

### The Last Warlock

Copyright 2018 Mark Daniel

Published by Mark Daniel at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

## Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

### Chapter One

He wept quietly in the vast garden outside of his cave. He wept for things long gone, for people long dead, for a world that no longer existed. _Never again_ , he thought. He wept for his evil and for his cowardice. _The past no longer exists, and I have no place in the future_. He wept in the same way that he had met the morning for the past three thousand years.

Once, long ago, he had laughed at the barbarity of the Five Races of Man: the fun-loving halflings, the elegant and stately elves, the stoic but surprisingly entertaining dwarves, the superstitious humans, the quiet giants. Yet now he moved among them like a careful shepherd tending his flock, for they were his people's legacy.

After a final moment of sorrow, a last silent sob, he wiped away the last of the morning's tears and stood. He forced himself to smile. His garden crop was doing quite well this year, and its herbs and spices would certainly fetch a good price at Duran's Market Day in a few weeks. Rosemary, thyme, precious pepper, ginger, cinnamon trees, cloves, mace, saffron, and anise shrubs were all in full bloom. He extended his right hand before him, palm down and outward, towards the garden, and made a sweeping gesture from left to right, closing his eyes as he did so. A brief green glow lit the land, and the plants grew by another centimeter.

He looked up into a sunny, cloudless sky. That would never do. Not today, anyway. He took his right arm and held it up with his palm facing him at eye level. Making a fist, he yanked his arm downward. A peal of thunder arose in the distance, and soon it began to rain, though no clouds filled the heavens. He allowed himself a brief laugh. He did always enjoy his power over the weather, as well as his power to give and enhance life.

"Ahren? Ahren-of-the-Hill? Are you up here?" Azura's soprano voice was as beautiful as her elven face, and just as distinctive. Ahren quickly dropped his hands to his sides and hid them in the long sleeves of his now-dirty white shirt. It wouldn't do for anyone else to know about his powers. That could be very inconvenient.

As the elf crested the rise that led to the hillside garden, Ahren called out to her in a strong tenor, "Over here, Azura, where you know that you can always find me."

"And your garden is lovely, as always. But unfortunately, I come bearing ill tidings. Cirunel has been attacked."

Ahren was silent for a time before asking, "Was it taken?"

"No, the monstrous invaders were thrown back at the very gates, but the battle was close, and many dwarves fell."

Ahren contemplated this new information as he stroked his beardless chin with large, strong hands. Cirunel was the dwarven capital city, a fortress in its own right some thirty leagues to the north. It was said that no enemy had ever entered the gates of Cirunel, and Ahren, with his ancient life span, knew that to be true. Yet the gates had nearly been sundered many times, for at one time or another, all of the races of Man had tried to conquer Cirunel's masterfully constructed ramparts. Even unrest among the dwarves themselves had set dwarf against dwarf at the gates. Cirunel's fortifications had always held. The attackers had always failed. This was not the first time that monstrous invaders had been turned away, and Ahren suspected – no, at this point he knew – that it would not be the last.

Ahren glanced back at the classically beautiful elf, with her long raven hair beginning its cascade a full two heads higher than his small frame. He enjoyed her company, her friendship; for of all the races of Man, only hers could even begin to approach his longevity. At two hundred years of age, she was still considered a youngster by her elders, perhaps in her late teens in human terms. Ahren himself appeared to be only thirty years old or so, and of roughly human stock. He had deep golden skin, dark brown hair, and irises so black they seemed like shadows. Any unusual ancestry was betrayed only by his relatively short stature - at least for a human male, the standard measure in the land of Nordanfel - and his ever so slightly pointed ears. Of course, no one in Nordanfel knew what that ancestry was, and he hoped to keep it that way.

"From where did the invaders come?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Their origin is unknown, as they took the defenders by surprise. When their hoard was first spotted, it was descending from the northeast, but that was already deep in Morovarian territory. Of course, many suspect that Savanod is the culprit, but none knows for sure, and no monsters escaped to be followed back to their lair. There were orcs and goblins working in concert with urugs and chalkai. A very disturbing turn of events. If the monsters have joined forces, they may well be unstoppable. Even Visonia has called up its conscripted guards; which naturally placed Morovar on an even more heightened alert. You know as well as I do that the humans and the dwarves don't see eye to eye – no pun intended." She smirked and covered her mouth with a slender hand.

"What of the elves, Azura?"

"Since our domain lies far to the south, we feel that there is a safe buffer, at least temporarily, between us and the hoards of Savanod. Yet I have been instructed to spread the word that we will lend aid to all who request it."

"I don't suppose word has come from the northern wastes?"

"Actually, yes, the giants have reported increased activity along their borders, and are just as concerned as the rest of us. Perhaps more so, considering their isolation. The other races of Man would be hard pressed to send aid through Savanod if it came to open war."

"I doubt it will come to open war. Even those ruling the Keep of Savanod know they would eventually be defeated by superior numbers, if nothing else. Unless, of course, something else has changed that we are as yet unaware of."

"What else could change? Our seers have seen no great shift in the balance of power."

"Who knows? Perhaps they've found a new way to grow orcs, or maybe the goblins are finally banding together. Evil magic created the first urugs and chalkai; perhaps the beasts have evolved into something new. A great weapon or ancient relic may have been found. A new magical power may be rising. There are simply too many unknowns, Azura. Even your finest seers must know that."

"Yes, they have said as much. But you know that I value your opinion over theirs."  
Ahren laughed and grasped at his stomach. "But why, Azura? I am but a humble farmer, eking out a meager existence on the side of a mountain overlooking a fishing village."

"No, Ahren-of-the-Hill. You are more, of that I am certain. Someday I will find out what that 'more' is."

"Don't hold your breath, my dear elf. Why don't you go busy yourself by the fire in the cave? It's clouding over, and this unseasonable rain can't be warming you. I shall be inside in a few minutes."

"Very well. If you have any food, I will prepare some stew. But hurry up, you know elves don't like to be kept waiting," she grinned at the absurdity of the statement.

"You're destined to live some eight-hundred years, and yet you can't wait for a man to gather his thoughts. Incredible! I should report you to your parents and get you a good caning. Now hurry along, there's food inside. I promise that I shan't be long, but I must think on this a moment."

Azura bent down and kissed him on the cheek, a gesture that always made him smile. As she disappeared around the bend and into the well-lit cave, he sat down on the ground, cross-legged among his herbs. After checking to ensure that Azura had indeed gone out of sight, he reached up toward the sky with his right hand and made a flicking gesture. The rain abruptly stopped. He leaned backward and placed his hands flat upon the ground, his fingers splayed.

"Now what can you tell me, my friend?" he muttered. As he closed his eyes, his hands turned to clay, and melded with the very earth itself. He sighed, then breathed deeply and evenly, nodding his head up and down ever so slowly. The earth spoke to him. It reported on where every living thing in Nordanfel was at that very moment. It told him what kinds of things they were. It told him of its pain felt in Savanod, of its happiness in the Elven Kingdoms to the south, of the discontent in Visonia to the east, of the wariness in Morovar. It spoke to him of everything, both living and non-living, on or beneath its surface. For a moment, he and Nordanfel were one. He knew what it knew, and what it knew was not all good.

He opened his eyes, and his hands returned to flesh and blood, resting quietly upon the ground. He shuddered and stood, walking carefully through the growing darkness toward his subterranean home. Something extremely powerful, and deathly evil, was rising in Nordanfel. But how could he warn the masses without alerting them to his ancestry and powers? How could he battle this evil when he had forsworn using his powers for anything but the most mundane of tasks? Eons ago he had wielded his power like a mighty scythe, and it had led to the extermination of his people, the creators of all the races of Man. Never again.

* * *

Back inside the warm, dry, well-lit cave, Azura was busying herself dressing a hare for their evening stew. She had picked cabbage, carrots, and beets on her way, and had arrived to find a blazing fire already burning beneath the small, tripod-supported pot. It struck her as somewhat odd when she realized that while she had never seen Ahren's home without a flame, neither had she ever seen him light one. After pondering this for a moment, she passed it off as mere chance, and continued to prepare their meal.

As she skinned and filleted the hare, it also occurred to her that while Ahren was never without meat, she had never seen him use the enormous crossbow that even now stood ready in its place against the wall. However, she knew, he was quick and deadly with the eight-inch hunting knife that was ever present on his belt, hanging at his right side. She examined the carcass and found that its throat had been slit, which seemed far too accurate for hunting a wild animal with a knife. Peculiar.

She had asked her father once just who or what Ahren was. He had replied only that he was not one of the races of Man, and that dangerous questions like that should go unasked. Naturally, even with an elf child, this only roused her curiosity more, and she began to neglect the pomp and pageantry of her diplomatic duties in order to spend more time with Ahren.

She had yet to actually catch him doing anything unusual, but she possessed an elf's patience, and persevered. It was only by chance that she was here today on more-or-less official business, for Ahren held no title, little land, and should have been no one of import – but she trusted her elven instincts, which told her that there was more to this man than he allowed others to see. For instance, it was curious that the spring outside of his cave's entrance never wavered, was always cool, fresh, and abundant. It always seemed to rain exactly when Ahren needed it to, and for just the right amount of time. She had never known him to rotate his crops, yet still, they flourished. His fields were always blessed with a comfortable breeze, and the soil constantly seemed ready for plants to take root. One look at his magnificent spice garden was proof enough of that.

When she had finished preparing the stew and Ahren had yet to return, she took the rare opportunity to look around his modestly appointed cave. Even that was odd, she thought – who but the subterranean dwarves chose to live in caves? Even all but the lowest orcs slept in communal yurts. What was it about this strange man that led him to reside in a cave - an admittedly comfortable cave, but a cave nevertheless? As she strolled deeper into its recesses, she encountered piles of well-read books on countless subjects of science and philosophy. She found a small walnut desk covered with parchments inscribed in a language she did not recognize – and as a diplomat for the elven courts, she knew nearly every language there was to know.

Everywhere, torches flickered gaily, obliterating all but the most minor of shadows. Somehow, though, the scent of smoke was not thick in the air, and though she felt the heat of the flames, her intuition told her that the flame would not burn her if she were to touch it. It was only with great difficulty that she curtailed such an inspection, and walked on.

She encountered more parchments and maps written in the same unknown language that had adorned the papers on the desk. Finally, she came to a split in the passage, one that she would have sworn on her ancestors' graves hadn't been there the last time she had explored the cave. Selecting the left-hand corridor for no particular reason, she advanced. It, too, was lit by torches, though not as well as the main passage. She walked a short distance and then gasped as the hallway abruptly opened into a lighted chamber. It was a personal armory. The suit of armor hanging from the wall was a strange mixture of plate and chain that gave it both rigidity and flexibility. It was covered in runes of gold, silver, and emerald; runes that Azura did not understand or even recognize. But most unnerving was the soft white glow given off by the metal. She looked closer at the glowing material and marveled, for she knew that not even the finest craftsmen among the elves or the dwarves combined could have managed such perfection. She suspected that it was one of a kind in all Morovar – nay, in all Nordanfel itself.

Below the armor was a sheathed sword and dagger set, emitting its own curious glow and covered in the same runes. She picked up the sword and carried it nearer to the torchlight at the doorway, turning the sheathed blade over in her hands as she walked. She knelt at the threshold and pulled the sword from its sheath. The blade emitted a brilliant emerald green light, so strong that it appeared to be made of light itself, even though she could feel the cool metal upon her palm. Again, she marveled at its construction, as she gripped the handle and gave it a careful, experimental swing. It weighed almost nothing, and cleaved the air without a sound. She carefully swung it back the other direction, awed by its perfect balance.

"You don't have to be so careful with it. I promise it won't break or dull if you accidentally hit the walls."

Azura jumped straight up and quickly sheathed the sword as she turned around and gazed back into the armory. Ahren stood in the middle of the room, grinning up at her.

"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, and rushed to place the sword back where it had been found.

"Azura, Azura! Do not be embarrassed, for the embarrassment should be mine. We have been friends for nearly one hundred years now, and in all that time, I've never shown you my armor or my weapons, just that crude crossbow in the antechamber. I do not fault a youngster for curiosity." His words echoed throughout the chamber, resonant and strong, yet soft and fatherly – and somehow ancient – at the same time.

He calls me "youngster," yet he looks so young himself, thought Azura. How old is this man? Despite her curiosity, she couldn't shake the more pressing question that bubbled to her lips. "How did you get in here? I was blocking the passage!"

He grinned broadly and clapped her on the shoulder. "My little elf, I am so small compared to you. Perhaps you simply didn't notice me slipping past."

"I think that I would have noticed, Ahren!"

"Well, then you come up with a better explanation."

She thought about it for a moment, then blanched and said, "You moved through the stone and entered the chamber behind me."

Ahren frowned for a moment and shook his head. "Have you ever heard of anyone who could do that, my dear? Really, if someone could do that, don't you think that other people would know about it? If I could move through walls, would I content myself with an herb garden, or would I live as a rich man by pillaging the earth for its gems? Be serious, Azura. I think that you were simply so enthralled by my sword that you failed to notice me."

It was Azura's turn to frown. What he said made perfect sense; far more sense than her own accusation, in fact. She looked at Ahren, and though he had resumed smiling at her, she felt the first of many curious misgivings she would experience. "Of course, Master Ahren, I must have been mistaken." She paused for a moment, searching the room with her eyes as she searched her mind for words. "Perhaps you could tell me about your armor now?"

Ahren's smile broadened, and he hugged the much taller elf close. "Of course, my southern flower. Anything for my only friend." He moved over to the wall and ran his hand down the front of the breastplate.

"The material is called shimiral. It is easy to work with when cool, and takes permanent shape when fired in a kiln. The glow is simply a byproduct of the armor's forging – a process that, I am afraid, I am not overly familiar with. But I can tell you that the metal somehow knows its owner, for no glow is ever precisely the same color – the glow fits the personality of the wearer. Mine was the first suit of white ever produced."

He nudged the sword with his toe. "The sword and dagger are of landrit, a strong metal in its own right. As for its glow, it's really only useful for lighting dark spaces or intimidating enemies on the battlefield. It serves no other purpose, I assure you. In truth, I rarely had use for these weapons at all."

Azura looked down at him, wide-eyed. "And the runes? I do not recognize them."

Ahren paused for a moment, and appeared to have a brief mental argument with himself that showed in his eyes. When he spoke, it was quiet and slow. "Yes, the runes. They imbue these weapons with some unusual properties. It is magic. A magic of my people, written in a language that has been dead for a very, very long time. No one alive today would recognize those runes." He sighed silently and averted his eyes toward the floor. After an uncomfortable moment of silence passed between them, he began again. "I must ask you, my dear friend, to swear Elf Oath that you will never reveal to anyone what you have seen or heard here today. I ask you as a friend."

Azura reached down for his arm and took it in her slender hands. "Of course, Ahren! I swear on my ancestors, my kin, and my future progeny that I will never reveal what I have been witness to today."

Ahren nodded and his face brightened. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, rocking back on his heels until she thought that he might fall over. He then exhaled swiftly, swung his arms out to the sides in a friendly show of acceptance, and said simply, "I can smell the stew all the way back here. Perhaps it is time for supper?"

She gently flicked the side of his head with her finger and smiled. "But of course. Just keep in mind that I'm a diplomat, not a chef ; especially under these less-than-ideal conditions."

He laughed and motioned her forward. "Oh, my little elf, you possess talents that you won't even admit to."

The stew was delicious, and their spirited conversation lasted well into the night before each turned to a bedroll and fell asleep. Ahren's last thought before drifting off to sleep was to wonder how he could have been so negligent as to have left the armory chamber's passageway open with the cave unattended like that.

* * *

Ahren was startled awake by Azura's sudden screaming. He glanced briefly outside, and saw that it was still some time before sunrise. Stealing quickly across the cave by the light from the still glowing embers of the fire, he allowed his hand to come to rest on his hunting knife as he placed his left hand on Azura's shoulder. Her eyes were wide in horror, her face flushed.

"The Princess!" she screamed. "The Princess! The Princess has been taken and is in terrible danger! She is with child!" She continued to scream and repeat herself as Ahren tried to calm her down.

"Come now, child, be still!" he implored. Sensing no immediate physical danger, he put both hands on her shoulders and shook her, yet still she screamed, her eyes wide and focused on nothing. He tried caressing her face and talking to her, but none of it seemed to help. Finally, as she continued to scream, he sat back on his haunches and cupped his hands before his chest. They immediately filled up with ice-cold water, which he threw in her face. She sputtered and stopped screaming, only to begin crying, throwing her long arms over his shoulders.

"Telepathy!" she bawled, "I received a telepathic message from our embassy in Cirunel." Ahren stroked her hair with one hand and held her close as her body was wracked with sobs.

"Shh, shh, it's all right. You're safe. Tell me what you heard," he said softly.

She cried and sniffled for a few moments more before disengaging from his embrace and sitting back in her bedroll, wrapping a blanket tightly around herself. She finally spoke, softly and evenly. "Princess Lien of Cirunel has been abducted. She disappeared from the Keep in the middle of the night – no one saw her leave, yet she is not there. The poor girl is eight months pregnant, and in no shape to travel. The city weeps for her disappearance and is frightened for the child." She paused.

Ahren spoke up quickly. "I sense that there is more, my dear."

"Yes. But it is only spoken of among the elves. A five-hundred-year-old prophecy. A half-dwarf of noble birth would be born. The child would bring a new era of peace to Morovar and Visonia."

"But?"

"But if someone were to sacrifice the child at noon on the summer solstice, that person would become immortal, wielding the powers of all the mages to bring darkness to the land."

"An immortal archmage?"

Azura looked slowly into his eyes and nodded succinctly. "Yes. It is just as you have said." She shut her eyes tightly and tears rolled from between her lashes. "I fear the worst."

Ahren leaned forward and kissed Azura's forehead gently before sitting back and squeezing her arm in his strong grip. "Azura, you are wise beyond your years, and dangerously perceptive. You and I must travel to Cirunel to lend aid. We'll set out for Duran at dawn and procure some means of transport. It is only thirty leagues to Cirunel. If we set a good pace, we should be able to reach the city in three days."

Azura looked at him in puzzlement, then slapped his hand gently and laughed for the first time that morning. "Oh, Ahren, my mysterious friend. I mean no disrespect, but what are we to do? A diplomat of the elven court and an herb farmer? You have a good heart, but what are we to do? Cook and talk our way into rescuing the Princess?" She chuckled quietly and cocked an eyebrow in his direction.

He frowned and sat back on the granite floor, bending his head back as if to study the cave's speckled ceiling. After drumming his fingers against his knees for a few moments, he looked back up at the elf. "Azura," he asked, his tenor soft but firm, "do you trust me?"

"Of course!" she answered quickly, "I trust you implicitly."

He nodded and smiled. Grinning, he asked, "And do you believe that there is much that you do not yet know about me?"

Azura had only to think back to the previous day's discovery to nod vigorously and answer, "Yes, I do."

"Then do you think that perhaps there is some value in my insisting that the two of us travel to Cirunel, because I swear that I believe we both may be of assistance?"

She hesitated for a split second, thinking things over in her mind, then nodded again. "Of course, Ahren. I apologize for doubting you. But, if I may ask, what exactly are we to do?"

Ahren laughed and slapped the granite floor once. "I have absolutely no idea. But I have no doubt that we'll figure it out when we get there. Come, we must prepare for our journey."

"I am still packed from my journey here, Ahren. I have naught else to take with me."

"Nonsense! We must pack extra food from my storeroom, and you'll be needing this" – he picked up the large crossbow from its place against the wall and handed it to her. "We'll be traveling through dangerous lands, in dangerous times. This will come in handy."

Azura looked at him as if he were insane. "But Ahren, I don't have the strength to cock this weapon! You must take it, for to me, it is but an unwieldy club!"

"My darling elf, would I give you an unsuitable weapon?" Ahren asked, cocking his head to the side and raising an eyebrow. "I paid a good amount of money to a passing enchanter to have that crossbow imbued with magic. Press the trigger forward with your finger, and it will magically cock itself and an iron bolt will appear. Pull the trigger backwards, and it will fire, with no recoil. No, my young elf, I believe that this is clearly a weapon for you. Besides, look at it. Its size is better suited to someone of your stature than to someone of mine."

Azura gazed wonderingly at the enchanted crossbow. "Really, Ahren? I have never beheld such a weapon. I will honor you by not refusing it, but I must insist that I return it when we have completed our journey."

Ahren closed his eyes and nodded his head to the side. "Of course, my lady, it shall be as you say. Now, let us prepare ourselves. The eastern horizon is already glowing, and the sun must rise soon. I want to be on our way to Duran not long after. We must make haste."

They quickly packed their bedrolls, and Ahren vanished back into the depths of the cave to retrieve several pounds of jerky and cheese, which they split evenly between them. Azura watched in amazement as Ahren brought his glowing armor and weapons out to the front of the cave and carefully, precisely, packed them into a specially tailored traveling bag, which he slung over one shoulder. They filled their canteens at the spring, and Ahren paused to look wistfully at his fragrant, manicured garden. It might spoil while he was gone, he knew; and he had so been looking forward to Market Day. But the future of Nordanfel seemed somewhat more important than any patch of herbs and vegetables could be. He offered the garden a polite wave, as if to say 'goodbye' to an old friend. Finally, their packing and preparations done, he turned to Azura.

"Well, sweet elf, the sun rises. We must be off. You go on ahead, I want to take one last look at the map before we head out."

Azura smiled down at him. "Certainly, Ahren. But I will go no farther than to wait for you over that rise." She pointed, indicating the lip of land that rose before Ahren's meadow fell down the side of the mountain.

He nodded. "All right, I'll be along soon."

Azura headed down the lightly trodden path, her long legs carrying her through the thigh-high grasses that would have easily been waist-high on a human. She looked back and saw Ahren disappear into the cave, blowing out the still glowing torches as he went; and wondered briefly how he was going to see to get back out. Soon, she was over the rise, her pack nestled high on her back, the crossbow gripped in her left hand. Here she paused, as she had promised, and leaned against a tall ash, watching a pair of rabbits frolic in the morning sunshine. As she watched, however, the sun continued to rise higher, and she began to grow concerned for Ahren. She called out to him in her strong soprano.

"Ahren!"

There was no response. Her heart quickened. She waited for a few more minutes, tapping her thigh absently and chewing on her lower lip. After another quarter hour had passed, she turned to make her way back over the rise, nearly running into Ahren, who was coming up the path from the direction of the cave.

The cave. It was gone! Azura stared, open mouthed, at the blank granite surface that stood where she had slept the night before. She raised her unencumbered right hand and waved it back at the rock face. "Ahren? Where is your cave?" she practically shouted.

Ahren looked back at her, nonplussed, and gently covered his eyes with his hand, exhaling and lowering his head toward the ground.

"Azura, if you are truly my friend, you'll ignore what your eyes are seeing and ask no further questions."

She gazed back at him, completely at a loss for words. What was this man? A conjurer? No. No conjurer could summon such a massive object as what it would have taken to conceal the cave's entrance. Her mouth hung open and she simply stared at Ahren.

He looked back at her and squared his shoulders, then intoned in his quiet tenor, "Azura, we will not speak of this."

Slowly, ever so slowly, she began to nod, and gently shut her jaw. "Of course, Master Ahren." With eyes wide, she gradually turned and began striding once more down the path toward the fishing village of Duran. Ahren sighed, readjusted the weight of his packs, and began to follow.

The swishing of Ahren's pants and the quiet brush of Azura's tunic were all the conversation that passed between them until they reached the village outskirts late that afternoon.

# Chapter Two

Even from one hundred yards away, the village stank of fish and other edibles brought in from the river Roanar. The elven diplomat scrunched her nose in distaste. The Roanar was more than a quarter-mile wide at Duran, which nestled along its southern shore. Its clear, slow-moving waters teemed with plant and animal life. Fishermen went out at all hours of the day to retrieve its bounty, which would then be sold fresh, or prepared and salted for travel provisions or future markets. The occasional trapping of a beaver or muskrat punctuated the regular catch of trout, bass, turtles, crayfish, catfish, giant salamanders, pike, sturgeon, and frogs. Raccoon and deer could be seen frolicking along the shore, and ducks were plentiful, swimming in neat squadrons upon the water.

A rain that Ahren had called down earlier that day still filtered through the boughs of the overhanging trees, spattering in the dirt and dampening the floor of moss that graced this section of the forest. Azura's waist-long hair was soaked, and drops of water skittered down Ahren's forehead. The odor of wet peat mixed with the odor of Duran's catch in a soup of unusual scents. From where they stood, they could see the multitude of skiffs both docked and plying the afternoon waters with net and line below flying sails. Turning to look back the way they had come, Ahren could still see his mountain rising like an enormous granite ziggurat above the trees.

He reached up and patted Azura on the shoulder and said quietly, "Well, I guess we're here."

"Here" was a motley collection of small wooden houses and larger commercial structures that centered upon a wide main street that extended in front of the duo. The planking of the walls was generally grayed with age and exposure to sunlight, but it appeared to be kept in good condition. Shutters covered windows at this, the supper hour, and the rain sloughed off of the tar-based shingles and into puddles that surrounded the buildings. The main street was covered in a relatively thick layer of gravel to cut down on mud holes, and at present time did an admirable job of wicking the water away and allowing it to flow back into the river through man-made sluices. The inhabitants of the small village were beginning preparations for shutting down for the day, though there was still work to be done.

Ahren had been to the village on many occasions, always peddling his herbs and spices to those with money, and donating them to those in need. Azura, on the other hand, passed through the little village only rarely, and was aghast at what, to her, was the sad state of affairs the village presently found itself in.

"It looks run down," she said.

Ahren nodded and pursed his lips, saying, "Yes, well, it does always look a little run down. But wait until we get inside. It's quite nice, I'm sure you'll agree. Besides, Duran has everything that we need for our journey to Cirunel. We must make haste, however, for I feel a dark foreboding about your secret prophecy."

"Of course, but I wish this cursed rain would stop! I'll soon be soaked to the bone."

"Oh, really? Had enough, have you?" Ahren surreptitiously pressed his right hand palm upward toward the sky, before turning the gesture into an exaggerated yawn. Presently, the rain began to slow. Within a minute, it had ceased completely and the clouds had rolled away. Blissfully, the late afternoon sunlight began to slowly dry out the pair and their surroundings.

Azura gazed at the sky with a marveled expression on her face. "Well, that was convenient, don't you think?"

"Yes, funny coincidence, that," he agreed.

With an arched eyebrow, she turned on the short, mysterious man and asked, "Why is it that I seem to have so many more 'funny coincidences' when I'm around you, Master Ahren?"

He shrugged and his face wore a bemused expression, as he answered, "I simply have no idea, lady elf. Come, let us have a proper supper at the inn before we move on to the rest of our necessary duties." He smiled pleasantly at his companion and took a step forward.

Azura began to follow, but both stopped immediately. Hoofbeats sounded in the distance. At least a half dozen horses, racing closer. Down the street, an elderly man carrying a large bag slung over one shoulder stepped out of one of the village shops. He began to slowly make his way toward the docks. The horses thundered closer. Ahren and Azura retreated to the protection of a grove of trees. The rolling noise reverberated from every surface, making it impossible to tell where the sound was coming from. Suddenly, Ahren elbowed Azura and pointed to the south. It appeared to be seven men on horseback, riding hell-bent for Duran. As they approached, Ahren could make out that they were dressed in the common garb of plains hunters and forest rangers, wearing shirts and pants of mottled colors. Each one carried a weapon slung over his back - a sword, a bow, or a mace. Each also carried a knife similar to Ahren's, tucked into a scabbard tied to a boot. They raced forward, and were soon making a right turn in front of Ahren and Azura, speeding down the main street. Azura gasped and pointed wildly – the elderly man was still in the middle of the street. He raised his hands and cried out at the approaching riders, but the lead horseman paid no heed, simply colliding with him, and sending him spinning to the ground with a scream of agony. The horsemen rode on, reining in their horses only when they reached the town's inn, where they dismounted and tied their horses to the available posts.

Ahren and Azura were running even before the horsemen had dismounted. The old man's leather bag had been ripped open, spewing freshwater oysters across the gravel. Azura immediately knelt at his side and began examining the unconscious man gently with her hands. His left arm looked terrible. The elf quietly soothed his ragged groans and placed her knapsack under his head.

"Ahren, we need to get this man to a healer. I think that he has broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder, and his arm is clearly broken. Thank the gods that his skin is nowhere broken, or he would likely be facing an infection that his aged body might not be able to overcome."

Ahren moved to the man's other side and began his own examination, very calmly, casually. He said, "Azura, would you please look up and tell me what the riders are doing?" While she turned her head down the street and began to relay their actions before the inn, Ahren gently placed his hands on the man's crushed chest. His hands gave off a soft glow for a brief instant, and suddenly the old man was taking deep breaths again. Ahren looked up at Azura to see that her head was still turned; then, as he listened with half an ear to the elf's report, he gently placed his hands over the broken arm, where once again they glowed briefly. He sighed and rubbed his hands together briskly before his chest as he listened to Azura's final accounting: the men had gone into the inn, leaving their sweating horses tied to the posts.

"Azura," said Ahren, "I think you may have been slightly alarmist in your diagnosis. I can't find anything more serious than a dislocated shoulder on this unfortunate man."

She turned back to him. "That's impossible. The man needs a healer."

"Azura, humor me and check him again."

She frowned at him and furrowed her brow, but did as she was asked. As she examined the still form of the man, her expression of concern turned to an expression of bewilderment. "But... but... I would have sworn to the gods that his chest was crushed and his arm broken. But now I find... only a dislocated shoulder. How could I have been so wrong?"

Ahren tapped her gently on the forehead with his middle finger and said, "Perhaps you were simply a little hasty. Caught up in the moment and all. I wouldn't worry about it. I know that you're an excellent diagnostician. Remember the deer that you saved last month? Now come on, don't worry about it. Just hold him firmly while I set his shoulder. Fortunately for him, he's already unconscious."

She nodded hesitantly, blinking rapidly as her mind raced. "Yes, Ahren, I'll hold him. Let me get a good grip." She wrapped her long arms around the man's chest and braced her booted feet against the ground. "Go ahead."

Ahren gripped the man's arm and held it perpendicular to the prostrate body. "Ready?" he asked. When Azura inclined her head in the affirmative, Ahren tightened his grip and threw his full weight into pulling the man's shoulder outward. He felt it pop back into place with a satisfying knock. Azura released the man from her grasp and moved quickly to cradle his head.

By now, a crowd was gathering around the trio in the center of the main street. A small girl, no more than four years of age, approached the tall elf and said, in broken child's language, "Did da horsies hurt my grampa ?"

Azura looked at her with a wanting expression. She knew that in not too many years, she would want to have a child. She answered the little girl, "No, your grandfather just needs to rest a bit, little one. He's going to be fine. Where are your parents?"

The little girl looked imploringly at the other, familiar faces, and finally blurted out, "Daddy's fishing. Mommy's working."

"Oh, all right. Where does your Mommy work?" Azura asked in a reassuring voice.

The little girl looked around again for help, clutching a blanket close to her chin. Soon one of the men in the gathered group spoke up. "Lissy's mother works at the inn. She's a housekeeper."

Azura looked at the man and asked, "Can you take, um, Lissy, and her grandfather to their home?"

The man shrugged and said, "Yeah, we'll take 'em back. Don't you worry. And thank your friend for us. He took off before we could say anything." Three men broke from the gathered crowd and picked up Lissy and her grandfather in order to carry them back to their home. Meanwhile, Azura looked around frantically, wondering where the devil Ahren had gone off to. Not seeing him, she quickly gathered her knapsack and got to her feet. Well, she thought, I guess I'll go to the inn and speak with the girl's mother first. Then I'll worry about finding Ahren.

She passed the panting, lathered horses before swinging the inn's door open and releasing a cacophony of laughter, shouting, and the heavy sound of metal upon wood.

"More ale, you stupid wench!"

One of the rangers kicked the tavern girl – the smallest dwarf maiden that Azura had ever seen – hard on the rump. The diminutive little maiden jumped at the strike and hurried toward the kitchen, carrying a tray of empty pewter mugs before her.

Azura could only look on in disgust as the seven men made pigs of themselves, shoveling food and pouring drink down their gullets.

"She's quite beautiful, isn't she?"

Azura jumped at the unexpected comment and looked to her right, from where the voice had come. There was Ahren, sitting quietly to the right of the door with a plate of food and a cup of water before him. Azura quickly closed the door and sat down beside him, wondering which question she should ask first.

She settled on, "Why did you leave me out there? How did you expect that I'd find you?"

Ahren watched the tiny dwarf maiden disappear behind the kitchen's swinging door before saying, so quietly that Azura could hardly hear him over the din, "Oh, my lady elf. You're a bright girl. I knew you'd have no trouble finding me. And as for leaving you, well, you're the diplomat, not me. I become uneasy around crowds. Why do you think that I live alone on the side of the mountain? Anyway, I knew that you could handle the situation. Is the old man back home?"

She shook her head in amazement at his words, and said, "Yes, he is back home, though still unconscious."

"He'll be fine. Anything else?"

"Well, I came here to bring news to his daughter, or daughter-in-law, at least. In case you missed it with your disappearing act, the old man has a granddaughter named 'Lissy.' Lissy's mother is the housekeeper here at the inn. If I hadn't learned that, I don't know how or when I would have found you."

"Excellent! See, I knew that your diplomatic skills would come in handy. Why don't you run off and find the woman and deliver the news? I promise that I won't go anywhere."

"Very well. Would you be so good as to order a plate for me? I'm famished."

"I thought you would be; so I took the liberty to ask that a plate be ready for you."

With that, Azura dropped her knapsack on the bench next to Ahren and headed off toward the guest rooms in search of the old man's kin.

As Azura disappeared around the corner, the tiny dwarf maiden bustled her way out of the kitchen, carrying a new tray full of overflowing mugs of ale. She stopped between the two tables the seven men were sharing, and silently distributed the ale to each member of the party. The men pointed and roared laughter at her, clinking empty mugs together. She turned and marched toward Ahren, her face downturned and sad.

Ahren thought that she was the single most beautiful thing that he had seen in his entire life.

She stood two heads shorter than Ahren, just as Ahren stood two heads shorter than Azura. Her hands were almost those of a child, formed of beautiful creamy skin. A mane of bright russet hair poured from her head and cascaded down her shoulders and back. Wide, round, emerald green eyes pierced the surroundings from above her button nose and bow-shaped mouth. Her lips were full and luscious. She wore a pretty, floor-length, sky-blue dress, with the bodice tied tightly against what Ahren was embarrassed to admit was an extravagantly buxom chest. She moved purposefully, but carefully, her curvaceous hips swinging unconsciously as she approached Ahren's table. She stopped and looked at him, and he smiled kindly at her.

She looked at him blankly, eyebrows raised.

He said, "Hello, my lady dwarf. Might I have your name?"

She stared back at him, then glanced at his food.

"The food? The food is quite good for an establishment like this. But might I have your name?"

She exhaled briskly and reached out to tap his near-empty glass of water with her finger.

"No, thank you, I'm fine, really. But please, might I have your name?"

The little dwarf maiden looked at him with a somewhat angry expression and crossed her arms before her massive chest. She began to tap one foot impatiently.

It was finally Ahren's turn to be puzzled.

Azura returned to the room, having delivered the news to one very grateful housekeeper. She looked across the tables and saw Ahren and the dwarf maiden engaged in what could only be described as a staring contest. Then Ahren leaned down close to the little dwarf and said something that Azura couldn't make out. The dwarf maiden uncrossed her arms and set herself akimbo, still staring back at him. Azura watched as a look of understanding crossed Ahren's face and he sat back on his bench, clearly chuckling to himself. Then he did one of the strangest things that Azura had ever seen him do. He laid both hands out flat toward the dwarf maiden, fingers splayed. As Azura watched, he began to wiggle and flex them before the petite dwarf.

Azura saw the maiden look back at him, then suddenly brighten up like the midday sun and nod vigorously. Azura couldn't stand it any longer and ran over to her companion, ignoring the hoots and catcalls that issued forth from the seven men. She quickly reached Ahren's side, and laid a slender hand upon his shoulder.

He looked up at her, then inclined his head to indicate the dwarf. "She's a deaf mute."

Azura blinked her eyes slowly once, and said questioningly, "Well, that explains some of what I saw, but why are you wiggling your fingers at her?"

Ahren dropped his hands for a brief moment and looked up at her. "It's called 'fingerspeak.' It's how the deaf communicate. It's really quite simple, once you get the hang of it."

"And you learned this growing spices?"

He wanted to answer with the truth, that he had invented it thousands of years ago, but instead settled for a more furtive, "I've learned many things."

Azura shook her head once again in disbelief. He never ceased to amaze her. After seating herself next to him and smiling at the dwarf maiden, she asked, "Why isn't she invisible, like the other dwarf women?"

Ahren shrugged and wiggled his fingers at the girl. "My friend wants to know, why are you not invisible to us?"

The gorgeous little dwarf maiden wiggled her fingers back at him. He nodded and turned to Azura. "She says that she can't turn invisible like the other dwarf women. She says that it's probably related to why she's deaf and unable to make the slightest sound. But she also points out that even if she were able to, she couldn't become invisible and still do the job of a barmaid."

"Oh. I hadn't thought of that. It's just so rare that a dwarf woman actually allows herself to be seen, you know."

"Yes, I know. Unfortunately, it would appear that she has little choice. Hold on a moment." He turned to the girl.

In fingerspeak, he asked, "What's your name?"

The young woman suddenly looked very shy, but slowly moved her fingers, spelling out, "J-h-o-n-k-a-r-a."

Ahren grinned and said, "Jhonkara. What a beautiful name."

Looking past Ahren at the serving girl, Azura hungrily, but daintily, began to devour her supper. Between bites, she quietly asked, "Do we really have time to be dallying with this pretty little lady, Ahren? There is the matter of the prophecy and all, in case you've forgotten."

"I've not forgotten. But I must speak with her more. She's exquisite."

He looked once again at the maiden and fingered to her, "I'm going to do something that might be a little scary. Do not fear."

The girl suddenly cringed and stepped back from him as though he were about to hit her, and he quickly waved his hands and put on his best "it's all right" face. He gently took her arms in his hands and brought them back down to her sides; then, seeing that she wasn't about to bolt, released them. He looked at Azura, took a deep breath, and looked back at Jhonkara. Azura saw his lips start to move, almost imperceptibly.

Ahren moved his lips as little as possible, and subvocalized the question, "Jhonkara, can you hear me?"

Azura thought that she saw the air between Ahren's mouth and Jhonkara's ear shimmer, as the air rising off of a hot roof in summertime, but it was so fast that she couldn't be sure she had actually seen anything.

Jhonkara's eyes flew wide open, and her mouth helplessly pantomimed a silent scream. She turned to run, but Ahren caught her by the arm and gently held her in place. He subvocalized, "Jhonkara, it's all right. It's just a little trick that I know."

The young woman looked terrified of him, and Azura was horribly puzzled about what was going on.

Ahren did his best to reassure the tavern girl. "Jhonkara, I know it's a little alarming that you can suddenly hear me and understand my words, but I promise that all is well. There is nothing to be frightened of. Do you believe me?"

Jhonkara looked at him like a frightened deer. She slowly reached out with her left hand and pointed to Azura, then drew her finger over to Ahren, then tapped her own forehead and looked at the elf with pleading eyes.

Azura leaned toward Ahren and asked, "What does she want?"

"I think that she wants to know if you think she should trust me," answered Ahren.

Azura said, "Oh, well, um," and nodded vigorously.

Jhonkara exhaled with relief and looked back at Ahren. She fingered to him, "You speak me. You need ale?"

Ahren laughed, and answered in his magical way, "No, my dear, I'd rather just talk with you."

The little dwarf laughed silently and fingered at him, pointedly, "I must work. I like you. You nice. Elf nice. But must work." She shrugged, picked up her serving tray from where it had been dropped to the ground in her fleeting moment of terror, and gently backed away before running smack into the legs of the innkeeper, whose approach had been so subtle that none of the three had noticed her presence. Jhonkara quickly turned to run around the woman and back to the kitchen, but was held back with a strong hand on her shoulder.

"So, you thought that you could make time with my little wench here, did you?" sneered the battle-axe of an innkeeper.

"No," Ahren answered, "we were just having a friendly chat."

The rough-edged innkeeper laughed loudly. "A chat! With this!" She shook the girl roughly. "There's only one reason that anyone wants to make time with my little wench, and that's these." She reached around and squeezed one of Jhonkara's breasts, jiggling it cruelly up and down. Jhonkara blushed and looked horrified, averting her eyes toward the stained wooden floor of the inn.

Ahren leapt to his feet, quickly followed by Azura, who knocked over the bench they had been sitting on. His eyes bored into the innkeeper with unmatched ferocity as he whispered a deadly, "Release her at once."

It was the innkeeper's turn to jump. She quickly let go of Jhonkara, who clutched the serving tray to her chest and bolted for the kitchen through the pack of men. But the innkeeper quickly regained her composure and a good bit of bravado. "Well, if not you, I'm sure I can find someone else to take that deaf little wench. I've not found anyone yet, but someday there'll be a taker, and I'll make a nice profit on the side. Now be off! You're no longer welcome in this establishment!"

Ahren seethed, but was calmed slightly by Azura's reassuring hand on his back. He spoke through clenched teeth: "Azura, get your things, and we'll be going."

"But Ahren!"

"Quiet! Just get your things."

It wasn't like Ahren to argue in this manner. It wasn't like him to be rude. Nevertheless, Azura did as she was told, picking her knapsack up off the ground.

Ahren's eyes shot daggers at the innkeeper, as he softly declared, "We'll not be paying for my supper, in exchange for not going to the authorities with this."

"Fine!" shot back the innkeeper. "Be off with you!"

He gave her one last parting stare, then took Azura by the hand and led her out the door. Before it could close behind him, they heard one of the men call out, "Hey, you with the alabaster skin! Bring your fine long legs and your little friend with the big tits over here and we'll really have a celebration!" Raucous laughter ensued.

The door slammed shut.

Ahren stood silently looking at the ground, his muscles tensed. Azura could almost feel energy radiating from him, but she said nothing. At least for a while. Then, as the moment lingered into a full-blown pause, she asked, very quietly, "We're not going to the authorities?"

Ahren shook his head slowly from side to side. "No. A deaf mute can't defend herself. We'd just be making life more difficult for her by further angering the innkeeper. Come on, we've more to do before night falls."

Azura was about to observe that the sun was already very low in the sky, and that perhaps they should seek shelter for the night, but one glance at his countenance dismissed all thoughts of saying anything to that effect. Instead, she quietly asked, "So, where to next?"

"The jeweler."

"The jeweler! Ahren, this is hardly the time for frivolous pursuits."

He began to stomp off down the street, his two packs swinging behind him. He answered back over his shoulder, "We need money for our travels. I can get some from the jeweler."

Azura murmured, "I'm surprised that this town even has a jeweler."

"What?"

"Nothing, my mysterious friend." She paused, then asked, "Do you think that you could teach me fingerspeak?"

He brightened and looked back at her. "Why, yes, of course, Azura. I'm happy to share my knowledge with you. Besides, it might become a very handy diplomatic skill someday."

She smiled and caught up with him, her long stride easily overtaking his. "So how are we going to get money from the jeweler?"

"We're going to trade."

"Um, trade what, my friend? I carry nothing of value save my necklace, and I cannot give it up. It's a family heirloom."

He smiled. "Yes, I know, you've told me the story of that heirloom many times. Don't worry so much, Azura, just trust me."

She shrugged, slapped him on the back, and began to whistle an elvish hunting tune. Soon, they reached a building – better kept than most of the others – whose hanging sign proclaimed in bold letters: "JEWELER."

Ahren knocked twice, paused, then pushed the door open.

The darkness within enveloped them like a cloak. Nary a single candle or oil lamp lit the room. They could just barely make out the counter space, behind which sat the dwarven jeweler. He looked like an overstuffed chair. Rolling himself to his feet, he asked in a gruff voice, "How may I help a fine lady and gentleman such as yourselves?" He looked at their muddy travel clothing as if he already knew there was no business to be had between them.

Ahren sidled up to the counter and leaned both elbows upon it. He paused for a moment, took in the air, then said, "We have some gems that we'd like to trade for gold coins."

Azura looked at him and mouthed, "Ahren? Gems?"

The dwarf laughed at him, and said, "Really? What kind of little gem would you like to trade? Found a garnet, did you?"

Ahren smiled knowingly at the man, and swung the smaller of his two packs forward to lay it on the counter. He unfastened its closures and reached in, rummaging around for a moment before bringing out a pouch the size of two good-sized human fists. "We'd like to trade these."

The jeweler swallowed. "Ah, you'd like to trade a lot of garnets?"

"No." He opened the drawstring on the pouch and poured its contents onto the countertop. "We'd like to trade these."

Azura gasped. Ahren had just poured a fortune's worth of rubies, emeralds, sapphires, and diamonds onto the counter. Where in Nordanfel had he found them? They all appeared to be perfectly cut and, at least from her vantage point, flawless.

The jeweler took a step back. "You – you're sure you want to trade all of these?"

Ahren nodded once. "Yes, I'm very certain."

The dwarf approached the counter once more. "Well then. I, um – I suppose I'll just have a look at them."

He pulled a magnifying lens from beneath the counter and began examining the gems. He muttered to himself as he inspected every facet of every piece. The inspection took at least half an hour. The jeweler separated them by type, and then by size, and then by some other factor that Azura could only guess at – clarity, perhaps. Finally, he hefted his bulk away from the counter and said, "Let me go into the back room for a moment. I need to consult my handbook." He eagerly added, "Cirunel recently issued a new handbook on the trade value of gems, and I was the first one in the whole province to get one!" Then he disappeared into the back room.

Azura had an elf's night vision, so she could see everything as clearly as if it were merely a cloudy day. But Ahren moved with the same self-assuredness in the dark, and she wondered how he was able to do that. No human could. Only a very rare dwarf would be able to. What was he?

Ahren said to her, "Do you think we'll get a good price for the gems?"

She blanched. "Honestly, Ahren, I have no idea. I know next to nothing about gems. But if I may ask... where did you get them?"

There was a noticeable pause. Finally he answered, "I found them on my land."

"You found cut gems laying around on your land?"

"Well, it's a tad more complicated than that, but yes, essentially, that's what happened."

"I don't believe you."

Ahren arched an eyebrow and asked, "Have I ever lied to you before?"

She fell silent.

After another quarter of an hour, the jeweler emerged from the back room with his book in hand, and laid it out on the counter with the gemstones. He kept flipping from page to page, looking at a gem, inspecting it, then flipping to another page and repeating the process. Finally, he gave the verdict. "I can give you twenty-thousand gold equivalent for them. That's my only offer."

Azura was stunned at the magnitude of the offer, but Ahren only waved a hand in the air and said, "Very well, we'll take it. Some large denomination coins, please, we don't really have much room to pack them."

"Yes, of course," the jeweler said with glee. He disappeared once more into the back room.

"What's he so happy about?" Azura asked.

"He just procured my gems at a price that is barely half of their value."

"Ahren! You're letting those go at half price? Are you insane?"

Ahren chuckled into the blackness. "Oh, lady elf, I'm sure that I'll find more."

"More perfectly cut gemstones on your land."

"Yes."

"Ahren-of-the-Hill, you are a very, very strange man."

He looked back at her. "I don't believe that I ever claimed to be otherwise."

The jeweler rushed back into the main room with a full velvet bag the size of a grapefruit. It was closed at the top by a length of cord and a small clasp. He handed it over to Ahren. "Twenty-thousand gold equivalent. May you always be prosperous!"

"Thank you, my good man," said Ahren. He took Azura by the hand and guided her to the door – as if she needed guiding in the darkness. But, she thought appreciatively, the sentiment was still there.

They emerged into twilight, the sun already dipped below the western mountains. "We'll have to find shelter for the night and finish up our business here tomorrow," he said. "I'd rather not stay at that gods-forsaken inn, but unless you have friends here whom I don't know about, I think it's our only option." He paused, then added, "It feels like more rain's coming tonight."

Azura had taken to always trusting his predictions about the weather, for they were never wrong. She said, "No, I have no friends here in Duran with whom we can stay. I might be able to use my diplomatic papers to procure us a room with the mayor, but somehow I feel that you're hoping to avoid that kind of scrutiny."

"Well said, lady elf," Ahren intoned. "I'm afraid that we'll just have to confront that innkeeper again. Or if we're lucky, she's gone for the night, and someone else – someone more pleasant – has taken her place. And to be honest with you, I wouldn't mind seeing Jhonkara again."

Azura punched him playfully in the shoulder, saying, "I thought not. So, Ahren-of-the-Hill finally has an ulterior motive for doing something. I should be keeping a diary, this should be recorded."

It was his turn to punch her in the arm as they reached the door to the inn. Much to his dismay, the seven horses were still tied up outside. He had really hoped that those miscreants had left. He gently pushed the door open to the sounds of hoots, laughter, and guffaws. He entered swiftly, with Azura trailing.

The sight that met his eyes horrified him.

A torn sky-blue dress lay carelessly crumpled on one of the benches.

He could barely see naked flesh among the press of the seven men. Then he saw a glimpse of russet hair lying across one of the tabletops. Jhonkara. Two men were holding her bare legs apart, and another was holding her shoulders down. Three men were pointing and laughing at the plight of the little dwarf, tossing back ale, and yelling things like, "My turn's next!" and "Don't break her!" Lastly, standing between her legs was a man with his pants and drawers dropped down around his ankles. He looked up as the cold draft of night air hit his naked behind, and shouted, "Close the damn door! Can't you see we're having a little victory party?"

Ahren seethed with unbridled rage. Azura gasped and took a step to the side, away from her friend, frantically reaching behind her for the enchanted crossbow.

Ahren's face went crimson, and he shouted a single word, so loud and so deep that it seemed to split the heavens as it shook the rafters: "NO!"

The seven men turned as one, shocked, but not deterred. The bare-legged one made a rude gesture with his hands and shot out a string of epithets about Ahren's lineage. Ahren, practically frothing at the mouth in rage, shouted again, "NO!"

He held his hands outstretched before him, palms outward, and shouted one last time in that voice that shook the rafters, "Stop what you are doing!" It sounded as if one of the gods themselves had come to Nordanfel to deliver a message.

The men simply sneered at him, and the one who stood ready between Jhonkara's legs snarled, "Oh, we're doing this – no matter how loud you – or she – yells."

As a primal scream erupted from the depths of his soul, a solid blast of air shot forth from Ahren's hands. It picked up tables and flung them about as if caught in a tornado. The seven men were battered and beaten by the furniture, as they themselves were picked up in the mighty gust and flung with a great crash against the far wall. Jhonkara, who had been in the middle of the entire melee, gently floated down to the ground, naked, but miraculously unharmed by the fierce cyclone.

Ahren rushed over to her and put a hand against her cheek. She was sobbing, great silent sobs, and clutched frantically at Ahren's arm. He put his other arm behind her and lifted her torso to cradle her in his arms, rocking her gently back and forth, his eyes still stormy with rage.

Azura stood motionless where she had entered, unsure of what she had just witnessed. How had Ahren done that? What was that? What was he? What should I do now?

Tears rolled down Ahren's cheeks and dripped onto Jhonkara's lovely tresses. "I should never have left you here," he said aloud. The storm clouds in his eyes slowly dissipated as the minutes passed, and he became more aware of the groans and cries coming from the pile of furniture and humanity against the far wall. He just rocked Jhonkara harder, wishing that he knew what to say or do next.

Suddenly, a screech broke the eerie quiet of the dining hall. The innkeeper stood at the top of the stairs, pointing a pistol-crossbow at Ahren. He looked up at her sadly. She let the bolt fly and it tore into his shoulder. He didn't flinch, just pulled it out and continued to look at her. The wound rapidly healed over. She screamed at him, "Why did you do this, you bastard? Do you know how much money I was going to make on her tonight?"

Ahren heard a sharp twang, followed by a snap and a whoosh from behind him, and watched as an iron bolt embedded itself deep in the woman's chest. She clutched at it frantically for a moment, then fell forward over the railing, landing dead upon the pile of rubble. He looked behind him, and saw Azura standing there, holding the crossbow he had given her. She looked at him and said, quietly, "Among the elves, rape is the worst kind of crime, and she encouraged it. Encouraged it for her own sordid benefit. She deserved far, far worse, but this is all that I had."

Ahren nodded silently, still clutching the weeping Jhonkara.

Azura could see that for the first time in her memory, Ahren-of-the-Hill was lost and confused. So many thoughts swirled around in his mind that he was unable to hold on to any one long enough to help him to know what to do. So he didn't move. Seeing her friend's uncharacteristic discomposure, Azura quickly slung the crossbow across her back and rushed over to the silently crying couple. She briefly touched Jhonkara's now-damp head, just to let her know that she was there. "Ahren? Perhaps we should get her a change of clothes"

Ahren seemed to come out of the trance he had been in. "Of course, you're right, my lady elf."

He turned his head down so that his lips were touching the top of Jhonkara's head, and subvocalized, "Jhonkara, where do you keep your clothing?"

Jhonkara was unresponsive at first, but after a few moments, she leaned back and fingerspoke to Ahren. "She says that she has more clothes in the closet in the third room," he said.

Azura nodded and raced off to find something for the poor girl to wear.

Ahren subvocalized, "Jhonkara, did they hurt you? Did they hurt you – like that?"

She slowly wiggled her fingers back at him, "No. You in time. I grateful."

"I'm grateful too, Jhonkara," he said, though he knew that she couldn't hear him.

Azura returned quickly with fresh clothing. "I didn't know what she wanted, but I figured that she probably wouldn't be too choosy right now. I hope she likes this one." She held out a gaily colored, bright yellow dress.

Jhonkara nodded weakly, and reached out to take it. The instant that it touched her hand, she seemed to suddenly realize that she was naked in Ahren's arms, and pushed herself away, covering herself as best she could. Ahren still didn't really know what to do.

Azura came to his rescue by taking Jhonkara by the hand. "Ahren, turn away," she instructed. He did. Azura stroked Jhonkara's hair and gently led her back into her room. Once he heard their steps fade away, Ahren screamed again, this time not in anger, but in his feelings of frustration and fear. He also wondered how he had become so attached to this small woman in such a blindingly short time.

He stood carefully and looked at his hands. They were his hands, as normal as they had ever been. He walked over to the pile of bodies and furniture, and listened. There were many groans. Someone cursed. He saw a broken arm hanging out of the pile about halfway up. The bone was visible, and blood was dripping on the already stained floor. But, he knew, they'd live. His begrudged mending of the open wound would see to that. The innkeeper on the other hand, well, that was unfortunate. Every life was precious, even hers. But he couldn't fault Azura; that was the way of her people.

He began circling the room, thinking to himself how stupid he had been to reveal one of his powers to Azura. Yet, at the same time, there had been no other choice, except to unleash his knife or his sword and kill them all. That was unacceptable. Every life was precious.

He bit his lip. He paced. He pounded his fist against the wooden wall. He stopped crying and wiped away the tears. He waited.

After what seemed like an eternity, Jhonkara and Azura emerged from the passageway, Jhonkara wearing the pretty yellow dress, and Azura wearing the beginnings of a smile. "I think she likes you," she said to Ahren. "She made a definite heart-shape with her fingers and pointed out here. But don't tell her I said anything. It might have been supposed to be a secret."

Ahren stopped his pacing and faced the duo. He felt his spirits brighten the moment he beheld Jhonkara once again. "Lady elf, is that a twinkle in your eye?" he challenged.

"Maybe."

Jhonkara looked up at the elf, who towered above her, and pointed at Ahren. Azura nodded, and Jhonkara rushed to him, nearly knocking him off his feet. She grasped him around the waist and squeezed and squeezed and didn't let go. He gently stroked her beautiful russet hair.

"Azura, I think she needs to come with us," he said.

Azura bobbed her head, "I was expecting you to say something like that. Perhaps we can find safe lodging and work for her once we get to Cirunel."

Ahren nodded briefly, "Maybe. Maybe we'll just keep her with us."

"Why, Ahren-of-the-Hill, are you getting sentimental on me?"

"Oh no, just realistic."

"Uh-huh. Well, I'm just glad that you traded for so much gold, because now we've three mouths to feed."

Ahren nodded again. "It won't be a problem. I'll watch over her. For now though, we need a place to stay, and it looks like this is it. So please, quickly now, bar the door. We don't need anyone intruding and seeing my little – collection over there against the wall."

"Ahren, what was that? Magic?"

He paused and gazed into eternity before responding. "It was just anger, Azura. Rage. Fury. It happens sometimes."

"I hope I'm never on the receiving end. What about the men?"

"They'll live."

Azura fixed a beam across the door. She hesitated, then looked back at Ahren and asked, "Why?"

"Because she's special. I feel it in my heart."

# Chapter Three

Morning broke early, but gently, after a surprisingly comfortable rest for the unlikely band of travelers. As they made ready to depart, Ahren and Azura were quickly packed. Jhonkara, however, found herself stymied, having nothing but a small, square piece of cloth in which to bundle her belongings. They solved this minor problem by deciding to pack her things with Azura's, so in went various undergarments that Jhonkara was very insistent about bringing along, and five tiny dresses – which looked ridiculously small against Azura's tunics. Then they raided the kitchen for more salted meat and cheese, and soon their packs were nearly bursting with food and equipment.

Azura gently lifted the locking beam clear of the doorway, and slowly opened the door into the bright morning sunshine. Indeed, as Ahren had predicted, it had rained during the night, but the puddles were already beginning to dry up.

"All right," said Ahren, "the way I see it, we need two things. We need some better traveling clothes, and we need transportation." He simultaneously subvocalized the same to Jhonkara, who nodded.

"Agreed," said Azura. They left the confines of the inn and began walking toward the tailor's shop.

Jhonkara fingered to Ahren, "Tailor good man. He help."

The trio reached the cheerily painted door of the tailor's shop, and knocked twice to announce their arrival. A brisk, "Come in!" issued from within. They pushed the door open. Unlike the jeweler's shop, they found the tailor's to be bright and inviting. The tailor himself was an elderly human, perhaps sixty years old, with thinning gray hair and a winning smile of missing teeth.

Ahren stepped forward, the unspoken leader of the group. "Good day, sir. We three are in need of travel cloaks. They must have hoods, and extend to the ground. I would like them to be made of leather, with a reversible liner of your warmest wool. Can you make such garments for such as ourselves?"

The tailor looked the three of them up and down for a moment, sizing them up. "I can make what you ask, but it will be expensive."

"How expensive?"

The tailor looked them over again, then said, "Seven hundred fifty gold for the three of them."

Ahren asked, "And if we need them today?"

"Fifteen-hundred gold." The tailor raised an eyebrow. "Do you have such funds?"

"I do." Ahren removed the pouch from his smaller pack and selected the appropriate coins. He handed them over, counting each one into the other man's hand.

Beaming, the tailor instructed, "Come back at five o'clock today, and I shall have your cloaks ready."

Ahren smiled, and asked, "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"What? I don't think so? Three cloaks; leather and wool. Reversible. Oh, wait, of course, the measurements! I get so daft at times. One of these days I'm going to wake up and forget to go to work! Now, let's see. An elf, a dwarf, and a, uh – human? What a traveling group you make! Where are you going?" He began taking measurements, starting with Jhonkara.

Ahren hesitated, then shrugged and said, "We're traveling to Cirunel."

"Cirunel! The grand capital city of Morovar! What business do you have there?"

Ahren hesitated again, and Azura jumped in, saying, "I am a diplomat of the elven courts and have pressing business." She glanced over at Ahren with a look that said, "Well, it could be true."

"And a dwarf maiden, too? You can hardly ever see a dwarf maiden, you know. They can make themselves invisible."

Ahren rubbed his cheeks with his hands and said, "Yes, we know. Jhonkara here can't. As she's also deaf, she won't know what you're asking, so be gentle while taking her measurements."

"Oh, my, well isn't that awful! Yes, well, we're done with her. On to you. Smallest to tallest, I always say!"

Ahren smiled. This man reminded him of his own long-dead grandfather, but without the slightly pointed ears. And certainly without the powers.

The rest of the measurements went quickly. "Well, now it's done. Come back at five! Be off with you now, and leave me to my work."

They thanked the tailor and left the shop. The day was beautiful: a cloudless sky, a pleasant breeze, and a warm sun. The fishermen and their skiffs were plying the waters like madmen on a day like this.

Azura suddenly interrupted their moment of calm by saying, "Ahren! Why don't we just take three horses from those men at the inn?"

"No, Azura, I considered that," he said, continuing his unique, but inconspicuous manner of communicating his speech to both Azura and Jhonkara at the same time. "But those are regular horses, insufficient for our needs and overly-ridden to boot. We must have Striders. Time is of the essence."

"Striders! Do we really need such huge mounts?"

"I have a feeling that they'll be indispensable during our journey. Who knows where the path may take us? The end is not in Cirunel."

"It's not?"

"No, I fear the end is much farther to the north and east."

"You mean Savanod?"

"Yes," he said.

Jhonkara tugged on his shirt and fingered at him, "Where we go?"

"To Cirunel, where you may live among your own kind, my dear," he subvocalized for her ears only.

She shook her head vigorously in the negative and fingered violently at him: "I no stay Cirunel. I go you."

Ahren threw his head back in laughter and considered, finally telling her, "We'll see." He kissed her on the forehead, and she beamed.

Azura asked, "What was that all about?"

"Oh, not much. She just wants to know where we're going. I suspect that she has only ever known Duran."

"Oh, that reminds me. It's a long journey to Cirunel. How's she going to defend herself?"

Ahren looked back at her blankly for a second and said, "I hadn't really considered that. But I think we need to go back to the inn."

"Really? Why?"

"You'll see."

He took Jhonkara by the hand and they headed off in the direction of the inn, weaving their way down the now-bustling main street. Absently, he noticed that everywhere he looked, he saw fish or some kind of amphibian. He wondered if the villagers ever tired of cleaning, and preparing, and smelling the water's bounty.

They reached the inn and went inside. The men were still piled in a heap of rubble, and the innkeeper was still dead where she lay. He hurried over to the innkeeper's body and pried the pistol-crossbow from the stiff fingers. It should be the perfect size for Jhonkara. He turned to the dwarf and asked, "Jhonkara, do you know how to use this?"

Jhonkara took it from him, turned it over in her hands, and fingered, "I figure out."

He asked her, "Do you know where she kept the bolts for it?"

Jhonkara nodded and fingered the destination to him. He motioned his head in the direction of the stairway, and said, "Azura, the first room on the right, upstairs. The cabinet should have a supply of twenty bolts for this thing. Please bring them down."

"Of course," she said, and headed off.

Jhonkara practiced pulling the string back, needing to anchor the bow with her foot in order to cock it. Ahren looked on, satisfied. He was so concerned for her. She meant so much to him. And he didn't even know why.

The dwarf maiden suddenly turned to him and fingered, "I need other weapon."

He raised an eyebrow and asked her, "What other weapon?"

"Knife."

"A knife," he repeated somewhat incredulously. He certainly wasn't expecting that. "Well, I guess you know where they're kept. Why don't you go on into the kitchen and make your choice?" he agreed pleasantly.

She frowned at him and set her hands on her hips, then, after pointing to one exposed boot, she fingered, "Real knife."

"Oh. Of course." Ahren reached up and unsnapped the scabbard from around its wearer's leg. He pulled it out and looked it over. It was surprisingly exquisite: dual edged, serrated at the base, and inlaid with gold. He nodded in appreciation and handed the knife and scabbard to Jhonkara.

She accepted it with a smile and fingered, "I see man play knife game. Good knife."

Ahren smiled carefully as Jhonkara grasped the knife. Its eight-inch length made it practically a short sword for the diminutive dwarf.

By this time, Azura had returned from her search of the innkeeper's quarters, but had come back showing only nineteen bolts. "I couldn't find the last one."

Ahren chuckled and said, "I know exactly where it is, since I was forced to remove it from my shoulder. It's on the ground, over there." He pointed.

"You were shot? And no one has looked after your wound? Come here, let me have a look."

Ahren held up his hands in protest, saying, "Oh, now there's no need for that, I'm sure it's fine."

Azura grabbed him by the arm and pulled him close. She looked at his shoulder and saw the bolt hole in his shirt. And no wound. She pushed him away.

"How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Heal so quickly!"

"Oh, that's just natural. My whole family heals – healed – this way. Don't think anything of it."

Jhonkara pinched his leg to get his attention, and then shrugged and fingered at him, "What?"

"Absolutely nothing for you to be concerned about, I promise, sweetheart," he told her.

He put his hands on his companions' backs – one low, one high – and pushed them toward the door. "Now let's get out of here and not come back. I don't want to get caught by the authorities. I'd have a difficult time explaining all of this to them."

"You're having a difficult time explaining it to me," observed Azura.

They stopped for a quick meal at the tables set up in the open-air market directly across from the docks. Jhonkara fingered at him, "I hate water. No swim."

Ahren looked surprised for a moment and said to her, "You can't swim? Well, I guess that's not so bad. Lots of people are afraid of the water. But don't worry. Water is my friend. I won't let anything happen to you." He picked up her delicate left hand and kissed it. He didn't know why, but it just felt right. The three of them enjoyed a repast of turtle soup and biscuits.

"This better than eat in long time," fingered Jhonkara.

"I promise that I'll do what I can to give you a life of luxury, my sweet," he told her without thinking.

She blushed, and he rushed to explain himself, but she waved him off. "I understand you. I just not used to attention."

"Everything all right?" asked Azura with a hint of concern.

"Just fine, Azura," said Ahren. "I just feel funny around this little woman."

"Funny bad or funny good?"

"Funny good – I think. Isn't it somewhat hard to tell?"

"I wouldn't think so."

"Well, fine then. Funny good."

Azura grinned at him. "I think my lonesome friend has found someone to love," she teased. She tapped Jhonkara on the shoulder, made a sign in the shape of a heart with her fingers, pointed to Ahren, and gave Jhonkara a big thumbs-up.

Ahren blushed and said quietly, "Now, was that really necessary? This girl has just been through a traumatic experience."

"Yes, I know, and I think you're exactly the man to bring her through it. In my professional diplomatic opinion."

"Really," said Ahren, hanging his head, "remind me to report you to the Courts when we return."

Azura laughed, which made Jhonkara give her silent laugh, and they finished the meal pleasantly.

* * *

"The sun is beginning to go down, and we've yet to find horses to suit your standards," observed Azura with a hint of exasperation in her voice.

Jhonkara fingered to Ahren, "Feet starting hurt. Not walk so much on gravel. When ride horse?"

"Soon, my beauty, very soon," he said, gently caressing her cheek with the back of his hand.

In actuality, there was only one stable left that they had yet to explore. Situated on the far outskirts of town almost directly opposite where the two of them had entered, it didn't get many visitors, and Ahren was hoping that meant that they'd have what he needed.

As they approached the barn, a man walked out to greet them.

"Good day, ladies and gentlemen," he said. "How may Olgar be of assistance to you today?"

Ahren stepped forward. "We need horses," he said.

"Oh, well, Olgar's got plenty of horses for you. Why, I've even got a fine little pony for the tiny one. Might need something bigger for her, though," he said, indicating Azura.

"Actually," Ahren said, "I'm looking for a very specific kind of horse. I need Striders."

Olgar's eyes got wide and his cheeks went pink with excitement. "Well," he said, "you're in luck. I just happen to own the only two Striders in all of Duran. The question is: How much are you willing to pay?"

"I won't even discuss that until I've seen the beasts for myself, Olgar."

"Fine, fine, a little trust could go a long way, but I understand. Follow me." He began to walk back into the barn.

Ahren waved to the two women to follow, and headed off after the stable master, his booted feet crunching on the gravel. Cows, sheep, and goats all grazed in a large pasture to their right, and a few mangy horses frolicked quietly to their left. Ahead of them stood the barn – a large, imposing structure whose lower half was constructed of dull gray blocks of stone. Its doors rose like castle gates, at least fourteen feet high and crisscrossed with bracing timbers. Olgar reached for the left hand door and pulled it open just enough to allow passage, then stood aside and waved the party through.

As soon as they entered the barn, the smell of fish was immediately replaced by the earthy odor of livestock. The interior burned their eyes with its darkness. The upper windows were barred shut, and only the smallest sliver of light came through the open door behind them. As at the jeweler's, Azura had no trouble seeing, but Ahren felt Jhonkara's grip on his belt tighten as they walked further into the blackness. For Ahren, it was hard to miss the animals that he was looking for. A pair of Striders braced the walkway; their massive bodies swaying gently side to side as they munched on a dinner of alfalfa and hay.

"These beasts are both twenty-two hands tall," said Olgar. "They're the most powerful horses you'll find in the world. The fastest, too. Well, over short distances, anyway. And you'll not find a smarter, more obedient animal in all Nordanfel. These two here are descendents of the animals that carried the Kings of Morovar –"

Ahren cut him off. "I'm familiar with the breed. How much for both animals, complete with tack?"

"Fifteen-thousand," Olgar rumbled without hesitation, his thumbs hooked into his belt.

"Fifteen-thousand? We cannot afford that!" exclaimed Azura.

Olgar kicked the ground and rubbed his stubbled chin thoughtfully. "Well, perhaps if you'd take a look at the animals in the full majesty of the daylight, you'd see that my price is more than fair. Why, I'm probably losing money giving them and the equipment to you for such a low price! Come back tomorrow and we'll try bargaining again." He turned to leave.

"Wait!" called Ahren. "We've no need to wait until the morrow to see the animals." He walked over to a nearby oil lamp and placed a finger against the wick. It instantly caught fire with an unnaturally bright flame that slowly grew in intensity until the interior of the barn was lit as if the midday sun were housed within its walls.

Jhonkara gasped.

Azura said, "Ahren?"

Olgar stopped in his tracks and turned around. He shielded his eyes from the light with a raised hand and slowly walked back toward the group, carefully edging closer to the two women and farther from Ahren. "Well," he said, "I suppose we could finish up today. How much do you want to pay?" His voice trembled.

Ahren walked over to him and, folding his arms across his chest, thought for a minute. "Ten thousand for both animals and tack."

"Ten thousand seems very fair," said Olgar, slowly nodding his head, his eyes as wide as dinner plates.

"Fine, here's your money," said Ahren, as he retrieved the appropriate amount from within his coin sack and handed it over to the stable master. "We'll be back in one hour. I expect the Striders to be ready to ride by that time, understood?"

"Yes, of course," Olgar said hurriedly. "The animals will be ready. But how will the three of you ride? I can only put one saddle on each animal."

"The dwarf will ride with me. She'll ride sidesaddle, I imagine, and she'll just have to hold on." He leaned closer to the stable master and said, with a hint of menace in his quiet tenor voice, "Is there anything else that you would like to know?"

"Oh, no, no, good sir. Just inquiring for your convenience. I'll be off, then, if you don't need me."

"We do not."

"Of course. I shall see you in an hour." Olgar quickly padded off, deeper into the barn, presumably to begin retrieving tack.

Azura and Jhonkara moved over to Ahren's side, both of them holding their hands up to fend off the light. "Ahren, how did you do that?"

"Do what," he asked innocently.

"Light the lamp!"

Jhonkara fingered violently at him: "Where fire from?"

Hoping his face did not betray his guilty conscience, he chuckled and lied to them both, "Oh, I simply had a match concealed in my palm. I struck it when no one was looking. It was very effective, don't you think?"

Jhonkara fingered at him again: "Then why lamp so bright?"

Azura watched Jhonkara, shrugged and said, "I probably want to know the same thing."

Ahren sighed and said, "Well, I guess it's just a really good lamp. But forget about the light. Look at the animals. They really are magnificent." He placed a hand on each of the women's shoulders and turned them back towards the Striders. They were outstanding. Twenty-two hands tall at the withers, and rippling with muscle. They were both as black as night, save for a few distinguishing white marks on their heads and hindquarters. A waterfall of hair streamed down from above the hocks and reached nearly to the ground, somewhat concealing the massive hooves. Their long tails arched gracefully, and their thick manes made Ahren smile and look at Jhonkara's substantial head of hair.

"Well," said Azura after a moment, "I'm sure that they'll have no trouble getting us where we're going."

Jhonkara's mouth hung open in amazement, and she fingered absently, "So big."

Ahren patted both women on the shoulder and said, "Come on, it's time to return to the tailor's. I want to be ready to depart by sundown." He headed off, out of the barn, with Jhonkara firmly gripping his belt, and Azura trailing after.

* * *

Having retrieved their custom travel cloaks, they returned to the stables with a few minutes to spare before the deadline Ahren had established. The animals were already out in the open, tied to posts, with most of their gear in place. Olgar was struggling around the massive beasts to make the final adjustments to the bridles and cinches.

Ahren smiled down at Jhonkara, who he thought looked resplendent in her new cloak and bright yellow dress. They were all wearing their cloaks with the leather side outward, to fend off any freak rainstorms that might arise – though Azura belatedly remembered that she had never experienced an unexpected storm around Ahren. He somehow always provided ample warning.

"There!" shouted the stable master loud enough to spook the goats. "Hah! I knew I could get it done. Old Olgar isn't ready for the pasture just yet!"

"Well done, my good man," said Ahren. "Now, we must be off." He gestured Azura toward the far Strider – the one with the white muzzle – and lifted Jhonkara off the ground like a child. He moved her around to his chest so that her legs were wrapped tightly around him, and her arms enveloped his neck. He noticed for the first time that she barely weighed a thing.

He walked over to his Strider with Jhonkara draped across his chest, took hold of the small rope ladder that hung down from the saddle, and climbed upward. Much to his amusement, he saw upon reaching the top that Azura was already comfortably sitting in her saddle, adjusting her stirrups. He turned and set Jhonkara down behind him, and as he expected, she quickly swung her legs to one side so that she was sitting sideways atop the horse's broad back, just behind the saddle. She fingered at him, "So high."

Ahren smiled at her and said, "Yes, it is rather high. Hold on tightly, I don't want anything to happen to you." He bent down impulsively and kissed her forehead, which made her blush slightly, but her embarrassment soon vanished, and she beamed.

By this time, the sun had dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows of the riders and their mounts. Azura asked, "Are you sure you know how to ride these things?"

Ahren looked at her with a puzzled expression, and said, "Well of course I do, I rode them all the time when I was young!"

Azura had many other questions, but she let it go at that. She made a clicking noise with her tongue, pulled lightly back on the reins, and backed away from the post. Ahren mimicked her, guiding the huge creature with a natural ease born of many, many years of experience.

Olgar stepped back and gave them plenty of room – he clearly didn't trust their handling of the animals as much as they did. He took off his hat and gave them a perfunctory bow before leaning back against the railing of the sheep's pasture to watch.

If Olgar had expected a show of ignorance, he was woefully disappointed. With sure but subtle directions from hands, knees, and feet, both riders expertly guided their animals off of the stable grounds and onto the main street, the Striders' hooves producing pleasant crunching sounds as they struck the gravel. Olgar watched their side-by-side departure until, when he felt them far enough away, he spit into the dirt, placed his hat back on his head, and went to feed the cows.

Midway down the main street, as they carefully wove their massive mounts in among the pedestrians still out at that hour, Azura called over to Ahren with a laugh, "You two make a charming couple, Ahren-of-the-Hill. Am I looking at the future Lady-of-the-Hill?"

Ahren's shoulders slumped and he felt Jhonkara's grip tighten around his midsection as he called back, "No, no, I'm afraid that I don't deserve that kind of happiness, lady elf."

"What? Why not?"

"It's a long story. Perhaps I'll tell you about it sometime," he said, knowing full well that he never would.

"Well, it better be a good story. Otherwise, that's the stupidest excuse I've ever heard."

Ahren nodded in silence, tears forming in his eyes. He surreptitiously wiped them away as he choked back the beginning of a sob. The long stride of their mounts had soon taken them past the buildings, past the docks, and to the ferry crossing. Azura worried that the boat would be unable to hold both mounts, so they agreed to shuttle back and forth, Ahren and Jhonkara going first, with Azura following behind. Ahren wrapped Jhonkara around his chest again and gingerly climbed down from the saddle. Taking the reins in one strong hand, he led his Strider forward onto the barge. The barge creaked mightily, but held. He paid the ferryman two pence for the crossing, and another two to cover Azura's charter in advance.

The ferryman poled the flat-bottomed boat away from the shore and out into deeper water. His leathery skin revealed the years he had spent at this very task. Fortunately, he was skilled, and half an hour later, he had poled their way across the quarter mile that separated the two shores. Ahren led Jhonkara and his mount out into the tall grass at the water's edge and watched as the ferry disappeared into the descending darkness. An hour later, a single lantern emerged from the fog that now hung over the water; and soon afterward, Azura prodded her Strider out onto the loamy soil. The ferryman bid them good night and good fortune, and disappeared back into the miasma that covered the river.

A full moon sailed high through the clear night sky, accompanied by the subtle twinkling of the stars. "Well," Ahren said to the two women, "We'd best make for the tree line and set up camp. Tomorrow is going to be a long day."

This side of the Roanar was heavily forested, and it was a short, twenty-five yard walk to the tree line. Ahren collected some dry wood and soon had a fire blazing – though neither of the two women had seen him retrieve flint and steel. They feasted on cheese, salted meat, and hardtack, discussing the events of the past two days. Ahren and Jhonkara briefly taught Azura the rudiments of fingerspeak, and the elf sat back, satisfied that she had learned enough for one day. She could say "Hello" and "Goodbye," and knew a few very basic communication phrases like "down," "left," and "right." "Azura, you must be a fine diplomat," said Ahren, "it took me twice as long to even begin to comprehend fingerspeak." It was a lie of course, but sometimes lies could be comforting, and he felt that this was one of those times.

Suddenly, Azura sat up and said, "Ahren, we never purchased a bedroll for Jhonkara! You weren't planning on having her, well, share a bedroll with you, were you?"

"Of course not, lady elf! I am a gentlemen, and she is a lady, like yourself," said Ahren, placing a protective arm around Jhonkara. "How could I have overlooked such an essential item?" He then translated for her, and she blushed mightily before standing up. She looked around the camp, then pointed at her two companions and wiggled her fingers at Ahren.

"What did she say?"

Ahren smiled. "She's clever, this one. She has requested our cloaks. She'll sleep in a triple roll of cloaks, which should provide both plenty of padding and plenty of warmth."

"Of course! I should have thought of that." Azura quickly stood and removed her traveling cloak, handing its billowing folds to the tiny Jhonkara. Ahren then gave his cloak to the tiny dwarf, who looked more like she was carrying a large rug than simple travel cloaks. Jhonkara turned and gently curtsied to each of them. She then looked back and forth between Ahren and Azura for a moment before edging towards the elf.

Ahren smiled again and waved her on. "Go on, it's all right," he told her.

Jhonkara blinked rapidly and skittered over to Azura's side.

"I think the men are sleeping over here, the women over there," said Ahren, to no one in particular. He unfurled his bedroll and moved it closer to the warmth of the fire. Azura did the same, but on the opposite side of the flame. They all lay down after Ahren checked their Striders' tethers one last time.

"Goodnight ladies!" called Ahren both aloud and silently before laying his head down and shutting his eyes.

Azura, who was already ahead of him in the race to sleep, mumbled a 'goodnight' and patted Jhonkara on the shoulder.

Jhonkara looked at her new companions, her rescuers, and carefully rolled herself up in the cloaks, her small one in the center, Ahren's next, and Azura's large one on the outside. What no one else saw was her tiny hand as she blew a kiss to Ahren before closing her eyes.

# Chapter Four

"I'm curious, Ahren," said Azura as she packed her bedroll and traveling sack, "how is it that you seem to be communicating with Jhonkara without using fingerspeak?"

"Oh, it's nothing," said Ahren, "just a trick I picked up when I was young."

"And it allows you to speak to the deaf," she said, flatly.

"Yes, well, it is a pretty handy little trick."

She arched an eyebrow. "Could you teach me?"

"No," he said, looking away from her, "probably not."

Jhonkara plodded over to where Ahren was crouching and put a concerned hand on his shoulder. He patted it and told her, "Don't worry, it's all right."

Azura hefted her things and moved closer. "Ahren, it's magic, isn't it?"

"Now Azura, have you ever known me to do anything magical in my life? Can you point to a single instance that would make you believe I was magical? Not just some coincidence, but a real action?"

"Well, there is the whole matter of the cave disappearing. And the blast that saved Jhonkara. But I must admit, I've never seen magic do either of those things. Nor have I ever even heard of magic doing either of those things."

"Well, then, it's probably not magic," he stated with finality.

Jhonkara wiggled her fingers at Azura then put her hands on her hips defiantly. Ahren chuckled.

"What? What did she say?" Azura asked.

"She said, to paraphrase, 'Be nice to him, he's a good man.'"

"Oh." Azura looked blankly at the diminutive dwarf before her. She then put a hand over her heart and pointed at Ahren.

Jhonkara jumped straight up as if she'd been struck, and turned on Ahren, wiggling her fingers furiously at him. He held up his hands in surrender and subvocalized, "No, no, there's nothing between us. She just meant that she's a friend, that's all."

Jhonkara opened her mouth in understanding and bobbed her head, then turned to Azura and made the same gesture toward her that Azura had made toward Ahren.

"What's all this about?" asked Azura.

"Oh, a little misunderstanding followed by a show of friendship. Nothing to be concerned about. Let's pack our things and get moving. We've a long day ahead of us."

Azura pursed her lips, then strode over to Jhonkara with a smile and bent down to ruffle her hair. She hoped that would mean friendship. Apparently, it did, because Jhonkara smiled back at her and slapped her on the thigh with a tiny hand.

When they finished breaking camp, Ahren buried the ashes of their fire and carefully concealed their campsite. "We don't want to leave a trail," he said to no one in particular.

Azura managed to lift their packs onto the backs of their waiting Striders, but it was a stretch even for her. They secured them carefully with ropes fastened to the saddles. The elf reached one foot up into the left stirrup and hoisted herself into the saddle. Ahren untied her horse from the tree and then released his own animal. He and Jhonkara made use of the rope ladder again to reach the top of their mount.

"So," asked Azura, "where are we headed?"

"To Cirunel, lady elf. The shortest path lies through the Dimwood, so it is into the trees we must go." He turned and looked at her with a grin, "Back to the trees, Azura, it'll feel like home."

"I think not. Shantenaral is much more open than this. I almost feel as if we're riding into a tomb, these densely packed trees are so small compared to what I'm used to. We'll be lucky to find a route that the Striders can navigate."

"Oh," said Ahren with a knowing look in his eye, "I don't expect that will be a problem." He tapped his mount with his heels and they started forward into the Dimwood. The morning sunlight was immediately cut to twilight dimness once they had passed the outer reaches of the forest. He could feel Jhonkara's arms tightening around his midsection, and he mumbled reassuringly to her. "I will do my best to never allow harm to come to you. You have my word, dear dwarf." She just hugged him tighter, her bright yellow dress showing from beneath her traveling cloak as a spot of color in the otherwise green, brown, and gray forest.

Azura followed closely behind, taking the same route around every tree, over every boulder, down every gully that Ahren took. She had no idea how he was managing to navigate the woods so well. It was almost as if he had grown up here.

The Striders snorted clouds of steam into the cool morning, the air made damp by the wetness of the forest. In a way, the Dimwood was quite beautiful, realized Azura. Trees were everywhere, packed tightly together; ash, oak, even giant pines all commingled in one vine-ridden, but harmonious whole. The ground was covered in moss, and ferns abounded, with bushes and shrubs filling most of the areas in between. Still, the closeness of the trees and the stillness of the air made her uneasy, and she could have sworn that she was beginning to hear things that sounded vaguely menacing, though she couldn't put her finger on what those sounds might be.

As they approached a particularly dense thicket, she expected Ahren to go around to one side or the other, but he simply kept moving straight toward it. She heard him call out, "Azura, would you check the trail behind us, please?"

"Check it for what?"

"Anything unusual," he answered. Then, when he saw that she was turned backward in the saddle, he raised his right hand, palm forward, toward the thicket. The plants glowed briefly green, much as the plants in his garden had done two days ago. This time, though, rather than growing taller, the plants bent their trunks and actually moved out of the way, just barely enough for a Strider to pass.

"I don't see anything back –" Azura interrupted herself with a gasp as she turned forward and saw the new trail through the thicket. It formed an almost perfectly straight line that extended the full length of the thicket, saving them the many precious hours it would have taken to go around, had they been forced to turn from their original path. "Ahren, what happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"The trees! They've moved out of our way."

"They did?" he asked innocently. "Let me check with Jhonkara." She saw his lips move subtly and saw Jhonkara shake her head in the negative. "Jhonkara says she didn't see anything unusual."

"Well, of course not," answered Azura, somewhat perturbed. "She's sitting behind you, Master Ahren!"

"Yes, but still, I would have expected someone to see something if the trees had moved the way you say they did, wouldn't you?"

Azura pressed her lips together in a frown. There was never any escaping the man's logic, no matter how frustrating it was. "Yes, I suppose so. Maybe Jhonkara would have noticed a glowing light or something? I don't know. Back home, the tree masters can do such things – make the trees move, and grow the way they want them to." She paused, then asked softly, "Are you a tree master?"

She heard him laugh. "No, lady elf, I assure you, I am not a tree master. Only elves can be tree masters, and I am no elf."

She slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand. Of course. Only elves could be tree masters. How had she forgotten that? It was Ahren's fault. He was toying with her again.

Meanwhile, Ahren had taken to whistling a little tune, and looking straight ahead with pensive eyes. Would Azura believe him this time? Again? Nobody could know his secret.

Jhonkara briefly let go of Ahren with one arm and waved back toward Azura before quickly grabbing him securely again. That jostled Azura's mind out of the direction it had been headed, and instead made her think, "Oh, they look so sweet together." She fingerspoke back her newly learned word, "Hello."

As they continued deeper into the Dimwood, the light grew fainter, while the sounds that Azura had originally questioned, had since become certain and more distinct. Maybe a growl? A rustle? She couldn't tell, but she was certain that she was hearing them. She called forward to Ahren, "Ahren, I'm hearing something troubling."

"Yes, I know. They've been following us for the past half-league."

Azura was startled. "They? Who are they? What are they?"

"Goblins, I think," he said matter-of-factly.

"Goblins!" she exclaimed. Goblins were miserable little creatures – shorter even than Jhonkara, with long gangly arms and disproportionately large hands. Their coarse-haired skin was a sickly bluish-green, wrinkled and folded like some breeds of dog. Their monstrous faces bore three unblinking eyes that only and ever flashed with innate rage toward their quarry. Rousing herself from her fearful recollections, Azura begged, "What are goblins doing this far south? And how do you know that they're goblins?"

"Can't you hear them talking?"

"I hear something; but I can't say that it's talking." Then, "You recognize Gobbly?"

"I speak many languages, lady elf. I just rarely get a chance to use them, unlike yourself, with your glamorous diplomating around and all."

"Stop teasing me, Ahren, this is serious. Are we in danger?"

"Well," said Ahren nonchalantly, "I guess that depends on what your meaning of 'danger' is."

Azura, exasperated at this point, nearly yelled out, "In danger of being attacked by those miserable wizard-spawn!"

"Oh, well, if that's how you define danger, then I would say yes, we're right in the heart of it."

"Thank you, that's very reassuring."

"You asked."

It was true, she had asked, she admitted to herself. But she had hardly expected an answer that was quite so, well, matter-of-fact. "Can you be a little more reassuring?"

"Not if you want me to be honest with you."

"Fair enough." She shook her head, and after carefully securing the reins to the pommel, she gently transferred the enchanted crossbow from its resting place across her back, and to a ready position in her hands.

The small party continued along, with her Strider quietly following his, for another one hundred yards. Then, without any warning at all, they were attacked.

Azura had the presence of mind to note that: Yes, Ahren had been right, they were goblins – before she started firing the crossbow into the coming onslaught. They surged forward out of the trees in a huge mass, dozens of them, swarming the startled Striders and leaping, trying to grab the reins. Azura continued to cycle the crossbow, downing one goblin after another, but there just seemed to be so many of them. Goblin arrows flew this way and that, everywhere; seeking flesh but as of yet, finding none. Azura knew it was only a matter of time.

"Azura, come forward!" cried Ahren. He reached back behind Jhonkara and rustled about in his large pack for a moment before finding what he wanted. He felt Jhonkara release him and looked back to see her cocking her perfectly sized pistol-crossbow. As Azura moved her Strider even with his, he withdrew his gleaming sword from his pack. Its light shined brighter than the vile goblins had ever seen, illuminating the canopy, the trunks, the ground all around them. It was almost blinding, even for Azura. Ahren wielded his sword with unmatched expertise and ferocity. The blade chopped downward, and sideways, and back upward again, an instrument of death if ever such a weapon had been forged. Wherever it swung, it embedded itself in goblin flesh, or relieved a goblin of an extremity. Maintaining a steady stream of flying bolts from her crossbow, Azura almost allowed the possibility that they were turning the tide.

Suddenly, Ahren felt Jhonkara slipping, and looked back to see that she had taken an arrow to the dead center of her chest. She slumped forward, dropped her crossbow, and began to fall off the Strider. Ahren reacted quickly, dropping the reins with his left hand and catching Jhonkara by the folds of her clothing before she could fall. She felt lifeless.

Azura was almost shaken from her horse by Ahren's thunderous exclamation. "NO!" It was just as she had heard back at the inn. As the sound reverberated through the trees, the goblins fell still and silent for a moment. Ahren hurriedly pulled the little dwarf's motionless form back onto the space behind the saddle. She remained completely limp. "No!" echoed through the canopy once more.

Then, as the goblins found their courage and began to head toward the Striders once again, a wall of fire twenty feet high sprang up in a circle around the two horses. It expanded rapidly outward in an ever-growing circle. Goblin flesh was incinerated before Azura's eyes, though she noticed that the vegetation seemed unscathed. The massed goblins exploded in little puffs of smoke and ash as the ever-expanding fire consumed them. Soon after it had traveled outward one hundred yards, it extinguished itself. Azura looked on with her mouth agape, trying to count the little piles of ash that had once been her adversaries. The light of the green sword was suddenly extinguished, and she turned to see that Ahren had sheathed the weapon and taken Jhonkara into his arms before him. He picked up the reins with one hand, and kicked his horse in the side, yelling a primal, "Yaah!" The Strider jumped forward and took off at a gallop.

Azura kicked her mount into quick pursuit as Ahren wove in and out of spaces that she hadn't even seen, until suddenly the Striders broke into a small, sunlit clearing. Ahren yanked his mount to a halt, grabbed Jhonkara in both arms, and leapt off the back of his horse as if he were a youngster. Before gently lowering herself down to the ground and hurrying over to Ahren, Azura paused to wonder: How old is he?

The man was on his knees, gently placing Jhonkara's limp body on the thick blanket of moss before him. Azura saw that Jhonkara's chest was blood-soaked and unmoving, and quickly leaned down to feel her neck for a pulse. There was none. Ahren pushed her aside angrily, and gently but surely removed the arrow from Jhonkara's body. He put his ear next to her mouth for a split second, then sat back and placed both hands over the lethal wound. As Azura watched in shocked fascination, his hands began to glow brightly. Without warning, Jhonkara gasped in a deep breath and tried to sit up. Ahren held her down with a gentle hand, and told her, "No, no, my sweet, lie still."

Azura was frozen in place. What had she just witnessed? The girl had been dead. She had felt it herself! Ahren leaned back, breathing raggedly and unconsciously massaging Jhonkara's hand, his eyes closed. Azura leaned in to examine the wound. There was a frightening amount of blood, but the flesh had healed as if an arrow had never pierced its surface. The elf sat back and looked at Ahren with an open jaw. "What are you?" she finally asked.

Ahren chuckled with resignation and didn't open his eyes. He released Jhonkara and lay back on the pad of moss. The diminutive maiden sat up, and looked down at her bloodstained dress. When she looked up, her mouth was hanging open nearly as wide as Azura's. Ahren was still unresponsive, so she clutched at her bodice with one hand and fiercely motioned her fingers toward Azura. The elf shrugged and held her hands out to her sides. "I don't know."

Jhonkara wiggled her fingers and waited for Azura to respond. "I'm sorry," said the elf, "I don't understand."

The dwarf wilted for a moment, and pointed at Ahren, who still lay on the moss breathing deeply, eyes shut. Azura simply shrugged again. She had no answers.

Dismayed, Jhonkara sidled her tiny form close to Ahren's head, then after looking at Azura once more, quickly bent down and kissed him full on the mouth. His eyes sprang open. He tried to sit up, but Jhonkara straddled his chest, and put her knees on his arms to hold him in place. Her kiss lasted so long that Azura began to blush.

Finally, Jhonkara released him and sat back, standing quickly, clutching her hands to her bosom, and looking on with a mixture of delight and fear. Ahren continued to lie there for a moment, staring up at the light filtering through the canopy. "What just happened?" he asked no one in particular.

"She kissed you, my friend," answered Azura. "I think you'd best do something before she begins to feel badly about it."

Ahren bolted upright, and looked into Jhonkara's eyes. Azura saw a meaningful silence pass between them; then suddenly Jhonkara was in Ahren's arms, kissing his face, squeezing him tightly. He kissed her back, squeezing her gently. Azura looked away for a while, giving them a minute. This was a third major thing that she hadn't expected to see today.

Finally, Ahren released the dwarf maiden and got to his feet, holding her hand in his.

Jhonkara asked, "What happened?"

"You were shot with an arrow," Ahren answered.

"Did I die?"

He hesitated, then answered, "Yes. Well, no. I guess that perhaps the most precise answer is, 'almost.'"

"Did you bring me life?"

He hesitated again, longer this time, then said to her, "Yes. I did."

Azura observed this exchange of fingerspeak and unspoken conversation in silence. But at the last exchange, she saw Jhonkara suddenly blanch.

Jhonkara fingered toward him, "How do that?"

He hung his head and paused for a long time, before answering, "It's a gift."

"Why you ashamed?"

"Because long ago I used this gift and I hurt people that I loved. I have never forgiven myself for it."

"You good man. You help. You no be ashamed." She reached up high to gently take hold of his chin and tilt his head so that he was facing her. "I love you. You answer prayers." She beamed up at him, one hand still holding his chin, the other hand on her chest. She started to cry.

Ahren quickly took her in his arms and held her close, saying, "It's all right. I love you too. I'll never leave you."

She sniffled, but smiled at Azura, who thought she had picked up the gist of the conversation and simply nodded with a smile of her own. She said quietly, "Ahren, what did you do?"

He answered without looking at her, still gazing into Jhonkara's eyes. "Nothing that you wouldn't do for a loved one, lady elf."

"No, don't evade my question. What did you do?"

"I really don't want to talk about this, Azura."

"Ahren, what did I just witness?" she demanded.

"Azura, I'm not going to discuss it. Just try to forget that it happened."

"Of course. I'll do that right away. And the wall of fire back there – should I forget that, too?"

"Yes. It's best for everyone."

Azura fumed, knowing that she had just witnessed two miracles in the space of five minutes, yet unsure how to proceed. How could she look at Ahren the same way again? She didn't know what he was, but she did know what he wasn't. And he most definitely was not a simple spice farmer.

His hands under her arms, Ahren hoisted Jhonkara high into the air and spun her about like a child. They both laughed, he boldly, she silently. "Come," he said, "we must be going. I don't want to be in this forest after dark. There are more of those creatures, and our last encounter was rather unpleasant."

He set Jhonkara down and began to guide her toward the horse, but he felt her pull him back, and he looked down at her to see what the matter was. He asked. In answer, she used her free hand to stick a finger through the bloody hole in her dress and pulled the stained bodice out, away from her chest.

Azura strode up next to him. "I think she wants to change," she observed.

"I think you're right." He took Jhonkara's hand and placed it in the elf's and said, "Take her and let her get into something more pleasant. I'll wait over here until the two of you are finished." Jhonkara nodded at him and looked up imploringly at the elf, who discreetly hid her smile with her raised hand before walking off toward her Strider with the little dwarf in tow.

Ahren turned his back on them to guarantee their privacy. And to think. What had he done? He could never reveal his powers to anyone, yet he had done just that three times for this beautiful little dwarf; once at the inn, once with the goblins, and now with Jhonkara herself. He mentally berated himself for breaking his own cardinal rule about exposure, but felt trapped by circumstance – there was nothing else he could have done in any of those situations. He couldn't have allowed the men at the inn to rape her, and he would not prevent it by taking their lives when he didn't have to. He had no time to waste on the goblins, and was forced to incinerate them in self-defense – no, in defense of Jhonkara. He couldn't have sat back and allowed her to die. But his secret was slowly exposing itself as if it had a will of its own. For the first time in a very, very long time, he felt confused and concerned. He thanked the gods that Jhonkara hadn't asked him any more specific questions. She already knew too much. His thoughts and feelings battled within him: he couldn't do this, could he? Use his powers, especially for love? Could he?

He slowly knelt down and leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the moss. He was a monster. Undeserving of either Jhonkara's love or Azura's friendship. If only they knew what he had done so long ago, they would understand that. He cried silently, the same way that he had met almost every morning for the past three thousand years.

Ahren felt a tiny hand press itself into the small of his back. He sat up and wiped his eyes, put on his best smile, and turned to face Jhonkara. She beamed back at him, her eyes twinkling, and spun herself around, making the emerald green hem of her sapphire blue dress twirl in the air. He couldn't help but notice that it was really a beautiful dress. The laced up bodice was embroidered in the same emerald color of her hem, which matched the edges of the plunging neckline and the ends of her sleeves, which puffed out slightly at the shoulders. He lifted her gently and placed a kiss on her mouth, smiling, then set her back down. Azura spoke up, saying, "If I read her gestures correctly, this is her favorite."

"And it should be," he said with pleasure. "But now, we really must be going."

"Very well, Master Ahren," she said with newfound respect and awe – and perhaps a hint of fear.

* * *

The three of them continued riding for another two hours in silence, the only sounds being those of the Dimwood and the Striders. Ahren and Jhonkara conversed, she having changed positions on the Strider so that she was now sitting cross-legged before him in the saddle. Azura said nothing, still trying to come to terms with what she had seen. Nothing in her experience had prepared her for such things. A whirlwind of furniture and men. A flame springing into existence, rushing across the land to destroy goblins, yet leaving even the most delicate vegetation unscathed. A man who silently spoke to the deaf. A resurrection – she knew not what else to call it. It was a lot for the young elf to take in. Her throat burned with questions, but confusion and astonishment prevented her voicing them.

Ahren stopped abruptly and pulled his horse back to meet Azura. "We're almost there, it's just ahead," he said to the two women.

Azura and Jhonkara asked at the same time, "What's just ahead?"

"The secret garden of the Dimwood nymphs. Illslenia."

Azura asked, "Illslenia? I've never heard of it."

Ahren paused, then said quietly, "It's from a long-dead language. I'm not surprised you've never heard of it."

"And how is it that you picked up this long-dead language?"

"I read a lot," he said simply, betraying no visible emotion.

"Naturally."

He waved his right arm forward and tapped his horse into motion once more. "Remain silent," he said. "Allow them to come to us." Jhonkara looked around Ahren's midsection and gave Azura a tiny shrug, which the elf returned in kind. Ahren seemed not to notice, slowly guiding his Strider through a patch of close-knit bamboo, Azura riding close on his horse's heels.

They soon broke through the living wall and entered a large elliptical expanse of well-spaced oak trees. For the first time since the morning, they could see the sky, the sun shining down on them. A spring bubbled forth from a large boulder sited in the center of the clearing. The floor was moss, so thick that not even the Striders' great weight pressed through to the ground. Ahren said very quietly, "Illslenia."

The horses stopped and the riders dismounted, Ahren pausing to catch Jhonkara as she leapt from atop the huge animal. One of the horses found a small patch of green grass to munch on, and Azura quickly grabbed Ahren's arm and pointed; but he simply smiled and shook his head, calmly raising a finger to his lips to encourage her silence. Jhonkara grabbed his right hand and huddled close. The three of them stood motionless.

Slowly, things started to happen. The spring began to bubble just a little bit stronger. Azura could swear that she heard voices in the wind, in the rustling of the leaves of the mighty oaks. The wind picked up ever so slightly. Then, much to her amazement, the elf thought that she was beginning to see humanoid forms take shape in the trunks of the trees. Yes, she did see them. Ethereal forms, wispy and feminine. Delicate, with long, flowing hair, yet translucent. What were these incorporeal beings?

Ahren spoke something in a language that she'd never heard – it sounded vaguely elven in dialect, but was not similar enough for her to make out a single word. Jhonkara tightened her grip on Ahren's hand and tucked herself closer against his leg.

One of the beings – there were five of them now, iridescent and beautiful – responded to Ahren in the same strange tongue. There was a continued exchange, and soon Ahren turned his head to address Azura and Jhonkara, saying, "You can relax, we're welcome here." The little dwarf maiden released his hand and curtsied, her beautiful sapphire blue dress catching the sun just right. Azura followed the dwarf's example and half-bowed toward the five ethereal forms.

Ahren resumed speaking with the forms, gesticulating gently with his hands. "We are grateful for your acceptance of our presence here, good nymphs," he said. "Sadly, your woods are not as safe as they once were. We were attacked by goblins."

"Yes," said the lead nymph in the same tongue, "we know. We are sorry for that, but there is little we can do against so many. Many more lie in your path."

"What do you know of my path?"

"Ah, the grass talks to a tree, the tree talks to a bird, the bird speaks to us. We know of your travels. We know you are bound for Cirunel. We know that you ride for the prophecy."

Ahren nodded, "What you say is true. But what do you know of the prophecy?"

"Our brethren in the elven forests informed us. A half-dwarf child of noble birth will be born and bring peace to Morovar and Visonia."

"Yes, that is as Azura has said. And you know that Princess Lien has been abducted? That she was carrying a half-dwarf?"

"We know that Lien has disappeared, even from us. And we know most things."

"Then she is in danger?"

"We do not know for certain. But abductions rarely end happily."

Ahren nodded again. "We must find Princess Lien. Have you any suggestions?"

"You must continue to Cirunel. There, you will learn more. We fear that you are eventually bound for Savanod."

"We must rescue the Princess at all costs."

"Then be off. We will do our best to make the rest of your journey through the Dimwood a safe one. It has been pleasant to see you again after so many years, Ahren."

"Likewise, lady nymph."

Ahren turned around and faced the two women, telling them, "We must ride for Cirunel with all haste. Princess Lien's life depends upon us." It was only then that he realized that he had never explained to Jhonkara why they were going where they were going. He quickly summarized for her. She looked horrified and fingered rapidly to him: "Must go."

Ahren bobbed his head and waved Azura toward her Strider. The elf had a dozen questions fighting to find voice, but she kept them unspoken, careful not to disturb the pristine silence of the glade. Ahren carried Jhonkara up onto the back of his horse and saw that the tall elf had already seated herself and was prepared to leave.

He tapped his Strider into motion, continuing north through the glen, with Azura taking up her trailing position. She couldn't help but stare at the nymphs as she passed them, admiring their semi-formless beauty. She heard Ahren say something to them in their tongue, and the five creatures bowed low to the ground, as one would do for a passing king in elven lands.

As the two Striders disappeared into the bamboo at the opposite end of the clearing, the nymphs gathered together and spoke amongst themselves. "He was long in coming."

"Yes, a long time have we waited."

"He does not know?"

"No, he knows not."

"He rides for Lien?"

"Yes."

"Lien is pregnant."

"She bears the child, but she does not bear the children."

"We should have told him."

"No. He must not know."

* * *

Another hour passed before Azura finally got up the nerve to ask, "Ahren, how did you know that language?"

Without looking back he said, "I already told you. I read a lot."

"Is that how you learned to speak to the deaf? Reading?" she accused.

"No. My father taught me that." He flipped his cloak's hood up over his head and cinched it around his neck before doing the same for Jhonkara. "By the way, it's going to rain."

"What? You're daft, Ahren, you know that? Why, I've got half a mind to –" Her words were cut off as the first drops began to fall, and she hurriedly covered her own head. "How do you do that?"

"I guess I just have an eye for the weather."

"It's not natural."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm not sure."

They rode on in silence, Ahren and Jhonkara conversing between themselves. Azura didn't know what to think. This was one of her oldest and dearest friends, and yet suddenly she felt as if she didn't know him at all. He was obviously someone to be respected. She was sure of that. But was he also someone to be feared? And she was sure of another thing: he was not human, despite his general appearance – not that the ears hadn't always been a little confusing, but still. Now that she was looking at him in a new light, Azura realized that he looked like what the child of a human, a dwarf, and an elf would look like, if such a child were possible. She could even see traces of halfling. And with that thunderous voice, it wasn't difficult to believe Ahren might also have a bit of giant in his bloodline.

He obviously had powers. What were their limits? Could a man who could bring Jhonkara back from death have any limits? Why was he so deeply compelled to rescue the Princess? Not that it wasn't a noble thing to do; but for your average herb farmer, it was a bit of a stretch. She gave a mental shrug and decided that he hadn't done anything evil, so she might as well trust him as the friend that she knew. Azura patted her horse's massive neck after a drop of water fell on her nose, bringing her back to the present. The cloaks were working perfectly, keeping the trio warm and dry, even in this unexpected downpour.

The forest had opened up slightly, making her feel a little more comfortable now that there was more room to maneuver her huge animal. "I think I'll call you, 'Mimec' after my father's horse," she said to the Strider, which bobbed its head to flick away a fly. She hadn't expected it to say anything in return, but it would have been nice.

Suddenly, a glimmer of movement that flashed behind her in the trees and brush caught her eye. She called out a warning to Ahren, who tapped his Strider into a trot. Swinging the crossbow forward once more, she thought to herself, "Goblins."

Another flash in the brush. Ahren tapped his horse into a canter, making what Azura thought was a dangerously breakneck speed through the trees, brush, and boulders of the Dimwood. Apparently there was something here that had Ahren deeply concerned. Azura was at the same time pleased and terrified – on the one hand, her friend was showing traces of normal fear; on the other, what could possibly frighten him?

She got her answer much sooner than she would have liked. Urugs. They came out of the brush from three sides, leaving only the space before the charging Striders free. Ahren and Azura kicked their mounts into a full gallop at the same moment. Azura loathed urugs. They were creatures born of foul magic - a horrid cross that presented the body of a bear, the head of a wolf, and the stinging tail of a scorpion. They were fast and deadly, and as tall as Ahren himself. Azura urged her mount ever faster.

Ahren quickly surveyed the developing ambush and knew that they were being herded. But why would urugs take an interest in the three of them? He supposed that he could understand the goblin charge. They were mercenary creatures. But urugs fed on magic, and there was no magic to be found here. Even he had no magic. His powers displayed nothing more than an ability to tap into the existing forces of nature. What was luring them? He counted five, and hoped there were no more. He didn't think that there were, as urug attacks generally came in one well-organized wave. But one could never be too sure.

Suddenly, the group broke free of the Dimwood, the rain still pouring from the thunderheads, and occasional flashes of lightning splitting the sky, illuminating the ghastly visages of the urugs bearing down on them. Now Ahren realized what the urugs had been herding them toward.

A mighty chasm yawned before them at the abrupt end of a field of tall grass. "Azura, we must turn and fight them!" cried Ahren, pulling his Strider violently to a stop a mere twenty yards from the edge of the canyon. Azura pulled up beside him and both dismounted rapidly, Ahren instructing Jhonkara to remain atop the Strider, where she was partially concealed and protected by the packs.

Ahren held his glowing green sword before him in one hand; the smaller but similarly glowing dagger in the other. Azura stood at his left side, her own dagger swinging from her belt, the crossbow ready in her hands. "Thunk" went the enchanted bow as she sent an iron bolt downrange. One of the urugs staggered for just a moment but did not stop, thanks to its power and ferocity. She continued to fire away at the monsters as they slowed their charge and formed a semi-circle around the party, their stingers twitching in anticipation.

Ahren yelled at them in their language, "What draws you?"

"The scent of magic. No more talk. Time to feed."

Their line closed as they continued their advance, and Ahren's sword shot out to his right, striking the urug there and splitting its skull wide open. Azura put a bolt through the left eye of the urug in the center, and it fell to the ground, dead. Three remained, and they surged as one toward the two defenders. Ahren dodged to his right, allowing the urug to run past him. Slashing his sword at its tail, he sliced it cleanly off while neatly spilling its entrails with a quick swipe of his dagger.

Two.

Azura reached for her dagger, the crossbow useless for the close-in work. As she grabbed it, she felt the incredibly strong jaws of an urug clamp her wrist. She managed to hang on to the dagger, but her arm was whipped upward as the urug reared with her wrist in its mouth. She batted at it with her free hand, to no avail. All of a sudden, she cried out in pain as the jaws of the other urug clamped down on her shoulder from behind, barely missing her throat.

Ahren brought his blade down on the back of the one gripping her wrist, driving the cutting edge halfway through the creature's body, which immediately went into the convulsions of death.

Azura prepared to use her now-bloodied hand to stab the final creature with her dagger. Ahren lunged past her, sword held high. They were both too late.

The last urug released her shoulder and pierced its stinger deep into her back, flooding her body with deadly poison. She instantly collapsed to her knees and clutched at her chest, dropping her elvish dagger to the ground. Ahren brought his sword down one last time, severing the head of the final urug attacker.

As the last creature fell, Ahren dropped his weapons to the ground and grabbed Azura, gently lowering her onto her back. Jhonkara was suddenly beside him, having climbed down the rope ladder when she saw the sting. She gesticulated wildly, "I do anything?"

Ahren answered her through gritted teeth, "I don't know. Yes, I do. Bring me the canteen and one of my shirts. Quickly!"

The little dwarf sprang away and began the long climb to the top of the Strider. Fearing that there might be little he could do against the poison, Ahren struggled to compose himself as he gazed at the fallen elf. Despite the dark clouds, she was well illuminated by the two glowing weapons, which had fallen nearby. The rain continued to fall, thunder rolling over the open ground.

Azura looked up at Ahren and gasped out, slowly, "I'm sorry, my friend," then collapsed completely. Ahren felt for a pulse and found one, very faint. Jhonkara appeared next to him bearing the items he had asked for. He quickly thanked her and set the items on the ground next to the elf. He picked up her injured wrist and examined it gently, then put it down and ripped open the shoulder of her tunic, exposing a ghastly wound that was rapidly losing dangerous amounts of blood. He glanced at Jhonkara, who stared back at him, ready for instructions. Picking his shirt up off the ground, he tore it in half and handed one part to Jhonkara. "Clean her wrist wound. Use rainwater and the shirt. Let me know when you've finished. I'll take care of her shoulder," he said rapidly.

As Jhonkara jumped into action, he picked up the canteen and poured its contents across the shoulder wound. He ground the shirt deep into the wound, wiping away the grime that had been left there by the foul creature's mouth. When he was satisfied that it was clean, he dropped the shirt to the ground and placed his hands over the gash. Jhonkara appeared beside him holding out a needle and thread. "Wound clean. I sew?"

He allowed himself a brief smile at her good intentions, but shook his head. "No, my sweet, I've got this one." He put his hands together again, and they began to glow. The wound began to close before Jhonkara's eyes. She gasped and raised a hand to her mouth. The gaping wound became an ugly cut, and then merely a scratch that soon disappeared completely, leaving solid flesh where the wound had just been. He looked up at the mightily surprised Jhonkara and offered her a weak smile before turning and healing the wrist wound in the same manner.

Jhonkara slowly fingered, "You bring life? Like you bring life me?"

Ahren subvocalized, "No, sweetheart, this is different. I can't help Azura like I helped you."

"Why no help?"

He hesitated before saying, "Because I can't do anything about the poison that's coursing through her."

"What we do?"

"Are you familiar with herbs?"

Jhonkara cocked her head to one side, and fingered with a bit of attitude, "I work in kitchen, Ahren."

He laughed softly. "Of course. All right, then I need you to gather the following things from the forest. But don't go deeply in. I don't want to lose you." He recited a list of ingredients. Roots and herbs that he would need.

She said, "I be safe," and hurried off, her little legs flying as fast as they could take her.

Ahren raised his hand and pressed away the rain and the clouds. He didn't need any distractions right now, and he wanted to make Jhonkara's trip into the forest as safe as possible. He shook Azura gently, trying to wake her. She was unresponsive. He shook her harder. Still, she did not move. Finally, with a soft, "I'm sorry, lady elf," he slapped her hard across the face. She woke with a start, her eyes glassy and unfocused.

"Ahren?"

"Yes, I'm here."

"I can't see."

"I know," he said, "it's the poison. But don't worry, Jhonkara's run off to fetch some ingredients for me. I'll fix you up as good as new."

"How are you, so – confident? Urug poison – is deadly."

He leaned close to her ear and whispered, "I've done this before. Just try to stay awake." He placed the soiled halves of his shirt beneath her head and gently lowered it upon them.

She grunted out, "Never cease – to amaze me." She took a ragged breath and her face contorted in pain as the venom worked its way through her system. He wrapped her cloak tightly around her to try and keep her warm.

"When did – rain – stop?" she gasped.

"Shortly after you fell. It's a blessing, isn't it? No, don't answer. Just lie still." He stood up and looked to the tree line. Jhonkara had disappeared. He prayed to the gods to keep her safe. Ahren bent down and retrieved his fallen weapons, sheathing Azura's dagger for her while he was at it. He wiped the gore off the blades with a handful of grass, and then set them on the ground again next to him, illuminating Azura's left side in their green glow.

Then he sat down and waited, holding Azura's hand in his. It trembled. He carefully monitored her status in case he should think of something more that he could do.

He watched the tree line. Nothing.

Still, he waited. Azura's breathing became ragged, and she gripped his hand weakly.

Where was Jhonkara? More importantly – was she safe?

He watched for her and listened intently, while still keeping one ear on Azura's breathing, and periodically squeezing her hand.

Suddenly, like a rabbit fleeing a wolf, Jhonkara squirted out from between two bushes, running at full speed. At first Ahren just thought that she was concerned for Azura's well-being, but close behind the little dwarf, another urug appeared. It pursued her with deadly intent. Ahren grabbed his sword, leaving the dagger on the ground, and raced toward the speeding Jhonkara. There was no way he could reach her first, the urug was just too fast.

It knocked Jhonkara to the ground with a thrust of its muzzle, and stood over her with its stinger poised to strike. Ahren hurled his sword spinning horizontally through the air, where it cleaved the stinger from the beast's tail before embedding itself in a tree.

The urug cried out in pain and batted Jhonkara aside with one of its mighty paws. She tumbled end over end, spilling the gathered ingredients as she rolled. Finally, Ahren was upon the monster. His hands clamped its muzzle shut, but he had no weapon with which to battle the massive beast. Unsure as to what to do without revealing his powers, he yanked the beast's head from side to side, trying to throw it onto its side.

The urug knocked him over, but he kept a firm grasp on its muzzle as he went down. The beast fell, too, landing on top of him and knocking the wind from his lungs. The two combatants rolled across the ground like brawling children, neither able to get the better of the other. Ahren thought he glimpsed a green glow as they rolled, but couldn't be sure. Then, feeling an unexpected thump on his back, he looked back to find Jhonkara standing there holding his dagger out toward him. With a mighty push, he freed himself from the beast and snatched the dagger from Jhonkara's outstretched hands. The urug paused, set itself, then charged straight at the little dwarf. As it passed him by, Ahren brought the dagger's blade straight down, so hard that it burst straight through the top of the animal's skull and out the bottom near the throat. The urug skidded to a halt mere inches from the frightened Jhonkara's little feet.

Ahren, breathing heavily, made his way over to his little love and embraced her. "Thank you, my dear," he said. She squeezed him in response. He got down on one knee and looked her in the eyes."

"Jhonkara, are they after you?"

She shrugged and fingered to him, "Don't know. Never seen before."

He shook his head and mumbled, "Very strange. They're supposed to be drawn to magic." Then he reached down and yanked his dagger free of the urug's skull.

He patted Jhonkara on the shoulder and said, "It looks like you did well finding the herbs and roots. Were you able to find them all?"

"All but mandrake," she fingered.

"Well, that was mainly for the pain anyway. Good work. Please help me gather it all up again, we need to work quickly." They both set off across the field, picking up the fallen ingredients. Soon they had collected all of them, and proceeded over to Azura's side. She was still breathing – barely. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth sagged partly open. Her chest barely rose. But she still had a faint pulse.

"Quickly," Ahren said, reaching out to take Jhonkara's set of ingredients from her.

"I'm not sure how this is going to work without a mortar and pestle," he told Jhonkara, "but it'll have to do."

He began mashing the herbs together in the palm of his left hand, grinding them with his free thumb.

"What you make?" he saw Jhonkara finger out of the corner of his eye.

"An anti-venom. It will take a few days to work completely, but she'll live. That is, if this works. I've never had to prepare it so coarsely before."

Jhonkara nodded and sat down, her legs crossed under her, watching the tall elf intently.

As he continued to work with the plant material, Ahren asked, "Jhonkara, were your parents mages of any kind?"

She fingered back to him, sadly somehow, "Don't know. Never knew parents."

He simply bobbed his head in response, and returned his focus to preparing the anti-venom. "Jhonkara, please fetch another full canteen."

The little dwarf jumped up and hurried off to fetch the item.

"Well, lady elf," he said, addressing the catatonic Azura, "I hope that this works. I can tell you that I've never lost anyone to urug poison. I hope that knowledge is helpful to you."

Jhonkara returned surprisingly quickly with Azura's large elven canteen in hand. Ahren took it from her and gently shook the contents of his hand into the container's clear water. Capping the canteen, he shook it vigorously, then removed the cap once more. Turning to Jhonkara, he said, "Cross your fingers. But don't expect too much – it might be a while before we know if this works or not."

By now the color had completely drained from Azura's already pale face. Ahren gently opened her mouth a little wider and carefully drizzled in what he hoped was the correct amount of his anti-venom. The elf coughed some of it back out, but swallowed most of it before her head lolled to her left. Ahren gently stroked her hair and told Jhonkara, "Now all we can do is wait."

* * *

Three days later, Azura was well enough to sit up on her own and eat. She timidly took a few bites of salted meat and cheese, avoiding the hardtack because it just seemed like too much effort. It had rained on and off, so there was plenty of water for the three of them. Somewhat miraculously, thought Ahren, no other creatures had emerged from the Dimwood during this time. Maybe the nymphs were able to do something after all. The massive Striders grazed placidly on the tall grass. Jhonkara seemed in high spirits and without worry, as she ran around chasing a butterfly, her russet hair flying in the breeze.

"I almost thought I'd lost you," Ahren commented nonchalantly.

The elf looked at him tiredly and said breathily, "You almost did lose me. I could feel my life draining away." She looked at her wrist and shoulder. "Your handy work?"

Ahren looked away and nodded.

"Thank you, however you did it." She shrugged, which was more movement than she had shown in the past three days. "I guess I'll have to put on a new tunic."

That made Ahren laugh heartily, and he slapped the ground next to where he sat. Azura put her food down, unable to swallow any more than the small bites she had taken. Jhonkara settled down beside them, tucking her small frame tightly against Ahren's side and waving, "Hello," to the elf.

Azura smiled and responded with her rudimentary fingerspeak, "Hello."

The elf's face took on a grim visage. "Please ask her why they were chasing her."

"How do you know they were chasing her?"

"Because I know that I'm not magic, and you insist that you're not magic – which only leaves her."

"Well, your deductive powers seem to be intact. But, I've already asked her. She doesn't know."

"Is she magic?"

"If she were a mage, would she have been working as a tavern girl?"

Azura shrugged again, less vigorously this time.

Ahren put a hand on her shoulder. "Do you think you can travel? We must get to Cirunel."

She leaned back and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She responded, "If we don't have to do anything more than ride, I can travel. Easy riding, hopefully."

"Of course. We'll wait until tomorrow morning to head out. I think it's going to be a nice day, at least when it comes to the weather."

"You would know, wouldn't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing," she said innocently.

Jhonkara looked up at Ahren and fingered, "We go now?"

"Tomorrow," he told her. She nodded in understanding and fingerspoke something to Azura.

"What did she say?" asked the elf.

"She said that she's glad you're feeling better. She's the one who found the ingredients for the anti-venom, you know."

"I do know, you already told me."

"Well," said Ahren, slapping his thighs, "you seem to be getting back to your old cheeky self. We'll set off tomorrow. We still have more than twenty leagues to cover, and time is of the essence."

* * *

In the morning, Ahren checked his pack and readjusted the placement of some of the items. The sword that he had retrieved from the tree was once again in easy reach, as was the dagger. He had fashioned a small padded seat out of the tall grasses to give Jhonkara something to sit on, and she seemed quite pleased. What little color was normal for Azura's elven complexion had returned to her alabaster skin, and she seemed to be feeling significantly better than she had the day before.

The elf surveyed the huge canyon that yawned before them, looking east and west for a reasonable crossing. She saw none.

"Ahren, how far is it around this canyon?"

Without looking at her, he answered, "Sixty leagues to the west, one-hundred leagues to the east."

"What! That will take us weeks to traverse."

"Yes, I know. That's why we're not going around."

Azura looked back, surprised, "Well, you're not proposing that we actually go down into the canyon, are you? It looks rather – hostile."

"No, I never suggested that; though it is one option."

"Then how are we to get to the other side?"

"We're going to cross the canyon."

Azura looked at him, perplexed. "But you just said we weren't going into the canyon."

"We're not. We're going to cross over it."

"Oh really. And how do you propose we do that?"

"You're probably not going to like it," he answered.

"Try me."

"I'm going to solidify the air into a bridge that will stretch across the width of the canyon."

Azura didn't know what she had expected him to say, but she knew she hadn't expected him to say that. Or anything like that. Or anything remotely like that. An air bridge, of course, she thought wryly.

Jhonkara asked, "We cross?"

"Yes," he told her.

Azura regained her composure and asked quietly, "So you are magic?"

"No, I've already told you, I'm not magic."

"Then I ask you: How do you propose to transform air into a bridge?"

"Can we just call it a gift?"

"Will you give me a better answer?"

"No."

The elf shrugged and said, "Then I guess 'gift' will have to do."

"Thank you," he said with a sigh. Then, to Jhonkara, he said, "Don't be afraid. This is going to be a little strange."

She looked up at him with all the trust in the world. "I no worry," she fingered. "Have faith in you."

He smiled down at her and kissed the top of her head. Then, after a brief glance at the wary Azura, he extended his hands in front of him, palms upward, his fingers caught in a clutching motion. He breathed deeply and slowly, and much to her amazement, Azura saw the bridge begin to form. It was almost invisible, and looked very insubstantial; rather like foggy crystal, very ethereal. When he was done, he lowered his hands and gripped the reins, tapping his Strider to move forward. It didn't want to budge. For all it could see, its master was trying to walk it off a cliff.

"Azura?"

"Yes, Ahren?"

"Perhaps you should lead. Elves have more of a natural affinity with animals than I do. Just be sure to stay on the path. It isn't very wide," he warned.

"I'll try." She and Ahren jockeyed their horses around so that she was in front, facing the bridge. He watched as she urged her mount forward with gentle directions from both stirrups and reins, yet the animal would not budge.

"Well, maybe we'll have to go around after all," Ahren said in a disheartened voice, feeling that they would certainly be too late to save the Princess.

"No, no. There's one more thing that I can try," said Azura. She then leaned forward and placed her mouth close to Mimec's ear and whispered something that Ahren couldn't make out. The Strider hesitated, then took a tentative step out onto the bridge of air. The bridge held, and the Strider took another step. And another. Soon it was walking slowly across the bridge.

Ahren's mount instinctively followed, taking its own tentative steps out onto the bridge before following more closely behind Azura's animal.

"What did you do?" he called forward.

With a lilt in her voice that Ahren was happy to hear, she said, "Can we just call it a gift?"

"Very funny," he deadpanned.

Without taking her eyes off of the bridge, she called back, "I asked him to cross."

"You asked an animal to cross a bridge, and it did?"

"Yes."

"And you think that I'm the strange one!"

He relayed what had happened to Jhonkara. She looked at him in surprise, and said, "Elf special."

"Yes," Ahren smiled, "she is that."

It took them a full two hours to cross the huge span, so carefully did they guide their mounts. When they reached the other side, Ahren raised his arms again and the bridge dissolved away. He looked Azura in the eye as if nothing unusual had happened. She stared back at him for a time, but then motioned him forward. "You lead, Master Ahren."

"Very well. We've only these rolling plains between here and Cirunel. We must head northwest, toward the coast." He studied the elf carefully before asking, "Are you feeling up to riding at a lope?"

"I think so. The anti-venom you gave me is really starting to take effect. I'm feeling much better."

"Excellent! At best speed, we ought to make it to Cirunel in about three days. Are you ready?"

"Of course."

"Are you ready?" he asked Jhonkara.

"I ready."

"Then let's be off." He flicked the reins and kicked his Strider briskly in the flanks, and the animal bolted forward at a ground-eating lope.

# Chapter Five

In the ancient land of Nordanfel, on the verdant plains of the Kingdom of Morovar, the Realm of the Dwarves, on the south bank of the river Gentao where the mouth of its westward-flowing waters meet the sea, sat the fortified capital city of Cirunel. For one thousand years its walls had not been breached, its residents safe behind twenty feet of solid dwarven stonework that rose eighty feet into the air. The fortified city walls bristled with catapults and ballista, while behind them a swath of land one hundred yards deep remained always cleared for immediate emplacement of trebuchets, should the need ever arise.

Centered upon a low hill within the walled city, the Fortress of Cirunel was even more strongly impregnable than Cirunel itself. Its walls were fully thirty feet thick and faced with iron plating. Its foundations extended one hundred feet into the living rock to prevent enemy sapping, and its walls soared one hundred feet into the sky to give a commanding view to all who walked its ramparts. Deep within the Fortress, just offset from center and commanding the highest ground in the entire city, sat the Keep. Octagonal in design, it served as military defense for the Royal Family in wartime, and as official grounds to receive foreign dignitaries and other notable visitors in peacetime.

An elite guard of fifteen thousand professional soldiers – mostly dwarves, but also some humans and halflings, and even an occasional giant or two – defended this huge, bustling city of nearly one hundred thousand beings. In times of desperation, the smithies and armories of Cirunel could quickly equip the entire populace for battle.

The river Gentao provided the city's water supply, which was used not only for drinking, but also for sanitation, power, and living artwork. The drinking water was cool and clear. Every building, each a fine example of dwarven stonework, boasted its own privy, with the waste being whisked far out to sea by the flowing waters of the sewer system. Sluices directed separate flows to turn the waterwheels that powered the mills. And everywhere throughout the city, the waterwheel-impelled pumps that kept this marvelous water system flowing diverted water to the living stonework, making Cirunel truly the "City of Fountains."

It seemed the populace never wanted for resources. Mineshafts discretely pockmarked the city, which was fortunate enough to sit on a large emplacement of iron ore. Outside the city walls, mainly to the south, farmers kept vast crops of corn, wheat, beans, and other staples of Cirunelian life. To the southeast, herdsmen led their cattle across the grassland, culling them as necessary to meet demand. On the city's northern boundary and to the west, fishermen plied the river from their skiffs, and worked the ocean's bounty from atop expertly constructed jetties. The great harbor of Cirunel, naturally protected from destructive ocean storms and safely within the defensive boundary of the Western Outer Wall, received all sort of exotic goods from across the Great Ocean.

It had taken the small band of Ahren, Jhonkara, and Azura a precious number of days to cross the plains. Twice more they thanked the gods for the Striders they had procured back in Duran, as twice more they had been attacked by urugs after crossing the canyon's great divide. But on the open plains, the Striders easily outdistanced the urugs, their enormously long strides pulling them swiftly toward the horizon and easily out of range of the attacking monsters.

Exhaling clouds into the cool morning air, the Striders now bore the group swiftly toward the city, and within ballista range of the city walls. They were now close enough to see farmers out working their fields in the early morning. At one point, they were even forced to halt their progress completely to allow a large herd of cows to be herded past. Shortly thereafter, Ahren slowed their pace and angled toward the Great Gate.

He always felt sentimental when he returned to this special city. Not only because of the natural kinship he felt towards the dwarven peoples, but also because of the familiarity of having come here many times over the past one thousand or so years. In fact, if the truth be known, he had actually had a hand in the city's construction those many years ago. The Lesser Gate, located on the south side, had been entirely his idea; one that the dwarves had embraced wholeheartedly. And working as a simple stonemason, he had crafted many of the stones that now framed the Great Gate on the eastern edge of Cirunel. That impressive gateway was twenty yards across, with two massive iron doors that closed together so precisely that nary a hair could pass between them. Ahren knew. He had helped design them. But that was a long time ago, and the people with whom he had worked were long since dead.

Somewhat lost in her early-morning reflections, Azura said offhandedly, "I'm always impressed when I travel here."

"Well, don't miss the stonework on the Great Gate. I hear it's the finest dwarven stonework in all Nordanfel," said Ahren in private jest.

"Really? I shan't miss it then."

Ahren smiled and allowed himself a small moment of secret pride.

"Does Jhonkara still sleep?" called Azura across the open space that separated them.

Ahren contemplated his answer for a moment, finally settling on a playful, "Well, she's snoring. So if that's indicative of anything, I'll let you draw your own conclusions."

"Lucky girl. I'm exhausted. And I doubt I'll be able to sit or stand normally for a month."

"You! Your legs are longer than mine. Think how I'm feeling!"

"Ahren, are you looking for sympathy from me?"

"Maybe just a little."

Azura chuckled and said, "Fine, consider yourself sympathized."

"You overwhelm me with your generosity, my lady," he responded sarcastically, and both of them laughed.

As they continued their approach, Ahren marveled that Jhonkara had miraculously managed to find a way to curl up in her grass sling and sleep. He had been tempted to wake her for her first view of the dwarven capital, but she looked so angelic, lying there peacefully, that he couldn't bring himself to disturb her. With that thought, he felt a moment of discomfort, for he still did not understand the strong emotional attachment that had so suddenly bound him to the little dwarf. He'd known Azura for much longer, and had been close friends with her for most of that time. Yet he did not feel such strong emotional ties to her. Very curious.

Presently, whether from the growing light or the laughter that had been shared between the two friends, Jhonkara slowly came awake. Stretching and yawning extravagantly before him, she quickly turned around and kissed him on the cheek, then fingered a cheerful, "Good morning!"

"Good morning, sweetheart. Look, in the distance. Cirunel awaits."

Jhonkara got to her knees in the gently rocking sling and peered out over the horse's head. She clapped her hands together and turned to look at Ahren. " The City of the Dwarves!"

"Yes."

"Maybe more like me?"

"Jhonkara, there could be no other like you."

The tiny dwarf tilted her head to one side and blushed, then leaned in and kissed him on the lips. "None like you either," she fingered.

Ahren smiled a sad smile. They would find something for Jhonkara here in the city, and he would probably never see her again. But, and here his mind battled with his heart, it was probably best that way. He remembered all of the people with whom he had worked on the gates, all long dead. Like everyone I grow close to, he thought, looking down at Jhonkara's lovely mane of russet hair.

"Ahren?" fingered Jhonkara, turning in her seat. "What you think about?" She tapped her head with one finger for emphasis.

"Oh," he told her, "I was just thinking about what it might have taken to build this place. It's so huge, it's difficult to imagine, don't you think?"

"Oh yes, very." she said. "Why you have funny look on face?"

"What kind of a funny look do I have on my face?  
"Like you know something but not telling."

He laughed in wonderment at her perceptiveness. "Jhonkara, my sweet, it's just that I've only been here three times," he lied, "and it seems more impressive every time I come."

"Why you come before?"  
He hesitated, trying to think of a story that would cover his activities. Finally, he settled on, "Oh, just for the seeds to some exotic plants that I had hoped to grow. It didn't work out, though. Wrong soil." He watched Jhonkara carefully, and relaxed slightly as she seemed to accept his explanation.

"Someday you show me garden," Jhonkara fingered commandingly.

"I doubt that will happen, my love, since we'll be leaving you here in good hands."

Jhonkara blanched and turned around fully in her seat to stare at him with those big round eyes of hers. They were filling with tears, and her lip was quivering. She put her hands over her heart, and asked, "You leave me?"

"Yes, it's the best thing I can do for you. We'll find you a good job and people who you can talk to. You'll like it here, I promise."

If you could shout in fingerspeak, Jhonkara accomplished it. "What? You save me twice, then leave me in foreign city?"

"It's not a foreign city, sweetheart, it's the City of the Dwarves. You're finally home."

Jhonkara crossed her arms before her ample chest and drummed her fingers on her arms as tears streamed down her beautiful face. "Not home. Have no home. You lie me."

"What? I never lied to you, Jhonkara," Ahren said, placing a hand on his chest, wishing that statement were completely true.

The girl pouted and rocked her head from side to side. "You say you love me. You no love. Want to get rid of me."

"No! Jhonkara, that's not it at all! It's not safe where we must go. And besides, don't you think that you would like to finally be among the dwarves?"

"No! Want be with you, not many thousand dwarves!" she fingered violently.

Concerned, Azura finally chimed into the conversation, "Ahren, what's the problem?"

He looked at the elf quickly before refocusing on Jhonkara and saying, "She doesn't want to stay here. She wants to come with me."

"Well, that's impossible. It's too dangerous. We likely must travel into Savanod itself, for goodness sake."

"What she say?" asked Jhonkara. Ahren translated. Jhonkara's face went red with anger, and she shot a verse of fingerspeak at Azura.

"What was that?" asked Azura.

"She said to give her the knife and she'll cut you off at the knees. Then she made a few comments about your mother. And then your father. Then me." He raised his eyebrows and looked at the dwarf with wide eyes. "I wouldn't have thought that she knew those words."

The three of them rode on in silence for a few minutes, Jhonkara sitting with her back turned to Ahren, her arms crossed before her, still crying.

"Well," said Ahren, "maybe we should consider bringing her along."

Azura drew in a surprised breath, and said, "Ahren, you can't be serious. She's pretty, yes. She's very nice, yes. She's even acquitted herself reasonably well in battle. But she's still not exactly the comrade-in-arms you want watching your back as you storm the keep, you know?"

"Why, just because she's so short?"

"That, and the fact that she's deaf, you fool! To say nothing of the fact that something about her seems to draw the opposition."

"She helped me to save your life with the ingredients for the anti-venom, or had you forgotten?" Ahren asked pointedly.

"She was also shot dead by the goblins in the Dimwood."

Ahren simply nodded and silence reigned again.

As they drew ever nearer the Great Gate, he said to Azura, "If she wants to accompany us, she shall. She's my responsibility. I can't put my finger on it, but there's something special about her." He paused, then said, "I think she is meant to come with us."

"You've lost your mind."

"No, I've found my heart."

Azura had no argument to that.

"Jhonkara? Are you listening to me?" Ahren asked. For a long while, there was no response. Then, slowly, she gave a single nod of her head. Azura could see that tears still streamed down her face.

Ahren gently laid a hand on Jhonkara's shoulder, which immediately tensed. "Sweetheart? Do you still want to come with us?"

Again, there was no response. Moments passed. Finally, she turned her head, wiping away the tears, and asked, "You want me come with you?"

"If you want to come with me."

"That not answer. You want me come with you?" She jutted her chin forward. He sighed. She was not going to allow him to avoid his own feelings any longer.

"Yes, Jhonkara, I want you to come with me."

"Why? Just make me happy?"

"No, because I don't want to be apart from you. Ever." Jhonkara's lip started quivering again as he spoke the words.

"You love?"

He smiled and felt his heart melt as he said, "Yes, Jhonkara, I love you. From the moment I saw you, I have loved you."

"You believe I help fight in Savanod?"

He laughed, and said to her, "With your attitude, I believe you could take on a giant."

For the first time in a long while, she smiled, then leaned into him so hard that she practically sent the two of them tumbling off the Strider. She planted a long, hard kiss on him and reseated herself so that she was facing him. He smiled back at her. She slowly leaned forward once more, and Ahren leaned forward expectantly. She slapped him. Hard. Hard enough to leave a red imprint on his left cheek. He sat back in shock, and heard Azura laughing.

"That for thinking to leave me," Jhonkara fingered at him.

"I'm very sorry. I thought I was doing the best for you."

"You wrong. Not best. I know what best. Best with you."

"Well, you're coming along now, my dear, so you can relax."

"No!" fingered Jhonkara brutally. "Not relax yet! Love you, but can be mad at you same time!" With that, she crossed her arms again and turned her back on Ahren.

Ahren still heard peals of laughter coming from Azura's direction.

"What are you laughing about?"

Azura tried to blink the tears from her eyes, as she clutched at her stomach. But her answer was to simply point and keep laughing. Ahren sank into his saddle. Sometimes, it just seemed like you couldn't win. He really hated times like that.

Eventually the laughter subsided, though the occasional chuckle still emanated from the amused elf.

Arriving finally at the Great Gate of Cirunel, they found it bustling with activity: merchants coming and going to ply their wares, residents coming and going to harvest vegetables and grain from the fields, and cows being herded in to be milked or slaughtered. It seemed to Ahren that every race in Nordanfel had some business here at this mighty gate.

As congenial as the scene appeared, however, there were still formalities necessary to gain entrance into Cirunel. Three dwarves, all in heavy plate armor, stood guard. Like most dwarves, they were roughly one head shorter than Ahren, but were stockier, with arms and legs like tree trunks. It was obvious from the expressions on their faces that they took their duties very seriously and had vowed to protect the city at all costs.

"Azura? I think it's time for you to take the lead with your diplomatic skills."

She nodded and said, "Of course," before dismounting and leading her Strider toward the dwarven trio.

She spoke with them in a low voice, standing upright the whole time, not stooping to hear them better – most dwarves took offense when people did that, especially when the person in question was an elf. The exchange continued for a few minutes before the tallest of the three dwarven guards waved them through. Azura thanked them and remounted her horse.

"What did you say?" Ahren asked.

"I told them the truth," answered Azura, "that we have business with the King regarding the disappearance of the Princess."

"That was risky."

"Hey, you let me be the diplomat, and I'll let you be the – be the whatever you are," she said, her voice trailing off as she raised an eyebrow.

Ahren dismissed her comment with a wave of his hand. "Herb farmer, remember?"

"Uh-huh, sure, I've seen your herb farming. It's very good. So are your other skills."

"I thought we agreed not to bring that up again."

"You're the one who brought it up," she said, raising her nose into the air slightly.

He shook his head and tapped Jhonkara on the back. She turned and looked at him, still with an angry expression on her face. "What?"

He tried to lighten the mood by pointing at Azura and saying, "I think she's crazy."

Jhonkara's eyes went wide, and she slowly fingered, "Really?"

Ahren saw that he had made a mistake and quickly said, "No, no, not really. It's just a joke."

She slapped him again, though not as hard this time. "Still mad at you!" she fingered, before turning around again.

Ahren heard laughter from his right, but didn't even bother to look this time.

Ahren and Azura had decided that he was more familiar with the general layout of the city, so he took the lead as they rode under the arch of the Great Gate. He immediately guided them deep into the city, winding through main streets and side streets and narrow alleyways. Everywhere he looked, he saw a dwarf. Occasionally a human or a halfling. He spotted a giant, just once. No elves, though. It's a shame, he thought, that the dwarves and the elves can't seem to get along. They have so much in common that they don't even know about.

Eventually, they turned down an alleyway that brought them into a little-used courtyard. The building in front of them bore a placard with a sign that said, "The One-Eyed Crow." Ahren led the two Striders to tying posts, and looked at Azura. "We're here."

Azura looked at him quizzically, "Where exactly is 'here'?"

"The finest inn in all of Cirunel. A well-kept secret."

"And an herb-farmer knows this how?"

"I told you, I've been here to buy seed."

Azura dismounted and said, "I know you told me that. I still don't believe you, though."

Ahren lowered Jhonkara down into Azura's waiting arms. "You should believe me, it's true."

He took his packs off the back of the animal and proceeded to climb down the rope ladder to the ground. This really was the finest inn in the city. A safe neighborhood and everything. Since they'd been riding all night, with only Jhonkara able to get any appreciable food or sleep, he was relieved beyond belief to finally be here. He could feel exhaustion overtaking him.

Patting his Strider on the face, he was almost bowled over as it dropped its head into the water trough next to Azura's animal. "Don't laugh," he warned Azura and Jhonkara as they came around the other end of the creature. They didn't laugh, at least not so he could hear, but they did cover their mouths with their hands for a few moments.

Azura hefted her pack on her shoulder and asked, "So how long are we going to stand out here before enjoying 'the finest inn in all of Cirunel?'"

He shook his head and said to Jhonkara, "She can really be obnoxious sometimes, you know?"

The little dwarf just furrowed her brow at him and said, "I still mad at you."

"I can't win," he said with a sigh. Then with mock flourish, "Come, your highness, let's go inside." Neither of the women was sure to whom he was addressing his remarks as he walked around the water trough and opened the admittedly inviting door to the tavern. He held it open as they entered, then followed behind.

It was busier than he remembered, Ahren thought. Most of the bench seats were occupied by dwarves, though he spotted a group of three humans sitting in the far corner. Fortunately, everyone seemed to be in good spirits. Of course, that also meant that it was loud with conversation and raucous laughter. For the briefest of moments, he envied Jhonkara, not having to listen to the din. After walking up and down the aisles of bench seats, they finally located an unoccupied table tucked away in the front corner of the establishment, near the window. Ahren set his packs on one of the chairs and motioned for Jhonkara. When she reached the chair, he attempted to give her a hand up, but she declined with a menacing stare and accepted Azura's assistance. Ahren turned away and rolled his eyes before sitting down in concert with Azura.

As travel-weary as they were, there was little conversation for a while until Jhonkara fingered, "This place good?"

"Yes," said Ahren, "very good."

"Better than Duran?"

"Yes," he said with a chuckle, "much better than in Duran."

Shortly, a dwarven tavern girl came along to take their drink orders. Ahren instructed her to arrange for someone to take care of their horses, and was shocked and unable to take his eyes off of her when she looked up – except for the ears, she could have been his long-dead sister. She had the same eyes, the same dimple, the same long golden hair, the same nose – it was unnerving. He simply stared, his mind three thousand years in the past. Azura ordered water for the three of them. Ahren just stared and watched the woman walk away.

It didn't escape Jhonkara's notice that he was staring at the attractive tavern girl. She fumed, and pounded her right fist on the table so hard that the tableware danced momentarily in the air. That finally jolted Ahren out of his reverie and back into the present, where he was facing down one very angry little dwarf and one very confused elf.

"She pretty?" Jhonkara fingered, pointing at the disappearing tavern girl.

"What? No, see, she reminds me –"

"Remind you of what? Old lover?"

"No! Not at all, it's just that –"

"You like tall dwarf better than you like me?" she viciously fingered.

"No! I'm not interested in the tavern girl!"

"Really? Love her first sight too?"

"No! Jhonkara, please, understand –"

"What?"

"She reminds me of my sister."

"You no say you have sister!"

"I don't, she's dead," he muttered to her.

"Nobody stare at sister like that!" She banged her hand on the table again. Azura leaned forward to say something, but with a glare from Jhonkara, decided to abstain.

"You no love me when look at girl like that!"

"I didn't mean to stare."

"That make it worse! You stare and not even know. You bad man!" With that, Jhonkara hopped down from her perch and stomped over until she was next to Ahren. She thrust out her right hand, palm up, and fingered with her left hand, "Give money!"

"What?"

"I get room. Give money!"

He absently dug into his money pouch and handed over a few coins. Jhonkara turned on her heel and stomped away toward the sleeping quarters of the inn. She stopped after a few feet and gave a very direct motion to Azura that said, "Come!"

Ahren dropped his chin onto his hand and said, "I think you'd better go, lady elf."

Azura quietly asked, "What's the matter?" as she got up from her chair.

"Apparently Jhonkara thinks that I'm in love with the tavern girl because of how I was looking at her. It probably doesn't help that we were arguing about leaving her here a few hours ago."

Azura turned slowly to follow her diminutive friend. "You really shouldn't have been staring like that."

Ahren let out a deep sigh and said, "Like I told Jhonkara, the girl reminds me of my sister. I was surprised, that's all."

Before she disappeared around the corner, hand-in-hand with Jhonkara, Azura said, "I didn't know that you had a sister."

Ahren was alone at the table when the girl delivered three glasses of water. She looked at him quizzically.

"Ah, what can I get you?"

Without looking at her, Ahren answered, "Three bowls of your finest stew, please. Deliver two of them to whichever room my companions take for the night.

"Very well, sir." She turned and headed off to the kitchen.

Ahren leaned back in his chair and listened to the conversation and laughter coming from the rest of the room. It was actually very cathartic to listen to the merriment. It was like they didn't even know about the Princess, which, Ahren conceded, they might not. He just sat there enjoying his cool glass of water and listening to bits of conversation. Soon, his bowl of stew arrived, and he thanked the tavern girl, giving her an extra two pence for her troubles. He distinctly avoided looking at her, however; no matter how rude that might seem. As he ate, he failed to even notice how delicious and tender the stew was.

Why was Jhonkara so angry with him? This girl meant nothing to him, other than the fact that she looked like a reincarnation of his dead sister. He felt guilty and ashamed for having ever considered leaving Jhonkara here in Cirunel. How could he have thought such a thing? This was no place for her. She needed to be surrounded by love and family.

Besides, he thought, I love her so much. And again he wondered: Why do I love her so much? Why does she love me so much? I don't deserve her. I don't deserve her love and companionship. I should be alone. Isolated. It took him a good hour to finish his one bowl of stew, which was cold by the time he was through.

When he finally raised his head, the tavern was largely unoccupied, the patrons having gone home for the night. Ahren was surprised to see how late it was – darkness had fallen while he wasn't looking. His thighs still ached from the days in the saddle, and he suddenly felt eager to feel the comfort of a good bed. Leaving a coin by the empty bowl, he stood up and grabbed his packs, carrying them into the overnight wing of the tavern. Inquiring as to where Jhonkara and Azura had settled, he asked for the room directly opposite them. After accepting the key, he went and knocked on the women's door. Shortly, the door opened and Azura's head popped out. "Yes?"

"Is she talking to me yet?"

"I don't think so."

Ahren dropped his packs and pleaded, "But I must make her understand."

Azura thrust a hand out and pushed on his chest, backing him up. "Speaking as a woman, I think it would be best if you just went to bed right now, and let Jhonkara get this out of her system. You can talk to her tomorrow."

"If you think that is best, I will hold. But I won't like it."

"I think it's best."

"Fine. At least tell her that I love her, would you, please?"

Azura closed her eyes and nodded, saying, "Yes, I will do that. Goodnight, my friend."

"Goodnight, Azura." With that, he picked up his bags and opened the door to his room. It was small, but most importantly, it contained a full down mattress and quilted bedcovers. He closed the door behind him, locked it, dropped his bags, and fell face-first into bed.

What he didn't know was that immediately after his door had closed, a small dwarven head peeked out of the opposite room's door. Looking carefully to both sides of the passageway, Jhonkara scurried silently across the hall and pulled out one long strand of russet hair. She folded it in half, then in half again, then licked the hair and placed it so that it spanned the gap between the door and the doorjamb of Ahren's room. Her mission complete, she spun around and scurried back into her room.

Azura watched this from the door. When Jhonkara returned, she looked at the little dwarf and thought to herself, "Friend Ahren, I pray to the gods that you don't have to use the privy tonight," and closed and locked the door.

* * *

When morning broke, Jhonkara shot out of her room under Azura's watchful eyes and inspected Ahren's door. The hair was still in place. She beamed and clapped her hands, twirling on her heels like a child. With a huge smile lighting up her face, she marched back into her room, fingering, "He not sleep with tavern girl. Maybe he do love me." Azura, who had no idea what that fingerspeak meant, simply smiled, nodded and hoped that was the right response.

In the other room, Ahren sat up and let out an enormous yawn, stretching his arms high above his head. The down mattress had really done a good job of easing the soreness in his thighs. He felt ready to face the day's tasks. Carefully attending to his shaving duties in the sink, he wondered how Jhonkara was doing, and prayed that things were going to be better this day. After hurriedly completing his morning preparations, he picked up his sacks and opened his door. Jhonkara was standing there in a beautiful pink dress, beaming at him with a wide smile. Azura stood back in the door to their room. She said, knowing Jhonkara wouldn't hear, "She's been waiting for quite some time."

Ahren nodded ever so slightly and said to Jhonkara, "Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?"

In answer, Jhonkara pounced. She actually left the floor and slammed into him at waist level, knocking him backwards, where he, thankfully, landed on the comfortable mattress. "What?" he started to say, before she scurried up his torso and began planting kiss after kiss on his face and mouth. Her tiny hands held his face still, and he wrapped his arms around her. After what seemed like a rather long time, she sat up on her knees and fingered to him, with a wry smile, "I still little mad, just because. But you love me. I love you, too." She resumed kissing him with vigor. Eventually, his shock wore off, and he started returning her kisses. After another rather long interval, he heard the sound of someone clearing her throat at his door. It was Azura, with the tavern girl.

"She needs to get in there to clean the room," said Azura with a smile.

Ahren gently pried Jhonkara off of him and translated what the elf had just told him. The little dwarf looked to see who it was, raised an eyebrow at the tavern girl, kissed Ahren conspicuously one more time, and fingered to him, "I done. We go now." She stood, taking his hand, and pulled him to a sitting position. He bent down and kissed her on the forehead before picking up his packs and walking out of the room with as much dignity as he could muster. As for Jhonkara, as she passed the girl, she fingered, just for good measure, "You stay away from him."

"What?" asked the girl.

"She says, 'Good morning.'" Azura lied. Guessed. Hoped.

"Oh, how nice. Tell her good morning, too."

Azura frowned and tried out her rudimentary fingerspeak on Jhonkara. What she managed to get out was, "Frog this eat girl." She looked at Jhonkara with hope, but the little dwarf's expression was just perplexed.

"Come along ladies," said Ahren, hefting his packs over his shoulder. "This is going to be an important day."

The three of them departed the tavern and were pleased to see that their horses were still where they had left them, but had obviously been cooled, fed, and curried. Mimec bobbed his head at Azura's approach, and she whispered something in the animal's ear, scratching its neck as she did so. The creature scuttled sideways, and she mounted it with ease, securing her pack to the saddle. Ahren picked up Jhonkara and helped her climb the rope ladder, then followed and settled comfortably in the saddle behind her. He, too, secured his packs, then turned to inquire of Azura, "Did you wear your full diplomatic uniform today?"

"Of course. Did you think I wore this because I like the style? Besides, a diplomat would never request a royal audience if only partially clothed."

"I didn't mean that literally."

"I know that, Ahren," she chuckled.

"Just checking."

In truth, Azura looked resplendent in her diplomatic attire. She was swathed in the yellows, blues, and greens of the elven court. The long skirt was currently hiked up to her calves as she straddled her Strider, but Ahren knew that it would brush the floor when she stood. The collar and cuffs were slightly elongated, framing her head and flaring out over her hands. Jhonkara said to Ahren, "Pretty dress. Unusual. Little strange."

Ahren absolutely agreed with her that the clothing was both unusual and strange, then passed on the message that the little dwarf liked the dress.

"Well, herb farmer," Azura said with an accusatory tone in her voice and an arched eyebrow, "you're the one who's familiar with the city. Lead on to the Fortress. I'll take over from there."

"Of course, my lady," Ahren said with a mock bow in her direction. He coaxed his Strider backwards, and began winding their way through the meandering streets of Cirunel. After about forty-five minutes, they emerged onto a broad street that led up to the only access into the Fortress. A press of dwarves surrounded them, going about their daily business as if the world weren't in the great peril that the three of them knew it to be.

They maneuvered their huge Striders as quickly as possible up to the gates, which were secured and guarded by a platoon of armored dwarves. Azura dismounted, stepped forward, and presented her diplomatic credentials.

"Friend dwarves! I am Azura, diplomat first rank of the Elven Court. I come in response to the abduction of Princess Lien. The Elven kingdoms offer you friendship and support. I would speak to your King, would you permit me. My comrades must also gain entrance. I will vouch for them."

The tallest of the dwarves, the one with the largest plume on his helmet, stepped forward and said, formally, "We welcome you, lady elf. But your consulate has already offered the assistance of the Elven kingdoms. How know you of the abduction of the Princess?"

"A telepathic message was sent from the consulate to all diplomats, so I was thus informed. I felt that my comrades would be of assistance. I bring news from distant lands that may change your King's course of action. I ask you, please grant us passage," said Azura.

The corporal – Azura recognized the plume and insignia – stepped even closer to the small party and looked up at Ahren and Jhonkara. "An elf, a, um, human – and a wee dwarf maiden will change the course of the King's action?"

"Yes, corporal, I believe so. Must I invoke the right of diplomatic passage?"

The right of diplomatic passage was extended to all diplomats from all lands, and would force the dwarven guard to allow them inside. Though perfectly legal, it would be an affront to their honor.

"What? No, no, no. I will allow you passage, an elf of the high courts and all. Grogar! Open the gates and allow these people through!"

"I thank you, friend dwarf, and wish for eternal peace between our two peoples," Azura said as she remounted her horse.

"Yes, eternal peace," the corporal droned.

She tapped her mount forward, and Ahren and Jhonkara's mount obediently followed, Ahren politely inclining his head as he passed the corporal. The corporal saluted him in return. Unsure as to whom they were, he decided to be on the safe side and acknowledge them. Soon the three were through the massive gates, which shut behind them with the clank of iron against iron. They were inside the Fortress of Cirunel, a place where few foreigners ever tread.

With the recent abduction of the Princess, the full guard was activated, manning the fortress walls and all the doors of the buildings within. Their plate armor gleamed the way only dwarven plate could gleam – dull and shiny at the same time. Ahren had hefted a full suit of dwarven plate before, and knew that it weighed about one hundred pounds, so he respected the strength of the dwarven guard. But personally, he much preferred the armor of his people, which weighed almost nothing but was twice as strong as any other in Nordanfel. Of course, as far as he knew, his was the only remaining suit of its kind, just as he was the only remaining one of his people. That was his doing, and it was inexcusable. He looked at Jhonkara, and thought, sorrowfully, inexcusable even for love. Yet as he lifted a hand from the reins and stroked her shoulder he knew that he would do it again.

Azura directed them straight toward the Keep. She stopped at a row of hitching posts where they dismounted, Ahren being careful to remove his hunting knife from his belt and leave it, for with the exception of the Royal Guard and the royal family, there were no weapons permitted within the Keep. Azura led them toward the gates of the Keep, but soldiers closed ranks to bar her path. Once more, she employed her diplomatic credentials, and once more, they were granted passage, but only after a careful inspection for hidden weapons.

After the long and hazardous journey from Ahren's mountain, they were finally ushered inside the Keep of Cirunel. Immaculately dressed guards stood everywhere at attention, armed with ceremonial halberds and deadly utilitarian short swords. Tapestries, priceless paintings, and frescos adorned the walls. Sculptures rested upon plinths at regular intervals. But Ahren was no fool. Remembering his own keep, he didn't miss the defensive arrow slits and murder holes that pierced the walls and ceiling of the long hallway, nor the portcullis at the far end. Anyone attempting to storm the Keep would be in dire straights indeed. Well, almost anyone, thought Ahren. But he wasn't most people. Again he was saddened by the knowledge that he was the last of his kind. But his spirits brightened as he watched Jhonkara's russet hair swing back and forth in front of him as the three of them proceeded down the hall.

When they reached the end of the hallway, they were met by a servant – Capet was his name – who once more requested Azura's credentials; this despite the curious fact that upon meeting them, the servant had said, "Oh, it's you," as though he had somehow been expecting them. Once more, they were allowed to pass.

They passed through two more grand rooms before they were met at the final portal. Before them lay the Royal Hall. The servant at this door didn't ask for credentials, but fussed about them, straightening collars and cuffs and pleats. Finally satisfied with their appearance, he opened a gold-embossed iron door and ushered them through.

They stepped into the Royal Courtroom, Azura having to lower her head to clear the portal. Before them sat the King and his retinue. King Cecilius Avaldumon II had reigned for nearly fifty years, having taken the scepter when he was twenty-eight. He sat on a large throne covered in pillows and blankets, the Scepter of Rule still held firmly in his withered left hand. He was tall, for a dwarf, but no longer as imposing as he had been in the earlier years of his reign.

In fact these days, apparently due to the King's age, most of the day-to-day running of the kingdom had been assumed by Mogens, the Lord High Chamberlain. Mogens was an average-sized dwarf with a long, flowing brown beard, who seemed to hover predatorily near the King. He was middle-aged, and carried both a sword and a pistol-crossbow slung from his belt. Ahren thought the display a bit humorous, as Mogens' cape completely prohibited him from utilizing either weapon in a hurry. It must be the thought that counts. If anyone were to make it this far into Cirunel, a sword and a pistol-crossbow probably wouldn't make much of a difference anyway.

Crown Prince Espen was also present, seated at his father's right side on a lesser, but still impressive, throne. Like his father, he was tall for a dwarf, and solidly built, with thick arms and a great hairy face. This day, his face showed deep concern and pain. He sat tensely on the edge of his throne, ready to leap up at a moment's notice, which, he had promised himself, he would do just as soon as he figured out what could be done.

Finally, there was the court Seer. She was – surprisingly – a human. She stood roughly half a head taller than Ahren, and was wearing a dress that left shockingly little to the imagination. An attractive woman, Saskia flaunted her rather severe beauty, and it was well known that there was a continuous line of men who filed through her inner chambers. Ahren, a quick study, carefully averted his eyes, lest Jhonkara catch him looking at the human woman. There had been quite enough of a fuss over the tavern girl.

When she reached what she deemed to be the proper point, Azura stopped and dropped to one knee, placing her left hand on the floor and holding her right arm at a right angle before her deeply inclined head. Jhonkara and Ahren quickly followed suit.

"Who are you?" asked Mogens from his standing position at the King's left side.

Azura spoke clearly and precisely, "I am Azura, Diplomat of the Elven Courts. These are my companions, the dwarf Jhonkara of Duran, and the – farmer – Ahren of the mountain overlooking Duran."

"Duran. That little fishing village is a long way from here. I am told that this concerns the Princess. What is so urgent that it brings you here? The Elven Consulate has already spoken with us," Mogens finished with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"May we rise, My Lord?" asked Azura, addressing King Cecilius directly.

"You may," croaked his dry, aged voice.

The three of them stood as one and faced the King. Saskia walked slowly behind them, running one long-nailed finger along the base of Ahren's neck.

Azura ignored the dalliance and spoke to the King. "We have come with urgent news. We are but humble –"

The King managed to speak again, saying, "We know who you are, Lady Elf. The Seer has foretold of your arrival. You are here to help us rescue Princess Lien."

"Yes, Your Majesty," said Azura.

"You are too late to join our efforts. We have already dispatched a war party to the Keep of Savanod, where the Seer tells us the Princess has been transported through some magical means. She was taken from the very bed that she shares with Prince Espen, yet he neither saw nor heard anything unusual."

Mogens watched this exchange with a semi-angry, semi-anxious look on his face. Ahren assumed that it was because Azura had so expertly outmaneuvered him. The elf knew how to manage situations, and individuals, with diplomacy.

Saskia let out a sensual laugh and kissed the back of Ahren's neck before hurrying to take her place next to the Prince.

"Your Majesty, have you been told of the prophecy?" asked Azura.

"Prophecy? What prophecy?"

"It is an elven prophecy, Your Majesty. A half-dwarf will be born who will bring peace between Morovar and Visonia. But if this child were to be sacrificed at noon on the summer solstice, the murderer would become immortal and control the power of all the mages."

"Sacrificed?" exclaimed Prince Espen.

"Yes, sacrificed," said Ahren. "The sacrifice of a royal child of mixed birth on the summer solstice would be an extremely powerful act. The situation is dire, Your Majesty. Princess Lien and her child must be returned, unharmed, to Cirunel."

"You speak out of turn!" shouted Mogens.

"No, no, it's all right. Let us see what this man has to say," said the King.

"We cannot allow this sacrifice to take place, Your Highness," said Ahren. "An evil archmage is bad enough. An immortal archmage – well, I'd hate to see what he or she would be capable of."

"How do you propose to rescue the Princess, Master Ahren?" asked the frail King.

"We three will ride with all speed for the Keep of Savanod, storm it, and return with the Princess."

Mogens laughed, and said, "You, an elf, and a pint-sized girl? Don't you think that our war party is far better equipped to handle the situation? They are fifty of our finest men!"

Ahren said, very solemnly, "I suspect, Your Majesty, that your war party is already dead."

"Already dead? You must be a fool!" shouted Mogens, a little too quickly.

"No, I am no fool. The hoards of Savanod have grown strong. Even now they plague the land as far south as the Dimwood. I fear that their number has grown uncontrollable. Fifty of your finest men would not be enough to take the Keep. One thousand of your finest men would not be enough to take the Keep. But the three of us – strange mix that we are – may be able to penetrate their defenses, and destroy whatever menace awaits us. I intend to ride for the Keep whether or not you decree it. Your Majesty," he quickly added.

The Crown Prince stood and unsheathed his sword, holding it high above his head. It gleamed in the candlelight. "I shall accompany you, along with my squire, Teneyck. We five will ride for the Keep."

The King sat up straighter in his chair at the Prince's declaration. "You would go to Savanod, my son?"

"Yes, father. I will not suffer yet another man to rescue my wife without at least sharing in the pursuit. Already have I waited too long in this chamber," the Prince said clearly.

"I think that is wise," said Mogens. "Go with them. I will have a squire take you to the armories where you may outfit yourselves."

"I am still here, Mogens," said the King. "Issue no orders without my consent."

"Of course, Sire, forgive me for speaking out of place." Mogens bowed exceptionally low.

"If the Prince wishes it, so be it," said the feeble King. "You shall have my blessing and access to my armories. I will instruct the Seer to try to prophesy the challenges that await you on your journey. Seer!"

"Yes, my King?" Saskia asked, never taking her eyes off of Ahren.

"What do you see in their future?"

Saskia closed her eyes and began to shudder. "I see much turmoil. One of their party will die, and the others will blame this one." She turned suddenly upon Ahren with an accusing finger.

Ahren was not pleased; but Saskia's "prophecy" of his blame was of little consequence to him compared to his other concerns. He didn't want the Prince to go along with them. He thought that their little band was quite capable just as it was, thank you very much. And a squire to worry about too? He should just sneak out and go alone. If not for Jhonkara, he probably would have.

Mogens stepped forward and placed a hand on Azura's shoulder. "Go, Lady Elf, and help return our beloved Princess." He moved on to Ahren.

He placed a hand on Ahren's shoulder and offered a similar directive. Finally, he reached down and laid a hand on the top of Jhonkara's head. They both reeled back as if they had been struck by lightning. Ahren rushed to put an arm around the little dwarf, asking if she was all right. She said that she was, but that she didn't like Mogens. He was a bad man. When asked why, she couldn't say. She just knew. As for Mogens, he rubbed his hand as if it had just been crushed by falling rock, a perplexed look on his haughty face. He backed up and returned to his place near the throne.

The King slowly stood with the aide of his scepter, and bid them, "Go, at once. The summer solstice is but a short time away. I do not wish my daughter-in-law hurt. She is Morovarian by marriage; but she is Visonian by ancestry. Her death would mean great sorrow for both our peoples. Bring back my grandchild. I ask you not as a king, but as a man."

"As you wish, Your Majesty. Thank you for hearing us, Your Majesty," said Azura, bowing low. Ahren bowed too, and Jhonkara curtsied delicately. Keeping their faces bowed towards the floor, they backed out of the room, followed closely by the Prince. The door closed behind them.

Ahren and Azura stood up and stretched. Ahren had little patience for all of this courtly nonsense, and wondered how Azura handled it. He certainly hadn't run things this way when he was King. He didn't feel very comfortable leaving the aged King Cecilius in the hands of Mogens and Saskia, either. Something was wrong about the Lord High Chamberlain and the Seer, but he couldn't figure out what it was. For the moment, he settled for being relieved that Jhonkara had obviously not seen Saskia's advances. That could have been bad for diplomacy.

"Come," said the Prince, "I will take you to the armories. You may outfit yourselves there."

"The elf and I have little need, my Prince," said Ahren. "We are already well equipped for the journey. We need only a sword and a crossbow to suit Jhonkara, here."

"Hmm, a sword and crossbow for one so small? Would a dagger and a pistol-crossbow be acceptable to you?"

"Of course, Your Highness."

"Very well, then off with us! I shall fetch Teneyck, and we will make for Savanod without delay."

"I pray you reconsider coming with us," said Ahren carefully. "The dangers are many, but we are well equipped to handle them. A smaller party may be more successful."

"I will rescue my wife, Ahren-of-the-Hill. Speak not of this again!"

"Of course, Your Highness. My apologies. I meant no disrespect."

"Follow me, then. The armories await."

* * *

An hour later, the five of them were readying their horses in the stables. They had raided the storerooms for salted beef, cheese, and hardtack, until their packs were almost popping open with their fullness. Azura had changed from her official clothing into a more utilitarian tunic. From the consulate, she had obtained a suit of elven chain mail, and its polished rings glittered atop her tunic like diamonds in the midday sun. Espen and Ahren, working together, had located a suitable dagger and crossbow for Jhonkara, along with standard iron-tipped wooden bolts. The crossbow wouldn't fell an orc, but it could certainly knock down a goblin. The dagger was perfect for her, as it fit her like a sword. The blade was beautifully embossed and inlaid with gold and platinum. The hilt of the dagger held an emerald whose color, Ahren couldn't help but notice, perfectly matched Jhonkara's eyes. Espen and Ahren had even managed to locate a small suit of armor for Jhonkara, by outfitting her in Prince Espen's childhood uniform. She looked quite the little warrior, but complained constantly to Ahren that she would rather go without armor. Ahren steadfastly insisted that she wear it, however. Savanod was no place to go without such protection. He himself had removed his glowing white armor from its special pack and buckled it in place, slinging his sword-belt around his waist. Jhonkara was very taken by him in uniform, and planted a quick kiss on his lips before settling into her seat. Ahren couldn't help but think of how very special she was to him.

With packs, clothing, and armor finally adjusted for travel, the five mounted and prepared to ride out of the city. Espen and his squire, Teneyck, rode standard horses, one stallion, one mare. Although it was somewhat awkward for the massive Striders to follow the smaller horses, the Prince led the party through the streets, as it wouldn't be proper for him to be seen following the others. At the gates of the Fortress, the Prince ordered Rheese, the Captain of the Guard, to meet them at the Great Gate in half an hour. Espen would have preferred that the Lord High Marshall come along, but took solace in the fact that he was needed in Cirunel to develop strategy against the Hoards of Savanod. In his stead, the Captain of the Guard, being the senior guardsman, would be an excellent warrior to accompany them. The squire Teneyck, an agreeable young fellow, about a head shorter than Ahren, but with the common bulk of a dwarf, was glad that Rheese was coming along. Teneyck enjoyed his company, and felt far more comfortable around the Captain of the Guard than he did around the Prince.

As the rescue party disappeared down the streets, Mogens watched their departure from his private tower in the east wing. With Saskia caressing his body and nibbling on his earlobe, he allowed himself a small, tight smile. Everything was proceeding as she had predicted. Excellent. It was so unfortunate that the King was so frail – he didn't have much time left in this world. Mogens thought about the death of King Cecilius and threw his head back in a spate of cackling laughter.

# Chapter Six

A week of travel found the unlikely mix of rescuers on the outskirts of Savanod. From Cirunel, they had arranged clandestine steerage northeastward and upriver as far as the Gentao allowed, passing through the Princess' homeland of Visonia on the way. After leaving the leaky ship, two days of hard riding had taken them to Savanod. Ahren felt impatient when having to wait for the smaller dwarven horses to catch up to the two Striders in a walk; but never ceased to be amazed at the little horses' speed and stamina in battle. This proved to be invaluable as, several times along the way, they had been attacked and forced to outdistance goblins, orcs, urugs, and even some massive four-armed chalkai. At one point a dragon had circled overhead, but apparently decided that they weren't worth the trouble, because it left them alone. Perhaps Ahren's belief that their small band could go where armies could not was proving to be true.

As the Striders ambled along, Ahren, Azura and Jhonkara waited again for the others to catch up. Ahren asked Jhonkara, "Sweetheart, why did you reel back when the Lord High Chamberlain touched you?"

She turned in her seat to face him, and in fingerspeak, said, "Don't know. Touch hurt. Like touching hot pan." She shrugged.

Ahren furrowed his brow and looked at the little dwarf. She was so sweet. So special. He didn't know what it was; he couldn't even guess; but there was more to her than any of them knew, that much he was sure of. He playfully ruffled her hair, and she let out a silent giggle. The dwarven horses finally caught up to the Striders, and they all set out again, this time Ahren slowing his horse to an awkward pace that kept them from outdistancing the dwarves.

Jhonkara looked around at Savanod. She didn't know much about it, except that it was an evil place. The basaltic rocks that thrust angrily out of the ground were ominously black, with veins of red running through them. Nary a tree grew that she could see, though the occasional low shrub dotted the landscape. A cold wind blew in from the east, whipping her hair around her face. She was glad for her warm traveling cloak. It had started raining two days ago, and hadn't let up since. She raised her hood and cinched the cloak tightly in place, reaching back to pat Ahren on the leg.

Ahren shifted in his seat, uneasy as to what awaited them. He had expected to be attacked a day ago, but nothing had happened, and that had him worried. With a silent hand signal, he brought the six-member band to a stop and he alone dismounted. Walking a few paces in front of the others, and taking care to use his body to conceal his actions from them, he dropped to one knee and put his right hand against the muddy ground. Just as it had done back on his mountain, his hand melded with the earth, and he closed his eyes in concentration. Many creatures. Magic. Just around the next bend. Great danger. He quickly disengaged himself and rushed back to the party, no one the wiser of his communion with the earth. As he climbed the rope ladder back onto his Strider, he tuned his ears into the air, which delivered to him the conversations being held by the orcs massed half a league ahead. Somehow, the orcs were expecting them. Had the dragon warned them?

One hundred fifty leagues from the Keep of Savanod, and already they had been discovered. This did not bode well, thought Ahren. Fearing it would be unsafe to speak aloud, he communicated with the rest of the party only in hand signals, directing them south behind a low rise. He wished that he were free to silence the clip-clop of hooves on the rocky ground, but he dared not risk showing any more of his powers, especially to the Prince and his aides. Ahren spoke silently to Jhonkara, saying, "Be ready. There are monsters nearby." The little dwarf tensed and put a hand on the hilt of her dagger, while with her other hand – and a foot – she cocked the crossbow and loaded a bolt. Ahren loosened his weapons in their sheathes, and the others followed suit, Azura silently slinging the enchanted crossbow into firing position. Their mounts began to dance uneasily, tossing their heads about and straining at their bits as they caught the scent of the orcs upon the wind. Working hard to control their mounts, the party made slow progress skirting around to the south; all of them hoped that their change of direction would lead them to safety.

* * *

In the Keep of Cirunel, King Cecilius Avaldumon II fretted over the well-being of his only child. If Espen died, there would be no heir to the throne, and it would default to Mogens' line. The Kingdom would survive. But how could he go on without his son? The elderly dwarf shook at the thought, and wrung his hands together.

"Might I ease your troubles, my Liege?" asked the Lord High Chamberlain.

Cecilius shook his head tiredly and said, "No, no, not today, Mogens. I worry for my son. He is marching into the lair of the beast, so to speak. My wife gone these many years. Then sweet Lien's disappearance – especially at such a delicate time. And now my son rides into the evil unknown. It is all just too much for an old man sometimes."

"Of course, Your Majesty," replied Mogens.

"I understand my son not wanting another man to rescue his wife, but gods, doesn't the boy see that there are more important considerations here, such as his own safety so that he can continue the family line? No one wants any harm to come to Princess Lien – least of all the Visonians – but Espen has responsibilities right here! The Kingdom needs him. I need him." The old man finished with more tenderness than Mogens would have thought him capable of.

Saskia glided into the room, her feet invisible beneath the flowing, and seductively revealing, gown she wore. "Your Majesty, what if you were to die while Prince Espen were away?" she purred.

"Your question is highly inappropriate, Seer! But, to give you response, I say, I am not going to die! I'm a determined old cuss, you know. I'll live forever!" he proclaimed with unexpected strength.

"No, Your Majesty, that is his destiny, not yours," said the Seer, slowly waving her fingers toward Mogens.

"What see you, Seer?" asked Mogens.

Saskia closed her eyes and thrust her barely-concealed chest out, holding her arms out to her sides. "I see that the second party is walking into a trap, Chamberlain. Your plan goes well."

"What do you mean, 'his plan goes well?'" demanded Cecilius, trying valiantly to stand, but failing.

Mogens turned on the King. "It means that the reign of the Avaldumons is over, Cecilius. As is your life, I'm afraid."

With that, Mogens thrust his hands, fingers splayed, toward the King. Thunder cracked in the great hall, and purple and white lightning shot forth from the Chamberlain's hands, striking King Cecilius II in both the chest and head. He tried to cry out, but was quickly silenced as the energy danced over his body, destroying what remained of his enfeebled tissue. Saskia watched, licking her lips. She moved slowly as the lightning ceased, and swept across the marble floor to the body of the King. She checked him. He was quite dead, his face frozen in a rictus of shock and terror. As wisps of smoke rose from the top of his skull, Saskia gave a sultry laugh and combed the dead man's hair with her long-nailed fingers.

"What say you, Seer?" asked Mogens.

She dropped to one knee and said quietly, "Hail, King Mogens Hongerig."

"Rise, and approach," said Mogens, who had already dumped King Cecilius' body out of the throne and onto the floor. He seated himself in the plush cushions and beckoned Saskia closer.

Saskia crawled like a panther across the floor to him, standing only when she reached his feet. "There are many rewards that go with being King," she said in a sultry voice.

"Really? And what might they be?"

"You may now have your way with the Seer," she giggled.

"But I thought that you had to remain a virgin to keep your power of prophesy," said Mogens, wryly, thinking of the men who paraded in and out of her bedroom.

Saskia threw back her head and laughed. "'Tis but a lie that we Seers perpetuate to keep Kings from taking advantage of us. But I don't have such reservations about you." With that, she ripped her dress wide open and smothered Mogens in her warm flesh. He wrapped his arms around her and didn't pull away.

* * *

The six rescuers lay on the ground, watching the one hundred or so orcs from afar. Azura whispered to Ahren, "What are they doing?"

"They're blocking our path, that's what they're doing."

"Well, can't you just do that fire trick again and clear the valley for us?"

"No!" he snapped rather too loudly for the situation. Then, sheepishly repeated, "No. I will not do that. I will not take lives unless absolutely necessary. And you promised never to speak of my powers again." He glanced at the royal group to make sure that none of them had overheard their conversation. It appeared to be safe.

"I'm sorry I mentioned your – abilities. It just seemed like this would be a perfect opportunity to use them. I could beg that my indiscretion came from worry. But that would be no excuse."

"Please, just do not speak of them again, Azura."

"Of course," she demurred.

He felt a tap on his left shoulder. It was Jhonkara. She fingered at him, "We go around?"

"We can't," he answered, "because the valley walls are too sheer behind the orcs. Perhaps we must simply be patient and wait for them to grow weary of waiting for us, and leave."

"But summer solstice not far away."

"I know, my sweet. I know." He sighed, trying to think of a way out of the situation.

A dwarven voice piped up from farther to his left. It was Prince Espen. "I say we rush them head on. Divide their ranks and charge single file straight through the middle."

"No, Your Highness, that's no good," said Rheese. "Orcish archers are fiendishly accurate. We would be dead men – and ladies – as soon as we were within bowshot." The Captain of the Guard had turned out to be an amicable fellow. Unlike most dwarves, he had a very close shaven beard, just stubble, really, flecked with white. A veteran of the recent Morovar-Visonia wars, he had tasted combat, and knew his way around a sword, which comforted Ahren greatly.

"Where are you going?" the Prince asked Ahren, who had risen to his feet without explanation and was walking toward the gathering of orcs.

"I'm going to remedy the situation, for I fear they will not tire of waiting. Orcs have unnatural tenacity and endurance. You must all give me your solemn word that you will not follow; and if I am not back within one hour, you will return to Cirunel and report our failure."

Jhonkara finger-yelled, "You come back! I love!"

Azura started to say something, then decided against it, knowing her resolute friend too well to argue with him. She simply acknowledged her oath.

The Morovarian warriors followed suit, unsure as to what this fool intended to do, but fairly certain that they wanted no part of it. Ahren nodded, saluted in the way of his people, and began running for the orc hoard, his boots carrying him swiftly over the field of broken basalt. It took him fifteen minutes to cover the ground between his party and the top of the cliff overlooking the orcs. Barely panting, he looked back and decided that his friends were too far away to discern what he was about to do. Which was good, as far as he was concerned.

There were more orcs than they had estimated. From the low rise, there had looked to be about one hundred. From his high perch, he counted upwards of two hundred and fifty. Not the sort of thing that he wanted to charge head on.

Azura watched her friend from afar, his glowing white armor sticking out from underneath his cloak like a beacon in the rain-soaked darkness. Still, even her supernaturally keen elven eyesight could only tell her that he was there, not what he was doing. She put a reassuring hand on Jhonkara's shoulder and offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. Then she kicked herself for not having worked harder to learn fingerspeak, and resolved to do so immediately upon returning to the courts – if they returned at all, she reminded herself.

The Prince and his aides watched with fascination, wondering what was going to happen. Unlike Azura, they had lost sight of Ahren shortly after he had left, so could only wait in anticipation for they knew not what.

Only Jhonkara didn't look. She pulled her head deep inside the hood of her cloak and closed her eyes, praying to the gods for Ahren's safe return.

High upon the precipice, Ahren was looking for something. A rock situated in a particular manner. That would make this much easier – and much more believable for his friends behind him. Cliffs always seemed to have a keystone; one rock that was holding the rest of them in place. Remove the keystone, and the whole of the cliff would come tumbling down. As the orcs milled around below him, he silently moved back and forth searching for the keystone, but couldn't find it. Suddenly, there was a deep-throated shout from below, and he looked up just in time to watch an iron-tipped arrow ricochet off his chest plate. He sighed. There was no more time for subtlety.

As more and more arrows arced up from the valley floor – many of them finding their mark – he dropped to his hands and knees. His hands melded with the earth once more, and soon everyone, the orcs below and the rescue party far behind, heard a deep rumbling groan begin to echo between the sheer walls of the valley. Slowly, the rumbling built to a thunderous roar, and the ground began to shake. One by one, loose rocks began to tumble from the cliff face. The orcs broke and started to run, but they were too late. Almost before it had begun, it was over. The entire cliff face gave way in a mighty avalanche of rock and soil that engulfed the entire hoard, washing up against the opposite side of the valley like water in a bowl. Ahren looked down and saw no surviving orcs. He disengaged himself from the ground and soberly began to walk back to his friends.

"What happened?" demanded Azura as soon as he was within shouting distance.

"There was an avalanche. The way is clear of orcs now," he said calmly.

"An avalanche?" inquired Prince Espen. "How convenient for us. Perhaps the gods give us hope after all."

"Yes, well, I had to move a few rocks to get it going; but once it started, it continued all by itself."

Azura asked, "And how did you move those few rocks?"

"I just dropped some other rocks on them from above," he lied. "It was quite simple, really."

"Mmm," said Azura.

Jhonkara ran to him and embraced him, pulling him down so she could give him a kiss. He smiled at her and ruffled her hair, then in a moment of playfulness, tweaked her side where her armor didn't protect her. She let out a silent shriek and leapt into the air, running back for the protection of the tall elf.

The party remounted and backtracked to their previous course, where they turned and proceeded toward where the orcs had been laying in wait. The horses soon bore them there, and the sight was unnerving – hundreds of orc bodies lay crushed and mangled by the fallen rock. Broken bows and swords littered the valley floor. Ahren felt sorry for the miserable creatures that he had just been forced to kill. After all, they had just been doing their jobs.

"That was quite an avalanche," said Rheese. He eyed Ahren with an arched eyebrow. "Lucky for us."

"Yes, very lucky. I would hate to have been caught in it," answered Ahren sincerely.

Jhonkara fingered to him, "You make big mess?" Her eyes were as wide as saucers.

He nodded slowly and told her, "Yes, I did. But promise me that you won't tell anyone."

Jhonkara put one hand on her hip, cocked her head to the left and fingered, "Who I going to tell?"

"Right. Good point."

"Pray this will have been our last delay," said Espen. "My wife and child are in dire need of rescue."

"Yes, Your Highness," Ahren bowed. He tapped his mount forward and began climbing over the pile of debris.

They were almost across the sea of bodies and rubble when it happened. There was a twang, a swoosh, and a cry of pain, and Ahren turned just in time to watch Teneyck fall off his horse, a long orcish arrow piercing a tiny joint in his plate mail.

Azura whipped her crossbow out and up and drew a bead on the half-dead orc who had just shot the young squire. With a thunk-thunk, the crossbow cycled, sending an iron bolt straight through the orc's forehead, killing him instantly.

The party quickly dismounted and rushed to the fallen squire. Together, they turned him onto his left side, so that the arrow was easily accessible. "Quickly, pull it out!" cried Ahren.

"But orcish arrows are barbed," complained Espen. "We'll do him more damage if we try to remove it like that."

"It may already be too late, Espen," Ahren said, with a hint of anger in his voice. "If you don't remove the arrow immediately, it will certainly be so."

The Prince, unused to being given orders by anyone but the King himself, bridled at this strange man, who was neither dwarf, nor elf, nor human. But for some unknown reason, he also believed him; and with a swift and decisive yank, he pulled the barbed arrowhead from Teneyck's side. The boy, sturdy though he was, cried out in pain, a cry that reverberated among the fallen boulders and rent the valley with its anguish. The wound bled profusely as everyone hurriedly worked together to undo the clasps that held the clamshell-like armor together. When the armor had been removed, Espen took a piece of fabric out of his pack and pressed it into the wound.

Ahren cried out, "No! Let it bleed!"

"What? Why?"

"Because orcish arrows are always tipped with poison. I have no ingredients to make an antidote, so we must let his body attempt to heal itself. When the time is right, I – we – will see to his wound."

The boy choked and gasped for breath as the poison attacked his system. He convulsed and vomited, blood continuing to spill from his side. The men stood by helplessly and watched while Azura and Jhonkara did their best to make Teneyck comfortable on the field of rubble. They had all grown fond of the gentle squire, and prayed for his recovery even as they feared that Saskia's prophecy of death was taking him.

Espen did his best to make small talk – or perhaps to learn more about his companions – while they waited. "So, Ahren-of-the-Hill, where did you find that one, anyway?" he asked, indicating Jhonkara with a nod of his head.

"She was waiting tables in Duran and – she needed rescuing. We've been through a lot together since then."

"Mmm. Do avalanches happen often when you're around?"

"Define 'often,'" replied Ahren.

"Never mind," Espen growled. He looked at the suffering boy again and asked, "Just how long do you plan on leaving him this way?"

"Two hours. If he has not succumbed to his wound by that time, then we can heal him."

"Perhaps I should have Rheese take him back to Cirunel. They may be able to help him in ways we cannot. Besides, he won't be able to help us, and his condition may even slow us down."

"No. It is meant to be this way. We are all here for a reason. He will be fine. If he survives the next two hours, that is."

So they waited. Teneyck thrashed around in pain as the poison burned through his body. Ahren had once heard orcish poisoning described as feeling "Like being set on fire from the inside," and that seemed to be as apt a description as any. Jhonkara asked, "Him poison like Azura? No can help like Azura?"

"No," Ahren answered. "This poison must run its course."

"I clean wound now?" she asked.

"If you think you can do it without getting hurt. He's flailing around an awful lot. Also, be careful how much water you use. Aside from this rain, there isn't much natural water to be found in Savanod."

Jhonkara nodded and proceeded to pour measured amounts of water into the wound, cleaning it with the cloth that Espen had provided. When she was satisfied that it looked better, she stepped back and allowed Ahren to inspect it. It looked clean, even as it continued to bleed. He gave Jhonkara a smile and a pat on the back.

After a while, the little dwarf looked up into the sky to try to see the sun, but the rain clouds were obscuring the view. She tapped Ahren's leg to get his attention and said, "Think it been time. You heal now."

Ahren would have liked to give the boy more time, but he could feel the urgency of the others wanting to get on with the mending of Teneyck's wound. Mostly, though, he trusted Jhonkara's assessment. Ahren announced that it was time to close the wound, and Espen and Rheese both came forward with needle and thread. "Ah, Azura, may I have a word with you?" Ahren asked.

The tall elf strode over to him and bent down so that her ear was next to his mouth. He said, "Azura, please distract them while I heal the boy. Tell no one." Azura nodded in agreement and went over and started arguing about needle and thread sizes with the two men. Jhonkara followed Ahren to the boy's side, where he got down on his knees and held his hands over the wound. As had occurred with Jhonkara and Azura, Ahren's hands began to glow, and soon the wound was healed as though it had never been there; the hole in Teneyck's tunic the only evidence that an arrow had passed through. Well, thought Ahren, that and the lingering effects of the poison.

Doing his best to sound surprised, Ahren announced, "Look! The wound is closed."

Espen and Rheese looked at him perplexed. "But you did not sew him up," they said as one.

"I didn't need to. I cannot explain it, but the boy seems to have miraculous healing powers."

The two dwarves inspected the area of the vanished wound with awe. Never had they seen such rapid healing and Rheese, as Captain of the Guard, had seen many wounds. The two were at a complete loss as to how to explain it. Jhonkara saw their confusion and covered her mouth with her hand to conceal a silent giggle.

Still, though, the boy spasmed violently atop the rubble, and would have broken his skull wide open had it not been for the helmet that he still wore. "We cannot proceed like this," said Ahren. "Let's find some shelter and make camp for the night."

"Anything to get out of this cursed rain," muttered Espen.

"When I was scouting earlier, I think I saw a cave a few hundred yards up the valley. We should try there, it ought to be dry."

"Are you mad? These cliffs might collapse again," protested Espen.

"Oh, I think that I can safely say that there will be no more cliff failures," said Ahren.

"If you're sure," Espen agreed, unconvinced.

Dealing with the twitching Teneyck made the short move to the cave more difficult than any of the leagues they had traveled since leaving Cirunel. They'd had to lay him across his horse's back, lashing him securely to the saddle. Even then, he almost broke his bonds and fell off twice before they reached the cave.

Ahren unsheathed his glowing green sword. The dwarves were amazed, never having seen such a metal, and became even more curious about this mountain-man from Duran. Holding his sword like a torch, but ready to bring it swiftly down at a moment's notice, Ahren was the first to enter the cave. "All of you, stay here," Ahren ordered. "I'll make sure the cave is clear."

Without waiting for a reply, he advanced into the cave, which was now illuminated by the bright shining light of his sword, and to a lesser extent, by the soft white glow of his armor. It was comfortably sized for the six of them to lay out bedrolls for the night. He went deeper into the cave and came to a fork. He first took the left-hand passage, which ended shortly after a blind turn to the left. He then doubled back and took the right passage, stopping abruptly as his sword illuminated a pair of canine eyes before him. Another urug. He quickly drew his dagger and held it in his left hand in a defensive posture, simultaneously repositioning his right hand for a better arc.

The urug came at him slowly, it's stinger poised to deliver its poison. Ahren stayed out of reach of the thing, backing his way toward the entrance. "I'm coming out, with an urug following me!" he cried. He heard weapons being unsheathed behind him. He was almost at the entrance. Suddenly, Jhonkara was standing next to him, her dagger-sword raised, protecting his right flank. As soon as she appeared, a change came over the previously docile urug, and it charged straight for her. It thrust its stinger forward just as Ahren brought his mighty sword thundering downward, severing both stinger and head of the beast. The stinger continued forward on its own momentum, however, and struck Jhonkara in the chest. Thankfully, Espen's childhood armor held, and the stinger fell to the floor, harmless. Jhonkara was knocked on her back, however, and Ahren hurried to get her to her feet. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?" he fussed.

She gave him a kiss on the cheek and pushed his hands away. "I fine, Ahren. Take care of myself." She turned to walk away, then added, "Usually."

Azura and the dwarves came into the cave bearing Teneyck's twitching body. They were about to remove the urug's remains from the cave, but Ahren told them to leave the beast; that it could draw too much attention out in the open. Consequently, they simply dumped the urug at the entrance and went about laying out Teneyck's bedroll and placing the youngster on it; covering him with his blanket as per Ahren's instructions.

"How do you know so much about poison?" asked Espen.

"Oh, I've had to deal with it from time to time," said Ahren, not mentioning that "time to time" was over the course of nearly three thousand five hundred years. "Make the boy as comfortable as possible, and let's get some food and sleep. I know I feel quite tired. I suspect you all are ready to rest as well."

They rolled out their bedrolls. Espen and Rheese flanked the unconscious Teneyck; with Espen taking up position closest to the entrance. Azura slept next to Rheese, and Ahren found himself in the awkward position of laying his bedroll next to Jhonkara's. "Do you want me to move?" he asked. "Prince Espen has taken the entrance, but I can move deeper into the cave if you would like."

"No! You stay near me. Keep safe," Jhonkara said with a smile. He didn't know if she meant that he would keep her safe, or that she would keep him safe, but he decided that, in the end, it didn't really matter.

"You tell me about sister?" fingered Jhonkara from her bedroll.

"My sister? There really isn't much to tell. Just that she looked very much like that tavern girl in Cirunel. Her name was Vlinder, and I think that she would have liked you."

"I sure I like her, too. But Vlinder strange name. What kind name?"

"It's from a very old language, my sweet." He got a distant look in his eyes and said, "A long dead language."

"Where sister now?"

"Dead. A very long time."

"Ten years?"

He chuckled. "Yes, at least ten years."

"I sorry."

"It's all right, you're not the one who killed her," said Ahren. Then he thought to himself despondently: I am.

* * *

As dawn broke, rainy and gray, Ahren was sitting at the entrance to the cave, wrapped in his traveling cloak. He looked back at the others, still asleep, and muttered, "This has gone on long enough." He pushed the rain away with his right hand and soon the clouds scattered over the horizon. It felt good to feel the sun on his face again, even if he was sitting next to the dead urug that had seemed intent on killing the one person he had grown to love.

Soon, he felt a pair of tiny hands on the back of his neck, and turned to find Jhonkara awake and smiling at him. She lifted her armor to reveal a pretty red dress with daffodils and tulips embroidered on it and said, "New dress today."

"Very pretty," said Ahren.

She gave him a half-frown and said, "You think everything I wear pretty."

"Well, it is, on you."

She blushed and looked at the ground, fingering, "Well, thank you." She sat down on the ground next to him, carefully avoiding the stinger that had been left there.

"We rescue Princess today?"

"Probably not, my sweet. We have many leagues to go before we reach the Keep of Savanod."

"Sounds scary."

"It is. That's why I wanted you to stay in Cirunel."

"No! I come, keep you safe." And he had the answer to his question from last night.

Ahren shared some hardtack and cheese with Jhonkara, who devoured it hungrily – she did have a dwarf's metabolism, after all. He knew that water wouldn't be an issue – he could produce water if the need arose – but food would be in short supply on this journey, as there was precious little to eat here in Savanod. Well, at least anything that you'd want to eat.

They were soon joined by Azura, who said, "Our friends the dwarves are snoring loudly enough to bring half of Savanod down upon us."

"Why don't you elves and dwarves get along, Azura? You have more in common than you realize."

"Is that so? And how would you know? But to answer the question, the dwarves think the elves are pompous, and the elves think the dwarves are boorish. So there's a bit of an impasse, you see."

"Wouldn't it be nice if you could get past that?"

"Yes, it would. But that's why it's called an 'impasse.' Perhaps if Lien's child is born safely, we'll find out what it's like to get along," said the elf.

Ahren nodded his head and thought back to the past, when his people had created the Five Races of Man. They had deliberately made them the same, but different. Each with unique gifts and unique failings. It was disappointing to see them still fighting after so many thousands of years.

"Well," he said, "I think it's time to wake up our little warriors. Teneyck should be in good shape – assuming he survived the night – and the others should be well rested. We've remained here long enough. It's time to move on before someone comes to find out what happened to all of those orcs."

"Good point," said Azura, "I'll go and awaken them at once."

Ahren had already packed his bedroll, and didn't want to go back into the cave – it made him homesick. In fact, his packs were already tied in place on the saddle of his Strider. He hoped the group would make good time today. The summer solstice was edging closer, and he wanted to have Lien safely in their hands before that time.

Azura returned to the entrance with three yawning dwarves in tow. "Thank you, Master Ahren, Lady Jhonkara, for assisting with my wound," said Teneyck. "I thought that I was a dead man."

Azura said, "Well, don't let that trouble you. Ahren's good at bringing people back from the dead." Everyone but Ahren and Jhonkara had a good laugh at that.

After concealing all evidence of their campsite and stuffing the body of the urug as far back in the passageway as possible, they removed the hobbles from their horses and mounted. "Onward," said Ahren, leading the group up the valley. Jhonkara leaned back so that her neck and back were pressing against his chest and stomach. She had her hood down; taking in the bright sunshine that – everyone else noted - was rather unusual for Savanod. Ahren bent his head and kissed the top of her head, and she reached back to squeeze his leg. He felt that he could stay there forever.

Unfortunately, they were only a few leagues closer to the Keep of Savanod today than they had been yesterday at this same time. They were not making good progress. Ahren tapped his horse's sides and set off at a fast lope, hoping that the dwarves' smaller horses would be able to keep up. Thankfully, after traveling a few leagues, Espen informed him that these horses had been bred specifically for endurance, at the cost of speed. They could run all day like this. Which is good, thought Ahren, because that's exactly what they must do.

Jhonkara leaned even harder against Ahren. He wondered absently if she was going to buckle his armor plate. "Love you, Ahren," Jhonkara fingered over her shoulder.

"And I you, my love," he responded.

The horses continued loping along the valley floor for a full ten leagues before Ahren finally slowed their pace. The horses were sweating and lathered despite the cool air, and they needed water. Bringing back the rains wouldn't do, as it would mean having to worry about water pooled in inconvenient locations, and thus slowing their progress. Ahren could create little handfuls of water, but it would take a long time to quench a horse's thirst that way. Of course, there was always the other end of the spectrum. He could create a flood. But that didn't seem overly helpful in this situation, either. He closed his eyes and reached out with his mind, searching for water.

Thankfully, he soon sensed an abundance of water farther up the valley. Unfortunately, the valley was beginning to narrow, giving him the uncomfortable feeling that they needed to get out of it; but care of the horses took precedence in this situation. If something happened to the horses, they would never make it on foot in time to stop the sacrifice that was going to take place. "There should be water two leagues farther up the valley," he called to the rest of his party. "I think we should go there to cool the horses and give them drink."

"I agree. The sun is getting lower in the sky anyway," said Espen.

They rode on until they were forced to dismount and lead their tired horses the rest of the way. What they found shocked all of them save for Ahren.

To Jhonkara and Azura, it was a reminder of the nymph's grove in the Dimwood. To the three dwarves, it looked like salvation itself. To Ahren, it was a happy memory. The oasis – for it was nothing less – was a wide, deep indentation carved out of the cliff face. At its center was a small pool, shaded by oak trees just like the ones in the nymph's grove. Lush green grass grew everywhere, complete with flowers and bumblebees.

"Did you know that this was here?" asked Azura, with a look of astonishment still hanging on her face.

"Me?" asked Ahren innocently. "How could I have known about this place?" he hedged.

"Why would an herb farmer from a mountain near Duran know the geography of Savanod? It's not the kind of thing they print in books, you know."

"Well, you've surprised me before."

"I'm as happy to find this place as you are. I just figured that there would be water here when I saw the valley narrowing to an end. I must say that I'm relieved that my conclusion was a lucky one." He truly hated having to mislead his friends, but he felt there was no reasonable alternative.

In actual fact, though, this place had been one of his hideaways, many, many years ago. Because he knew it so intimately, he also immediately knew that something was wrong. He walked slowly into the grove, calling, "Hello?" just in case a nymph who wouldn't look kindly on trespassers had decided to move in. That didn't seem to be the case, as he received no answer.

Everything looked like it was in place; the oaks were where he had left them; the boulder where he loved to sit and read was still there. The water. There was something about the water. He walked over and looked down into it, with Jhonkara close at his side. Without hesitation, he squatted down and dipped a finger into the water. Ah, so that's what it was.

"Hold the horses!" called Ahren. "The spring has been poisoned."

"Oh, no. It cannot be so!" lamented Azura. "What are we to do? The horses need water now, or they're going to fall over dead. In fact, I could use some water myself. I feel as parched as the poor horses look to be."

"Please, just give me a minute with it, would you?"

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to clear the water; now stop breaking my concentration," Ahren said with the barest hint of anger in his voice – not at Azura, but at whomever would defile his serene retreat.

"How is he going to fix poisoned water?" Espen asked Azura with a puzzled expression on his face.

"I don't know, but if he says he will, then he will."

Ahren circled the little pond with Jhonkara tight on his heels. If he recalled correctly, this pond was fed by an underground aquifer, which meant that the aquifer itself, and not just the pond, had somehow been tainted. Well, that just meant that the job was going to be a little harder, not impossible. He stopped walking so abruptly that Jhonkara ran into the back of him, and looked away sheepishly when he looked at her. He took her by the hand and led her down to the pond, where they both knelt and looked at the deadly water.

"Poison," he told her. "Watch this."

With his back turned to shield him once again from the rest of the party, and with Jhonkara looking on, he reached out and submerged his right hand in the murky water. Then, he closed his eyes, took in a deep breath and held it – and let it out. When he let out the pent-up breath, the water in the pond flashed a brilliant white that extended from his fingertips all the way to the bottom of the little pool, and then rebounded to the surface and sparkled up into the air. When it had passed, Jhonkara saw that the water was now clearer than any she had ever seen brought in from even the most well-known mountain springs. She asked Ahren, "I drink now?"

"Yes, my love, it's perfectly safe." He scooped up a handful for himself and took a long, satisfying drink of the cool refreshment. Looking over his shoulder, he called to the rest of the party, "Come, bring the horses and yourselves. It's perfectly safe!"

The four of them - each wearing a very different, yet similarly puzzled expression - led the horses to the pond. "Didn't he just say that this water was poisoned?" wondered Espen to no one in particular.

"Yes, I did," answered Ahren.

"But now it's safe to drink?"

"Yes, it is."

"How?" asked the perplexed Prince, waving his arms before himself in confusion.

"Just a little something that I learned when I was a child," replied Ahren, in what was not a lie.

"My Prince, it's better that you not ask. Our friend Ahren has his mysterious ways, and likes to keep them secret. Ask, and you'll only frustrate yourself," said Azura.

"Very well," said Espen. "But if my stomach clenches in pain after I drink, I'm going to run you through before I die," he said to Ahren.

"Drink, don't drink. It's your decision," replied Ahren between mouthfuls of water.

The horses all lined up on the opposite side of the pond and began slurping contentedly away. Eventually they broke up and wandered off to graze on the carpet of beautiful green grass.

"Ahren, I can see in your face that you have been here before," said Azura. "What is this place?"

"A sanctuary," he replied.

"Whose sanctuary?"

"Someone I once knew," he answered wistfully "Now, though, I don't know who frequents this place. Perhaps you'd like to wait around in the middle of Savanod to see who walks in?"

"Well, no, not when you put it that way," said Azura, comically holding her nose up in the air.

"That good trick," Jhonkara fingered to Ahren.

"I'm glad you liked it, sweetheart."

"I like everything you do, Ahren," she said. "You my hero. No knight, but have shining armor."

He tossed his head back and laughed, tapping on his breastplate with a fist. "Yes, I guess I do, don't I?"

Then a thought entered his mind, one that had not entered it for three thousand years. He loved this tiny woman. He loved her more than life itself – and he loved life quite a bit. "Azura?"

"Yes, Ahren?"

"Would you please take Jhonkara and keep her occupied for a little while? There's something that I want to do."

"And that would be?"

"A secret."

She threw her hands up into the air and said, "Of course. It's always secrets with you. I'll take your little tavern girl and entertain her for a while, but don't take too long. We've got to make camp before the sun goes down."

"Give me fifteen minutes, that's all I ask. Just keep her away from me. And be nice about it, Azura."

"Me, not nice? Perish the thought," she said in her best diplomatic voice. Then she took Jhonkara by the hand and led her, silently protesting, away to fuss with the packs on the animals.

Ahren looked around and saw that the three Morovarians had wandered off to have their own little conclave around his sitting stone. That was fine with him. He couldn't have any spectators. So, finally assured that the others were adequately distracted by their own concerns, he pressed both hands into the soil and breathed deeply. His hands did not meld with the earth this time. Rather, Ahren could feel the movement of tiny, individual grains as if they were being drawn up, one by one, out of the earth and into the palms of his hands. After a minute or two, he stopped, and withdrew his hands. Where each hand had reached into the soil, there now sat a small pile of gold. Sitting back on his haunches, he picked up one of the piles and began rolling the small golden nuggets between his palms. When they felt somewhat warm, he closed his hand, held it tight, then opened it once again. The grains had fused together into one sizable and lustrous nugget. With the careful precision of a master craftsman, Ahren worked the gold in his hands until he attained the perfection that he had been seeking – in the form of a solid gold ring, sized perfectly to fit Jhonkara's finger. He repeated the process with the other pile, making a matching ring for himself. He got up to leave, then with an afterthought, he placed his hand against the soil once more, and felt something press into his palm. It was an emerald. With the care of a jeweler, he crafted the facets of the emerald until it sparkled no matter how it was held in the dwindling sunlight. He fused the emerald to Jhonkara's ring, and then hid both rings in the pocket of his pants.

He stood, feeling more nervous than he had in over three thousand years. How ridiculous that a little thing like a proposal to the woman he loved should give him such apprehension!

Carefully, measuring each step, Ahren walked past the three dwarves, saying, "Wish me luck, gentlemen." He received the uncomprehending stares of people who simply thought that he was being eccentric once again. Slowly, he caught Azura's eye and headed over to where she and Jhonkara were toying with the equipment packs. When he got there, Azura saw the most amazing thing happen. Ahren-of-the-Hill was at a loss for words. Unsure as to what was happening, she helped Jhonkara down off of the horse and, motioning toward Ahren, patted her on the shoulder, saying, "I think he wants to talk with you." Then she backed away and disappeared under the oak tree.

Ahren stammered. He felt like a fool. This should be easy! Finally, he managed to croak out, "Jhonkara, may I please speak with you, privately?" She said nothing, and he didn't understand why she didn't respond; until he realized that he had spoken aloud, instead of subvocally, to her. He took a deep breath and composed himself. Then he said to Jhonkara, "My love, may I please speak with you? Privately?"

She looked at him with concern, for she had never seen him like this. "I talk you. Love you."

He smiled at her and, taking her hand gently in his, led her over to the rock where he had once loved to spend his time reading. The Prince and his aides were still there, but they sensed in the way that Ahren carried himself, that something important was about to happen and they would soon be asked to leave. The strange man looked exceptionally regal, thought Espen.

"Gentlemen, may I please impose upon you to borrow this rock for a time?" asked Ahren, very formally.

"Of course. Is everything all right?" asked Espen.

"Yes, yes, everything is wonderful. Now please, leave us if you would." The three dwarves shrugged and walked away, joining Azura under the oak tree; where they promptly began discussing the eccentricities of the man who had somehow come to be their guide.

Back at the sitting stone, Jhonkara was looking up at Ahren with big, wide eyes, completely unaware of what was about to happen. But she was afraid. When people took her aside all alone, good news never followed. Ahren turned and looked at her, bent down to kiss her, then picked her up and set her atop his sitting stone. He got down on one knee, which put him at a slightly lower eye level than Jhonkara.

"Jhonkara, I love you. More than I have ever loved anyone in my entire life. I want to see you happy. I want to make you happy. Always."

She felt a "but" coming on.

"But I don't know if I can do that, my love. I don't know if you will want me. I have some things that I must tell you. After you hear them, you and I alone in all of Nordanfel will be the only ones who know my secrets. They are secrets that I have kept hidden for a very, very long time."

"How long time?" asked Jhonkara.

Ahren blanched, then composed himself, and answered, "Three thousand lonely years."

Jhonkara gasped then started to laugh. She waved a hand at him and said, "You funny."

"No, Jhonkara, I am not joking. For the first time, I am not evading. What I am about to tell you may be hard to believe, but it is the absolute truth. I swear it."

Jhonkara paled. She was thoroughly confused and had no idea what Ahren could possibly be talking about. "Three thousand years? You look maybe – thirty."

"My people are long lived, Jhonkara. Longer lived than even the elves. We can maintain our youth by drawing on the life-force of the land. It is not technically magic, though you might call it so. I am just slightly more than three thousand five hundred years old."

"Why you tell me?"

"Because I want you to know everything, my love. I don't want there to be any secrets between us. I am the last surviving member of a race of people called the Toshii. Nordanfel was our home for thousands of years – before any of the Five Races of Man existed. In fact, through magic, we gave birth to the Five Races of Man. We wanted you to go out and populate the land and live in peace and harmony. It didn't work out that way, but that was our intention."

"You – make me?"

"Well, not you directly; but dwarves, yes. But I need to get back to the point. Among the Toshii were an elite group of people known as 'Warlocks.' They were not magic, but they had the power to tap into the five elements of nature: earth, fire, air, water, and life. With this power, they could control these elements, just as I purified the water and formed the air-bridge north of the Dimwood. For you see, my love, I am the last Warlock."

Jhonkara asked the question that he had been dreading. "What happen to others?"

He closed his eyes as the guilt of his past deeds caused his head to sag upon his chest, and he answered, "I killed them. All of them. All of the Toshii. The warlocks and the non-warlocks alike. I killed them."

She gasped and held her hands up to her mouth. "Why you kill?"

"I was in love at the time, engaged to a girl named Kalia, a non-warlock from a noble family. You see, Jhonkara, three thousand years ago, I was the ruler of my people. I was King. We were to be married, Kalia and I. But one day when we were walking along the valley, there was a rock fall. I suffered only a broken leg, but Kalia was crushed – buried beneath the landslide. I used my powers to hurl the boulders off of her; but it was too late. She was dead."

"But you can fix dead, like you fix me."

"No, Jhonkara. I cannot. You weren't dead. Not completely. Although you had no pulse, there was still life-force burning inside of you. Unlike you, Kalia's life-force had been extinguished. But I thought as you do now. I thought that I could bring her back. I tried to infuse her with life-force siphoned from all Nordanfel. Had I realized what I was doing, I would have stopped. Well, I think that I would have stopped. I hope so, I don't really know. All I know is that I drained every other Toshii of their life energy. I killed them. At first it was ten, then one thousand, then before I knew it, the Toshii were gone, all except for me. I killed them all, Jhonkara. I live on, the sole survivor, trying to do good in this land to make up for my sin. I must face every day with the knowledge that everyone I ever knew, everyone I ever loved, is dead – by my hand. My parents. My sister. Friends, family, all of them, gone, because I was too selfish to know when to let go. I have deserved my loneliness, and thought it would always be so. Until I met you. I love you, Jhonkara."

She smiled meekly, her eyes brimming with unfallen tears, and said slowly, "I love you, Ahren. You save me. You make happy. You do good. You good man, Ahren. I don't care what you do long time ago. I care what you do now." She started to cry silently.

He wiped the tears from her face. "Shhh, shhh. Why are you crying, my love?"

"Because you going to say you no want me around. I always nuisance to people."

Ahren took her hands and held them gently. "Jhonkara, that's not what I was going to say. That's not what I would ever say."

"It not?" she looked slightly puzzled.

He laughed and said, "No, my sweet, it's not. In fact, I have but a single question for you."

"Question for me? What question? What I know that you not know?"

"Jhonkara?" He waited until he had her full attention again. "Will you marry me?"

Jhonkara froze. She hadn't been expecting anything good, let alone the chance to marry the man she loved. "What you say?" she asked, inclining her head steeply to her right.

"I asked, 'Will you marry me?' Jhonkara."

"You want marry me? I broken."

"You're perfect, Jhonkara. It doesn't matter to me that you're deaf and mute, we communicate just fine, don't we?"

"Yes."

"Then, Jhonkara, will you please do me the great honor of becoming my wife?"

Slowly, it dawned on her that this wasn't some kind of cruel joke; that he was very sincere, indeed. He had just poured out his heart and all of his secrets to her. Suddenly, the enormity of it hit her like a bolt of lightning, and she sat up straight and fingered to him, "Yes! Yes! I marry you!" Then she leapt off the sitting stone and into his arms, and they kissed and embraced for what, to the others, was an embarrassingly long time. He swung her up into the air like a child, loving her silent giggles. For the first time in three thousand years, it seemed that life itself had made him younger.

Then, suddenly, as he put her back on the ground, a look of dismay crossed her face. "We in Savanod. No have someone to marry us."

He kissed her again and said, "Ah, my love, that's where you're wrong. Not only is Azura a diplomat of the High Courts of Shantenaral, she is also a priestess-initiate in the Temple of Olivar, the elven goddess of health and family. So you see, my dear, we have a friend to perform the marriage and the perfect location for the ceremony." He told her how he had sculpted and grown this very place as a retreat back when he was but a "child."

She hugged him around the waist and said, "Good, good, Azura do ceremony! Prince and friends be witnesses?"

"I'm sure they'll be amicable, my love."

She froze again, and once more, dismay crossed her face. "Have no wedding rings."

He smiled, reached into his pocket, and pulled out the two perfectly crafted rings that he had just made. She jumped for joy, clapping her hands together in delight. "You wonderful, Ahren! Where get those?"

"I made them, just now."

"No, those look like from best jeweler."

"Jhonkara, I've had over three thousand years to work with jewels and precious metals. I've gotten pretty good at it."

"You really make?"

"Yes."

"Oh, that wonderful! That better than bought. We tell Azura now?"

"If you want to."

"I want tell everybody! But I promise, I keep your secrets; our secrets."

He smiled at the diminutive little dwarf and said, "Thank you, my love." Then he helped her off the rock, and she ran to spread the news, her arms flying in wild gesticulations in an attempt to communicate.

* * *

Azura concluded the ceremony just before sunset. Ahren and Jhonkara ran around the glade with their hands tied together in elven fashion, their two rings glinting in the waning light. Eventually, the six of them sat down to eat together – a task made somewhat more difficult by the tying of the hands. They allowed themselves a marriage feast of salted beef, cheese, and hardtack, and enjoyed the water that continued to bubble as clear as ever from the aquifer.

Finally it came time to bed down for the night. The three dwarves opened their bedrolls beneath the oak tree in case of more rain. Azura decided to arrange her bedroll on the far side of the pond, across from the sitting stone. While Jhonkara and Ahren, having already created happy memories by the sitting stone, chose that location to open his bedroll and set out the cloaks she slept in; though on this night, they set them closer together than usual. They carefully helped one another out of their armor, another task made more difficult by the tying of the hands, and embraced for a long time. Then they kissed for an even longer period of time before saying goodnight and heading for their respective beds. As Ahren sat down in his bedroll, he unexpectedly jolted Jhonkara back into his lap – they had both forgotten about the tying of the hands. The little dwarf giggled silently, and Ahren blushed, though it was hidden by the darkness. "I guess perhaps this is meant to be our honeymoon, Jhonkara."

She looked at him longingly, though her eyes betrayed a bit of apprehension. "Yes, I guess it is," she fingered. Neither one of them spoke for a period of time; then they both tried to speak at once. After the third comical round, Ahren ended the deadlock by insisting that Jhonkara speak first.

She looked embarrassed, unable to take her eyes off the ground, as she fingered, "I never be with man before."

Her shy admission led him to let out a brief laugh that roused the others momentarily from their drifting off to sleep. She looked up at him and frowned when she saw him still smiling; but he held up a hand to stay any offense. "Jhonkara, I've never been with a woman before."

"What? Yes you have, all men do."

"Not this man."

"But you three thousand five hundred years old!"

Quivering with anticipation, he whispered, "I've been waiting a very, very long time for you, my love," and he enfolded her in his loving arms.

# Chapter Seven

Back in Cirunel, an orderly chaos was taking place. With the King discovered dead by the Seer and the Lord High Chamberlain; and the Prince away on a mission, his status unknown; the Lord High Chamberlain was elevated to the title of Steward of Morovar, to reign as Steward until the Prince either returned, or was confirmed or officially presumed, dead. Should the latter happen, Mogens would become the king. But that wasn't what he was really after. He had little interest in controlling Morovar, Realm of the Dwarves. Well, yes, he wanted to control it, but his vision did not stop there. He wanted to control Savanod, Shantenaral, Visonia, and even the giants' northern land of Harandnesa. He would not rest until all Nordanfel was in the palm of his hand. His would be a rule of terror, to be sure, but he could live with that kind of respect. Wealth, power – any woman he wanted. It would all be his after the summer solstice.

Saskia sat half-naked at his feet, rubbing his knee with the side of her head, making a vaguely purring sound. He kicked her away, having gotten what he wanted from her for the time being. Her flesh was supple, but more importantly, her prognostications told of his imminent victory and the powers it held for him, and that she would take her place at his side as his revered prophetess. He would accept nothing less than victory and power for himself; as for Saskia's role, that was acceptable to him so long as she didn't mind sharing his bed with one or two other women who he deemed fit.

"Seer!" he shouted, banging the Scepter of Rule upon the marble floor.

Her eyes opened slowly, and she blinked sensually at him before asking breathily, "Yes, My Lord?"

"I think you should go keep the Princess company. We wouldn't want anything to happen to her or her child."

"Of course, My Lord," she said, lacing up her bodice. Mogens waved his hand at her, and she disappeared from his sight with a slight popping noise. After all of his years of scheming, his plans were falling into place. The negotiations he had manipulated so that Lien and that wretch Espen married; the time that he had spent endearing himself to the pathetic King. It was all paying off.

He called his assistant, the servant named Capet, into the throne room. Capet was short for a human, and missing the tops of his ears. Mogens assumed that they'd been cut off as some sort of punishment when he was young. "Capet, bring another wench in here. A pretty one this time. And not another man's wife. I don't want to be interrupted to have to kill another angry citizen again."

"Yes, Your Majesty," said Capet, bowing as he backed out of the room.

* * *

Saskia paced the stone-walled room, gloating over the tied-up Lien. "Why do you struggle, dear? Mogens made those bonds unbreakable, I assure you. You won't be moving until he wishes it. How is your child?"

She dipped her head low and listened at Lien's swollen belly. The girl whimpered against the gag in her mouth. "Oh, now I think that we can get rid of that," said Saskia in a superior tone. She reached behind the Princess's head and untied the knot that held the gag in place. As soon as Lien's mouth was clear, she began to scream.

Saskia just chuckled and walked to the window. "Look out here, Lien. Oh, that's right, you're tied up. Well, let me paint the scene for you in as few words as possible. The King is dead, Mogens sits on the throne, and all is normal in Cirunel. Except that your husband and a group of fools is off looking for you in Savanod; while all this time, you've been right here in the Keep, tied up in Mogens' tower. Right under their noses, so to speak."

Lien continued to scream.

Saskia said, with a hint of exasperation, "Lien, please cease your screaming. I assure you, this room is magically protected. No one can hear you." But the Princess didn't stop screaming.

"Lien, stop screaming or I will hurt your child," came Mogens' voice from behind the Princess. Lien quieted, but continued to struggle against her restraints. "As I am sure the Seer has told you, those bonds are quite unbreakable. You should really save your strength. You'll need it if you want to survive the sacrifice."

Lien abruptly stopped struggling. "What sacrifice?"

"Why, the sacrifice of your child, dear," said Saskia without a hint of emotion in her voice.

Lien resumed her screaming with renewed urgency.

* * *

Jhonkara, Ahren, and the rest of the party awoke to more rain. Ahren thought of pushing it away, but decided that since they'd need more water eventually, they might as well let it puddle up. He smiled at Jhonkara, who kissed him and snuggled deeper into the warmth of their shared bedroll. With sadness, he carefully untied their hands. Were they in Shantenaral, they would have remained bound together for a full week. Unfortunately, here in Savanod, that didn't seem like a realistic option.

He dressed and trod through the wet grass to where Azura and the dwarves were taking cover beneath the boughs of the oak tree. "Are we ready to press on?" he asked.

"I don't know, are you feeling up to it, or do you want to honeymoon a little longer?" Azura asked with mock innocence.

He made a show of sighing, and said, "We'll concern ourselves with our honeymoon later. Right now we have more immediate matters to consider, like rescuing the Princess."

Espen nodded his head. "We must be going. The rain-slicked stone will slow the horses, and there are not many days remaining until the summer solstice. We have much ground to cover."

Jhonkara appeared at Ahren's side, dressed in her pretty sapphire blue gown. "We go now?" she asked.

Ahren said, "Yes, my sweet, it's time to leave. I'll prepare the packs if you can take care of the bedroll for me."

"Of course!" she beamed. "We married. Do everything for each other now." With that, she hurried off and began stowing the bedroll and blankets. Azura strode over and retrieved her cloak from where Jhonkara had placed it the night before. She ruffled the girl's hair as she passed, and gave her a smile. The elf cinched the cloak tightly around her neck and walked back to Ahren and the dwarves.

"Where do we go from here?" she asked.

"They say the Keep of Savanod is in the northeast," answered Espen.

"It is," Ahren said with uncanny certainty. "We must get out of this canyon today. It will soon turn south, away from the direction we must travel. Take care to pack grasses for your mounts. There will be little forage for the horses beyond this point."

"How does an herb farmer know so much about the geography of Savanod?" asked Azura.

"I read a lot."

"So you keep saying."

"Let's stop sniping at each other and get moving!" yelled Espen. "My wife and child are in need of rescue!"

"Of course, My Lord," said Azura. Ahren said nothing. The five of them continued discussing the details of the day until Ahren whipped his head around at the sound of a sharp twang.

He saw Jhonkara reloading her crossbow, looking frantically across the pond at an urug that was circling around toward her. Ahren took off like a shot, whipping his sword from its sheath as he ran. Jhonkara fired again, lodging a small bolt in the monster's forehead – enough to anger it, but not kill it. Ahren leapt between the creature and his wife, raising his sword above his head for a killing blow. The urug's stinger lanced out, striking his breastplate and ricocheting off, scratching his cheek deeply as it rebounded. Ahren's sword descended like a cleaver, splitting the monster's head in two. The beast fell to the ground, dead.

Panting slightly, Ahren sheathed his sword and turned to Jhonkara. "Why are these things always after you? Are you quite certain that you're not magical?"

She shrugged, closed her eyes and fingered, "Maybe I just look tasty."

He hugged her, and she kissed him on his unwounded cheek. Meanwhile, on the other side of his face, the wound glowed and knit itself back together as if it had never existed.

Jhonkara asked, "Why you not poison like Azura? Stinger hit your cheek."

"I'm immune to urug poison. And a lot of other poisons, come to think of it."

"How?"

"By exposing myself to small quantities of it over a long period of time." He shrugged. "I've had to do something for three thousand years to keep myself occupied."

She laughed silently and gave him another quick hug around the waist. Azura and the others walked up, sheathing their weapons. "How do you move so quickly?" asked Azura.

"Years of practice."

"As an herb farmer."

"Yes."

"I don't care what he does," said Espen, "let's get out of here. There's usually more than one of those things around, or so I'm told."

"Very true," said Ahren. He looked and saw that Jhonkara had completely stowed the bedroll, even taking the time to climb all the way up the rope ladder and affix it to their baggage. "I think that we should be off."

Azura was halfway into her saddle before the others reached their horses. "Pretty handy to have those long elf legs?" mocked Ahren. She stuck her tongue out at him.

Jhonkara settled down into her sling in front of Ahren. As they rode out of the incongruous piece of paradise, she fingered to him, "We married here. Should give it name." She looked up at him with wanting eyes.

He said to her, "When I used to come here as a child, I just called it, 'The Glade.'"

"That pretty. We call it that." She patted his leg and eased back against his stomach and chest.

The party rode hard for three hours before they were able to find a suitable place to climb up out of the valley. Here, the rock cliffs were roughly one hundred feet high, but there was a thin trail that switched back and forth as it snaked its way up the wall. The dwarven horses would have no problem navigating it, but for the two Striders, footing would be even dicier than it had been on the air bridge north of the Dimwood. He let the dwarves go first, with Espen leading them, then Azura, with he and Jhonkara bringing up the rear. It was very slow going, as the Striders repeatedly balked at navigating the narrow pathway and had to be urged along at each step. Azura had a better time of it than Ahren, speaking quiet words into her horse's ear and pressing it forward. Ahren had to resort to gently kicking his Strider in its flanks to get the indignant mare to move. Finally, when even that failed, Jhonkara turned around in her seat and suggested, "Maybe you get down and walk?"

He nodded in agreement, rain sluicing off his cloak, and dismounted with great care. He took the reins, prayed to the gods for assistance, and began to walk, gently pulling the horse behind him. It hesitated at first but, feeling the weight off its back, slowly started to follow. Eventually, two hours and a few close calls later, they had all reached the top of the sheer cliff.

They were on the north side of the valley now, looking across another barren, unbroken expanse of lifeless land. Despite the constant, dispiriting rain, nothing grew here. The land was rent by basalt columns that thrust into the sky, and defunct lava tubes that permeated the ground, some open and exposed, some barely closed and ready to tear and swallow any who tread upon them. The riders' progress would be slow in this godforsaken terrain where even walking was dangerous. But on the horizon, far to the northeast, they could finally see it. A red spire thrust mountain-high into the air. The Keep of Savanod.

For as long as Cirunel had stood, painstakingly and lovingly assembled from carved stone, the Keep of Savanod had stood in opposition, hacked and broken out of the living rock. Monsters abounded here; their density growing in proximity to the Keep, where lightning flashed around it and dragons circled overhead.

Ahren looked upon the faces of the others – each witnessing this fearfully menacing sight for the first time – and hoped that they would all survive the day.

They set out at the fastest pace that was safe - only a walk - Ahren again taking the lead. Strung out behind him were Espen, Teneyck, and Rheese, with Azura bringing up the rear on Mimec. The rain dampened their spirits, incessant as it was, but Ahren didn't push it away. As he had hoped, it was pooling along the basalt, providing them with a vital source of clean, safe water to refresh both horses and riders. He didn't mind producing water for people, but it always ended up causing too many questions. It was just a little too fancy to pass off as sleight of hand.

Jhonkara turned around in her sling, holding the folds of her cloak tightly together to cover her body, and asked, "Can you make rain go away?"

He explained that he could, and then explained the reasons why he didn't want to. She squeezed his arm and indicated that she agreed with him – despite the fact that it would have been really nice to see the sun.

Farther back in the line, Rheese turned and called back to Azura, "I have ridden into countless battles over the many years that I have served in the Guard, but never have I seen such a pre-battle demeanor. Is your friend always this calm? He does realize that we're riding into the jaws of the beast, doesn't he?"

"Oh, I'm sure he knows what he's doing," she said. "That little man always seems to know what he's doing. It's uncanny. Disturbing, almost. I wouldn't worry myself, if I were you."

The Captain of the Guard nodded and tried to refocus his attention on the safety of his horse's footing. But everyone could hear what sounded like a faint rustling in the distance, coming from all around them. The disturbing sounds made it difficult to concentrate on anything else.

Despite Azura's keen elven eyesight, she couldn't see anything; but she was certain that Ahren knew what was happening. She called forward, "Ahren! What's that sound?"

"I don't know, my lady elf."

"Like spit you don't know! Tell us, what makes that sound?"

"I swear to you, I don't know," he called back earnestly.

Jhonkara couldn't hear the noise, but still, she turned in her seat and said, "Something not feel right."

"I know, my love. But I don't know what it is."

They rode on, their horses taking one reluctant step at a time, bringing them ever closer – albeit very slowly – to the Keep. Finally, Azura's eyes detected motion on the horizon, and she anxiously peered forward, straining to push the very limits of her vision. Suddenly, she sat up straight and called out for all to hear, "Goblins! Thousands of them!"

The others unsheathed their weapons, with Ahren's glowing sword a beacon at the forefront. Twenty more minutes passed before non-elven eyes could see the frightful hoard that those few weapons were meant to defeat and conquer.

"Gods," said Espen, "We'll never be able to fight our way through. We must find a way around!" He started to turn his horse, but Azura held him fast.

"Your haste deceives you, My Prince. Look, they are behind us as well. We are trapped."

Jhonkara started to shake, remembering her last encounter with goblins. She asked Ahren, "We be safe?"

He gave a little laugh and said, "Oh, yes, my dear, quite safe, I promise."

"How you be so calm?"

"I'm not calm, I'm confident."

"Fine, how you be so confident?"

"Because I know that the goblins can't see us."

Jhonkara scrunched up her face and stared at him. "With that sword glowing, they no see us?"

"I assure you, they can see nothing but empty air. Trust me, my love."

"I trust. I think. Not used to magic."

Before Ahren could correct this notion, Jhonkara amended, "Wait. Sorry. No magic. But something special."

"You're right, my dear," Ahren answered. "It's not magic. It's just a little trick that I can do with the air. A kind of adjustment. It makes the air bend light around us, so we can't be seen."

"Then why you have sword out?"

"Because it does nothing to mask odors or sounds."

Jhonkara suddenly became acutely aware of just how "horsey" their party smelled. "That not good," she said.

"No, but the bending light will create confusion, and confusion is always a useful strategy for buying time." He kissed the top of her head and said, "And you needn't worry about arrows this time – you're armored now."

She smiled at him and cocked her crossbow, loading one wooden, iron-tipped bolt into the firing groove.

"Ahren?" called Azura. "Shouldn't we be running?"

"No. We should be making as little noise as possible."

"But the goblins!"

"Never mind the goblins. You'll know when it's time to fight – if it comes to that. For now, be silent!"

Espen turned and asked, "What does he know that we don't?"

Azura just offered an exaggerated shrug in response.

"Well, I for one am not just going to sit here and get skewered!" Espen began to draw his horse out of line.

"Move that horse one more foot and I'll skewer you myself, My Lord," said Ahren in a nasty whisper. "Now be silent!"

Espen indignantly started to protest, something about 'not taking orders from a peasant,' before Rheese offered a whispered, "Perhaps silence is part of a strategy, Sire."

The dwarven Royal still fumed, but he held his tongue and hunkered down in his saddle, his sword swinging absently at his right side.

"All of you, guide your horses around the goblins," Ahren instructed calmly. As he finished, he had to move his horse in a quick right to dodge the first of the oncoming hoard of goblins.

"So many," Jhonkara fingered slowly.

"Yes, my love, but they are merely a nuisance," he said to her.

"Not nuisance last time!"

"No armor last time."

The party began to break up, each rider guiding his horse in a different direction around the confused goblins. The goblins stuck their little pug noses into the air and sniffed vigorously. Their noses told them that something was in their midst, but they believed only what their eyes showed them.

That is, right up until Teneyck's horse whinnied in fright.

As one, the mass of goblins drew back their short bows and launched their arrows toward the sound of the horse. Many of the missiles found purchase in horseflesh. Others, through sheer luck and weight of numbers, found purchase in the loyal but unfortunate Teneyck, sneaking in through gaps in the squire's plate armor. Teneyck's wounded animal took off like a shot, and was soon beyond the range of Ahren's invisibility umbrella. The moment the two became visible, the entire hoard began moving toward the all-but-defenseless squire, launching salvo after salvo of arrows. Espen kicked his horse to follow, but Ahren held him in check with a quick motion of his hand.

"Do not make his sacrifice a vain one, Your Majesty," offered Ahren.

Teneyck's wounded horse initially outdistanced the relentless hoard, but the damage was already done. Bleeding from hundreds of arrows embedded in its flesh, it could not go on much longer. Teneyck himself was also fatally wounded, and leaned far over his horse's neck as he struggled valiantly to retain his mount. Suddenly, the ground gave way beneath the hind legs of the horse as a lava tube caved in. Both horse and rider toppled into the void, leaving Teneyck half pinned beneath the fallen animal. Weakly, he unsheathed his sword and struggled to get out from under the creature. He managed to free himself from beneath the horse just as the wave of goblins reached him. He cut down two, three, five, before collapsing to the ground as a goblin sword cut through the back of his knees. His sword flailed for a few seconds more, and then he was gone.

The rest of the party regrouped and angled slightly away from the massed goblin hoard that now feasted on the flesh of the fallen rider and his animal.

They rode on for another two hours in silence, Espen fighting to hold back tears for the young man whom he had known since Teneyck was only five.

The elf rode up to the front of the pack. "Why didn't you just flame them, like last time?" asked Azura accusingly.

"Who ever said that I did that?"

She just stared at him.

He sighed and said, "Every life is precious, Azura. Even goblin life. Who am I to choose one life over thousands?"

"You chose with Jhonkara."

He glared at her. "That was different. I refuse to discuss the subject any further."

"Very well, Ahren. How is it that they didn't see us?"

"I don't know. I guess we were just lucky."

"Luck seems to follow you, Ahren-of-the-Hill," she said. Then she rode back to her trailing position in the group.

Espen took his opportunity to ride up next to Ahren. "Would you like to explain to me why we let my squire die, without doing so much as firing a single bolt at his assailants?"

"Would you have preferred that we all die?"

"No, of course not."

"Then everything played out the way it was meant to be."

Espen seethed, "What in the names of the gods is that supposed to mean?"

"It was not a riddle, Your Highness."

"Very well. But never again command me to obey or die; for if you do, I will run you through for your insolence!"

Ahren hesitated before answering, then said, "If you deem that to be the best course of action, Your Majesty, that is certainly your prerogative. To try, anyway." With that, he glared at the suddenly arrogant Prince.

Espen flushed with anger, and was about to say something that he probably would have regretted, when Rheese pulled up next to him and said, "Sire, I must discuss strategy with you. I am in need of your guidance, My Lord." He winked at Ahren. Espen mumbled something indistinguishable at Ahren and turned away, resuming his place in line with his Captain of the Guard.

Jhonkara ran a finger underneath Ahren's chin without turning around and asked, "What everyone want?"

"Azura and Espen are not very happy with me right now, Jhonkara."

"Why? You hide us from goblins."

"Yes, but they don't know that. All they know is that I kept them from trying to save their friend."

"Oh. I see why they mad. It not right, but I understand."

Ahren nodded and playfully pulled Jhonkara's hood down over her face, saying, "I understand, too, my love. I understand, too."

They rode on under the dreary sky, edging ever closer to their final destination.

* * *

"Oh, Capet, this is a fine plaything you've brought me!" said Mogens from his seat upon the throne. He stared down at the dwarf girl that his servant had brought in with him. She had long golden hair, lovely slender hips, and almond eyes perfectly situated above a perky nose. But right now, her mouth quivered in fright, and she hugged her arms tightly crossed before her chest.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Capet said, bowing. "I live to serve."

"Keep up the good work and perhaps someday I'll repair your ears."

"Thank you, Your Majesty, that would be most wonderful."

"Take her to my chambers," Mogens said with a grand sweep of his arm. "I shall be along shortly. I must visit with the Seer first."

"Of course, Sire. Shall I undress her for you?"

"No!" Mogens snarled. "That pleasure shall be all mine. Now leave me!"

"At once, Sire." Capet grabbed the frightened girl and dragged her away, screaming, toward the royal chambers. "It will go better for you if you don't resist," he threatened in her ear. She continued resisting.

Mogens rolled his eyes as he watched the two leave the throne room. He wondered if Capet was really the best help that he could find; and then decided that at the very least, he was absolutely loyal. And that was hard to find. Yes, he would keep him around. Maybe make him an earl in the new world order. Make him Duke of Shantenaral, and put those arrogant elves in their place once and for all! Elves ruled by a servant. Yes, how fitting.

But for now, he had other matters to attend to. The world order wouldn't reshape itself, after all. And with that thought, he waved his hands in a mighty flourish before him – and reappeared in his tower, standing next to the tightly bound Lien, who was being emotionally tortured by the Seer.

"Saskia, what are you doing?" he demanded loudly.

"I'm just explaining to her how her husband is riding into certain death," she said innocently, fluttering her eyelids and thrusting her bosom out toward the Steward.

"You've had your fun for the day. We want dear Princess Lien to be healthy, don't we?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, of course, Your Majesty."

"Well, you know, healthy mind, healthy body – and healthy baby. In fact, I think it's time we release her from her restraints."

"Yes, Your Majesty, right away." Saskia said, leaping forward to untie the girl's bonds.

"No, Seer, that won't be necessary." He waved his hands and Lien's knots unfurled themselves, the rope falling inert to the ground.

Lien sprang out of her chair and bolted for the door, which she found to be magically sealed. She collapsed against the door and sank to the floor, tears streaming down her face.

"Please," she whimpered, "do anything you want to me, but don't hurt my baby."

Mogens walked around the chair and said, "My lady, I have absolutely no interest in you whatsoever. I only want your baby. Now have some food and water and get some sunlight. For the baby. And by the way, don't tire yourself at the window. No one will be able to see or hear you. Don't bother trying to throw something out to gather attention, either. I've taken precautions to prevent that, too. But do have something to eat. I'd hate to have to order Saskia to force food down your throat." With that, he lifted Saskia to her feet and kissed her furiously, then clapped his hands and disappeared with a pop.

Saskia smiled and cooed to the wilted Lien, "Oh, come now, girl, it won't be all bad. Maybe Mogens will keep you around as a royal concubine after he becomes the undisputed ruler of all Nordanfel."

The Seer's head suddenly snapped back and blood gushed from her nose as Lien rose and soundly punched her in the center of her smug, arrogant face.

"You despicable little whore! You should count yourself lucky that you still carry that child, or I would make you suffer so greatly that you would beg for death," snarled Saskia.

"Your threat counts for nothing, traitor," said Lien. "Already do I beg for death, so that I may take my child with me to join my husband in the afterlife."

"Oh, you poor fool," Saskia said, wiping the blood away from her nose. "You actually think that you have any say in whether or not you live or die. Mogens will decide that. Mogens will decide everything, and I – I will be his honored mistress, and rule beside him on the throne!"

"You are misguided, Seer. Can you no longer see the future? Mogens will have you destroyed for what you know. Your lifespan may be shorter than my own. Think you that your physical – charms – cannot be duplicated in another? There are many beautiful women, but only one who knows the secret to his power. Were you not threatening my child, I would pity you, Saskia."

"Be silent!" shouted Saskia, raising her fist as if to strike the pregnant girl. Then she lowered her hand and said, quietly, "Mogens has already promised me that I will remain respected in his court and vital to his rule. Mogens will become all powerful, but he will still need a Seer! I will be that Seer. I will be his loyal and influential prophet of the future," she finished.

Lien shook her head and rubbed her swollen belly. She could sense that the baby would come any day now. If she were to have any hope of escape, she would need her strength; which meant that she needed to eat. Glaring at the Seer, she walked over to the counter, where a tray of fruit and cheese awaited her. She ate ravenously, suddenly aware of her hunger after two days deprived of food by Saskia. Finally, she looked out the large stone window and saw people going about their business below as if nothing unusual was happening. If only they knew the horrors that resided in this tower of unrecognized evil. Darkness, where light was supposed to shine. She leaned heavily on the windowsill and began to cry.

Down below, in the throne room, Mogens steepled his fingers and sank into the throne. His throne. Soon, his throne forever! He would be immortal and omnipotent. He couldn't wait. The summer solstice was just days away. Lien would have her baby before the solstice, or he would take it from her. Nothing would prevent him from inheriting the universal power that he knew to be his birthright! But for now, while he waited impatiently, perhaps a little time alone with the girl that Capet had brought in? Yes, that sounded excellent.

* * *

That evening, the rescue party stopped in the lee of a cinder cone that rose from the basalt like a miniature castle. They hobbled their horses so that they couldn't wander off, and searched for any firewood that past floods might have dropped in this barren land. Espen asked that they hold a small ceremony for Teneyck.

Being a priestess-initiate, Azura offered to perform a remembrance ceremony in the style of the elves. She put on her diplomatic robes and intoned the sacred passages meant to honor the dead and soothe and comfort those who survive them. Espen appreciated the simple beauty of the elven ceremony, but was unhappy that they didn't have Teneyck's body to cremate. He asked if anyone wanted to say a few words.

Rheese stepped forward, and said, "Though but a squire, Teneyck died valiantly, fighting on despite hopeless odds. A military man could not have done better." He saluted in the manner in which guardsmen honor fallen comrades, then he stepped back.

Azura said, "I did not long know him, but even in such short a time, it was clear that he was a good man. I am honored to have called him my companion."

Espen nodded and stepped forward. He said, "Teneyck had been my squire since he was but five years old. I watched him grow up. A finer man I have never known." He stepped back.

Jhonkara stepped forward and fingerspoke, "I sorry he dead." Ahren translated for the rest.

Finally, Ahren stepped forward. He wanted to be honest. This was the man's funeral remembrance. He said, "He died so that the rest of us could live. For his part in protecting my wife from the goblin hoards, I am eternally grateful." He paused, then nodded his head and stepped back.

Azura offered the closing words of the ceremony, and the small party disbanded for the night; the two remaining dwarves laying out their bedrolls closest to the cinder cone; Azura part way around the pitifully small pile of damp wood. Ahren went to fetch his bedroll, only to find that it was gone from his horse. He looked around, and found Jhonkara sitting on their prepared and waiting bedroll, which she had placed on the opposite side of the pile of wood as far as possible from both Azura and the dwarves. She had a twinkle in her eye.

Ahren sat down next to her and enveloped her in his cloak. She leaned against him and worked her fingers through a seam in the armor until her hand rested on his chest. He asked, "My love, are you getting tired of this rain?" She nodded.

He pushed the clouds away with his free hand, and they scattered and broke, revealing a half-moon that cast an eerie glow across the wasteland that was Savanod. He asked her, "Are you cold? You feel like you're shivering."

She fingered, "I am. Little bit." She drew her thumb and forefinger together and held them barely apart.

"Then let's get a fire started."

"Wood all wet, Ahren."

"The wood isn't going to be all that important for this fire," he said, winking at her.

She covered her mouth and moved to get a better view. Ahren got up and walked over to the pile of wood. Although it had been fine desiccated wood in the lands from whence it had come, the never-ending rains of Savanod had soaked it so that flint and steel would never set it aflame. He didn't worry about that. He rearranged the sticks into a more functional, symmetrical pile, and thrust his hand beneath it. Soon, wisps of smoke began to rise from the wood. Then embers started to fly into the night sky. Finally, the tiny pile burst into flame like a huge bonfire, shedding light and heat for yards around. Jhonkara clapped her hands together and gave him a big, toothy grin.

Azura sat up and looked at him. "How did you do that?"

"It's just an old outdoor trick that my father taught me."

"Ahren."

"Really, I swear!"

"Someday your mysteries will catch up with you, Ahren-of-the-Hill. I just hope they catch you well."

"Thank you for that vote of confidence, lady elf."

As he walked back to Jhonkara, he said to her, "They don't understand – not even Azura; but it's better that way."

"Why?" she fingered.

"Because I want to give you a life of peace and happiness. I want to keep you safe and well. But people might be afraid of me if they knew who I really am; what I really am. They might fear me the same way some people are afraid of wizards, and sorcerers, and all of the other mage castes. They might want to hurt me, and maybe even you."

"I no let anyone hurt you. I protect. We protect each other."

He sat down and pushed her hood back off her head, then took her head in his hands and gave her a long, passionate kiss. After they broke apart, he went and retrieved some food from his smaller pack, sharing it with his tiny dwarf – wife – no longer a maiden, but his wife; he liked the comfort of that thought. After their stomachs felt a bit satisfied, he asked her, "Where are your parents?"

She said, "Parents dead. Die in Visonian raid when I little."

"Who raised you?"

"Orphanage. Bad place. Kick me out when still child, barely old enough to work. Sold me to innkeeper in Duran." She frowned, and added, "Not like that innkeeper. She bad person."

He hugged her close and kissed the top of her head, saying, "You're safe now. Always."

She smiled and asked, "Why the Toshii make different kinds of people?"

"Well, I guess because we valued diversity. We believed that the world would be a better place if there were more than one race of people. It didn't quite work out the way we expected – but maybe if we can save Princess Lien, the prophecy of peace will come to pass and there will be harmony, at least between the humans and the dwarves. That would be a beginning. We can hope."

"Yes. Hope for Princess and baby."

She looked up at him and caught his eye, then asked, with a raised eyebrow, "You really never be with other woman?"

"Really. Never."

"Not even with fiancée?"

"No. My people don't believe in having relations before marriage."

Jhonkara knocked him backwards onto the bedroll. "That good," she said, with a big grin. "I like that way."

The fire burned long into the night, dying out only as the first rays of the sun broke over the eastern horizon.

* * *

Ahren awoke to a pounding on his chest, and his eyes flew open to see Jhonkara's little fists pumping away. "Jhonkara, sweetheart, what's the matter?"

In response, Jhonkara stood up and pointed eastward.

With a sinking feeling in his heart, he sat up quickly, his eyes following Jhonkara's finger. Chalkai. Seven of them. He immediately called an alarm that awoke the rest of the party, who momentarily grumbled before bolting out of their bedrolls.

"How did you know they were there, Jhonkara?" he asked.

"I get up to make breakfast. See monsters coming."

Azura appeared next to him, adjusting her suit of elven chain mail on her shoulders. He saw that the dwarves were frenziedly working their way into their armor.

Ahren said, "Jhonkara, please run and get my armor." Then added, "Can you manage it?"

She bobbed her head and ran to drag it over from where it lay. He said to Azura, "Seven against five? I don't like those odds. Especially when we're dealing with chalkai."

Azura nodded in agreement and said, "No offense, but it's more like seven against four. I don't think that Jhonkara's little crossbow and dagger set is really going to be very effective."

"I'll take any help I can get."

Chalkai were enormous, hulking creatures, covered in squalid, foul-smelling fur. Curved horns, four massive, disproportionately large arms, and a nasty mouthful of teeth furthered their menace. Like the urugs, they were creatures that had been created through the use of dark magic – most likely a sorcerer working with a necromancer. Of course, origins hardly mattered at a time like this. What mattered was that each of the seven creatures carried four massive, spiked clubs.

Ahren knew that the Prince wouldn't take kindly to his directives, but he felt that he had a good three thousand year advantage on the rest of the party when it came to strategy and tactics. Without hesitation, he started shouting orders. "My Lord, Rheese, see if you can stoke the flames – they don't like fire. Azura, as soon as they're within range, start using that crossbow on them. It'll take about six shots to bring each one down. I'll meet them head on. Rheese, My Lord, follow when you can."

Jhonkara pounded on his leg as he started buckling on his armor. "What about me?"

"Sweetheart, you climb up the rope ladder and settle securely in your sling. Conceal yourself as much as possible, and then start shooting them with your crossbow when you are confident that you can hit them. Aim for their eyes. Go. Now."

She gave a mock military salute and ran to the rope ladder, where she started climbing into position. Ahren rapidly finished securing his softly glowing armor and called to the two dwarves. "Watch the perimeter!" he yelled. "We must not lose the horses!"

With his orders completed, he unsheathed his sword and dagger, gripping the sword firmly in his right hand. Espen appeared on his left, while Rheese took up station to the Prince's left. They advanced in a line toward the closest chalkai, which already had three heavy iron bolts lodged in its chest and one tiny bolt stuck in its cheek. Ahren jumped out of the way of one massive descending club that shook the earth when it hit; then he thrust his sword upward into the armpit of the secondary arm. His sword struck home, but the creature merely roared and swung one of its other clubs at him. It glanced across the front of his breastplate as he swept the sword down onto the passing wrist. The hand of the chalkai flew off, and the club that it gripped skidded to a halt at his feet. The creature pulled back in rage, holding its four arms high into the air. Ahren leapt forward, so close that his senses were assaulted by the monster's stinking fur. Before the chalkai could do anything, Ahren jammed his sword into its throat, and his dagger into its groin. With a bloody gurgle, the vile colossus fell backwards, dead.

Espen and Rheese had fought one of the chalkai together; and though each showed minor signs of the difficult battle, they were still standing, and the chalkai was not.

Now it was five against five.

Off to his right, Ahren heard the steady thunk-thunk of Azura's enchanted crossbow, and saw one of the remaining chalkai stagger and fall.

Four against five.

Ahren rushed the next chalkai, catching it off guard. Sheathing his dagger to free both hands to wield his sword, he swung the sword in a mighty horizontal arc that cleaved its way through the creature's entire body.

Three against five.

He turned to see another chalkai bearing down on him, its four clubs descending, ready to pound him into the ground – and he couldn't get out of the way in time. Suddenly, the monster dropped its clubs and clawed at its left eye, where Ahren could see a small wooden bolt lodged. Ahren lunged forward, knocking the monster to the ground and thrusting his sword into the beast's chest up to the hilt. The chalkai tried to get up, but Ahren severed its head from its body with one mighty stroke.

He saw another one go down beneath Rheese and Espen's blades.

One against five.

He suddenly felt himself picked up and flung through the air, landing hard on his chest, which was thankfully protected by his magical armor. He bounced a few yards before coming to a stop, already searching desperately for his sword and dagger; but they had been lost as he tumbled wildly through the air. The chalkai bore down on him, its clubs upraised, and he knew that not even his magical armor – let alone his unarmored head – could survive the imminent beating. He heard bolts thunk into its back, but still it came. Soon, it was upon him, and he knew that no normal option remained to save his life. A fireball appeared in his clenched hand and he hurled it at the creature. The monster burst into flames, half of its body evaporating in an instant, the other half aimlessly scurrying around as it waited to realize it was dead.

Ahren slowly got up, located and sheathed his sword and dagger, and then sat down hard on the unforgiving ground, breathing heavily. Seven chalkai, he thought. That has to be some kind of record. He sat there, slowly bringing his breathing under control, his eyes closed.

He gradually became aware of three other beings standing around him, and one small being kissing him lovingly on the face. He opened his eyes and hugged Jhonkara so hard he suddenly feared that he'd break her. She grunted, but kept kissing him until he finally pulled her into his lap and looked up at the others.

Azura was standing behind him, unmoving. Rheese and Espen were in front of him, staring at him with undisguised awe and perhaps a bit of apprehension. There was utter silence as he looked at each of the three of them in turn. He had nothing he chose to say, and the three knew not what to say. Jhonkara, for her part, simply chose to settle more comfortably in his lap, her arms around his neck. As more time passed, the moments of utter silence became a pause, which threatened to become an awkward break in their day. Seeing that apparently nobody else was going to speak, Ahren plunged ahead, and said, "We won! Try to look happy."

Azura nodded her head and crossed her arms. "What was that?"

"What?"

Espen said, "That fireball."

"What fireball?"

"The one you destroyed that last creature with," said Rheese.

"Would you care to explain?" asked Azura.

He was unsure what to say. "Is it acceptable if I answer, 'No?'"

"No," the three of them answered in chorus.

"Very well." He sighed and hung his head. He felt Jhonkara's hand on his face.

She fingered, "What matter?"

"They want me to explain the fireball."

"Oh. Don't want tell about powers?"

"No."

"Oh. I sorry." She kissed him and stood back, her hands clenched at her waist, her face looking both supportive and defensive.

He heard Azura behind him say wryly, "Just another trick your father taught you?"

"Actually, yes, it is. My father was very good with fire."

"Men don't normally throw fireballs," said Espen. "Explain yourself."

Ahren let his head fall down until his chin hit his breastplate, and he said, "It's nothing, really. It's just that I inherited certain powers over nature."

"So you're a sorcerer?"

"No. Definitely not."

"A wizard?"

"No."

"Conjurer, illusionist? What are you, man?" cried Espen.

Ahren sighed heavily, then looked at Jhonkara and winked; not slyly, but in resignation that their secret would be theirs no more. "I'm a warlock."

"A warlock?" asked Azura. "The elves have tales about them. Come to think of it, you do resemble the people I know of as the 'Toshii.' Our childhood fairytales tell that only Toshii may become warlocks. I've not thought about those stories since I was but a youngster. I believed they were nothing more than myth."

"The dwarves also know of the Toshii," said Rheese. "Our tales tell us that they died out three thousand years ago."

"Are you a Toshii?" asked Espen.

"Yes," Ahren answered slowly.

"Well," said Azura, "you look surprisingly good for someone three thousand years old."

"Three thousand five hundred years old, give or take," he corrected.

"Are there others?"

"Regrettably, no."

Rheese tapped his foot on the ground, and asked, "Then how is it that you're still alive? And look thirty?"

"Plants."

"Plants?" asked Azura.

"Yes, plants. Their life-force keeps me young. I draw small bits from many plants, and it sustains me."

Espen's sword was suddenly under his chin. "You live by taking life from others!"

Jhonkara leapt forward and batted the sword away with her dagger. She stood next to Ahren, glaring at the Prince. Ahren put a calming hand on her back and said, "Do I look like a soulless killer? Do I behave like one? Like all of you, I take only food sustenance from animal life. I draw life-force only from plant life. And I strengthen them in return. Azura, do my plants do anything but thrive?"

"No," said the elf, "they thrive."

"There, you see?" he said, waving his hands in the air. "I'm not even a plant killer. You might say that I live in symbiosis with plant life."

"But you are a warlock," said Espen.

"Yes."

"Do you have other powers?"

"Yes."

"Could you have saved Teneyck? Our tales say that the powers of the Toshii were great."

Ahren hesitated, looked at Jhonkara, and answered, "Yes, I could have saved your squire."

The sword came up under his chin again. "Then why didn't you?" Espen demanded.

Ahren batted the sword away with his gauntleted hand, saying, "Because I do not like to decide who lives and who dies. Thousands of goblin lives weighed against a single dwarven life? His death was fate. I meant what I said at his funeral. He died so that we could live. Do not take that honor from him."

"What are your other powers?" asked Azura.

"They are many, but inconsequential; truly," he said.

"You will tell us!" shouted Espen, bringing the sword up once more. Ahren angrily knocked it away once again and stood, so that he looked down on the dwarf.

"Did I not leave my home and travel far, through dangerous lands, to tell you of the solstice prophecy and profess my plan to rescue the Princess with or without royal assistance? Have I been anything but faithful to you and your quest to retrieve your beloved? Have I done anything but see to it that we advance? Have I not guided you like an extended family?" He spun around in a circle, his finger pointing and accusing. "And all of you have accepted me, and accepted my assistance. We would not have made it this far had it not been for my powers that you scorn even as you fail to understand them."

"Well, now you know that I am different than who you thought. But I am not different than who you have known and accepted. Will you fear me for my powers, while at the same time you benefit from their use? Will you judge me poorly and look down upon me when I do not save one life at the cost of thousands?

"No," Azura answered quickly.

"Then perhaps the Prince would be kind enough to keep his sword from my throat so that we might be done with this nonsense, get on our horses, and rescue Princess Lien. And let us not forget her child and the prophecy! It is only a matter of days until the summer solstice." He walked over to Jhonkara and put his arm around her.

Rheese was the first to speak. "Many strange men have I encountered in my travels. None as strange as you. But neither, none as loyal. I would have you with me."

"As would I, my long-time friend," said Azura.

All eyes turned to Espen. "Yes. I, too, would have you with us. As long as you aren't throwing fireballs in our direction, I have no complaints."

Surprisingly, with his secret exposed, Ahren felt a great weight lift off his shoulders, and looked at Jhonkara with a smile. So it was done. Maybe later he could convince them to keep his secret.

For now, he would content himself with Jhonkara's love, and the trust of his friends.

# Chapter Eight

Capet was luxuriating in the comfort of the well-cushioned throne, blissfully envisioning himself giving the orders, when he heard Mogens pop back into the room from his latest visit to the tower. Despite how deserving of his vision Capet believed himself to be, for the time being, the sadistic Steward was in command; so Capet quickly hopped out of the gilded chair before his master caught his trespass. Fortunately, Mogens was in a good mood, having just satisfied his lust with Saskia and the tavern girl. Mogens was almost giddy over his soon-to-be-realized power, knowing that Lien was due any day, and the solstice was near.

But even before Mogens seized, by whatever means necessary, both immortality and limitless archmage powers, he had other plans to put in motion for the Kingdom of Morovar. It was those damnable Visonians. The humans just couldn't seem to keep their toes on their side of the line; a line delineated by the great Harben range of mountains, which trended north-south between the two kingdoms, stretching from the Gentao to the Roanar and beyond, into elven territory. It seemed that more and more frequently he was hearing of skirmishes with Visonian settlers on the dwarven side of the mountain range. That just wouldn't do. Besides, the economy was slowing down slightly, and nothing picked it up like a good war.

"Capet!" he called, looking around the throne room for his servant. "Bring me the Lord High Marshall!"

"Yes, Your Majesty," said Capet, peering around from behind the throne. After hesitating just long enough to be sure that he wasn't about to be punished, he ran out the door in search of the Marshall. Mogens watched with undisguised disdain as Capet scampered out of the throne room. Capet was rather tall for a dwarf, thought Mogens, and a bit short for a human. But no matter. Good help was where you could find it. He'd even keep an elf around, if it served him as well as Capet.

Mogens settled down into the throne and drummed his fingers absently on the velvet arms. He heard Saskia coming up behind him, and asked, "Tell me of my future, Seer."

"I see greatness in your future, My King," Saskia cooed.

"How great?"

"Immortally great, My Liege."

He grinned. Excellent. Then all was still proceeding as planned. Lien would have her child – and then he would use her child for his own nefarious purposes.

There was a scuffling sound at the door, and he looked over to see Capet breathing heavily, leaning against the door, sweat on his brow. "I have brought the Lord High Marshall, Your Majesty," he announced.

"Ah, Marshall, please, do come in!" called Mogens. Saskia stroked the back of his head.

The Marshall was an older dwarf, roughly fifty-five years old in human equivalent. His neatly trimmed hair and beard were graying, but none of the sharpness had gone from his eyes. He walked over to a place before the throne and knelt. "You called, My Liege?"

"Yes, Misac," said Mogens, demeaningly calling him by name rather than rank. "I wish to hold a war, and you are the man I need to do that."

"A war, My Lord? With whom?" he asked warily.

Mogens rolled his eyes. Was he the only one with a sense of vision? "Why, with the Visonians, of course! Those annoying humans are spilling over the border, and that's causing us trouble on the frontier. I wish to put an end to such trouble."

"But, My Lord, they are but minor skirmishes. Surely diplomacy could –"

"No!" yelled Mogens. "No diplomacy! The time for words has long since passed. It is time for action! You are the Lord High Marshall. Can I count on you to obey my commands?"

"You are the Steward, My Lord. I will heed your commands until the Prince returns."

Until the Prince returns. How pathetic, thought Mogens. "Excellent. Then you will raise the First and Second Armies and march over the mountains and straight into the heart of Visonian territory, where you will smash the worthless rabble like eggs upon stone."

"But Sire, if we are to go to war, it would be logistically easier and far less hazardous to travel upriver by ship, and disembark short of –"

"No! You will heed my command! You will take the armies over the Harbens as I have instructed. If you no longer feel fit to follow orders, I will see to your replacement without delay. What say you?"

"My Lord, it will take at least a week to prepare the armies for a grueling march over terrain such as that. But it will be done."

"Excellent. In the meantime, dispatch a brigade of cavalry to secure the Dimwood. We will be marching on the elves shortly."

"The elves, too, Sire?"

"Yes. Their continued arrogance will not go unpunished."

The Marshall blinked slowly, still kneeling, trying to take all of this in. He was bound by oath to obey commands, but these commands seemed both unethical and foolhardy. "And the halflings, My Lord? Shall we crush them as well?" he asked, with a wry tone in his voice.

"In due time, Marshall. Unless you forget your place and I need to have you removed."

"That time will not come, My Lord. I will faithfully carry out your instructions."

"Then you are dismissed," Mogens said with a wave of his hand. The Lord High Marshall stood, bowed deeply, and hurried out the door toward the barracks.

"Capet, am I the only man of vision in this entire kingdom?" he asked.

"Yes, Sire, you are truly great," came the automatic reply.

"Thank you, Capet. Someday your service will be rewarded."

"And mine?" purred Saskia in his left ear.

"You know what awaits you, Seer. You are to be mistress to the all-powerful. That is an honor in itself. But if you feel that you need more, I can appoint you Duchess of Visonia. Would that make you happy?"

"Not as much as serving you, My Liege," she said, walking around the throne and sitting down in his lap. She tore open her bodice and said, "Take me, My Liege, before that detestable Lien goes into labor."

Mogens grinned evilly and motioned Capet out of the room. "I do so love power."

* * *

Time moved inexorably closer to the summer solstice, but the rescue party in Savanod seemed no closer to the Keep than when they had first climbed out of the canyon. They all knew that they were closer, but something just didn't feel right. Actually, nothing felt right in this cursed land. The dreariness of the countryside was destroying everyone's morale, as was clearly evident in the way their shoulders sagged, and the way they now rode hunched over in their saddles. Making matters worse, the rain had started again, and the two dwarves, unprotected by wool or leather from the elements, were cold, wet, and completely miserable.

Azura was taking the weather in stride, accepting all things like a good diplomat should.

Thanks to Ahren's fingerspeak and subvocalization, Jhonkara finally knew which words went along with which lip movements, and her ability to read lips was expanding rapidly. But as they rode together now, lip reading wasn't necessary, and the two talked incessantly, though silently, between themselves. They were in the middle of an animated conversation about the various merits of herbs in turtle soup when Jhonkara suddenly sat up very straight, peered into the darkness, and asked, "You smell that?"

"Smell what?"

"Strong smell. Bad smell. Like privy."

"I don't smell anything, but I'll take a look," he said. He raised his right hand into the sky and a glowing orb burst forth from it, rising about two yards over his head, casting a bright white-and-yellow glow that cleared the settled fog and mist for two-hundred yards around. He saw what she had smelled. Urugs. Dozens of them. Closing from the east.

"Split up and run!" Ahren cried, kicking his Strider into motion. He took off to the west, and watched the dwarves gallop away to the north. Azura hung with him for a while, but after he yelled at her again to split up, she turned back south, the way they had come. Ahren had a very bad feeling, because all of the urugs followed him – and Jhonkara. Even with his finely honed skill with the sword, he could never defeat them in orthodox battle.

He pulled his mount to a halt and saw the others do the same, each of them just at the edge of the light cast by the glowing orb. The urugs bore down on him and his beloved Jhonkara like deadly cockroaches. He could see no alternative. He raised his hands into the sky and the air around them started to crystallize into a solid, hollow dome, appearing much the same as the air bridge had north of the Dimwood. Like delicate solid fog.

The urugs continued to charge forward, and ran headlong into the shield. It did not give. They furiously scratched at it with their forelegs, howling into the night, their eyes glowing eerily in the brilliant light of the orb. They attacked the shield with their claws and teeth – to no avail. Finally, they began striking it with their stingers, leaving ugly scars of wet venom where they struck. But the nearly invisible dome did not yield, and the urugs did not get through.

Ahren looked around and saw his companions closing on his position at a gallop, their weapons drawn. Azura's crossbow was already thunking away. He couldn't let them get any closer – they'd be killed. He sighed, hating to do what he was about to do, but feeling he had no other choice. He raised his right hand, and a bursting ring of flame erupted around his horse, expanding outward, just as it had done in the Dimwood. And just as in the Dimwood, every wicked thing that it touched seemed to explode, leaving behind only smoke and ashes. But when it died down and flickered out, all of the urugs were gone; while Azura, Espen and Rheese had been tickled, but thoroughly unharmed, by the speeding flames. Ahren dispersed the air shield and waited for his friends.

Azura's Strider reached him first. "Are you all right?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yes, we're both fine."

"Nice touch with the fire, Ahren. It was as effective as it was on the goblins."

"Thanks," he replied despondently.

"Ahren, not every life is equal. You must recognize that. Those animals were intent on killing you and your wife. You shouldn't feel bad about your actions."

"Your words are kind," he told her. "I truly appreciate the sentiment."

The dwarves finally arrived, their armor reflecting the light of the orb. "Are you hurt?" asked Espen.

"No, we are fine."

"Ah, Master Warlock, your wife does not appear to be in good health," said Rheese with concern in his voice.

Ahren whipped his head around and gently turned Jhonkara back so he could see her. All the color had gone out of her skin. That's odd, thought Ahren, she looks like she's about to – Jhonkara's actions raced ahead of his thoughts as she leaned forward and started to vomit over the side of the horse.

"Was she stung?" asked Rheese.

Ahren patted a concerned hand on his wife's back. "No. Nothing touched us. Maybe the diet of cheese and salted beef is starting to get to her." He cocked his head to one side and asked, "Jhonkara, my love, are you ill?"

She leaned back heavily against his chest, her head falling weakly to one side. "I feel terrible," she fingered.

"Perhaps we should make camp here for the night," suggested Azura. The dwarves nodded in agreement.

Ahren translated for Jhonkara, who feebly but insistently waved her hands in the air and fingered, "No! I no be able to sleep with that smell. Besides, must get to Princess. Must go farther."

Ahren translated for the rest of the party. They didn't know what to do; knowing the Princess needed their aid, but also concerned for the little dwarf. Ahren tapped his Strider back into motion, heading for the Keep. The others silently fell into line behind him, with Azura bringing up the rear, as always.

After another two hours of travel in near pitch-blackness, they came across a defensible rise in the rocky landscape. Ahren asked Jhonkara if they could camp here and she said, "Yes – fewer bad smells." They hobbled their horses and laid out their bedrolls for the night, with Ahren building a blazing fire out of one stick and a piece of broken rock. The others still weren't used to seeing his powers, but they certainly appreciated them. The dwarves huddled as close to the fire as they dared, trying to dry out.

As Jhonkara and Ahren crawled into their bedroll together, Jhonkara said, "I think I sick. Headache. Backache. Belly feel funny. I better tonight, but I still exhausted." She lay down, then sat up quickly to vomit once more before laying back down and going to sleep. Ahren stayed up the entire night, just watching her and stroking her hair.

* * *

The morning dawned with pleasant but thoroughly unexpected brightness in Savanod. The clouds had broken, and there was a beautiful blue sky smiling down on the party. Jhonkara yawned, sat up, kissed her concerned husband on the lips, and promptly threw up next to the bedroll. "I sorry," she said. "I not feel as good today as last night." Then, "I hungry for bacon – and pickle." She smiled at Ahren, who just looked at her quizzically.

"But when we were provisioning the trip, you told me that you hated bacon and pickles," Ahren said, arching one eyebrow.

"Don't know. Sound good. Hungry." Then she waved her hand in front of her scrunched up nose and tried to shoo away the odor. "Horses smell bad today."

"Will she be well enough to continue on to the Keep?" asked Espen, who had wandered over.

Ahren asked her and translated her response. "She says that she's fine. She's just having trouble keeping food down, even though she's really hungry. I guess she's well enough. More or less." He shrugged.

Azura just looked on, smiling, from her side of the camp.

"Do you know something that we don't?" asked Ahren.

"I don't know. I'm just glad to see that everyone is healthy."

"Then why are you smiling like that?"

"Can't a girl just be happy?" said the elf.

Ahren furrowed his brow at her. "A day's ride away from the Keep of Savanod?"

"Yes, well, nobody said that you could pick your moments. It's a cheery day, that's all."

Ahren shrugged for the second time that morning and set about breaking camp. Soon they were riding again, and it seemed as if the Keep had suddenly thrust itself much closer. It really was no more than a day's ride away now. They would arrive just one day shy of the summer solstice. It was going to be close, but they should have just enough time to reconnoiter the outer defenses, prepare a strategy to penetrate those defenses, devise tactics to defeat the enemy within and, finally, grab what rest they could to help guarantee an effective attack. Once they were inside the stronghold, they would have to work quickly, because the prophecy foretold that the sacrifice was to take place at noon, at the precise moment the solstice sun was at its highest point above the sacrificial altar.

The land had evened out a bit, and they were able to spur their horses into a canter and still remain relatively safe. The perilous up-thrusts and potholes were mostly gone, but Ahren continued to keep a watchful eye out for any other dangers in their path.

By late afternoon, they had reached the top of the cliff that afforded them their first full view of the Keep. They had seen the tower throughout days of travel, but now its summit soared high above their heads. Looking downward, the cliff overlooked the base of the Keep, giving them their first glimpse into the coming battle. Orcs guarded the entrance, their long lower fangs thrusting out hideously over top of their upper lips. Azura said, "Do you know how much elves hate orcs?"

"No," answered Ahren, "how much?"

"Quite a bit, actually."

"Any particular reason?"

"Well, there was that whole time period when they enslaved us. That wasn't a pleasant time in our history."

"I see your point."

"Are we just going to stand here and talk, or are we going in there to rescue my wife?" Espen demanded impatiently.

"In good time, Your Highness," answered Ahren. "We must wait for the cover of darkness."

"What? Why? Just make us all invisible again!"

"Your Highness, it goes against the Toshii code to use our powers except when absolutely necessary. If there is a way to do something without using our powers, that is the way we do it. So, we're going to wait until dark. Which is to say that Jhonkara, Azura, and I are waiting until dark. You and Rheese can go ahead without us if you choose."

Rheese quickly spoke up, "As Captain of the Guard, Sire, I strongly recommend that we remain here and gather intelligence."

Espen begrudgingly lay down next to the rest of them, surveying the view that would soon become a battlefield. Jhonkara put her hand over her mouth, looked at Ahren with a startled expression on her face, and promptly vomited over the edge of the cliff. Her skin looked drained of color again.

Ahren smoothed her hair, and she gave him a glassy-eyed smile. "You sure you no have pickle?"

Despite his concern, he chuckled and nodded that yes, he was sure.

Azura looked on, slowly bobbing her head up and down, her eyebrows raised and her mouth gently taut with a knowing grin. Finally, she said, "Ask her if she has cramps."

Ahren said, "I imagine that she has cramps, she just vomited."

"No, not stomach cramps, just plain cramps."

"There's a difference?"

"You've been living alone for far too long, Ahren-of-the-Hill. Just ask her. She'll know what I mean."

"Very well." He translated. Jhonkara turned her head to Azura and nodded vigorously.

Azura just smiled, leaned forward, and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead.

The tiny dwarf turned back to her husband and asked what was wrong.

He shrugged again. "I don't know."

"I be all right?"

He asked Azura, who assured him that yes, she would be just fine. Ahren translated for Jhonkara, who looked greatly relieved.

"Look, they're moving away," said Rheese.

Ahren looked. Indeed, the orcs were moving away from their encampment by the massive bronze doors of the Keep.

"We should run for it," suggested the Prince.

"Are you daft?" asked Ahren. "It's five hundred yards over open terrain. You'd not make it halfway there before you were felled by an orcish arrow. Now lay down and be silent." His voice suddenly took on an air of authority that had previously been absent.

They lay there as the hours passed, the sun sinking lower in the sky. Jhonkara caught a whiff of something in the air and suddenly vomited into the valley again. "I so sorry," she said, feeling the weight of embarrassment bear down on her.

Ahren kissed her and said, "It's all right. The orcs can't hear you from here anyway."

"I smell something," she said. "Like privy again."

Ahren bolted upright just in time to see a lone urug scuttling up behind them, aiming for Jhonkara. He drew his sword and dagger and advanced on it, as Azura sent iron crossbow bolts flying past his left side. Rheese and Espen also stood, unknowingly silhouetting themselves clearly against the backdrop of the evening sky.

Two bolts thunked into the creature's side, but it kept coming. It struck out at Ahren, and he used his sword and dagger like a pair of shears to lop off the tail at its base. The creature screamed in agony, and he drove his dagger deep into its neck, killing it. He still didn't smell anything.

Wiping the gore off of his weapons, he returned on hands and knees to the overlook. He saw that Rheese and Espen still stood, and he motioned them down; but it was too late. The orcs had seen them, and were even now running across the valley, loosing arrows in their direction.

"Well, sneaking in under cover of darkness may be out of the question," said Ahren.

"How was I to know that they'd see us? I thought they were leaving!" exclaimed the exasperated Prince. An arrow clattered to the ground at their side. At least the beasts wouldn't be able to climb the sheer walls. Of that, Ahren was certain.

* * *

By the time night had fallen, the defenses at the entrance to the Keep had been reinforced by another platoon of orcs while the original platoon had given up trying to scale the cliff and were looking for a way around. Jhonkara had vomited twice more, and at the same time had gobbled away what seemed like a full day's ration of salted beef and cheese.

"Well," said Espen, "it's five of us" – he carefully included Jhonkara this time – "against ten of them; and their comrades, wherever they've gone off to. But of more immediacy, much as I don't see any way up the cliff, neither do I see a way down. Perhaps, warlock, we should have been scouting trails instead of watching the orcs pick their noses all day!"

Ahren shook his head negatively. "Getting down is easy. Going up is harder. Fighting orcs at two-to-one odds, that's probably the hardest."

"And just how do you propose we get down?"

Ahren looked at him as if he had just asked why ducks float. "We jump." He heard Azura's rapid intake of breath and knew that his suggestion hadn't gone over well.

"Jump! Are you mad?"

"No, I assure you, I am quite sane."

"For someone three thousand five hundred years old," said Rheese, holding his head in his hands.

Ahren heard a tapping on his backplate and turned to see that Jhonkara wanted a word with him. He said, "Yes, dear?"

She gesticulated rapidly with her fingers, pointing every so often at Rheese and Espen, then fell still.

Ahren turned back to the dwarves and said, "Jhonkara asked me to tell you that her lip reading is getting better, and that she trusts me, and you should, too."

"Said the man's wife," grumbled Rheese.

Jhonkara shot him a dirty look, and he quickly apologized.

"Look," said Ahren, "the sun has set. We have slightly more than twelve hours to get down from our perch, break into the Keep of Savanod, and fight our way to its apex, where I assume your wife is being held. We don't have time to look for a more conventional way down. So, we jump." He paused. "If you have a better suggestion, I am open to hear it."

"Well," said Espen, stalling for time, "perhaps we could use the rope and the horses' tack to make some kind of ladder to climb down."

"I don't think that we have five hundred feet of tack," observed Ahren.

Azura finally chimed in. "Look, all of you. This bickering is pointless. There's clearly no other way down. Equally clearly, our friend Ahren wouldn't suggest that we leap to our deaths, so I assume he has something in mind. Let's just get moving. It's already nigh midnight and we still have, at the very least, ten orcs to kill."

"You smell something?" asked Jhonkara. Ahren quickly whipped around and drew his sword, but saw nothing.

"No, my sweet, I don't smell anything. Perhaps you're simply smelling the orcs down below."

"Strange. Strong smell. Sorry interrupt."

He kissed her and turned back toward the others as he sheathed his sword. Espen said, "So, do we all jump together, or one at a time, or what?"

In response, Ahren grasped Jhonkara's tiny hand firmly in his. "Everyone hold hands," he said. They did – quickly.

"Now just step off the cliff, like this," said Ahren, as he put a foot out over the edge of the cliff and pulled the rest of them along with him. They picked up speed rapidly as they fell, but only Ahren took the time to appreciate it. When they were halfway down, a shockingly strong wind blew up out of nowhere and slowed them. And slowed them. And slowed them. And then they were on the ground, feet first, like feathers.

Espen quickly let go of Ahren's left hand. "Well, you could have at least told us what was going to happen!"

"You never asked."

"The look of terror on my face wasn't obvious enough?"

"Apparently not."

"Gentlemen," said Azura, "those ten orcs are running this way. I think that I can reduce their number by two before they get here, but then we must rely on our close-combat swordsmanship."

Ahren lifted Jhonkara and set her on top of the highest boulder he could reach, saying, "Aim for their eyes." She levered her foot into the crossbow in response. He kissed her hand and ran back to the sword line.

Rheese and Espen had already drawn their swords and were advancing together on the orc farthest to the left. Azura was loosing bolt after bolt at the orc farthest to the right, and the result of this onslaught was beginning to show, as the creature began to stagger and clutch at its chest.

Orcs are nasty creatures. They stand as tall as elves, and are beefier than dwarves. They have a crown of pointed horns on their heads, and a mouth grotesquely full of fangs. Unlike the other commonly encountered monsters, they aren't stupid. They carry battleaxes and know how to use them. Fortunately, these orcs were protected only by studded leather armor – enough to stop Jhonkara's miniature bolts, but not much else.

Ahren drew his gleaming green weapons and advanced toward the middle of the line – toward the biggest orc; presumably their leader. It swung its battleaxe down on him with fury – its longer reach allowing it to get in the first blow. He caught it by crossing his two weapons above his head and tossing the blade away. With the next blow, the battleaxe came in from the side. Ahren deflected it with his sword, and sunk his dagger deep into the orc's chest, striking its heart and killing it instantly. It collapsed to the ground, threatening to crush Ahren, who hurriedly pulled his dagger from its body as he jumped clear of the beast.

He was just in time. He caught a glimmer of motion out of his left eye, and ducked as a battleaxe went screaming by overhead. He brought his sword around in a vicious horizontal chop; amputating one of the creature's legs at the knee. It wasn't dead, but it was out of the fight.

He noticed that Rheese and Espen were working on their second orc, but also that Rheese's left arm was hanging uselessly at his side. Azura, as promised, had managed to drop two of the orcs before they were within sword range, and was now battling another, axe-to-sword.

Ahren leapt over his fallen orc as it tried to grab him. He took the next one by surprise, sinking his sword deep into its throat and thrusting upward into its brain. It died instantly, and once again he was almost crushed by a falling orc body.

Another blade whipped past his head, only a whisper's distance away. He turned and saw that he had been quietly flanked. He held his weapons upright before him, waiting for the first blow to come. He was surprised when it did, because it came from behind, smashing solidly into his backplate. Had his armor been made of anything less than shimiral, he would have been split in two. As it was, he was knocked to the ground, the wind driven out of him. As he gasped for breath and waited for the inevitable, he saw a blur of motion behind one of the orcs, and the creature fell to its knees, pawing at the space behind its leg. As it fell, Ahren saw that Jhonkara had climbed down from the boulder and sunk her dagger-sword deep into the vulnerable area behind the monster's knee. Ahren winked at her and rolled over, just in time to block another blow from the battleaxe that had driven him to the ground. He heaved his dagger awkwardly with his left arm, but managed to throw it true, striking the creature in the right eye and pithing it. He stood quickly to finish off the knee-wounded orc, but much to his surprise, found his wife slitting its throat with her handy little dagger-sword.

Wearily, he looked around and saw that all of the creatures had fallen: five by his hand – with Jhonkara's help, three by Azura, and two by Rheese and Espen. He sheathed his weapons and went over and picked up his wife, embracing her in a huge bear hug. "Where did you learn to do that?" he asked.

"I watch you. Learn quick." She smiled at him and kissed him again. Then, leaning back in his arms, she said, "You really no smell that?"

"No, my love, I really don't. I'm sorry."

"That fine. Maybe just me."

The others gathered around them, Rheese gripping his upper arm with a pained look on his face. "I took a hit with the back of an axe. I think it's broken," he said.

"Let's have a look at it. Sit down," instructed Ahren.

He sat, wincing as he did so.

Ahren knelt at his side and gently pried his hand away from his arm. There was no blood, which was good. But it was clearly broken, which, though not good, really wasn't all that bad, either. "This is going to tingle a little, but I promise, you'll feel no pain," said Ahren.

"What are you going to do?"

"Put you back together."

"You can do that?"

"Yes. Ask Azura if you want reassurance."

Then, placing his hands over the break, they began to glow like a warm lamp. "I do feel a tingling," said Rheese.

"Good."

Ahren held his hands over the break a moment longer, and then dropped them to his sides. "You're as good as new now. Better than new, actually. Healed bone is stronger than the original bone."

Rheese tentatively moved his arm, and discovered that it didn't hurt anymore. He rotated it a full three hundred and sixty degrees. "It's a miracle," he said, looking up at Ahren with awe.

"I told you, I can tap into the forces of nature. Life is a force of nature. Thus, you're healed."

"It's certainly handy to have you around," said Espen.

Ahren felt a tugging on his pant leg and looked down to see Jhonkara fingering at him madly.

"She says that we should get inside before more monsters come. I think that's good advice."

"As do I," said Espen.

As one, the group immediately headed toward the mighty bronze doors of the Keep. Dismayingly, they were as big and mighty as Cirunel's Great Gate. "How are we ever going to get inside?" asked Azura.

Jhonkara took it upon herself to march right up to the doors and knock. Everyone waited on pins and needles, but nothing happened; and she walked back to Ahren's side with a shrug.

"So – the polite way apparently won't work," he said.

"Espen, how would someone get through the Great Gate?" Azura asked.

"As if I'm going to tell an elf!" he responded.

"Sire, perhaps you should just consider her a companion and acquiesce to her request," said Rheese in a low tone.

Espen reflected for a moment before saying, "Yes, all right. The Gate has three weak points. The center, obviously, is the weakest. But you need something big to hit it with. Then the two sets of hinges are weak points, but for that you really need sappers to dig a chamber below ground, and then collapse it. I don't think that we have time for that."

"No," said Ahren, "but we can hit the doors with something big."

"We can?"

"Well, I can."

"Oh. I see. Shall we step out of the way, then?"

"That would be advisable, yes."

The others scurried to get out of the way; all but Jhonkara, who remained steadfastly at his side, looking up at him with her big, wide eyes. He took her hand and walked over to one side of the doors.

He lifted his right hand, pointed it across the valley floor, and made a pulling motion with his first two fingers. One of the giant boulders that littered the bottom of the cliff rose and flew across the canyon at an astonishing speed. It hurtled straight for the doors, and struck them dead center, at their weakest point. There was a huge gonging noise as the bronze doors reverberated, but did not give.

Espen wilted.

"Not yet, Your Highness."

Ahren sent another boulder, and another flying across the valley. All struck home, and slowly began bending the bronze doors inward.

"This is taking too long," bemoaned Espen. "We'll never knock the doors down in time."

"We don't have to knock the doors down, we just have to open a hole big enough to get though," explained Ahren.

Another boulder, and another, and a sixth crashed into the battered doors. Slowly but surely, they began to give.

* * *

The day of the summer solstice arrived quietly back in Cirunel, where Princess Lien sat in a rocking chair suckling her newborn baby boy. She refused to name him until Espen returned, but she already thought that he had his father's build. Maybe her eyes.

"How touching. Really," came Mogens' voice from behind her. She jumped up and clutched the child close to her chest. As she backed away, she ran into Saskia, who spun her around and snatched the child from her arms.

"No!" screamed Lien. "Don't take my baby!"

"Don't blame us, Princess," Mogens mocked. "If your husband had been a little more perceptive, if he had simply been reasonable about your disappearance from your bedchamber, he would have discovered you here long ago. Instead, he's off chasing ghosts around the wasteland of Savanod. Now say goodbye." He waited for an instant and then clapped his hands, and Saskia and the baby disappeared with a pop.

"No!" Lien screamed again. "Please, I'll do whatever you ask of me, but do not hurt my son."

Mogens sat down in the rocking chair like it was a throne. "Princess, unfortunately for you, there is nothing else that you have, or can do, or can offer me, that interests me in the least. I don't even desire you, since you befouled yourself by becoming pregnant with that idiot's child."

"That 'idiot,' as you so insolently call the Prince, will return here and destroy you, whether I am alive or dead," she screamed through streaming tears.

"Now Princess, threats are most unbecoming. Think of your child. What kind of an example do you want to set for it?"

"My son is a 'him,' not an 'it,'" she whimpered.

"Fine, fine. As you wish. The only thing I care about is that he is the key to my becoming the all-powerful master of Nordanfel. Won't that be grand?" He spoke as if he had just invited her to a festive costume ball.

"You and Saskia. You were respected in Cirunel. My husband and my father-in-law trusted you. And you betrayed them. If there is one thing that humans believe, Steward," – and she spit the word out like a curse – "it is that betrayers eventually and always will receive their just deserts. I say to you now, 'Be it by my hand, or my husband's, or by someone whom I do not yet know, you will soon be dead.' As a mother, I promise you that."

Mogens steepled his fingers and looked through them at the distraught girl. So pretty. He could almost see why Espen had taken a liking to a human. So full of energy and life! Perhaps one day she would carry his child after all. As would Saskia. And maybe even that tavern wench that Capet had brought him. He stood up to leave.

Princess Lien slapped him. Hard.

He punched her in the gut, and she folded to the ground. But before he could teleport himself back to the throne room where his prize awaited, Lien said, "If you hurt my son, Mogens, I promise that you will be dead before the next morning dawns."

"Really? Strong words for a girl locked in a tower. I think that by evening, you'll see that the world is meeting the new me for the very first time." He clapped his hands and disappeared with a pop.

When he reappeared in the throne room, he found Saskia sitting in the throne, gently cooing at the baby. "Don't get too attached to it, Seer," he said, "it will be dead at noon."

Saskia thrust her chin and her bosom out toward Mogens. "When are you going to give me a child, Mogens? I hate to ruin my figure, but I do so want a child."

"Soon enough, Saskia. Soon enough. When I am able to sire a line of immortals, then you will get your baby."

Capet stood off to the side, quietly blending in with the tapestries that adorned the walls.

* * *

Morning in Savanod had arrived amidst a fury of sight and sound that assaulted the calm of the rescue party as it played upon their nerves; but at least Ahren's boulder projectiles had finally pounded the Keep's massive doors sufficiently askew to create an opening through which the party crawled, barely squeaking through. They were happily surprised to see that there were no vile creatures waiting for them save a multitude of spiders and bats. But as they hurried to the grand staircase, they were dishearteningly reminded that the Keep of Savanod was a great volcanic plug that had stood against time and the elements to remain after the rest of the volcano had eroded away. The Keep soared to an unimaginable height. The staircase that stretched before them, carved through the living rock and past hidden rooms, twisted and rose to the altar chamber at the Keep's summit. This meant that they faced, at the very least, many, many stairs before they could finally hope to rescue the Princess. Azura hoped their legs were up to the task.

They emerged from the main antechamber with their weapons drawn, and abruptly came to a halt. They found themselves in a vast treasure chamber, one that put even Cirunel's riches to shame. Jhonkara's eyes grew as big as saucers – she could not begin to imagine how such wealth could be amassed in a single location; especially in a place such as this. Yet here it was.

"We take?" she asked Ahren.

"Sweetheart, we don't need it," he said, squeezing her shoulder.

"You say so," she said, somewhat dubiously.

Azura was the first to speak aloud. "All the wealth of the elven kingdoms together could not match this."

"Nor Morovar. Or even Visonia, I suspect," said Espen.

"Nor all of them combined," said Rheese in a voice of awe.

Gold and marble statues adorned the floor and walls in a chamber that stretched beyond one's ability to discern the true vastness of the room. Long-neglected carvings though they were, they were still worth a fortune - enough to make every citizen of Morovar rich beyond imagination. Any bit of wall space that did not boast a statue, was covered in the finest – and dustiest – tapestries that four of the party had ever seen. Ahren, though, clearly and nostalgically recognized it all. It was Toshii. Which shouldn't be possible. He had returned the treasures of the Toshii to the earth after his realization that in trying to save one Toshii, he had destroyed all the others. Yet here they were. The floor was piled high with stacks of gold coins, brilliantly cut diamonds, multifaceted emeralds, glorious rubies, sparkling sapphires, and even semi-precious stones such as onyx and turquoise. Here was the material legacy of the Toshii, spread out before him.

He felt Jhonkara tugging on his gauntleted arm, and looked down to see her ask, "What matter?"

"This shouldn't be here. It's Toshii. I returned it to the earth three thousand years ago, when my civilization vanished by my own hand."

"Maybe someone unbury it?"

"I don't know. It should not have been possible."

"Ahren, why do you look pale?" asked Azura.

"Oh, I don't know. I probably just got winded from walking up those stairs."

She raised an eyebrow and frowned at him. "You got winded walking up one flight of stairs? Somehow, I don't believe you."

He shrugged dismissively. "We have to move on. The sun is rising in the sky, and we have untold numbers of stairs to climb. It will be difficult. Hopefully, monstrous guards won't further challenge our stamina. But be alert – if I were going to set an ambush, this is where I would do it."

"As would I," said Rheese.

"Then let's push on," mumbled Espen with unusual self-restraint. He headed for the next stairway, which wound its way around to the right, interfering with the use of his sword arm. Azura suffered from the same problem. Only Rheese, who was left-handed, and Ahren, who was ambidextrous, remained in a good position to defend the party. They climbed in the same order that they had ridden, with Jhonkara's small legs rushing along to keep up with the stride of the others. They passed through chamber after chamber, all dusty, all relatively empty. Ahren began to pray that they hadn't made a terrible mistake in coming here. If the Princess was here, why did monsters not impede their progress? But where else would such a horrific sacrifice take place?

As he contemplated this apparent contradiction, the group rounded a turn into another chamber. Without warning, Ahren shoved Jhonkara backward, sending her tumbling down the stairs in a reverberating clamor of armor upon stone. Where she had been standing just moments before, a half dozen orcish arrows passed through the now empty space. "Down!" cried Ahren, and the party dropped prone against the stairs. "Azura, the crossbow!" She tossed it forward, and he caught it one-handed. He brought it around into firing position as more orcish arrows clattered against the stone next to his head. One lucky shot made contact, but ricocheted off of his shoulderplate.

The rest of the party heard the enemy battle cry, "Espen will die!" Then they watched as Ahren fired six quick shots from the crossbow. He hesitated briefly, then stood; allowing the crossbow to drop to his side. Without looking back, he said, "It's clear. You can get up now."

Azura hurried forward, carrying a limp Jhonkara in her arms. A nasty gash was bleeding where the back of her head had struck the stone. Ahren said, "Lay her down on her stomach." Azura hurried to comply.

Ahren placed his hands over his wife's head and smiled, saying, "Don't look so worried, lady elf. This is hardly cause for concern." His hands glowed, and the wound healed. Even the blood that had matted down Jhonkara's beautiful russet hair disappeared. Almost instantly, her eyes fluttered open and she tentatively touched the back of her head. It didn't hurt. She pushed herself to her knees and smiled at her husband, before leaning forward to give him a big kiss. After that, she slapped him \- hard.

"I no for pushing around! No do that again." She set her fists on her hips and tapped her foot against the stone.

"I'm so sorry, my love," Ahren subvocalized. "I just didn't want to see you get skewered by those arrows."

"I wearing armor!"

"Yes, but not enough, I think, to have stopped those arrows. I only pushed you because I love you."

"Still. You no push again." She furrowed her brow at him.

He chuckled and nodded with closed eyes. "I swear: I will never push you again."

She seemed to accept that, and resumed her position by his side.

Espen came forward, saying, "More orcs, eh?"

"Orcish arrows, yes. But orcs, no," said Ahren. "Worse. Human mercenaries."

"Human!" exclaimed Rheese. "What are they doing here?" He walked into the chamber and found the six men slumped against the wall, each with a single iron bolt sticking out of his forehead. "How did you do that?" he asked.

"Do what?" asked Ahren.

"Shoot so accurately!"

"Thirty-five hundred years of practice, I suppose," he said.

Azura shook her head and said, "Yes, I suppose that would help."

"How did they know that I was here?" asked Espen.

"I don't know," said Ahren. "But presumably, our enemy has better intelligence than we have. Quickly now, we must resume our climb." He took Jhonkara's hand and began leading her up the next long flight of stairs. The others followed with difficulty, their calves burning from exertion. Yet still, they pressed on, knowing that the noon hour was rapidly approaching.

"You sure you no have any pickles?" Jhonkara asked Ahren, already knowing the answer.

He laughed, because he thought that she was joking. She wasn't. She vomited again a half-hour later, and once again felt overwhelming exhaustion envelope her. She told no one.

* * *

"What of the pathetic little war party?" asked Mogens, waving his hands in mock distress.

The Seer stood with her eyes closed, her arms outstretched to the sides. "They have reached the Keep. They climb. The strange one is leading them. He has great powers." She licked her lips.

"Greater than mine will be?" asked Mogens.

"No, My Lord. None shall be greater than yours."

"Excellent." He looked at the sun's position in the sky, and called out, "Capet! Bring the child."

"At once, sire." Capet bolted from the throne room and into the chambers beyond.

"What do you see of my future deeds, Seer?"

"I see you doing great things, My Lord. Even now, the human armies sleep while we advance toward them."

"Wonderful. I'd hate to spill any more blood than necessary," he said, laughing at his own joke.

"My Lord, something is wrong with the dwarf maiden."

"Isn't that good?"

"I don't know. I cannot tell why she is obscured from my vision."

Mogens fumed. "You cannot see her? What kind of a Seer are you? I warn you, do not become useless to me!"

"No, My Lord," she said hurriedly. "I am sure it is just the distance and her small size. She could not have much life force in such a small body. It only makes her difficult to see – not impossible. Give me time, My Lord."

"As long as she does nothing to disrupt my plans, you may have all the time you need. But truly, they can be of little consequence to my plan for greatness. They remain far away, fighting for their lives in distant Savanod, while it is but four hours until the sacrifice." He settled down into his throne. "You know, I really like it here."

"Yes, My Lord," purred Saskia. "All is proceeding as planned."

"Excellent," said Mogens, steepling his fingers and drumming them together. "How is our beloved Princess Lien?" he asked with a smirk.

"She refuses to eat, My Lord, until her child is returned."

"Then she will not be eating for a very, very long time," he cackled. His laughter rolled through the palace like an evil smoke.

* * *

It seemed they had climbed and fought endlessly, dispatching – sometimes barely so – thirty more humans, sixteen orcs, and seven chalkai along the way.

The chambers had begun to narrow, and had become ever more difficult to storm, but none so obviously as the one in which they currently stood transfixed by the disturbing scene before them. This chamber contained the bodies of the fifty dwarven warriors who had set out from Cirunel ahead of them to rescue the Princess. They were hung from the wall on meat hooks, like slabs of beef at the butcher's. Their armor had been stripped, and lay in disorderly piles at their feet. Their swords had all been broken into scattered shards of metal.

"What happened here?" asked Espen with sorrow and disbelief.

"Don't ask a question to which you do not want to know the answer," said Ahren.

Azura came forward and peered around the room. "Fifty members of the Royal Guard, out-maneuvered and killed like this? It is difficult to believe."

"And yet your own eyes tell you it is so," Ahren said.

Struggling with emotion, Rheese said, "As Captain of the Guard, I knew most of these men. All fine dwarves, they were. You can be certain that they went down fighting, with Princess Lien's safety their only concern."

"Lien would not have men die for her. She is human, and doesn't believe the same as we do, Rheese," Espen said, shaking his head at the bodies.

Suddenly, they all heard a distinct, heavy scratching coming from the stairway. They whipped out their weapons and backed away from the stairs. The menacing sound continued; growing louder as the source neared. Slowly, an expanding shadow appeared on the curved walls. It looked vaguely serpentine, though with the distortion of the stairway, they couldn't make out what kind of creature approached. They backed all the way up until they were pressed against the bodies hanging from the walls. Ahren carefully picked up Jhonkara and set her down behind him, saying only, "Please. Stay here, no matter what happens."

She nodded and raised her little crossbow, loosening her dagger-sword in its sheath at her side.

Ahren waved for the others to stay put, and took a few steps forward. He unsheathed his weapons, which looked absolutely brilliant in the dim light of the chamber. With agonizing slowness, the source of the scratching came into view. Of the five of them, only Ahren recognized the beast. It was a stavek, a creature born of the foulest magic, that had been the bane of the Toshii in times long past. He had had no idea that any of them still existed. They should have all died out thousands of years ago. He swallowed hard and sheathed his dagger, gripping his sword with two hands. This would not be a pleasant battle.

As the stavek slithered into the chamber, its tail still extending up the stairs and out of view, they could see the horrific nature of the evil beast. Its lower body was that of a massive snake, and its torso resembled that of an orc. It had four arms like a chalkai; claws like a giant cat; a hideous head with five eyes and a fang-filled maw; and vestigial wings that ended in deadly-sharp nails that could puncture and slash. And though it wasn't evident, Ahren knew they breathed fire. He had never expected to see another of their kind as long as he lived.

Iron bolts began flying past his shoulder, but they ricocheted off the creature's scales just as ineffectively as the little wooden bolts that flew past his legs. Espen and Rheese were suddenly beside him, their swords raised in dwarven fashion. "Get back! Both of you! Save yourself for your wife and child, My Prince," Ahren breathed. The two dwarves receded, hearing the vehemence in his voice. Ahren allowed the creature to advance on him as he held his sword up and angled in the fighting fashion of the Toshii. Suddenly, the stavek belched a ball of fire that roared toward Ahren, and was stopped only when Ahren raised an air-shield that dissipated its attack. With the fireball gone, he rushed forward and threw his full strength into a diagonal upward blow designed to sever the creature's head. The brilliantly glowing landrit steel of his sword bit into the creature's neck and drew blood, but did not penetrate deeply. His mighty blow produced little more than a scratch, and he quickly leaped backwards, out of range of the claws of the beast.

Azura continued to fire bolts at the creature, trying to strike it in the eye; but Ahren knew that even a strike there would be of little consequence. No crossbow, not even one strengthened by enchantment, would be effective against a stavek; let alone be strong enough to take one down. In fact, he almost wished that she'd stop shooting, so that he didn't also have to worry about being in the path of friendly fire. Wouldn't that be ironic, he thought: The last warlock dying from a shot in the back of the head by a comrade. He lunged at the beast and thrust his sword straight into its orcish torso. The landrit bit again, but penetrated only an insignificant few inches. The stavek simply reached down with one of its four clawed hands and removed the blade even before Ahren could withdraw his thrust. As the creature flung him to the side, Ahren somehow managed to maintain his grip on the sword, and struck out at one of its arms, severing a clawed hand. The creature roared in pain and fury, and belched another fireball at him, which he again dissipated with an air-shield. He threw himself at the stavek with all his force, bringing his sword down in a mighty overhead chop. Once again, his sword bit into the scales, but failed to accomplish any significant penetration. The beast batted him aside so hard that he lost his grip on his sword, and surely would have suffered broken ribs or worse, had it not been for his glowing Toshii armor. As it was, he had the wind knocked out of him. As he lay on the ground gasping for air, he looked over at his tiny wife, who fingered, "No be ashamed who you are, husband." He contemplated that for a split second before rolling out of the way of a deadly swiping claw. He pulled his sword to him on the wind, and it flew into his hands. He blocked another heavy blow by one of the stavek's powerful chalkai arms; then swiftly inflicted another wound upon the seemingly unbeatable creature.

Finally, the entire creature was in the room, its deadly venomous stinger now an available weapon. The stinger shot out at him so quickly that he didn't have time to move. It struck his breastplate and sent him flying backwards, crashing to the floor at Jhonkara's feet. "You are warlock," she fingered vigorously. "No be ashamed."

He winked at her and picked himself up off the floor again, then sent his sword crashing into the beast's side where it took out a small chunk of scale and flesh. He retrieved his sword just in time to intercept the stinger that was headed for Azura. He flung himself at the creature time and time again, each swing of his sword taking a small bite out of the scale and flesh that protected it from fatal injury. But these minor wounds, no matter their number, just didn't seem to be enough. He didn't have much experience fighting such powerful creatures of corrupt magic, and this battle was proving to be even more difficult than he had expected. Suddenly, a clawed hand gripped him by the neck and threw him to the floor, the stinger poised for a fatal attack to his face.

Ahren saw a blur, and the creature began screaming in agony. Lifting his head, he saw that Jhonkara had plunged her dagger into one of the wounds that he had previously created. But more importantly, she was hugging the creature like she could crush it in her arms. Inexplicably, she was glowing. Her whole body was luminous. She looked tired. She fingered at him, "Be who you are," and then collapsed to the ground. No longer in contact with the stavek, the glow had gone from her body.

Ahren was enraged that this hideous creature would dare hurt his wife. He willed a violent fireball into his right hand and hurled it at the stavek's head. It struck it cleanly in the face and blew its head into thousands of small, bloody, scaly pieces. The body collapsed to the floor, narrowly missing the fallen Jhonkara.

Ahren started to crawl over to her, but Azura beat him to her. She held her face near the girl's, and quickly announced, "She's still breathing."

Ahren felt an instant wave of relief wash over him, followed quickly by one of exhilaration. He finished making his way over to Jhonkara and gently lifted her head to cradle it lovingly in his hands. He kissed her softly on the mouth, and her eyes fluttered open. "What happened?" she fingered.

"It's dead," he told her.

"How?"

"A fireball."

She grinned tiredly at him and said, "See, I tell you be yourself," and then promptly fell soundly asleep.

Azura asked, "Is she going to be all right?"

"Yes, she'll be fine."

"Ahren, why did she glow when she touched that beast?"

"That beast is called a stavek. And I have no idea why she glowed."

"Are you sure she's not magical?" asked the elf.

Ahren slumped and said, tiredly, "Azura, I can't sense magic. I only know what she's told me: that she's not magic."

Surprised and awestruck by what he had witnessed, Rheese offered, "It sure looked like a magical glow to me."

Resting his forehead against the cold stone floor, Ahren could only utter, "I never knew those things were so hard to kill."

"You've seen them before?" asked Azura.

"Yes. They were more abundant when the Toshii lived. I assumed that the creatures had all died over the years. Apparently, I was wrong. Something has been keeping this thing alive."

Jhonkara suddenly awoke and sat up straight. "Why I tingling?" she asked Ahren.

"I have no idea, my love." Then, with concern, "Is it a bad tingle, or a good tingle."

"Good tingle, I think. Sort of tickles."

He laughed and gently punched her in the shoulder. "Thank you for disobeying me."

"You need me. I help," she said with pride.

Ahren slowly got to his feet and looked around for his sword. It was half hidden beneath the body of the stavek. With great effort, he wrenched it free and sheathed it. "I think – I hope –that was the last guardian of the gate. The sacrificial chamber must be near. We should proceed, quickly. Time is of the essence. The solstice noon nears."

# Chapter Nine

They burst through a trapdoor at the top of the stairs, the five of them rushing as one into the final chamber. This chamber was even smaller than the one they had just come from, and unlike the others they had fought through this day, it had many windows, and was open to the blue sky outside. Sunlight streamed in through the openings. Sitting near one of the windows, slowly rocking back and forth in her chair, was an old human woman.

Espen immediately tore his sword from its sheath and had it under the woman's chin before anyone else could react. The woman stopped her rocking, but otherwise seemed unfazed.

"Really, Prince Espen, you wouldn't slaughter an old, unarmed woman, would you?" she said in a weak, high-pitched voice.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"My name, young one, is Silesia," she said.

"But who are you? What are you doing here?" He pressed the sword tighter against her chin.

"I am a wizard, young one. I am Saskia's mother. As to what I am doing here, I am waiting. To be frank, none of us ever expected your little band to make it to the Keep, let alone gain entry. If we had, I would have posted more guards."

"Do you intend to try to kill us?"

"Oh, my heavens, no. I'm just waiting."

Ahren asked, "If you did not want us dead, then why is your Keep inhabited by monsters – including a stavek? They seemed very intent on keeping us from getting up here."

"Oh, that. Well, that was my daughter's doing. I told her that I disagreed, but she just wouldn't listen. She's very close to your Steward, you know."

"Our who?" asked Rheese.

"Your Steward, Mogens! Oh, that's right, you don't know, do you?"

"Know what?" asked Espen.

"That your father is dead. Mogens has been appointed Steward of Morovar until you return. If you return. Now really, put that sword down." She waved her hand and the sword turned into a snake. Espen quickly dropped it to the ground, stomping on its head with his boot.

"My father is dead?" he asked quietly. "How did he die?"

"I honestly don't know. I don't get much news up here, you see."

Ahren stepped closer. "What, exactly, are you waiting for, you old crone?"

"Crone! Such disrespect from a youngster. Shameful."

"What are you waiting for – madam?" he asked more pleasantly.

"Why, for you five, of course – such a shame that you lost the other one. Oh, well. That still leaves the six of us. I thought it would be so much fun for all of us to watch the world change from right up here, together."

Espen stepped in front of Ahren and grabbed the woman by the shoulders. "Where are my wife and child?"

"I don't know. I'm just an old woman in a keep." She waved her hand and Espen's armor dissolved away into dust. "Why should I know?"

"Because you're the Seer's mother! And a wizard! Surely you know things. Where is Princess Lien?" He shook her, hard.

Rheese said, "Sire, before you cause harm, even to one such as this – perhaps she really doesn't know."

"Oh, she knows. She's just not saying," growled Espen. He withdrew his dagger and pressed it against her chest. She waved her hand and it became a twig.

"I can do this all day, you know," she said with a gleam in her eye. He cast the twig out the window.

"You, come here, little one," she said, pointing at Jhonkara and motioning her closer.

Jhonkara hid behind Ahren's leg, fearful of the wizard.

"I promise, I have no intention of hurting you; you're quite special, you know." Ahren translated for Jhonkara, who slowly stepped out from behind him and bravely made her way over to the wizened old wizard. She stopped an arm's length away.

The woman raised her hand and pointed it at Jhonkara, who silently shrieked in alarm, but the hand began to move, the fingers wiggling – fingerspeak. She said, "Come closer, dear, I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to hurt any of you."

Jhonkara replied, "I no trust. You live in bad place."

"My, where did you learn fingerspeak? It's abominable. Never mind. Just come here. Come here or I'll turn that pretty little dress of yours into – how about cheese?"

Jhonkara looked back at Ahren who told her, "I'll keep you safe, my love." She smiled weakly and walked the rest of the way to the old woman.

"Now go ahead, touch me," the woman said both aloud and in fingerspeak.

Jhonkara slowly reached out with a single finger and touched the woman on the back of the hand. Immediately, the woman gasped and the little dwarf began to glow. The woman cackled in delight.

"It's true!" she exclaimed. "The prophecy is being fulfilled!"

"What prophecy?" demanded Ahren. "Why is my wife glowing?"

The woman moved her hand away from Jhonkara's finger, which immediately stopped glowing, as did the rest of her.

"You really don't know?" she said with an accusatory tone. "Well if you don't know, why should I be the one to say? But your wife carries many great things within her."

"Wonderful. Now why does she glow when she touches you?"

"She glowed when she touched the stavek, didn't she?"

"Yes," Ahren said, hesitantly.

"Don't you see a pattern there?"

Ahren paused, trying to think of similarities. Slowly, he said, "Both of you are creatures of magic."

"Well," said the old woman, striking the arm of her chair with a fist, "now we're getting somewhere. Your diminutive little wife is a magical reservoir. A sink. When she touches objects of magic, she draws the magic into her, and it remains within her unless tapped. Her kind is very, very rare. Only one or two are born every millennia. But, usually, they have magical powers."

"Jhonkara is not a magical being. She knows nothing of magic."

Rheese asked, "If she drains magic, then why can she touch you, Ahren?"

Ahren held his head in his hands and said, "Because, for the last time, I'm not magical. I merely tap into the powers of nature."

Jhonkara slowly backed up until she was standing even with Ahren, and took hold of his hand. "What she say?" she asked.

"She says that you are some kind of magical reservoir. That you drain magic out of magical things."

"That silly. I not magical," she said, pursing her lips.

Espen lost patience with this needless conversation, and shook the old woman violently. "Where are my wife and child?"

"You won't believe me!"

"Yes I will!"

"You won't want to hear it!"

"Tell me, you old crone, or I'll cast you over the side!" Espen screamed at her.

"It doesn't matter, you're too late!" she screamed back in a suddenly strong voice.

"Tell him, or I will destroy you," Ahren said matter-of-factly, bouncing a ball of fire in his right hand.

The wizard stared at Ahren for a long while, and then breathlessly said, "You – you aren't human? No. You. Legends."

Espen shook her again, demanding, "Where are my wife and child?"

The old woman began to cackle madly, and said, "Cirunel. The Chamberlain's – I'm sorry, the Steward's – tower." Noting the position of the sun, she said, "or at least they were. I assume that by now they've been taken to the throne room for the sacrifice. I told you, you're too late!" She laughed maniacally and struggled to free herself from Espen's grasp.

"You'll never trouble anyone again, wizard," Espen growled with poison in his voice. Then he picked her up by her shoulders and heaved the woman out the window. The rest of the party ran to the window and watched her descend until she was but a dot in their vision, impacting hard against the basalt floor below.

Jhonkara tugged on Ahren's sleeve and asked, "Why she no float to ground like us? She magic."

Ahren got down on one knee, explaining, "She was a wizard, my love. Wizards can only manipulate objects. They can't do what I can do. I can't do what they can do. You'll see that there are many types of mage in Nordanfel. Each caste's powers are unique."

To Espen, he said, "You shouldn't have done that. We have no proof that she did anything wrong."

"I'm standing here in my armor padding, with no weapons save this small knife in my boot, and you're not sure she did anything wrong? You're daft, man!" In a softer voice, Espen continued, "Besides, she said that we're too late. It will take us weeks to get back to Cirunel." Rheese laid a comforting hand on his Prince's shoulder.

Azura said, "He's right, Ahren. The mother and child aren't here. The solstice beckons. We've failed."

"Look," said Ahren. "We all know where we need to be. Back in Cirunel. I haven't given up yet." He lifted Jhonkara up onto the windowsill, and then climbed up and sat next to her, his legs dangling in thin air. "Have the rest of you truly given up? Or will you join me in the final battle?"

"What in Nordanfel are you doing?" said Azura.

"I'm going to Cirunel, to save the Princess and her child. Jhonkara's coming with me." The little dwarf wrapped her arms around his neck.

Azura, Espen and Rheese all looked at him as if he were crazy. "Well," said Azura, "if you're going to Cirunel, then what are you doing sitting on the ledge? We need to go down and return to the horses."

"No, we don't. The horses have served their purpose. Now we need a faster way to travel."

Rheese asked with awe, "You can teleport us there?"

"Of course not! Don't be absurd. I'm a warlock, not a temporal wizard."

"Then how, in the names of the gods, do you propose we get there in time?" asked Espen.

"Fly."

"Fly?" the rest of the party said as one.

"Yes, that's what I said. Fly. Or more accurately, ride the wind."

The Prince's face became bright red. "If you can just fly us around, why did we take the time and effort to travel here on horses? We lost Teneyck!"

"Because, as I have previously explained, it goes against the Toshii code to use one's powers when they aren't necessary. We made it here. They weren't necessary. Now they are."

"You're damn right they are! Why, I'll see you hang for this! Refusing aid to a member of the royal family on urgent business! I'll have you drawn and quartered! I'll – " he was cut off as Rheese stepped between the two men, holding up a quieting hand to his Prince.

"Perhaps," he said, "we should just ask what we need to do to – fly – to Cirunel."

"Makes sense," muttered Azura.

"All you need do is take hold of my hand, or a piece of my clothing – don't let go – and we'll be in Cirunel before you even realize you're riding the wind," Ahren said.

Azura climbed up into the big box window and took hold of his left hand, smiling at Jhonkara as she did so. Rheese scurried to take hold of his right hand. Espen's temper calmed and he moved into the window behind Ahren, taking hold of his shoulders, his hands on either side of Jhonkara's arms.

"Let's go," Azura said.

"Just watch the first step, everyone. It can be a little tricky with this much weight." Ahren leaned forward and fell off of the towering Keep, the rest of the party holding on and falling with him.

* * *

Lien screamed again from her position tied into Espen's throne. They had her child. A sacrificial altar made of cedar had been dragged into the throne room, and now sat squarely in the center of the Keep. Her little baby boy was laid out, naked, face-up on the unyielding surface. She screamed again. She had long since run out of coherent thoughts to scream at these people, these two monsters. She just screamed, praying that someone would hear her and discover the unspeakable horror about to be done. But after half an hour of screaming, she was giving up hope. Saskia stood behind her, maddeningly stroking her hair and cooing into her ear, the same way that Lien had done with her son.

Mogens swept into the throne room from his tower door, resplendent in purple robes of royalty and magic. He carried a cruel-looking wave-bladed dagger in one hand, a white cloth in the other. The dagger's hilt was blood red, its blade black with silver inlay. When Lien saw him, her frenzied screaming resumed as she struggled in vain against the magical bonds that held her helpless in the throne.

The Steward of Morovar walked up to the Seer and gave her a long, deep, passionate kiss, before tearing himself away and holding the dagger up to Lien's eyes.

"With this blade, My Lady, I shall become immortal and invincible. Life everlasting will be mine. Power without bound will be mine. All thanks to you and your idiot husband, who was kind enough to provide the seed for the child. Do you wonder where is he now, My Lady? He is at the Keep of Savanod, either dead or dying. But do not bother yourself to mourn his loss; for soon, you will join him in death. But I do so want you to see this, first. I want you to witness the great things that your son will do for me."

He turned on his heel, indifferent to Lien's screaming, and glided over to the altar. Lien turned her head away, but Saskia grabbed it and forced her to look at the sacrifice. With the hilt of the dagger gripped tightly in both hands, Mogens raised the blade above his head. He looked at Lien with one final sneer and brought the evil blade down swiftly upon the helpless child. Lien screamed in anguish and horror. Saskia laughed with delight. Mogens released the dagger, and it stayed upright, having been driven completely through the child's body and deep into the wooden surface of the altar. Slowly, very slowly, Mogens began to glow, and wisps of something ethereal flew from the baby's body and into his. He began to laugh, a low, disturbing sound, like metal grating on stone. "It is done!" he screamed. "The prophecy is fulfilled!"

Lien slumped in the throne – sobbing hysterically, unable to breath, and mercifully oblivious to Saskia's laughter and hand clapping. "I am to be mistress to the most powerful man in Nordanfel!" yelled the Seer.

"Yes, yes you will," cooed Mogens to the excited woman. He then let another dagger slide out of his sleeve hilt-first, and handed it to Saskia. "Kill me."

The Seer looked at him curiously at first, but then smiled evilly and took the dagger in her hands. One quick motion brought it up under his rib cage and into his heart, a killing blow. Or rather, what should have been a killing blow. But instead of collapsing, Mogens simply started to laugh again. "I do not feel even the slightest pain!" he exclaimed. "I really am immortal!" He yanked the dagger out of his chest, grabbed Saskia roughly by her long brown hair, and kissed her brutally. She yielded and pressed her scantily clad body up against his.

Suddenly, he felt a thud in his back. Followed by another. And another. He broke away from Saskia just in time to hear Lien whisper, "Espen?"

Mogens spun savagely, just as Rheese's mighty broadsword – in Espen's hands – descended on his head, splitting it neatly in two. He fell to the ground, more out of surprise than anything else. Saskia's mother had assured them that the Prince would die! That lying whore! He should have known better than to trust a wizard.

Before Espen's eyes, Mogens regained his feet, his skull knitting itself back together as if it had never been separated, fusing in a flash of light. "Hello, dear Prince," Mogens said. His hand reached out toward Espen and a lightning bolt shot out, hurling the Prince ten yards and throwing him to the floor. Lien repeatedly screamed Espen's name.

After enjoying the pain he had just inflicted on the Prince, Mogens looked around the room and saw that the whole party had returned. He briefly wondered how they had accomplished that, but cast the thought aside as he surveyed his enemies – one armed but wounded Prince, one dwarf with a dagger, one elf with a crossbow, one miniature dwarf with an exquisite chest, and one human-looking man in glowing armor. Well. Quite an assortment, he thought. This should be fun.

He gripped his dagger – wet with his own blood – in his left hand, and extended his right hand toward the dwarf with the dagger. Another lightning bolt shot out, striking Rheese squarely in the chest. Fortunately, his armor blunted the blow, but the power of the strike was still enough to send him skidding backwards along the marble floor.

The man in the glowing armor was coming forward. As Mogens picked iron bolts out of his chest with one hand, he fired a lighting bolt at the strange man with the other. The lightening bolt struck the armor and dissipated like steam, briefly causing the armor's glow to intensify. But the man didn't even slow his steady, determined progress. Mogens reached out and tried to turn the man's armor to dust, but it wouldn't morph. He settled for disintegrating the man's shirt and pants. Undeterred, Ahren continued his advance, a brightly glowing green sword in one hand, a brilliantly luminous green dagger in the other.

Espen rolled to his feet and ran toward his wife, his sword raised in a guard position. Suddenly, Saskia reached behind the lesser throne and pulled a sword from its back. She advanced on the Prince, assailing him with a flurry of blows; all of which he blocked, but only barely.

Mogens jumped down from the platform upon which the thrones were situated. He fired another lightning bolt at Ahren, and another, and another; but all of them dissipated against that damnable armor. Soon the man was within striking range with his sword. What was his name? Aaron? Erwin? Something like that. Well, it didn't matter. The man didn't even know that he had no chance of survival. The very thought made Mogens stop in his tracks and laugh again.

Ahren closed the final gap between them and thrust his brilliantly glowing sword through Mogens' neck. He leapt forward and shoved the dagger between Mogens' ribs, cleaving his heart. For good measure, he punched him in the face. Mogens should have died. Would have died. Had it not been for the sacrifice of Lien's baby. Instead, he simply fell to the floor for just a moment, and then picked himself back up again - with both weapons sticking clean through his body. He fired another lightning bolt, this time at the man's unprotected head, and watched with glee as the man was cast violently to the marble.

Rheese appeared out of nowhere and shoved his dagger through Mogens' head, letting out a "hurrah" of triumph. But his victory was short-lived, as Mogens simply pulled the dagger from his head and threw it to the floor. Then he sent another lightning bolt – a much larger lightning bolt – at the Captain of the Guard. It blew a great hole in his breastplate, and seared his skin. Rheese fell, hit his head against the marble, and was rendered unconscious.

The human-looking man was almost on him again. Mogens yanked the two mysteriously glowing weapons from his body and threw them to the ground. He caught a powerful right hook across the jaw, but recovered quickly and shoved both hands forward, sending a force-blast of energy at the man. The man in the glowing armor was struck solidly, flew across the room, and was battered against the wall. But he immediately climbed to his feet, seemingly unscathed. Mogens was intrigued. That blow would have killed any other man. How interesting.

Then Ahren did something that truly shocked Mogens. The warlock hurled a fireball at him. It caught him squarely in the chest, and actually hurt. His flesh blistered, and his bones cracked – it was quite excruciating, really – but only for a moment. Soon, the bones knit themselves together again, and the skin healed over. Mogens was thrilled.

As Ahren rushed toward the evil Steward, he tried something else that Mogens did not expect. He hurled a wall of air at him, blowing him backwards and up onto the throne dais. It didn't hurt, but it was surprising. Who was this man? Sorcerer? Wizard? Somehow both? No matter, he'd soon be dead, and then Mogens could – his thoughts were cut off as a large fist crashed into the side of his head. Again, it didn't hurt, but it was surprising.

On the other side of the room, Espen and Saskia were locked in a deadly duel. Both had cuts on their bodies. Both bore puncture wounds. Espen fought with the ferocity of a man defending his wife and avenging his son. Saskia fought with the ferocity of an insane woman defending her future. They were well matched. Suddenly, Saskia went down, without a blow from Espen. She started screaming. Espen saw that Jhonkara had crashed into the woman's legs and wrapped her arms around them, taking her to the floor. Now, Jhonkara was glowing brightly, though she didn't seem to realize it. Saskia dropped her sword, her hands writhing in agony as the magic was sucked out of her body. Espen saw his opening and lunged with Rheese's sword, thrusting from under Saskia's chin and driving deeply into her brain, killing her. Jhonkara's eyes were tightly shut, so she simply continued to hang on. Espen's thoughts instantly turned from Jhonkara as he rushed to free his wife.

Azura had dropped the crossbow to her side, seeing that it was doing no good, and rushed to aid the fallen Rheese, who was only now beginning to regain consciousness.

Ahren and Mogens remained locked in mortal combat. Ahren set fire to Mogens' hair, but the Steward seemed not to notice. Mogens grabbed the glowing green dagger on the floor, and thrust it at Ahren, but the blade was stopped by chain mail in the joint of the armor. Over and over, their powers clashed with indescribable ferocity, neither able to triumph over the other. Ahren attacked Mogens with a powerful wall of wind, and Mogens met the onslaught with his force-blast of energy. Both men flew apart, crashing into the walls.

Ahren regained his feet first, and began hurling fireball after fireball at the Steward. All of them struck home, but did minimal damage, serving only to keep Mogens off his feet. The archmage sent a massive lightning bolt toward Ahren, who dodged it at the last second. The bolt struck the solid wall of stone and exploded it into the adjoining feasting hall. As Ahren dodged, Mogens got to his feet, and hid behind the great throne.

Ahren ran toward the dais, continuing to dodge most of the lightning bolts and energy balls that were thrown his way, and allowing his armor to absorb the rest. He reached the throne and began a futile match of feint-dodge-attack, with Mogens remaining beyond his reach on the opposite side of the throne, no matter which way – or how fast – Ahren moved. Realizing his efforts were useless, he tapped into his powers over nature; once again he took Mogens completely by surprise, this time grabbing the arms of the King's royal throne and dissolving the entire thing away into a flush of water, which spilled across the dais and all over Mogens' robes.

Mogens paused as his makeshift shield disappeared. Ahren saw his opportunity and leapt on him, crushing him to the floor beneath his armor. But Mogens merely triumphed, "You can't kill me! I'm immortal."

As they continued to wrestle for superiority, Ahren said, "You're right. I can't kill you. But the end is not always death." Then he grabbed Mogens by the top of his skull, and flecks of black, white, and pink began to appear all over the dwarf's body, their density more concentrated closer to Ahren's hand. Mogens' movements slowed, then stopped. Veins of white began to expand downward from Ahren's hand and extended throughout the man's body. Mogens' face was frozen in a stone rictus of horror as he became a living granite statue. Every smallest detail of his face and robes was cast in stone.

"I know you're still alive in there," Ahren said. "Enjoy the immortality you so lusted after." Then he turned and surveyed the room, searching for Jhonkara.

Azura still cradled the injured Rheese's head in her hands, but he looked like he would make a full recovery.

Espen and Lien were in a deep embrace; Lien sobbing loudly, Espen whispering comforting words in her ear.

Jhonkara was no longer glowing, but she was still tightly wrapped around the dead Seer's legs. Ahren hurried over to her and carefully put his hands on her armored shoulders and pried her away. Only when she felt his hands did she open her eyes to see that Espen had succeeded with Rheese's sword. The vile woman was dead. Jhonkara gave Ahren a quick hug and then pointed to the bloody altar where the child's body lay impaled. "You fix?"

Ahren shook his head sadly. "No. I told you the story of Kalia. I cannot heal the dead. Not even if I drain the life-force from all of Morovar. I'm sorry. I am worse than useless. I am responsible for the child's death. I allowed my past mistake to pervert my judgment. Had I transported us immediately to the Keep of Savanod, we surely would have returned in time to save the child." He sat down on the dais next to the new granite statue of Mogens and placed Jhonkara on his lap. He hugged her, seeking comfort he knew he did not deserve, as he listened to Lien's sobs. He had failed. The child of the prophecy was dead.

Jhonkara kissed him and stroked his hair. "Remember. You not magic. You not know. Maybe flying first not change anything." Then, not understanding what had just happened, she asked, "How kill Mogens? Thought was invincible."

"Well," he told her, "with the sacrifice of the child, he became immortal, not invincible - a subtle but important distinction. In fact, his eternal life-force lives on in the stone. He'll spend eternity immobile, staring at whatever his keepers choose to point his eyes at."

"Oh. That too bad. For baby, I mean."

"Yes, it is. It's too bad for the baby, for his parents, and for all of Nordanfel, even though none knew the child's importance. If only I – wait a moment. Jhonkara, you're a magical reservoir, right?"

She looked at him and shrugged. "I just Jhonkara."

"What if you were to touch the statue that imprisons Mogens' life-force; and then I were to hold onto your hand? Could we combine our powers to heal the baby? Do you think you could be a magical conduit to transfer the infinite life-force to the child in order to revive him?"

"Don't know. Don't really understand."

"Espen!" he called. "Come over here. Now!"

The Prince reluctantly broke away from his wife's embrace and left her sobbing in his throne. He struggled across the dais until he was standing over Ahren and Jhonkara. "What could you possibly want from me?" he asked, the pain in his voice bearing further evidence of his devastation.

"Rheese is hurt and cannot help me. We must move this statue – body – Mogens."

"Have you gone mad? You want me to move this – this thing, now, while my child lies dead, and my wife sits grief stricken?"

"I'm trying to save your child!" Ahren shouted at him. "The longer we delay, the less chance we have that the transfer might succeed."

Espen was too numb to realize that he should care, but too much in shock to argue further. He grabbed one granite leg as Ahren grabbed the other, and they pulled Mogens down off the dais with a crash, and dragged him over to the altar. Lien slowly composed herself enough to get up and go to her baby. Heartbroken and beyond despair, she needed to bathe her son and wrap him in warm, soft blankets.

Ahren guided the positioning of Mogens to exactly where he thought the statue needed to stand; then with gentle compassion, he asked Espen to hold his wife back from the altar and her son. Finally ready to proceed, he instructed: "Jhonkara, please stand right there. Now touch me. Good, the reach is perfect. I can hold your hand and touch the baby as well. All is ready. May the gods look kindly upon our efforts to revive this innocent child of peace." Faster than anyone could ask him to explain himself, he ripped the sacrificial blade from the baby's body and dropped it to the floor.

"What are you doing, desecrating my son!" cried Espen. "Let us care for him."

"Wait," said Ahren anxiously. Then, "All right, Jhonkara, touch Mogens." She did, hesitantly, and immediately she began to glow brightly, more fiercely than ever before. He reached out and took her other hand in his. Nothing. That was good. Then, with the care of a fine jeweler, he placed his free hand over the baby's body. His hand began to glow. Incredibly, the gruesome dagger wound began to heal itself. It was soon gone, leaving no trace behind. But the baby was still dead.

Ahren closed his eyes and could feel himself pumping life-force into the child, just as he had with Kalia. Except this time, nobody died. He kept the transfer of immortal life-force flowing into the child's body like water from one of Cirunel's faucets. Still nothing happened. He could feel Jhonkara's hold starting to slip, and he grabbed her hand harder to keep from losing the connection. She winced, but held on. Finally, he felt a subtle change. Everything was the same, yet something was different. It was as though he was forcing not just life-force, but life itself into the baby. It reminded him of lighting a fire by conventional means; you could try and try, but until the spark took and the fire blazed, there was no warmth.

Then suddenly, the child started to cry, its screams growing stronger with each breath.

Ahren let go of Jhonkara's hand, and she immediately snatched her touch away from the stone Mogens. She stopped glowing as soon as she dropped her hand from the statue. Opening his eyes slowly, Ahren saw movement. The baby was kicking its little feet in the air and flailing its tiny arms; screaming with life. Espen and Lien were looking on, completely immobilized by their astonishment and confusion.

Ahren awkwardly lifted the baby from the altar and handed it gently to its mother, who took her son with grateful sobs. Espen briefly clasped hands with Ahren, then cuddled close to his wife, caressing the baby between himself and Lien, the family crying as one, though none more loudly than the little child.

Ahren turned and looked at Jhonkara. She was crying silent tears. He took her hand and kissed it, saying, "You did very well, my love. This must have been what the wizard meant when she said that you carried great things."

Azura was crying as well, while still tending to the injured Rheese, who managed a smile. Ahren and Jhonkara walked over to where Rheese and the elf were sitting, leaving the happy royal family alone. Azura and Jhonkara watched Ahren as he worked on Rheese, healing his burns and knitting his bones.

Suddenly, there was a crash, as the door to the throne room was flung open. Ahren and Azura immediately got to their feet, and Espen reached for the sword that no longer hung at his side.

"Oh, thank the gods, you've defeated them!"

Espen's face revealed his suspicion as he looked at the speaker. "Capet?"

"Yes, Your Highness! It is I, Capet! Oh, happy day. I was pressed into service by those two evil creatures. Now I'm free to serve you, humbly, once more."

Espen looked at Lien, who returned a wary look.

Ahren and Azura exchanged glances, but said nothing.

Espen said, "It is good to be back. Tell me, Capet, what knowledge have you of the state of the kingdom?"

"We are at war, Your Highness."

"At war!"

"Yes, my Prince – my King. Mogens ordered the Lord High Marshall to send armies into Visonia and the Dimwood. He intended to take both human and elven lands."

"And you had nothing to do with this."

"Oh, of course not, my King. I remain loyal to the royal family, always!"

"I see. Very well. Send for the Lord High Marshall immediately. We need to transmit urgent word by carrier pigeons to put an end to this nonsense."

"Yes, My Lord. Immediately, My Lord."

Capet turned and scampered out of the room; not, however, before Ahren almost thought he saw the half-eared little human glare at him.

* * *

That night, Ahren and Jhonkara enjoyed their first real bed together. A royal bed, at that, Espen having put them up in a royal guest room. Azura was in an adjoining room, undoubtedly stretching out her long elven frame on – or rather beyond - one of the dwarf-sized down mattresses.

Jhonkara was luxuriating in the warmth of the down-and-woolen comforter that graced the bed. With a great big grin, she ran a finger up and down Ahren's bare chest. She fingered to him, "Smile! You do much good today."

He did smile, but only briefly. "I feel like I'm missing something right under my nose. Maybe more than one thing. I don't know. I should probably just enjoy our time here, shouldn't I?"

"Probably," Jhonkara said. Then asked, "Can I have another pickle?"

Ahren rolled over and grabbed a pickle out of the jar, dangling it just out of his wife's reach.

She called him something untranslatable from fingerspeak, and he laughed and gave her the pickle, which she devoured.

"Well, my love," he said, "I hope that you don't get too used to this comfort. I'm afraid that I don't have a down mattress back home. I do have fur blankets, though."

In between bites, she fingered, "I not care. I no need fancy bed. Just you."

He waited for her to finish her pickle, then pulled her close and turned out the oil lamp that had been lighting the bedchamber.

* * *

The next morning, Espen ordered a royal breakfast feast prepared for Lien and himself, Jhonkara, Ahren, Azura, and Rheese. With Lien and the rescue party gathered in celebration, the King announced that Ahren and Jhonkara had been named the godparents of the new Prince. The proud new godparents promised to fulfill their duties as thoroughly as possible, and then everyone set about enjoying the friendship and food. Jhonkara attacked the meal delicately but ravenously, as if she'd never had bacon before in her life. Capet scurried solicitously around the banquet table, hurrying away drinks and plates.

Rheese spoke up. "Your Majesty, where do you intend on placing the Mogens statue?"

"Oh, out in the courtyard, I think," said Espen. "I should like to see the pigeons befoul him daily."

"Please, Espen. I don't want that soulless beast anywhere that I can see him," said Lien.

"Your Majesty, I think that your wife is right," said Ahren. "You should lock that statue in the deepest, darkest, most secure catacomb that you can find. Even a stone archmage is a dangerous thing. Remember, he still lives."

"Very well, Master Ahren. His eternity shall be spent in such a place, even if we need to construct it especially for him. You well know the expertise of our stonemasons. His statue shall be secured."

Lien watched Jhonkara with great interest as the little dwarf devoured plate after plate of food. Her curiosity peaked even more a few minutes later when Jhonkara turned abruptly in her seat and unceremoniously and abashedly vomited into her napkin – it being thankfully large for her diminutiveness.

"Are you all right, sweetheart?" Ahren asked.

"I be fine," Jhonkara answered, her face flushing with embarrassment.

Lien whispered something to Espen and then walked around the table and crouched near Jhonkara, her slender human figure towering over the tiny dwarf. In a move that surprised everyone at the table, Lien said something to Jhonkara in fingerspeak. The dwarf immediately hopped down off of her chair and followed Lien to a far corner of the room.

Lien sat down cross-legged on the floor, which put her more even with Jhonkara's eye level. She asked in fingerspeak, "Jhonkara, you lovely little lady, may I ask you some personal questions?"

Jhonkara nodded.

"First of all, I must ask, though proper decorum causes me to hesitate – you and Ahren are – completely, ah, that is to say, physically, man and wife, are you not?"

Jhonkara blushed and nodded again, gazing at the floor.

"Forgive me for asking, but it was very important. Have you noticed a more acute sense of smell lately?"

Jhonkara nodded and said, "Smell things no one else smells."

"Have you been craving certain foods? Perhaps ones that you wouldn't usually eat?"

Jhonkara didn't have to think about that. "Want lots pickles and bacon."

Lien took a deep breath before asking the last question. "Have you been vomiting often, even though you're hungry and don't feel ill?"

"Yes, everyday. Mostly in morning. Stomach sick, but I no feel bad. Sometimes feel very tired."

"Jhonkara?"

"Yes, Princess Lien?"

Lien fingered the next statement as delicately as she possibly could. "I think that you're pregnant. Those are the same symptoms of morning sickness that I experienced when I first became pregnant."

Jhonkara looked at Lien for a second, then her eyes rolled backwards, and she passed out.

Lien caught her before her head hit the floor.

Ahren, who had been watching out of the corner of his eye, ran over to his wife.

"What happened? What were you talking about?" he begged.

"We were speaking of women's issues," said Lien. "If she wants to share our discussion with you, I'm sure she will when she feels the time is right."

"Women's issues?" asked Ahren, not expecting any answer to his question. He received none.

Lien walked slowly back to the table, kissed her husband on the cheek, and resumed her meal.

"Is she ill?" asked Azura.

"No, she'll be fine," said Ahren. "She's just passed out. I'm sure she'll come to in a minute. Look, her color is coming back already. She's beginning to open her eyes."

Jhonkara woke up in his arms and gave him a smile like none he had ever seen upon her beautiful face before. To be honest, he really didn't know what it signified. He bent down to kiss her, and she met him halfway. "You put down now. I stand fine," she said.

Ahren set her carefully down on the floor, and she hurried back to her chair. He saw her finger, "Thank you," to Lien, and wondered what in the world was going on.

"Is there something I should know?" he asked, sitting down.

"Eventually, I expect it will be obvious," Lien said with a smile.

Ahren shook his head. Women of all races were mysterious. He wondered why that had to be so. Did they derive some hidden amusement from befuddling men? Oh well.

* * *

A few days later, Ahren, Jhonkara, and Azura were readying a pair of exquisite Striders from the royal stables. They were gifts from Espen and Lien, who stood holding their healthy baby boy between them. Jhonkara had her own pack this time, stocked full of brand new dresses that Lien had ordered specially tailored for her peculiar shape, and cleverly designed to accommodate and conceal a growing belly. Ahren had stowed his weapons and armor, and accepted the gift of three new sets of clothes from Espen. They were rather snug, but it was better than going around naked, after Mogens had turned his clothing to dust. Azura had politely refused any gift, saying that it wouldn't be right for a diplomat to accept favors. Her acceptance of a Strider, as thrilled as she was with the magnificent horse, was already pushing the bounds of diplomatic protocol.

Azura mounted up and began double-checking the straps holding her equipment in place. Ahren went to help Jhonkara up the rope ladder, but she stopped him. "I have favor to ask," she fingered.

"Of course, sweetheart. What do you want?" asked Ahren.

"You sure you not mind favor?"

"I promise. What is it?"

"I want go with Azura. Live with elves. Not forever. Just about year or so."

Ahren was surprised. He had been expecting another request for pickles, not a request to change where they would call home, even for just a year. But he gladly replied, "If that is what you want, then that is what we shall do. Would you like to at least take a look at our place near Duran?"

"We see when go by. For now, live with Azura and elves."

"Shantenaral is a very strange place, my love. Are you sure?"

"I sure."

"Well then, let's make our change of plans known." To Azura, he said, "Lady elf, at my wife's request, we'll be accompanying you back to Shantenaral."

Azura smiled a knowing smile at Lien and nodded. "That's fine with me, Master Ahren. You can help keep me out of trouble during the long journey home. Just be sure your wife knows that we have precious few pickles in Shantenaral."

"I'll let her know." He pointed to Azura and nodded, and Jhonkara jumped into the air and clapped her hands.

"Are you sure there isn't something that I should know?" he asked no one in particular.

It was Lien who chose to answer him, responding as cryptically as she had following Jhonkara's fainting spell during the recent celebratory breakfast feast, "If nothing else, it will become obvious with time."

Ahren could do nothing but accept his befuddlement.

Jhonkara scrambled up the ladder and settled into a newly woven seat. Ahren shrugged to Espen – only to find that he wore a knowing smile not unlike his wife's – thanked him again for his hospitality, and settled into the saddle. Soon, they were off; this time, Ahren content to rein his Strider in to follow Azura's to Shantenaral.

# Chapter Ten

With the possible exception of the nymphs' grove in the Dimwood, Shantenaral was far and away the most majestic place that Jhonkara had ever seen; or ever imagined. The mighty grenoia trees - densely packed and thirty yards wide at their bases - soared hundreds of yards into the sky. It was high up in these trees that the elves of Shantenaral lived. Their enormous city spread its way through the canopy like tendrils of ivy. The massive tree trunks were hollowed out to form living spaces, gathering rooms, granaries, and the like. Like Cirunel, Shantenaral had running water and a sewer system. Unlike Cirunel, all of the water came from enchanted sources high in the trees – everyone in Nordanfel knew that many elves were master enchanters.

Jhonkara had struggled to keep up on the elven-sized stairs as Ahren and Azura had carried their packs up the long, winding staircases that brought them to the promenade level of the city. Everywhere she looked, color flourished. Bright reds and greens and yellows clashed beautifully in a cacophony of sights. Though she couldn't hear them, it seemed that everywhere she looked, she saw musicians with lutes, fiddles, and horns of every imagination. She could feel the beat of the big bass drum pounding through her bones. She had been hesitant to make the long climb into the trees when they had arrived from Cirunel, but she was glad that she had faced her fear.

Azura had told them that it would be rather unusual to have a dwarf living in Shantenaral. Ahren would fit in well enough because, with the exception of his ears, he could pass for a short human. But Jhonkara; well, the presence of a dwarf in Shantenaral would be a rarity. Dwarfs just weren't seen in the city. One as short as Jhonkara was even more unusual. Thankfully, sharp elven eyesight compensated for this unexpectedness and ensured that no one ran into her; instead, the elves who encountered her simply said something that looked polite, and went around. Still, Jhonkara felt very tiny in Shantenaral, and held onto her husband's leg as throngs of elves passed by, going about their daily business of selling, trading, buying, and simply living.

Ahren spoke very little to anyone aside from Jhonkara and Azura. Curiously, although he never left Jhonkara's side, he seemed to disappear into the shadows wherever they went. Jhonkara assumed that his disappearing act was another warlock power. After all, if he could make a rescue party invisible on the open plains of Savanod, why couldn't he blend into the shadows of the elven kingdom? She briefly pondered the full extent of Ahren's powers and, though she said nothing to her husband, she secretly wondered if their child would carry the powers of the Toshii. If it did, she certainly hoped that it didn't choose to use them in the womb.

Looking up at her companion, Jhonkara noticed that here in Shantenaral, Azura no longer looked unusually tall. As she left Ahren and Jhonkara to fulfill her promise to secure quarters for them by sundown, which was rapidly approaching, Azura simply fit in with everyone else. She moved from one elf to another, embracing each, and giving a brief description of her adventures since she had last left Shantenaral. Jhonkara knew the official debriefing before the High Council of Elders would begin the evening of the next day; and all three of them were expected to testify. She hoped that she could adequately explain their adventures in fingerspeak. If nothing else, she reasoned, Ahren could translate for her.

Azura eventually returned from her outing, with directions to temporary quarters for Jhonkara and Ahren. Her home was here in the city, of course, but it really wasn't meant to accommodate three. Besides, her friends were newlyweds, and as such, proper decorum dictated that they have their own private accommodations. The elf took Jhonkara by the hand and led the couple on what seemed to Jhonkara to be an endless maze of swaying bridges and arched walkways. Eventually, they reached a grenoia near the center of the city. It was the most massive tree that Jhonkara had ever seen. Easily thirty yards across, even at this height, it had been hollowed out to form an inn of sorts. It had at least one hundred rooms, each one easily as spacious as five or six rooms of the Duran Inn combined, thought Jhonkara. It smelled of living wood, of sap, though she could see none staining the walls. Azura escorted them up yet another flight of stairs and led them directly to their room. Jhonkara gasped when she looked inside. It was even more regal than the royal chambers that she and Ahren had stayed in after defeating Mogens. A large four-poster bed draped in gossamer fabric occupied the center of the far wall. Its mattress was half a yard thick, and though it felt like an enchanted cloud, it was presumably of down. Atop the silken sheets, the mattress was covered in blankets of all sorts - woolen, quilted, furs, and even a large down comforter. On one interior wall was a huge elf-sized vanity with a floor-to-ceiling mirror. Jhonkara surreptitiously stood sideways to it, wondering if anyone else could see that her belly was slowly beginning to grow. Two chests of drawers, again sized for an elf, shared the wall with the entry door. Jhonkara would be able to use the lower two shelves, but unless she wanted to climb, that would be all she could reach. However, she reasoned, even with the beautiful dresses Lien had commissioned for her, she didn't have that much in the way of material goods anyway. She looked over at her husband and smiled. She didn't care about her wardrobe. He was all she needed.

As Ahren and Azura discussed the formalities of the coming hearing, Jhonkara walked over to the window. It was huge, and she was afraid to get too close to it for fear of falling out. Very carefully, she looked out over the edge, through the maze of grenoias, and down to the forest floor hundreds of yards below. The only time she'd even been this high had been in the Keep of Savanod, and that was a memory she'd just as soon forget. She smiled, noticing that some enterprising elf had planted a soaring garden of birch and elm up here in the canopy. Though large trees themselves, they were quite dwarfed by the sheer incredible presence of the grenoias.

Stepping away from the window, she collided with Ahren's legs. Looking up, she saw him smiling back at her. He knelt down, put an arm around her, and ushered her back over to the window.

"You know," he said, "the elves originally took to the trees because they were tired of being raided by the dwarves. Now, this valued tradition is their joyful lifestyle. We could stay here, if you want."

Jhonkara considered it for a moment, thought about her baby, then said, "I like here. Stay a while. Then go to home."

"Home is little more than a glorified cave, my love."

"Cave with you perfect. Better than busy city."

Ahren squeezed his wife and kissed her on the cheek.

The little dwarf carefully considered her next words. After deciding on exactly and precisely what she wanted to say, what actually cascaded from her fingers was, "Lots of children in city. They bigger than me. But they cute. Dwarf babies cute, too. Princess Lien and Azura think I pregnant."

Ahren nearly fell over, before collecting himself and asking, "What? How? I mean, I know how, but when? Oh. The Glade in Savanod? Was that it? Are you sure you're pregnant?"

"Don't know. Never been pregnant."

"The vomiting... the cravings... is that morning sickness?"

"That what Lien think."

Ahren gently pirouetted his wife around so that she was fully facing him, and then kissed her long and passionately on her lips. When he pulled away, he was grinning from ear to ear. "I'm going to be a father?" he asked.

"If Lien and Azura right. I not know yet. Maybe I just getting fat from pickles and bacon."

"Oh, sweetheart, I love you. You are my world. I couldn't ask for anything more than to have a child with you."

"Then you happy if I pregnant?" she asked.

"Of course! I'm elated!" Ahren stuck his head out the window and yelled at the top of his lungs, "My wife is pregnant!" His resonant tenor carried a good distance through the trees.

Jhonkara threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, tears of joy streaming down her face.

* * *

The debriefing by the High Council went well and fairly swiftly. The elves were surprised to find a living Toshii in their midst, and Azura vouched for both Ahren's honor and his integrity. He would never do unnecessary harm; and the narrative of their rescue adventure certainly upheld her assertions. The elven council was also intrigued by the tiny dwarf. None of them had ever actually seen a female dwarf before, since they usually keep themselves invisible to strangers. When they learned that she was pregnant, they insisted that she and Ahren stay in their care at least through the birth, and warmly welcomed the family to stay as long as they liked afterwards.

Jhonkara and Ahren settled into their spacious quarters, venturing out daily to explore the city. Jhonkara even took up the lute, and though she couldn't hear it herself, she trusted Azura's instruction as to whether or not she was plucking the correct notes. She discovered that it was pleasantly relaxing to feel the vibration of the instrument beneath her fingers. And it took her mind off of the childbirth, an event of which she was utterly terrified. Azura promised that she would act as one of the midwives, and that elven medicine was the best in all Nordanfel. She would be in good hands.

As her pregnancy continued, Jhonkara's girth steadily grew, until it surpassed even her extraordinary chest in size. She wondered if all children of the Toshii were this big when they were born. Were they born full-grown? Did it have something to do with the combination of greater Toshii size and the long, fourteen-month dwarven gestation? No matter how often Ahren kneaded her back, she couldn't find relief from the back pain of hauling her big belly around. She thought that she looked like one of the giant leather balls that the children at the orphanage would play games with. She was certain that she'd seen hippos in the waters of the Roanar that looked skinnier than she did. Nevertheless, Ahren's attention and devotion never strayed. In fact if anything, they grew stronger as she grew bigger, as he took on more and more responsibility for day-to-day activities, in addition to keeping her safe, happy, and healthy.

As they were lying in their luxurious bed one evening, she carefully rolled over onto her left side and asked, "What you think baby look like?"

"Now?"

"No. When born."

"I hope it takes after you. It deserves its mother's good looks."

"You look good too, Ahren!"

"Not as beautiful as you, my sweet."

"But what it look like? Dwarf? Toshii?"

"I really don't know," he said earnestly. "There's never been a Toshii-dwarf child before. I have no idea what to expect. I suppose the baby will favor each of us in different ways, just like any child. But no matter – I know the baby will be perfect."

"Wish I knew boy or girl. Don't know what color blanket sew."

"Why don't you go with a green that matches your beautiful eyes?"

"Be serious. Child not be green."

"That's not what I meant. But if you really want to know whether we're having a boy or a girl, I think that the elves have ways of determining that sort of thing. It's magical, though."

She gave a little shudder and said, "Had enough of magic for now. We see when it born."

"If you're sure, sweetheart."

"I sure." She laboriously rolled closer to him and gave him a long kiss before cuddling against his chest as much as she could, and falling rapidly asleep.

Ahren stayed up late into the night watching his wife breathe, each breath puffing a little wisp of russet hair from her face, only to have it fall back again. Three thousand years was a long time to wait for love to find him again; but the wait had definitely been worth it.

* * *

Ahren paced nervously outside the door, listening for sounds from within. The elves had been very insistent that no man was ever to be allowed into the birthing room. It took every ounce of Ahren's self-restraint to keep from rushing in and taking Jhonkara's pain away. Toshii women never felt pain; their husbands removed it for them while they were in labor. He sighed, resigning himself to Jhonkara's decision to experience a natural delivery. He thought it nothing less than natural torture.

Jhonkara's contractions had begun early the night before. Now it was almost twenty-four hours later, and the screaming that he could feel coming from Jhonkara was only getting worse. He wondered if such a long labor and delivery was an aspect of dwarven childbirth, or whether his larger Toshii stature was responsible for her prolonged agony. Toshii children always presented swiftly. Of course, their mothers had the husbands' assistance in the process. Damn.

At least he knew that Azura was in the birthing room looking after his wife. He was thankful that his trusted friend was there for Jhonkara to focus on. Azura was ready to help with more than just moral support, too. In preparation for this day, she had asked Ahren to show her the fingerspeak for "push" and "breathe," as well as a few other essential commands and simple encouragements. Just before Azura had gone to join Jhonkara, he had tried to show her the fingerspeak for "you're doing great," but she bustled off, insisting that there was not enough time for her to learn a complicated phrase just then.

All these hours later, Jhonkara and the birthing team remained closed inside the birthing chamber - a huge, hollowed out bole in one of the grenoias. Ahren was separated from his wife by a mere set of curtains that had been drawn closed immediately after Jhonkara was taken inside. Three times women had come out, only to go back in carrying buckets of boiled water. He frowned, knowing that he could have produced water more pure than their boiled substitute. He could even have made it warm. What was he thinking, pacing around out here like a useless, caged animal? Why should he be bound by elven rules of etiquette? He should just march right in there and –

His thoughts abruptly ceased as Azura stuck her head out from behind the outer curtain. "It won't be long now, Ahren; the baby is beginning to present," she said, then disappeared before he could ask anything. He listened to Jhonkara's silent screams, feeling them in his bones even though he couldn't hear them. He resumed his pacing.

As time dragged on with no word from the birthing room, he found himself leaning heavily against a railing, looking far below to the forest floor, but seeing only Jhonkara. Suddenly, he thought he heard a tiny cough and perhaps a little cry. He hurried over to the curtains and held his head as closely as he dared. Another cough. Definitely crying. Another cough. More crying. Ahren was elated. He danced around in a tight little circle, waving his hands in the air. He grabbed a passing elf and said, "I'm a father!"

And still, he waited. Finally, after what seemed like an interminable amount of time, Azura poked her head out from behind the curtain – almost head-butting Ahren, he was so close – and with a smile, she said, "We're almost ready for you. Everything is fine. Try to relax." Then she disappeared before he could pose any of his questions. He slammed his fist against the thick bark in frustration.

More eons passed. He was almost certain that he could actually see the grenoias growing. Finally, just when he thought that he was about to lose his patience with this whole process, Azura stuck her head out again. "Are you ready?"

"Yes! Yes, I am, lady elf! Let me see my wife and child, for the sake of the gods!"

"Language like that will not gain you entry any faster, you know," Azura chided. "And besides, you're a father now. You can't go around talking like that, or who knows what kind of language your child might pick up."

"Of course." He took a deep breath. "I'm deeply sorry. May I please see my wife and child now?"

Azura stuck her head back inside for a brief moment, apparently checking that everything was ready, then pulled the curtain aside and invited him into the protective antechamber. As the outer curtain closed, they were plunged into almost total darkness. Azura said, "Now Ahren, about this birth, there is something that you might want to know."

"All I want to know is that my wife and child are safe and well. Please, let me see my family!"

"Very well. But don't say that I didn't try to warn you." She opened the inner curtain, and light from dozens of torches flooded the little antechamber. He stepped forward.

The birthing room was huge, taking up the entire floor of the tree. He ran to his wife, who was resting on a stack of pillows in the center of the room, being tended to by two priestess-initiates from the Temple of Olivar. As he neared her, he thought two things: I love this beautiful woman so much and, she looks terrible. Her robes were soaked with sweat, her hair matted and damp. She looked as if she had just run an obstacle course with tigers nipping at her heels. Nevertheless, she was still beautiful to him, and he immediately knelt at her side and began stroking her forehead. "Are you all right, my love?"

"It hurt. Lots of hurt. Better now," she fingered, straining upward to kiss Ahren.

He heard Azura's voice behind him say, "Ahren, if you're ready, I thought you might like to meet your new daughter."

Ahren turned and looked, and there was Azura, holding a little baby girl in her arms. He smiled what Azura imagined was the biggest smile in history.

Then Azura said, "And your other daughter."

One of the priestess-initiates turned around, revealing a little baby girl cuddled in her arms.

"And finally, your other, other daughter."

Ahren gaped as another priestess-initiate turned, rocking a quiet baby girl as perfect as the first two.

He turned back to Jhonkara and put his hand on her abdomen, saying, "They all came out of you?"

She nodded weakly and shrugged. "Yes. I very tired now."

Azura and the priestess-initiates crowded close, holding the mysteriously quiet babies.

"Why aren't they crying?" he asked.

"I don't know," answered Azura, "they're your children. Perhaps it's a Toshii thing."

"Can they hear?"

"Oh yes, they're perfect. Very healthy children."

Ahren looked at his daughters, touching each of their foreheads in turn, kissing each of their little bellies. They were bald, as most babies are; and he swelled with emotion, to see that they had Jhonkara's stunning emerald eyes and his golden Toshii skin. Their ears were unmistakably Toshii, with small, subtle points at their tips. All three were tiny, like dwarf babies are wont to be, but even more so than usual, clearly taking after their mother in size. Only time would tell what color their hair would be.

"Are they identical?" he asked Azura.

"We believe so. It's sort of hard to tell with babies. No offense, but they all kind of look alike."

He turned back to Jhonkara with a huge grin on his face. "What shall we name them?" he asked.

Jhonkara, tired though she was, was never too tired to speak her mind. "Dwarf custom mother names child."

"That's a lovely custom, my love. So what names have you chosen for our beautiful daughters?"

Jhonkara pointed at each baby in turn. "Azurie, Ahrensha, and Kalia."

Ahren was deeply moved by Jhonkara's use of Azura's name and his own in naming two of the girls, and was caught completely off guard at the announcement of the final name. "Kalia? Are you certain?"

Jhonkara gave him a withering, but loving, look. "You no question mother. I honor Kalia for you. If not for her, we no be together. Azurie, Ahrensha, Kalia." She nodded her head once with finality when she finished her pronouncement. The names honored the people most important to her.

"As you wish. I love you so very much. You know, you've never looked more beautiful."

"Look terrible. Very tired."

Kissing his wife on the forehead, Ahren said, "You look wonderful to me, my sweet. Now rest. We have a family, a large family, to take care of now." Jhonkara eased back into the pillows and closed her eyes.

Ahren asked Azura, "May I hold them?"

"Of course."

The three elven women took turns handing the children to Ahren, who kissed each one and cried tears of pure joy as precious little fingers encircled his thumb and held tight. He turned to show Jhonkara, but she was already fast asleep. He knew without a doubt that this was – so far – the happiest day of his life.

Azura asked him, "Ahren, are they warlocks?"

"I don't know," he said. "Warlock powers don't generally begin to manifest themselves until the children are five years old or so. Of course, that was for a purely Toshii child. I don't know what to expect from a Toshii-dwarf child."

"I think you need to expect that you're going to be very busy. Other than that, I think you just need to love them," Azura said, thrusting all three babies into his arms at once. "We of the elven kingdom wish them every happiness and prosperity."

"Thank you, Azura. Thank you for everything. We can never repay you."

"Ahren, I think you paid in advance," Azura said solemnly.

* * *

Ahren and Jhonkara remained with the elves until the three baby girls had begun to wean from the breast. The new parents had worked together to fashion three padded leather slings to carry the babies high atop the Striders, back to their mountaintop home near Duran. Ahren, Jhonkara, and the triplets' eager godmother, Azura, would each wear a sling holding a child comfortably and reassuringly against the adult's chest. As Ahren walked around his Strider, he tightened and took more care with the fastenings of the saddle and Jhonkara's seat than he had ever taken before. He knew that Azura had checked her saddle equally well, but he inspected it again himself, just to see with his own eye that it was seated properly.

Jhonkara was finally fitting into her dresses again, and had chosen a pretty sky-blue gown to wear on their departure day. The three of them had said their farewells to the High Council the evening before, Ahren thanking them for their kindness and hospitality. The Elders assured them that they were always welcome in Shantenaral; that the Toshii and the children of the Toshii would always have a home there.

As Ahren finished placing the leather sling over his shoulder, fastening it securely behind his back, a priestess-initiate handed Azurie to him. He eased the baby into the carrier, where she promptly went to sleep, her head resting over Ahren's heart. Kalia was handed to Jhonkara, who settled the baby comfortably in her sling, smiling down upon her. Finally, Azura received Ahrensha from the third priestess-initiate and carefully tucked soft blankets around the sleeping child. Ahren smiled as he watched the children being cuddled by the adults. He had to say – with no small amount of pride – that his children were magnificently well behaved. He couldn't be happier. And though he already thought they were perfect, they were recently becoming even more perfect - their hair was beginning to come in; and though it was still little more than fuzz, it was unmistakably the beautiful russet of their mother's luxurious tresses.

Ahren bid a final farewell to the initiates. The trek north to the mountain outside of Duran would take two to three weeks; depending on how many times the journey was interrupted to stop for the babies. Wrapped in their specially made traveling cloaks, the trio - along with the new, infant trio - set off north on their Striders. Winter was fast giving way to spring, and Ahren desperately wanted to settle his family into their mountain home and then plant, and eventually harvest, a fine stock of foodstuffs in preparation for the next bitter frost of a Nordanfel winter. Ahren was sad to see Shantenaral disappear behind them, but he knew that he would see it again, perhaps the next time as a tourist, with his three beautiful daughters and his lovely wife along with him to enjoy a festive elven holiday celebration.

* * *

Four weeks later, they arrived at the mountain amidst the snowfall of a fierce spring storm - unusual, but not unheard of on the mountain. Their journey had taken far longer than any of them had expected. Who knew that traveling with three infants would be so complicated? As they climbed the final rise to Ahren's little plateau, Azura turned in her saddle to say something to Ahren. She never got the chance. A black-shafted arrow struck her square in the back, and she struggled out of the saddle, desperate to reach the ground so that she would not collapse onto Ahrensha. Wordlessly, she pointed across the plateau before falling over onto her side, her arms wrapped tightly around the baby girl, protecting her from the impact.

Jhonkara let out a silent scream as Azura went down; and Ahren kicked their Strider into a gallop the rest of the way onto the plateau. He saw a figure through the swirling snow, but couldn't really be certain of any details. It was shorter than an elf, but taller than a dwarf. A human, he supposed. What was a human doing on his plateau, shooting his friend in the back? Ahren scrambled down the rope ladder to the ground and helped Jhonkara down with Kalia. Quickly placing them behind a fallen boulder, he removed his travel sling, and then kissed his wife on the forehead and gently tucked Azurie next to her. Jhonkara looked at him with terror in her eyes. Was someone after her babies?

Ahren placed a reassuring hand on her arm and scuttled over to where Azura had fallen, taking the baby from her arms. Azura was unconscious, and did not resist. He also scooped the enchanted crossbow out of her saddlebag as he ran back to Jhonkara and handed Ahrensha to her. The little dwarf said frantically, "You no let anyone hurt!"

Ahren paused just long enough to reassure her with a confident and determined, "Never, my love." Then he hurried to peer over the top of the boulder, throwing off his traveling cloak and handing it to Jhonkara to use as a large blanket for his family. The snow continued to fall, and he could just make out the single figure in the distance. It had to be human, he thought - just a short one. Taking careful aim with the crossbow, he loosed an iron bolt that struck home in the assailant's chest. But, much to Ahren's surprise, the figure appeared to simply pull it out and cast it aside. He must be wearing heavy-duty armor, thought Ahren. Those iron bolts are deadly. He fired a bolt toward the smaller target of the figure's head, and assumed that he missed when the human didn't go down. In reply, a black-shafted arrow clattered against the boulder he was hiding behind. He reached around the side of the rock and picked up the arrow, looking carefully at the tip. Good. No poison. Azura should be all right if he could return to her in time.

Setting the crossbow down where Jhonkara could reach it if necessary, he stood and drew his landrit sword and dagger from their sheaths at his hips, holding them in the classic Toshii offensive-defensive posture, with the sword high and the dagger low. He wished that he were wearing his armor right now, but somehow, no one had been expecting trouble. Clad only in a few warm furs, a long-sleeved shirt, and pants, he advanced on the mysterious figure.

The person didn't move, which was highly unusual, as most people moved when they saw glowing landrit coming at them.

"Ahren, King of the Toshii!" called the figure. "Is this really necessary?"

"You've wounded my best friend, and your intentions toward my family are obviously suspect. I'd say weapons are called for. Show yourself!"

The figure moved, hesitated, then stepped forward out of the lee of the rock face where he had hidden.

"Wait, I know you," said Ahren, dropping his guard ever so slightly. "It's Capet, isn't it?"

"Yes, Your Highness. My name is Capet."

"Why do you call me that?"

"Because you are my King, and it would be rude not to."

Pain collided with anger and confusion. Through clenched teeth, Ahren said, "The Toshii are dead, do not speak to me of kings."

"Ah, but the Toshii are not so completely dead as you would believe, My Lord," Capet spit out. He threw the hood of his cloak back, revealing his mangled ears. "Don't you recognize the punishment, my King?"

Ahren thought back over his thirty-five hundred year life span, and remembered. The taking of the ears. It marked a man who had committed high crimes. But that was the Toshii way. The humans did not follow it.

Capet stepped forward once more. "Take a good look at this face, Your Highness; and remember. The taking of the ears. Exile to the wild lands. The punishment for a traitor to the Crown."

This made no sense. The man was claiming to be Toshii, yet Ahren knew the Toshii were dead. "How do you, a human, know of this punishment?" he asked.

"I am not a human! I am Toshii, like you! Three thousand, two hundred years ago, I tried to raise an army against you and take the throne for myself. Your meddling fiancée learned of my plan, and I was taken into custody by your guards. You took my ears by royal edict, and exiled me to the wild lands. Of course, as the Fates would have it, my exile turned out to be a blessing. When you killed the rest of the Toshii, you forgot about those of us who were no longer privileged enough to live in the Toshii homeland. Perhaps," he added, evilly contriving to bring about as much suffering as possible, "if you had remembered the life-force of the exiled, you would have been able to save your poor, doomed Kalia."

"Why do you assault my family now? That punishment was long ago. Much has changed. You seem to have made a new life for yourself in the Keep of Cirunel. Go in peace, and we will never speak of this again."

"Oh, I want to speak of it. I want you to know full well that I set upon your family to best hurt you! I attack for revenge! For my exile! For my ears! For killing my family! For forcing me to live among the savage races that we created. I want you to die; but before you do, I want you to know that your family will die after you; and in knowing that, I want you to feel all the pain that I have endured for oh, so long." Capet set an arrow and let it fly before Ahren could react. It thudded home in his chest, quite painfully. Without dropping either of his weapons, he yanked the arrow out and the wound healed over, just as had happened with the wound from the innkeeper's crossbow bolt so long ago.

"So, you retain the healing powers of the Toshii. Fortunate for you," growled Capet.

Ahren advanced until he was within striking distance of the man. "Leave now. I have no wish to kill you. You have suffered enough for your crime."

"Ah, but this is a new crime! Attempted assassination of the King! There must be a death penalty to go along with that."

"You speak the truth. There is," said Ahren.

"Then I demand my right to overthrow an unjust King. A King who would exile wrongdoers to the wild lands to suffer. A King who would kill his own people as they went innocently about their day!" He drew a bastard sword from a sheath on his back, and leveled it at Ahren's throat. "I did not know that you still lived until I saw you in Cirunel. I have been planning my revenge ever since then. Die, King Ahren." He thrust the sword at Ahren's throat, a blow that Ahren sidestepped as the man took a two-handed grip on his weapon. Capet taunted, "A dual-weaponed fighting stance. How anachronistic."

Ahren steeled his guard and began circling the man, measuring him. They were equal in height and build. Capet's sword was mere dwarven steel, however, while Ahren wielded landrit. As for speed, well, he had seen that Capet was fast with a bow; he only hoped the man was slower with a blade.

Capet lunged again. Ahren sidestepped, but felt the blade skim along the surface of one of his furs. He sliced downward with his sword, but Capet parried the blow, sending Ahren's blade crashing to the ground. Ahren immediately brought the weapon up in a counterstroke, and was satisfied to see the tip of the blade slice cleanly through Capet's chest. Unfortunately, the wound healed itself just as quickly as when Capet had been shot with the crossbow. Ahren remembered now why the Toshii exiled their serious criminals – execution was not a palatable option, because Toshii were so damnably difficult to kill.

Capet raised his sword high above his head and brought it down in a thundering chop. Ahren caught it in the angle of his crossed blades and threw it back at the man. He stepped forward quickly and thrust his dagger deep into Capet's gut, sinking it up to the hilt. Capet staggered backward and hit the rock face but, much to Ahren's disappointment, simply pulled the blade from his stomach and cast it aside. Now they were even on weapons. Sword against sword.

Ahren swung his sword sideways in a one-handed arc, hoping to cut Capet in two, but the man leapt back at the last moment and dodged the blow. He countered with another thrust that bit painfully into Ahren's flesh. But when the blade withdrew, the wound healed. Capet came at him with a flurry of blows, up and down, side to side; all of which Ahren somehow managed to parry or dodge. Finally, as Capet accidentally sunk the tip of his blade into the frozen ground, Ahren saw an opportunity and swung his landrit sword in a mighty blow that snapped Capet's blade off at the hilt.

Capet leapt backwards, out of the immediate range of Ahren's weapon. He growled fiercely, like an animal, and threw a fireball at Ahren. Ahren danced aside, but the weapon of nature was so powerful that he could feel its heat as it passed.

"You!" yelled Ahren. "You break the First Code of the Toshii? To never use our warlock powers in anger or retribution against another?"

"I informed you that the exiled Toshii still live, My Lord," Capet said with an imitation bow. "Did I forget to mention that we have changed? Your antiquated rules no longer govern us." He threw another fireball at Ahren.

This time, Ahren batted the fireball away with his sword. How could he fight this? In all his life he had never had to fight another warlock. Unsure what to do, he called up the wind and the rain, bringing a storm of sleet down upon the mountain. He retreated backwards until he could barely see Capet, who had raised his hood once more and hid again behind the rock face.

Suddenly, Ahren became aware that his daughters were crying. He could hear them over the howl of the wind and wished that he could comfort them and make it warmer for them. He prayed to the gods that Jhonkara had bundled them all up in his cloak. Another fireball came flying wildly out of the descending darkness, but he easily sidestepped it, it having apparently been thrown at random.

The only way to fight another warlock is to break the code of the Toshii, thought Ahren. Then he thought of a man he had known very long ago who had told him, "Never fight fair."

He heard one of his daughters crying again and knew that he had to end this, and quickly. He could only pray that his powers were stronger than Capet's. He sheathed his sword and advanced on the distant figure, hurling fireballs as he approached. Capet managed to step out of the way of each one of them, and taunted him, shouting, "So, the mighty King has decided to fight in the dirt with the rest of us. So unbecoming!"

"I fight you in neither anger not retribution, but by necessity to protect my family. Even after you did us harm, I offered you safe passage. You refuse, and leave me no choice." Ahren raised his hands toward the mountain and pulled a landslide down on Capet. The man petrified himself just before the first stones hit, and his living stone body stepped out of the way. He morphed back into flesh and bone with a laugh of victory.

Ahren called lightning down from the sky, but Capet blocked it with his palm. It must have hurt terribly, but it did not wound him. Ahren thought about calling a flood to wash the man away, but he didn't want to take the chance of injuring his family or Azura with stray waters. Calling up the wind, he blew the man into the air, throwing him about the sky like a rag doll. Capet landed hard on the stones, but it was not a lethal blow, and his body healed itself before Ahren's eyes, even as he cast more fireballs at the broken body. Capet managed to throw his own fireballs to intercept Ahren's, resulting in huge explosions each time they collided.

Ahren was out of ideas. He drew his sword once more, not knowing how to end this man's threat to his family. Capet pulled himself off of the rocks and began throwing fireballs at Ahren from such close range that he could scarcely believe he kept missing. Maybe this man was King for a reason. Ahren lunged, sticking Capet uselessly in the chest, serving only to set him back a yard. He spun around, swinging for the neck, but Capet backed out of the way again, the landrit casting an eerie glow over his face. Capet hurled another fireball, and this time, Ahren was too slow. It caught him with a glancing blow to the side, searing his skin and pushing him backwards. He winced in pain, but managed to hold on to his sword as his body healed itself.

Suddenly, he heard Azura weakly cry out, "Get down!" Trusting his friend with his life, he immediately dropped flat to the ground. Capet grinned and inflated a fireball over his palm to gigantic proportions. It would certainly vaporize even a Toshii.

Without any warning, a beam of brilliant white light half a yard in diameter struck Capet squarely in the chest. He fell back against a rock, but the beam remained focused on him. He writhed in agony, aging before Ahren's eyes. One year. Five years. Ten years. One hundred years disappeared from his body; and the rapid aging only accelerated. Over the next thirty seconds, Ahren watched, mystified, as Capet aged almost thirty-five hundred years. Then the brilliant light faded and disappeared. There was little left of Capet save for a rapidly dissipating pile of ashes and a few broken bits of bone. What had happened? What had he just witnessed?

Ahren rolled onto his back and carefully lifted his head to look toward the source of the unexpected light. He found himself looking directly towards the boulder he had hidden his family behind. Directly towards his three little girls, no longer protected by the boulder; but squirming and fussing about in their mother's arms, in front of the boulder.

He sat up slowly. Standing, he retrieved his dagger from where it had been tossed, sheathed his weapons, and walked in a daze over to his family. Jhonkara was beaming and bouncing the three children in her arms. For a moment, he just looked at them in wonder. Then he asked, "The light. They did that?"

"Yes. Very pretty. They very good."

"But why aren't you hiding behind the boulder?"

"Thought maybe could help. Was right."

Ahren embraced his family in one huge hug, kissing his wife on the forehead, and then each of his children in turn. "Where is Azura?"

"Behind rock. She need help," Jhonkara said with concern.

Ahren hurried behind the rock and found Azura leaning against the boulder, the black shaft still sticking out of her back. She said, as he came around the corner, "I could use some of those healing powers of yours right about now, Ahren."

He said, "This is going to hurt," and without waiting for a reply, yanked the arrow from her back. She began to bleed, but he put his hands over the wound, and they began to glow. Soon, Azura was breathing normally again, and all that remained of the wound was a hole in her clothing.

Jhonkara came around the boulder, still somehow juggling all three children. She asked, "You do something about weather?"

"What? Oh, yes, that." He raised his hands in a calming gesture and the wind died and the snow stopped. The clouds even dispersed, and the evening sunlight shown down upon his family.

"I guess the prophecy is real," Azura said, getting to her feet.

"What prophecy?" Ahren asked, translating for Jhonkara.

"The prophecy that followed that of the solstice sacrifice. It was foretold that two men – one virtuous, one evil; their distant pasts known only to themselves - would hold the power of the world in their hands. They would confront each other in a fierce and violent battle of ultimate impasse. In the end, the evil one would be defeated not by the virtuous one, but by three beings of power like the world has never seen. These three beings will go on to unite the scattered people of all Nordanfel."

"Why didn't you tell us this earlier?" asked Ahren.

"Earlier when? Remember, for most of our long friendship, you were merely a 'spice farmer.' Then, no one knew Jhonkara carried triplets until they were born. After that, although I had my suspicions, there was no way to know. At any rate, I thought perhaps there would be signs over the coming years. I never thought that it would begin so soon. I mean, they're just babies."

"You really think that prophecy us?" asked Jhonkara, after Ahren had translated Azura's revelation for her.

"Yes, I do, lady dwarf. I believe your daughters carry in them not only the powers of their father warlock, but also the powers of an archmage, because you drew those powers from Mogens when you saved Lien's baby."

"That all sounds fairly excessive for our little dwarf-Toshii family," said Ahren.

"We'll see," said Azura, "But I think that your family is destined for great things."

"Time may prove you right," granted Ahren. "But for now, why don't I reveal my humble cave to Jhonkara, and perhaps the two of you can get the children settled in. I have a small herb farm to tend to. It has gone without care for far too long, and it now has many more mouths to feed." He smiled at his little wife and their three tiny, but powerful, daughters.

Jhonkara fingered, "Told you family was special."

Ahren bent down to kiss his wife, and said, "You were right, my love. You were right."

THE END
