The Nomad - By Simon Hawke Page 0,102

from the slopes. And then she began to run.

* * *

They met by the Lake of Golden Dreams, on the opposite shore from the mining village of Malda, within sight of the smoking mountain. It was night, and the twin moons, Ral and Guthay, were both full, illuminating the foothills with a silvery glow. It was a warm summer night, and moonlight danced on the placid surface of the lake, making the water sparkle.

She was of the Moon Runners, a nomadic tribe that roamed the Hinterlands and had journeyed far to reach the Ringing Mountains. He was a young halfling, and his name was Ogar. He was the seventh son of his tribal chieftain, born of his seventh wife, and taller than most of the people of his tribe, with the muscular frame, chiseled features, black mane, and the stormy, dark eyes of his warrior father.

He had traveled from the high country down to the lake to fulfill his Ritual of Promise, which marked his passage from adolescence to adulthood. He was to take a mountain cat alone, with just his spear, defeat an enemy in single combat, and bring back a trophy of the contest, then take his vows to the twin moons and sing his Song of Promise. The mountain cat he had already slain, and feasted on its flesh. And the enemy that he had chosen was one befitting the son of a warrior chief. He would slay a human. He had come to the lake shore to look across at the rough mining town of Makla and scout the best approach, and that was when he saw her, alone, bathing in the lake.

He had crept up softly, close to the shore, where she had left her clothes, and watched quietly from cover as she washed her hair in the moonlit waters of the lake. He had never seen a female elf before, and he was struck by her loveliness as the water glistened on her sleek, curvaceous body. She was not as tall as he might have expected, though she stood at least head taller than him, and he could not tear his eyes away from her. He crouched there by the shore, leaning on his spear, watching as she washed herself.

There was something marvelously languid, graceful, and compelling in her movements She hummed to herself softly as the water trickled off her body and lent her flesh a glittering smoothness in the early light of dawn. And then a twig snapped, and she froze, staring toward the shore with alarm.

Ogar had been so fascinated by her that he had never heard them approach. Neither had she. They had moved with stealth, until a clumsy footstep at the last moment had given them away. And then they rushed her.

It was a small hunting party of humans from the mining village across the lake.” There were four of them, and they came charging out into the water, splashing and yelling, two from either side, cutting off all escape. She could have turned and swum straight out into the lake, but either she was paralyzed with shock and fear, thought Ogar, or else she did not know how to swim. She cried out as they closed and seized her, manhandling her roughly, and from their actions and the expressions on their faces, there was no need to wonder what they intended.

Ogar leapt up from concealment and ran out into the water, holding his spear before him. The four humans were so intent on gratifying their baser instincts and they were making so much noise that they did not hear him approaching, not even when he came splashing through the water toward them. He ran one of them through with his spear and, as the man screamed and died, the others suddenly realized that they were being attacked and turned to face him. As one man turned, Ogar struck him hard in the face with the butt end of his spear, then brought the point down in a vicious, slashing motion across the face of another. The man cried out and lifted his hands to his face as blood flowed freely from the deep gash that Ogar had opened up from his right temple to his left cheekbone, slashing right through the man’s right eye.

Without pausing, Ogar plunged his spear into the stomach of the third man and twisted. The man screamed, and instinctively grabbed at the spear’s shaft. As Ogar tried to jerk it free, the fourth man