The Elven King nodded. “How many do you wish?”
“Two dozen to choose from, no more.”
They began to walk back across the heights, moving toward the gardens once more, taking their time. All around them, the city of Arborlon was waking.
“Two dozen is a small number of blades and bows on which to depend,” the King observed.
“Three ships with full crews and dozens of Elven Hunters were apparently too few, as well,” Walker pointed out. “I prefer to rely on speed and stealth and on the heart and courage of a few rather than on sheer numbers.”
“One ship is all you will take, then?”
“One will suffice.”
Allardon Elessedil hunched his shoulders, his eyes lowered.
“Very well. I will not go with you myself, as I have said, but I will want to send someone in my place.”
“Send anyone you like, only. .
Walker was shading his eyes against the sun’s brightness as he spoke or he would have missed the flash of the metal blade as it was hurled. The assassin was one of the gardeners, inconspicuous in his working clothes, just another worker at his job. He had come to his feet as if to move his tools, and suddenly the knife appeared.
Walker’s swift gesture sent the blade spinning harmlessly, knocked aside as if it had struck a wall.
By now, the second assassin was attacking, this one with a blowgun. Another of the seeming gardeners, he knelt in a patch of bright yellow daffodils and fired three darts in rapid succession. Walker yanked the King aside and blocked that attack as well. A third assassin came at them with a rapier and a knife. All of the assassins were Elves, their features unmistakable. But their eyes were fixed and unseeing, and the Druid knew at once that they had been mindaltered to assure their compliance in making the attack.
Screams rose across the Carolan as the other Elves realized what Was happening. Black Watch soldiers charged to the King’s defense, massive pikes lowered. Elven Hunters appeared, as well, lean, swift forms bolting from the trees. All were too far away.
Walker gestured toward the assassin with the rapier and knife, and a massive, ethereal form materialized before the man, a giant moor cat lunging out of nowhere to intercept him. The man screamed and went down, weapons flying as the beast sailed into him and vanished, leaving him huddled and cringing against the earth. The remaining two assassins charged, as well, silent and determined, skirting the third man, madness in their empty eyes. They, barreled into the Druid and were cast aside as if made of paper. Black robes flaring like shadows released, Walker turned from one to the other, stripping them of weapons and blunting their attacks.
But the Home Guard and Black Watch were close enough now to respond as well. Frightened for their king, they acted instinctively and unwisely to protect him. A hail of spears and arrows took, down the assassins, leaving them sprawled on bloodsoaked earth, their lives draining away. Even the third man was caught in the barrage, come back to his feet too quickly to be spared. Walker yelled at the Elves to stop, to leave the assassins to him, but he was too late to save them.
Too late, as well, to save Allardon Elessedil. An arrow meant for the assassins struck the Elf King squarely in the chest. He gasped at the impact, lurched backwards, and went down in a heap. Walker had no chance to save him. Focused on stopping the assassins, he could not react to the King’s guards in time.
The Druid knelt at the King’s side, lifted his shoulders, and cradled his head in his lap. “Elven King?” he whispered. “Can you hear me?”
Allardon Elessedil’s eyes were open, and his gaze shifted at the sound of the Druid’s voice. “I’m still here.”
Elven Hunters had surrounded them, and there were calls for a Healer and medicines. The heights were a maelstrom of activity as Elves pushed forward from every quarter to see what had happened. Black Watch formed a ring about their stricken ruler and pushed the crowds back. The assassins lay dead in their own blood, their lifeless forms bathed in sunlight and bedded in deep grasses.