“Tomas.”
For an instant Tomas existed in two places. He shook his head and the visions vanished. He turned his head and saw Galain lying in the brush next to him. A force of elves and dwarves waited some distance behind. The young cousin of Prince Calin pointed toward the Tsurani camp across the river. Tomas followed his companion’s gesture and saw the outworld soldiers sitting near their campfires, and smiled. “They hug their camps,” he whispered.
Galain nodded. “We have stung them enough that they seek the warmth of their campfires.”
The late spring evening mist shrouded the area, mantling the Tsurani camp in haze. Even the campfires seemed to burn less brightly. Tomas again studied the camp. “I mark thirty, with thirty more in each camp east and west.”
Galain said nothing, waiting for Tomas’s next command. Though Calin was Warleader of Elvandar, Tomas had assumed command of the forces of elves and dwarves. It was never clear when captaincy had passed to him, but slowly, as he had grown in stature, he had grown in leadership. In battle he would simply shout for something to be done, and elves and dwarves would rush to obey. At first it had been because the commands were logical and obvious. But the pattern had become accepted, and now they obeyed because it was Tomas who commanded.
Tomas motioned for Galain to follow and moved away from the river-bank, until they were safely out of sight of the Tsurani camp, among those who waited deep within the trees Dolgan looked at the young man who once had been the boy he saved from the mines of Mac Mordain Cadal.
Tomas stood six inches past six feet in height, as tall as any elf. He walked with a powerful self-assurance, a warrior born. In the six years he had been with the dwarves, he had become a man . . . and more. Dolgan watched him, as Tomas surveyed the warriors gathered before him, and knew Tomas could now walk the dark mines of the Grey Towers without fear or danger.
“Have the other scouts turned?”
Dolgan nodded, signaling for them to come forward. Three elves and three dwarves approached. “Any sign of the Black Robes?”
When the scouts indicated no, the man in white and gold frowned. “We would do well to capture one of them and carry him to Elvandar. Their last attack was the deepest yet. I would give much to know the limits of their power.”
Dolgan took out his pipe, gauging they were far enough from the river for it not to be seen. As he lit it, he said, “The Tsurani guard the Black Robes like a dragon guards its treasure.”
Tomas laughed at that, and Dolgan caught a glimpse of the boy he had known. “Aye, and it’s a brave dwarf who loots a dragon’s lair.”
Galain said, “If they follow the pattern of the last three years, they most likely are done with us for the season. It is possible we shall not see another Black Robe until next spring.”
Tomas looked thoughtful, his pale eyes seemingly aglow with a light of their own. “Their pattern . . . their pattern is to take, to hold, then to take more. We have been willing to let them do as they wish, so long as they do not cross the river. It is time to change that pattern. And if we trouble them enough, we may have the opportunity to seize one of these Black Robes.”
Dolgan shook his head at the risk implicit in what Tomas proposed. Then, with a smile, Tomas added, “Besides, if we can’t loosen their hold along the river for a time, the dwarves and I will be forced to winter here, for the outworlders are now deep into the Green Heart.”
Galain looked at his tall friend. Tomas grew more elf-like each year, and Galain could appreciate the obscure humor that often marked his words. He knew Tomas would welcome staying near the Queen. But in spite of his worries over Tomas’s magic, he had come to like the man. “How?”
“Send bowmen to the camps on the right and the left and beyond. When I call with the honk of a greylag, have them volley across the river, but from beyond those positions as if the main attack were coming from east and west.” He smiled, and there was no humor in his expression. “That should isolate this camp long enough for us to do some bloody work.”
Galain nodded, and sent ten bowmen to each camp. The others made ready for the attack, and after sufficient time Tomas raised his hands to his mouth Cupping them, he made the sound of a wild goose.