He saw others, including women and the children, and knew that he must not give way to the anger that once again began to burn within him.

Many of the wild elf warriors crowded forward as their chieftain approached. Still painted, their faces flushed with celebration, the braves held their weapons aloft and shouted a mixture of eagle and wolf cries. Kagonos smiled thinly as the cacophony washed over him. Finally the Pathfinder came to a halt, breathing easily as he stood before the great bonfire, letting the heat steam the sweat rrom his skin.

The crowd of House Elves parted, and Kagonos saw Silvanos, with Balif at his side, striding forward to greet him. If the great ruler was surprised to see the Elderwild alive, his face betrayed no hint-instead, the patriarch's expression seemed to be one of genuine pleasure.

"Welcome back, my kinsman," Silvanos said, before his eyes betrayed a hint of somberness. "Did you find Darlantan… in time?"

"Aye… though his time is now past."

"He is a hero unique among our allies-a dragon whom the elves will revere throughout all the coming ages."

Kagonos had his doubts about that, but he was touched bv Silvanos's apparent sincerity. If Darlantan's name was not remembered by elves two thousand years hence, the Elderwild knew that it would not be because Silvanos himself had forgotten.

"Did Quithas find you?" Balif asked. Kagonos looked for a hint of conspiracy in the diminutive elf's eyes, but he could see only honest curiosity.

"He went to tell you of our council," Silvanos explained, looking over the Elderwild's shoulder as if he expected Quithas to come trotting through the camp behind.

"He found me, but he said little about your council," Kagonos replied, watching as Silvanos frowned in puzzlement. "In truth, he came to kill me-and he nearly succeeded."

What?" The patriarch was clearly shocked. He squinted at the Elderwild in real suspicion. "I do not think you would lie to me, but 1 find this difficult to believe."

I believe," Balif said softly. "There was a look in Quithas's eyes when he departed. I thought it was grief over his son-but it seems, now, that it may have been murderous rage." He hung his head, then looked at Kagonos with genuine regret. "I'm sorry that I didn't send another to find you. We are all glad that he failed. You can trust that he will be punished."

Kagonos surprised them by laughing. "Your general will not be returning-not for punishment or for any other purpose," he declared, as the great leader stepped forward.

Silvanos sighed, his eyes narrowing. "Tell me everything that happened."

"General Quithas is dead. I killed him. His body lies beside the river. His head is somewhere on the plain."

Growls of outrage rose from the assembled elves. Silvanos grew suddenly pale, his voice tightening.

"I would have questioned him myself, seen justice served. Or has your own hatred made you mad? Do you commit murder, then come here to boast about it?"