Curalli Struggle Prologue 1, Age of Arcadia, Early Spring Oblivious to any kind of danger, the efgoan trotted delicately down the forest path. The creature's body was that of an antelope, its head that of an eagle, while its tail most closely resembled an alligator's. Its dun fur was as patterned as the weak sunlight that managed to make its way through the close branches of the Lillomar forest. The axe-sharp, killing hooves made no sound as the deadly creature tripped lightly over crushed leaves from last year's fall, and the tail was cocked at all times, ready to deliver a blow. Most deadly, though, were the bird-bright eyes of the monster's head, whose gaze turned any person who met it to silver. It was very likely that any potential attacker would fall before even landing a blow. It was impossible that the efgoan should die. But to the mind behind the keen eyes that watched their prey, there was no such thing as impossible in the hunter's world. Echelli Durillo shifted slightly, hardly daring to hope that the creature would walk right into his trap. The net was cleverly concealed under the leaves and dirt of the forest floor, that was true, but surely this efgoan could smell it. Even if the monster did so, however, it would merely back into Echelli's contingency plan. The curalli fighter-forester ran his thumbs along the polished edge of his dirks, taking care that the blades did not attract his quarry's attention by catching the light. He had used the weapons for nearly two thousand years. They had never let him down. His attention snapped back to the forest trail as the efgoan neared the spot where the net lay hidden. Carefully, with a grace so slow and delicate that he scarcely seemed to move, the warrior rose to his feet, his soft leather boots gripping the slick wood with no problem at all. The unconscious agility of an Elwen would protect him from falling. Echelli's mind narrowed, forcing out distracting thoughts. He breathed lightly and easily, so that the efgoan would not hear, and lifted his dirks to chest height with tentative but practiced movements. So silent and inconspicuous was he that a young lark preened, unconcerned, only three inches from his face. The efgoan placed one hoof on the hidden net- an abruptly stepped back. The eyes of an eagle flared with dark suspicion, and the monster lowered its head, the beak opening and closing as it sought to understand the strange scent under the leaves and dirt. Echelli sprang, making no more noise than a whisper of wind, not even disturbing the lark from its job of cleaning. More silent than the sunlight falling through the dark green boughs, he landed on the dusty game trail behind the efgoan and smacked the disgusting creature's rump with a dirk. The monster wheeled, its suspicion fading as it came to realize the greater danger behind it, its tail and hooves already beginning their deadly dance. It glared at the patch of path where Echelli had been only moments before, and the ground hardened and cooled into silver. But the Elwen had leaped and twisted with the movement, settling noiselessly behind the creature once more, and working away with flailing dirks to widen the wound he had opened. The monster's bellow of pain and anger made the forest shake, and the young lark flutter from its preening, frightened. It spun, stamping and lashing out at its enemy with stunning speed. Echelli just managed to duck in time to avoid the gaze of the beast. But in ducking, he placed himself in the way of one of the lashing hind hooves. The blow that sent Echelli's world reeling was accompanied by a large crack. The slender Elwen flew backwards, slamming into a tree from the sheer power behind the kick. The blackness threatened to drown him, but he managed to open his eyes finally, and take account of the damage. He knew at least three ribs were broken; he could feel three separate aches as he tried- and failer- to breathe deeply and calm himself. Looking despairingly at his dirks, which had tumbled from his fingers doing the toss, he knew he would never reach them before the efgoan did. He glared at the monster, wishing momentarily that it did nor have to end this way. He had thought he would at least live long enough to see a little more of the world. What about all the cities he had ever wanted to visit? What of all his unsettled scores? He realized he was rambling, and ruthlessly cut out every thought that was not about the upcoming fight. All he had to do was avoid the monster's gaze, he told himself firmly, and kill it. Then he could go someplace quiet for the fifteen days necessary for recovery. Ah, yes. That was all he had to do. He gritted his teeth, keeping his eyes on the ground, and slowly stood. The ache from his snapped ribs made him stagger as he walked toward his weapons, but he kept on, fighting out of sheer stubbornness. The efgoan charged him, its stench causing Echelli's nose to wrinkle, even as he painfully dodged an awkwardly aimed tail-blow. He sucked in his breath and lunged forward, grabbing one of the blades from the dusty ground. Then he was forced to drop and roll as the hooves flew at him again, arcing over his head. Bad mistake. The Elwen collapsed midway through his roll, doubled over and screaming in agony. The movement had caused his ribs to come in contact with the ground, had required him to place all his weight on the splintered bone. Now there was no hope of a quick, clean recovery, Echelli thought deliriously, as the pain ripped through. Bone chips were already floating in his bloodstream. The efgoan gave a cackling, choking sound that passed for laughter in his kind, swishing its tail and stalking Echelli playfully. It knew as well as he did that he had no escape. The Elwen lay still, almost wishing death would hurry and remove the crushing weight of anguish and rage. He had always planned to die in battle, anyway. He had simply never planned on it being so soon. And then, abruptly, the efgoan roared again. Echelli, trying to focus through silver-hazed eyes, stared in astonishment at the shimmering figure that stood between him and the beast. It was an Elwen girl, a slender figure with the pale skin and delicate features of a land Elwen. The hair that tumbled halfway down her back was orange, rich and radiant, like the clouds at dawn, but it looked as though it had been sheared off by a knife. The cloak that lay carelessly draped over her shoulders, its hood thrown back, was dark green. Beneath it, a silver-green skirt peeked forth. Echelli could see nothing of her face, since she faced the efgoan. The beast did not appear to like what it saw there. It reared, its cry full of pain and anger, but also of fear. One hoof reached for the girl's upturned face. It passed right through without so much as slowing. The monster shrieked again and wheeled to lash with its hind hoofs. The girl stood quietly, accepting the beating, which did her no apparent harm. Then she raised her slender hands, making a slight, almost hidden gesture. A flaming ball exploded from her hands and hit the efgoan's fur. Ghostly its caster may have been, but the fireball was every bit as real as the beast it incinerated. One last tormented cry rose above the crackle of the flames. When the light and smoke cleared, not one ash rested upon the dusty earth. Echelli watched apprehensively as she turned toward him, her hands weaving in another slight gesture. He expected to see- what? Perhaps a smile of evil glee infusing features twisted from long wielding of magic. He saw nothing of the kind. The girl's face was sweet, her features looking as soft as wax that had been left too long near a candle. The diamond-shaped eyes that she used to pierce his soul were luminous as the sun, and indeed were of the type that Elwenkind called dawn-marked- burning gold, with patterns of pink and silver throughout them, and one area in the corner of each pupil shaped like a rising sun. This strange land Elwen was extraordinarily beautiful. She knelt by him, and reached out to touch his side where he had been hit, ignoring the move Echelli made to stop her. And, after a moment, the shadowed Elwen let his silver-white hand drop. He sensed nothing overly threatening about this girl. Overly threatening... "There is no need to be afraid, for I will not harm you." The girl spoke for the first time, her voice a bell's clear music, sweet and triumphant. "Simply lie still. I will give you a poultice that will heal you." Echelli's caution and distrust, the things that had kept him alive through so many battles, returned in a rush. He sat up and eased gently away from the girl, disliking the warmth she radiated. If she were a ghost, she should have been deathly cold. "I want to know who you are," he demanded, being careful to lace his voice with suspicion and deference at the same time. He wanted no enemy with such powerful magic. "My name would mean nothing to you at this point in time." The girl's warm hand cradled his cheek for a moment, feeling like solid flesh. Echelli felt his wonder and doubt grow. "I will be able to reveal my identity later, that I can promise. But I cannot tell you now." "Why did you help me?" asked Echelli, dismissing the respect from his tone. "How could I not?" The girl gave him no time to consider her cryptic response as she set about mixing a small mud pie out of grass and the soft earth of the trail. She glanced at him curiously, amusement warring with concern in her lovely eyes. "I wish you wouldn't joke so. Your voice has a slightly hysterical edge to it, as if you expect to die." Echelli shook his head angrily. There was something about the girl that bothered him, something other than the fact that the girl had such powerful magic and seemed able to withstand an efgoan's gaze. He was concerned that she seemed to know him, when he didn't have the faintest recollection of her, but this was something different, something primal. She's a land Elwen, he realized numbly, and yet she has no blood-hatred! There was no tingle of magic about her, no signs of stress, nothing that indicated she was keeping the instinctive hate of her people for his down by unnatural means. And yet... Echelli, without really knowing why, looked at the dusty forest path as sunlight played across it. The sun was westering, and its late rays were sneaking through the close trees, casting long shadows that played on the mind's eye. Echelli's shadow stretched away, long and black, as did those of the trees around him. The girl was as touched by the light as the curalli, but she cast no black shade with her body. Echelli, unnerved, measured the distance to his remaining dirk with his eyes. If he could snatch it, and make a run for it without alerting the girl... "Don't even think about it, Eche." The girl's voice was amused, her eyes fond, as she watched him. "I know what you're thinking, and it will never work. You'd drop with the pain before you'd gone thirty paces." Echelli eased back, trying not to feel the pain in his side, watching the strange land Elwen with renewed mistrust. If nothing else, she was certainly a sorceress of great power, and the mixed-blood did not fully trust magic. Neither did he trust strangers. "How much time has to pass before I can prove to you that I'm not a stranger?" sighed the girl, rising to her feet and reaching toward him with a dripping, muddied pile of grass in her arms. "I know you, Echelli Durillo- probably far better than you know yourself." Echelli, not even thinking, simply reacting, lunged forward and grasped the woman's wrist, preventing her from moving. The sorceress stared at him with narrowed eyes, then quite calmly broke free of his grip. She continued reaching toward him. Echelli rolled away, ignoring the hot spurt of agony that raced through his side, ignoring the warning creak of his rib cage. The pain had forced him to the edge of delirium, and he had decided that the strange Elwen's appearance was playing with his mind. He didn't know what was really happening, outside his brain's haze of hallucination, but he didn't want to know what it would feel like when she touched him. He heard and felt the tingle of magic gathering itself about him, and his panic increased. He tossed a shriek the girl's way. "I don't know who you are, or how you can read my mind, but I don't think I'm so interested that I'll stay around to find out." The girl interrupted her chant long enough to call out, "Don't worry, Echelli Durillo, we'll see each other again!" Then she released her spell. Its full force caught Echelli, throwing him to the ground. By the time he recovered his breath enough to stand up, the pain in his ribs was gone. As was the girl. Echelli stared at the dusty trail, after first springing quickly to pick up his dirk. Then he ran around the spot where the efgoan had died. Other than his own and the efgoan's, there were no footprints in the dust. Echelli backed up a step, snarling at the forest around him, mistrusting its ominous silence. He took another step backward. There came a feeling of the leaves and dirt beneath him shifting, and then strings closed about him and tugged him violently into the air. Hanging in his own net, Echelli Durillo folded his arms over his chest and growled sullenly at the woodland. He had an awful feeling that another adventure had begun. Chapter 1 The Decision 2, Age of Arcadia, Early Spring The thunderous roll of the mighty Acrad River played a familiar song to the curalli forester-fighter as he stepped onto the green, water-slicked bank he had worked so hard to reach. Shaking the drops of moisture as well as he could from his waterlogged cloak, Echelli turned to regard the stream with cynical eyes. No respectable sailing ship or trading vessel that traveled the waters would be willing to take on a shadowed Elwen as passenger, no matter how hard he could fight- with a few exceptions. Echelli clenched the fingers of one hand into a fist, hissing lowly in exasperation, as he remembered. The few curalli ships in harbor, manned by sailors who used strong magic to withstand the light, had been more than willing to take him along. But Echelli had no taste for the company of the people he had distanced himself from, and he liked it that way. When a few sailor-assassins had tried to get persuasive, they found out that Echelli's dirks were even more persuasive. Echelli wondered, exactly, what the faces of the curalli captains looked like when he tossed the shadowed Elwen corpses, burning with the pure clean silver flames of death that no water could extinguish, into the trading bay of Hemel. He would have given much to be present when they noticed that Echelli had carved his initials into the foreheads of each of the killers. "The world is better without the presence of such scum," Echelli whispered softly, as he had whispered to himself the night the darkness was lit up by silver flame. So, in the end, he had swum. The Acrad River was not without its dangers, and, by the time he had battled himself free of orcan whales, river Elwens, and deeplords- the Acrad's own species of shark- he was thoroughly tired of fighting. Perhaps, as his friend Keren thought, it was time for him to settle down and tame the wild streak that had caused him to wander freely after the bloody Sublimation. Echelli smiled darkly, flipping up his hood to hide his eyes from the piercingly bright rays of the sun. He didn't think he would stop roaming as long as he had life and spirit left in him. Life, spirit- and the will to fight. A soft sound to his right caused him to look up, but he only smiled in slow amusement when he discovered its source. A mirrorhare, its brilliant coat reflecting the light of the noontide with a blinding sheen, nibbled busily at the plants growing by the river's edge. The little creatures did not like to drink from rivers and other exposed watering places, because so many animals considered mirrorhares a delicacy, and would kill them if they could. So the rabbits got their moisture from the Acrad's water-rich plants. Echelli snapped his errant forester's mind from his observation of the small creature. He had a tendency, when not in battle, to think about things that were curious or fascinating. He was trying to tame his wandering mind, but it wasn't working. Then he sensed another being's presence, standing between himself and the rabbit. Without trying to reveal that he was doing it, he turned slowly in that direction again. A small, shimmering image, like a mirage that came from being out in the sun too long, hung above the slick, water-running grass, stubbornly refusing to assume shape or form. Echelli blinked smarting, stinging eyes, decided that the momentary vision had been only a trick of his imagination, and started off again with a shrug. But he kept an uneasy watch out for the rest of the day, even when he had entered the forest, the place where he felt most at home. Just in case. ---------------------------------------------------------- At nightfall, when the sky darkened to the deep jade-green of spring, and the small purple moon, Rareth, joined the black and silver stars in keeping watch over the countryside, Echelli lit his nightfire. Generally he did not want or need such an obvious signal to any predators in the spring, for there was no danger of freezing to death, and his dark-seeing eyes were more perfectly adapted to the dusk than to the dawn. But tonight he had a moose, brought down by a lucky throw from his dirks, and he wanted to roast the meat over something blazing. And (he admitted it, to himself, if not actually aloud) he felt threatened by the close crowding of the trees and the long shadows they cast. He had felt that way- trapped, uncertain, menaced- ever since the strange figure had appeared at the edge of the river at noontide. There had been a sense of eyes watching and measuring him, then discarding him, as if he were of no great importance. While Echelli disliked attention- it didn't go well with his line of business- he also disliked underestimation of his abilities, and he was determined to prove whoever was following him wrong. A fire was a signal of confidence, a challenge to the surrounding woodland. He would take the best blows they could throw at him, parry them, and return them. He gathered enough twigs and dry moose dung, plentiful in this part of the Arcadian woods, to build a good-sized blaze. When the flames were shedding their warm, companionable light over the shadows, scattering them, Echelli relaxed. Leaning back against a tree, he watched his meat roast and sang to the stars overhead. Elwensong might mark him as a target, but again, he felt a perverse need to warn whatever threat might stalk. When the meat was done, he pulled it off the spit and ate, daintily and cleanly, always keeping one hand near his dirks. It had been a while since he had eaten anything but fish, and he was ravenous for the juicy meat. When he had consumed two pounds of it, he cut the rest of it into strips, froze them by holding them near his chest and lowering his body temperature, then packed them away and rose to his feet. Time to make his preparations for the night. Echelli, though he usually chose not to associate with the race that formed three-quarters of his heritage, had been trained in the curalli manner, and he felt uneasy without at least a few traps around him. Now he balanced the vat of firewater that he had bought from a Hemel merchant delicately on a branch and connected it to a small, invisible line of string. The string he tied around another sapling's trunk at what would be chest height on most animals. He repeated the process at foot height, head, and in between, until a solid net of strings connected the vat to the other tree. If any intruder, intelligent or animal, tripped that, he would be woken by the screams. Smiling slightly, the young curalli moved to another tree on the opposite side of the tree-studded clearing where he had chosen to camp and hooked a small piece of wire to a broken-off branch. The other end of the wire was tied to a long thorn, which Echelli hung a chime from. He repeated the process with several other trees. Even a breath of wind would stir the chimes, triggering him into deadly attack. Last of all, he ran a long string in a circle about the fire. He crossed his fingers above the rope, closed his eyes, and summoned what little remained of his innate curalli magic. Most of it had disappeared over the years as he gave himself, body and soul, to fighting. But enough of its remained to coat the circle of string with an invisible, deadly wall of force. A black shimmer radiated into the air, and Echelli nodded in satisfaction. You can never be too careful, he thought, curling up like a cat inside the circle of magic. Normally, he might not have acted so paranoid, but he had not slept for nearly seven days, and soon the exhaustion sleep of the Elwens would be upon him. It was a deep, dreamless slumber, from which Echelli would be helpless to awaken until he had satisfied his body's demands for rest. That would take at least two hours, and probably more. The young Elwen did not want to be killed for so stupid a reason. He closed his eyes and drifted into soundless dreamland, confident that his traps would perform their task well. And keep any curious intruders away. ---------------------------------------------------------- It was perhaps six hours later when a breath of passing air tinkled the chimes, causing Echelli to leap to his feet at once, tense and trembling. He sniffed the air as he pulled his blades from their sheaths, trying to catch a scent, trying to determine if it were a passing animal, or simply the wind. Or if it were something more. He could smell nothing, and, after a moment, his tense muscles relaxed. He did not quite sheath his blades, but he lowered his hands to his sides, even sitting down on the deep, thick grass of the circle where had slept. The air was heated by his body warmth. It was a full six seconds before he realized that the warmth came from more than just him. Slowly he turned his head, expecting a viaquia behind him, perhaps, or a wanderwolf. Only one of those creatures would have the magic to get through his deadly circle. It was neither of them. Instead, a lovely young Elwen maiden with rich orange hair and dawn-marked eyes knelt behind him, her luminous gaze fastened to his face. Echelli snarled, narrowing his eyes in anger to mask his confusion and terror. She shouldn't have been able to do that, he thought. She just shouldn't. "I don't know who you are," he told her in a level voice that threatened to explode in killing rage. "But, whatever kind of creature you are, know this: I have survived far more battles than I care to recall. And, though I may not win against your magic, I most certainly can try." "I am no more or less than what I am," said the mysterious girl calmly, settling herself with her kegs crossed. "Not, perhaps, what you would force me to be, but I am what I am, and I will not threaten you or betray you." Echelli could feel his face growing cold, and he turned to stare into the deadly, silent blackness of his wall. "How can you betray me, when we are not even friends?" The land Elwen maiden laughed, a bell-like sound. "We are bonded together in ways that you do not yet imagine, and never would- unless I told you." Echelli gave a quick shake of his head, feeling panic rising in him. He hated things disturbing what he knew to be right and proper, what he knew to be true. He forced his confusion down, actually managing to sound calm as he whispered, "It was you that I saw, wasn't it? This noon, by the river?" The girl raised one eyebrow in a strangely ironic fashion. "I suppose so, although at that time my magic was not complete. You were with the mirrorhare, and you had eyes on you from the river. You could not truly call me forth with others around. That may change- as it does in moments of extreme danger, when I protect you. But for now-" That was as far as she got, because Echelli cut her ruthlessly off. "What do you mean, I call you forth? What do you mean, we're bonded? There is nobody- no creature- like you! You've never told me your name, or anything about you." "I just told you some things about me," the girl pointed out softly, hunching forward, pulling her deep red-green cloak tighter over her shoulders. "The rest?" She gave a small shrug. "That you will never understand until you are ready to understand." Echelli focused his eyes on her face, letting her clearly see his doubt and anger. She could read my mind the last time we met, he thought. Why isn't she doing it now? Has she lost some of the power she had? "Don't be ridiculous," said the Elwen woman sharply, her delicate features taking on a furious cast not so very different from Echelli's own. She leaned forward, her brilliant eyes dark with rage. "I have been speaking aloud to you, rather than plucking your thoughts from your head, because I have the impression that you prefer it that way. If you demand an exhibition of my power, you have already seen one. I walked through your barrier- as deadly as anything in this world- without harm. I had hoped that would be enough to satisfy you." Echelli folded his arms and leaned backward, not in the least intimidated by the implied threat in the Elwen's eyes. "Do you mean you are divine, then?" he asked, struggling to mask his thoughts. He did not like the idea of his mind being invaded. Again came the purling chuckle. "Hardly," laughed the girl softly. "I am merely somebody that you have called forth." Echelli frowned. "I am no wizard, so how could I have summoned you?" He leaned forward, his mind returning to an earlier part of the conversation. "You said that my barrier was as deadly as anything in this world. You seem to indicate that you've been to other worlds. Is that true?" For the first time- perhaps because he had spoken the words exactly as he thought them, with no pause between- he had the satisfaction of seeing her look surprised. The girl hunched backward, drawing her cloak even more tightly around herself, her golden eyes haunted. "Where I have been, what I am," she whispered, her bell-like voice as sweet as a child's, and as lonely. "They are no matters for you to concern yourself about. You will understand me when the proper time comes." "What if I don't want to understand you?" Echelli purposely made his tone challenging. The girl's eyes held him transfixed. "Then, you will never understand yourself." "You speak in riddles," said Echelli evenly, his dark eyes boring into the girl. "You hear me in riddles," she corrected, matching him glare for glare. Echelli suddenly became aware of a silence in the woodland surrounding his deathwall, and he looked up apprehensively, sniffing the warm spring air. There had been reports lately of curalli patrols ranging wider and further than they usually did. The air whispered with rumors of war. But the only scent that touched the young shadowed Elwen's nostrils was not that of black roses. Instead, it was a strong, wild musk, rife with ferocity. Echelli swore, jumping to his feet and raising his dirks, linking with them in a desperate manipulation of his bond with steel. He had to; the creatures stalking him were some of the most deadly in Arcadia. Now that he was on the alert, he could hear the subtle sounds of the intruders' advance as well. There came a noise of claws shearing through dew-dampened grass, and a soft voice whimpered in protest as the body of its owner brushed past some painful obstacle. Echelli, turning to face the west with a slight smile, listened as footsteps approached the wires he had strung to the sapling earlier. There came a noise of shattering, hardened clay, followed by a gurgling of liquid, the roar of flames, and a terrific scream. Though he could not see beyond the sable boundary he had erected with his magic, Echelli knew that one wanderwolf had found the vat of firewater. Not even glancing at the girl behind him, Echelli flew into motion. He dissipated the barrier and jumped from the rope circle, straight over the fire at the startled wanderwolves beyond. He landed in front of them, blades weaving in an intricate, warning pattern. He had no desire to harm the beasts if they did not raise a paw against him. His friend Keren had sworn an oath to the wolves, and the descriptions of the land Elwen's friends had been circulated among the wolven races. Technically, wanderwolves would not harm him- if they recognized him. But Echelli, adapting his stance almost unconsciously to one of battle, his eyes gleaming with dark fire, half- hoped the beasts would decide to attack. Gone was his weariness, and his sickness of fighting. He longed now to use his skills doing the thing he was best at. One of the animals, a large silver-haired one with blue-flecked golden eyes, raised a paw in the ancient signal of truce. Echelli nodded slowly, but continued to hold his position. Evil creatures were known for treachery; in fact, they took pride in it. The wanderwolf smiled in relief- not a very reassuring sight, since it exposed all the dagger-like fangs- and loped forward. Echelli studied him, silently admiring how well the creatures were adapted to their way of life. The wanderwolf had the body of a wolf, save that it had furry, paw-shaped hands instead of regular forepaws, but it walked upright on two legs. Its gaze was full of radiant intelligence, a boon against enemies who considered all wolves lesser creatures. It moved with a silent, effortless grace that appeared no different from an Elwen's, save that Elwens walked as if to music. This creature stalked. Echelli folded his arms and lowered his weapons to his sides, showing plainly that he did not mean malice toward the wolves. The wanderwolf with the luminous eyes nodded slowly, then stretched as if pained and dropped to all fours, sitting on its haunches like a dog. "I find it more comfortable this way," it said casually in Universal, the language used for communication among all races. "You can relax, too, Echelli Durillo." Having said this, it broke off, eying Echelli. The curalli knew it was waiting to see what the shadowed Elwen's reaction to its knowledge would be, as well as to its invitation. Echelli smiled sweetly, but lofted his dirks to a more menacing posture. "Thank you very much, but I prefer to be just the way I am." "So our scouts say of you," answered the wanderwolf, not seeming surprised. He tucked his short but bushy tail around his paws, like a cat. "Why are you watching me?" asked Echelli bluntly. "I am merely traveling through your forest on my way to visit a friend, and I don't think that he would be pleased to discover you sneaking up on me." "This friend of yours is known to us, from the way you speak," the beast noted. "His name?" "Keren Deerfriend." Echelli smiled slightly at the flinch in the ranks of the wanderwolves. The one who was talking sent them a quelling glance, then refocused his eyes on Echelli. "So you say," he growled, once again flashing his fangs. "But, if you knew nothing would harm you- if you had no reason to suspect- why did you set so many traps?" At Echelli's hesitation, he added smugly, "If there is danger in our forest, we deserve to know about it." "I saw an indistinct figure at the riverbank this afternoon," Echelli told him, "but I have since discovered who it was, and the presence represents no danger to you. That I can promise." "I see." The wanderwolf sounded extremely doubtful. Then his uncertainty melted into fury once more, and the purple moonlight winked as he bared his fangs a third time, with menacing slowness. "But you still have our comrade to answer for." He indicated, with a jerk of his head, a dead wanderwolf. Echelli was not so great a fool as to take his eyes off his enemy, but, peering out of the corner of his left diamond, he caught a glimpse of a twisted, tormented shape. What little fur clung to it was blackened, and its visible skin was charred. The exposed muscle pulsed in a weird, revolting rhythm. Echelli knew that this intruder had gotten caught by the firewater. He offered no apology as he glared at the wanderwolf leader. "I set up a trap to protect myself, since at that time I did not yet know that the person who followed meant me no harm. I cannot repair your dead comrade's fur, or recall a life that has flown. If you wish, I will compensate for his death in whatever barter you will accept." "There is only one thing we would accept in trade for a brother's life," laughed the wanderwolf, his voice harsh but clear. He came forward on a low stalk, looking no different from an ordinary wolf on the hunt, save for the rage in his eyes. Then, with the speed and silence of the wind, he flung himself at the Elwen, growling, "Your life!" Echelli spun contemptuously from the attack, then lifted a dirk as a second beast sprang at him. A single slash gutted this young wanderwolf from muzzle to tail, and he collapsed with a wail, lying still. Black blood, gurgling and hissing, pooled on the ground. Echelli wrinkled his nose at the stench of it. The older wanderwolf who had offered the false parley jumped at him once more, teeth bared, jaws open like a trap. Echelli held his golden eyes as both his blades found the evil one's heart. "Next time, don't try to trick me," he murmured, ignoring the fact that there would be no next time for this wolf. The evil beast collapsed face first on the grass-covered ground and expired. A howl of outrage erupted from seven throats, and Echelli turned, seeing moonlight and firelight playing on the fangs of the predators. He couldn't do anything about the moonlight, which gave the dusk-adapted eyes of the wanderwolf an advantage, but the other source of brilliance was easily taken care of. One bound took him to the fire, and a sweep of his dirks through the small circle of dirt he had laid outside it doused the blaze with sand. There came a short silence as the flames dissipated, and the wanderwolves slowly came to realize that none of them would live to see another sunrise. Echelli set his feet wide apart, cocked his weapons in a mocking salute, and sprang, his swiftness and weight crushing one beast to the ground. A wicked cut finished that one, and Echelli was jumping at another before the stunned creatures began to move. Abruptly, a shimmering presence appeared between Echelli and the wolves, holding up slender hands commandingly. The wolves fell back, whimpering and uncertain. The silver blood of a land Elwen could effectively hold them at bay. Echelli, enraged, slashed out at the orange hair of the maiden in front of him, intending to cut it even shorter than it already was. But his dirks met an invisible, magical shield three inches from the girl's back, and the only reward Echelli got for his effort was a pair of numbed arms. He staggered backward, then heard one of the wanderwolves call tauntingly, "I suppose Echelli Durillo isn't such a great warrior after all. He has to have a magic-wielder to fight for him." Echelli put an end to that one's boasting with a tossed dirk, then closed on the five remaining members of the pack. He might be outnumbered, but at least he would go down fighting. Fighting- and teaching them that nobody threatened a curalli and got away with it. Suddenly, firm, incredibly strong hands caught his elbows, pinning his arms to his sides and dragging him backwards. Echelli struggled, but his forte was speed and stealth, not strength, and the mysterious sorceress was able to hold him quite easily. Clenching her fingers into the curalli's silver wrists, she called out, "If I were you, I would leave now." The wanderwolves were only too happy to be excused by the opposite side, and they fled, bounding, into the woods. Echelli took a moment to catch his breath, and felt the girl release his arms. He silently counted to three, then slammed an elbow into the Elwen woman's ribs. He missed, and nearly lost his balance again, as she stepped away from him, chuckling. "Echelli, dear, you really must remember that I know everything you're thinking." The mixed-blood whirled around and angrily stalked past the sand-covered embers of his fire, pausing to kick at the body of a dead wanderwolf. He was careful to avoid the acidic black blood that bubbled into the ground. "Why did you prevent me from attacking?" he demanded, his voice taut with anger. "Why did you come here in the first place?" The rich peal of bell-like laughter made Echelli lay his ears back- at least, as far as he could. "Oh, come now, Eche!" the girl scolded him playfully, turning her head to keep him fixed with one dawn eye. "You surely know the answer to that by now!" "As far as I can tell," shouted Echelli, losing his temper at last, "it's to make my life miserable!" The girl snorted, an oddly delicate sound, and flipped her hair over one shoulder. "I came to protect you," she said with weary patience. "I don't know how many times I've had to tell you that." "And how many times do I have to tell you that I don't care what you think?" growled Echelli. "I don't need protection. I've done just fine on my own." "I suppose how you killed that efgoan is an example of that?" the girl asked smugly. When Echelli glared at her, she sighed and continued. "You simply won't understand me, or accept me for who I am, and that is your failing. I'm here for another purpose, as well- to protect you from yourself, to make you correct and recognize those faults." Echelli spat in contempt. "I think not. If I wanted to change myself, I would have done so long ago. Instead, I choose to live in accord with my own wishes and desires." "I don't think so," the girl pointed out innocently. "Otherwise, I wouldn't be here." Echelli took a deep breath and closed his eyes, doing his best to subdue his frustration. When he looked at the land Elwen girl again, he was at least marginally calmer. "If there is some way to prevent your coming, be assured I will find it, ghost," he said. "I'm not a ghost," said the girl irritably, then frowned. "And no, I'm not a spirit, hallucination, dream, or magical being either," she snapped. Echelli glared; she had plucked the adjectives from his head as the passed through. "I am who I am, and nothing more." She moved a step closer, her luminous eyes holding him an absolute prisoner. "And I will come to protect you no matter what you do." "The moments of danger come only while I am wandering," said Echelli with characteristic stubbornness. "If I settle down, as Keren and Esme tell me I ought to do, then things like this encounter with the wanderwolves could not happen. Then you would not need to protect me- not that I need you anyway," he hastened to add. The girl stared at him, and there was such acute fear on her features that Echelli turned to look uneasily behind him. "What is it?" he demanded, one hand closing on the smooth metal grip of a blade. "Can you sense something that I cannot?" "No," said the woman softly, recalling his gaze to her as she stepped forward. "But I will tell you to beware, Echelli Durillo. You can change naturally, but seeking to tame your freedom is unnatural. Do not do this. I am warning you." The concern in her voice was so real that the melodic words cracked, and tears shone in her eyes. Echelli hardened his heart, a skill he had perfected through long practice. "You are threatening me, you mean." He lunged forward, certain that his blades would sink into flesh. He missed completely as the girl, her orange dress flashing into view for the first time, lifted slender hands and caught his wrists, murmuring a slow chant in magic's tongue. Frost rimed his hands, and he whimpered, dropping his blades. When he looked up, she was gone, vanished without so much as a sound. There were no footprints to mark the ground where she had stood, and no land Elwen scent lingered on the warmth of the spring air. Echelli crept back to his doused fire. He did not sleep again that night, but remained awake, staring into the forest, filled with a rage he could not unleash, and a deadly fear he could not understand. ---------------------------------------------------------- The sun had barely risen before Echelli broke camp, but he continued with his preparations, ignoring the blaze of warmth falling upon his light-sensitive skin from the east. He felt a compulsive need to be away from the strange clearing where the bodies of the wanderwolves yet lay on the ground. He removed the strings and chimes and hooks he had used in his traps, sliding them into his pack with extreme care. Then he buried the embers of his fire and the shattered pieces of the firewater vat. If the wanderwolves who had escaped tried to lead a party back here to prove their story, they would have a hard time showing any evidence. Last of all, heaving the pack onto his shoulders, he worked to hide his trail. He sprinkled water from a nearby stream on the ground, scattered a few ashes from the fire, and made sure that plenty of wanderwolf blood was spilled, so that his own scent would most likely be lost in the confusion. Finally, he used a branch to brush away all his tracks, including those leading to the stream. When all was done, he splashed into the water and waded for a short distance, confusing his smell even more. He paused to wash the dirt and wanderwolf blood from his hands and face, then sprang out of the stream and ran away, south. Not once did he look back. ---------------------------------------------------------- Throughout the day, Echelli trotted, tireless, at the eternal pace his kind could keep up for days at a time. At eighty miles an hour, the countryside literally dropped away beneath his flashing feet, and soon he was nearing familiar territory, where he knew every tree and stone. Echelli abruptly slowed and sniffed the air, concerned. Where there should have been only the scents of evergreen, hylea, water, and flying squirrels, there was something else. A smoky stench caused the curalli to wrinkle his nostrils in disgust, and creep forward slowly. The sight before him enraged every bit of forester instinct and love in him. Somebody had cut down a great many trees and set fire to them, apparently for no particular reason. Echelli, trotting slowly across the still-heated ground, saw no marks to indicate that logs had been dragged from the scarred clearing. So, whoever had done this was simply purely wasteful. The shadowed Elwen lowered his head, revulsed and sickened- and a little surprised at his own reaction. Perhaps, years or even months before, such a sight would have saddened him instead of tired him. But now... He didn't even feel any vengeance to pursue the logcutters. I must be getting tired of wandering, he decided as he left the clearing. I can't force myself to care about what I see any more. I suppose Keren was right; I can't go on adventuring forever. It had to end sometime. He shook his head and trotted wearily into the trees. Where joy had once guided his steps, there was now only sorrow. ---------------------------------------------------------- About midday, when the sun was hottest and highest, and caused sweat to stream out of every pore in Echelli's body, he passed Shadows. He paused when he was about nine miles from it, training his eyes on the dark silver walls. He could clearly see the shapes of curalli marching back and forth in ceaseless watch. He had left Shadows nearly nine hundred years ago, but he still disliked the twinges of memory his homeland brought to his mind. He had lost too much there to ever feel comfortable near it again. Snarling away his errant thoughts, the forester- fighter sprang away, racing through the branches of the trees headlong, heedless of anything except getting away. He blinked, trying unsuccessfully to pretend that the tears on his cheeks were from the wind alone. In that manner he passed Rowan, and continued on past its miles of farmlands and tamed orchards, being careful to keep out of sight. His longing to get to Keren's home, and ask the land Elwen's opinion about Echelli's building a house near his, was increasing with every step he took. The sun was only beginning its westering slide when he broke from thick forest cover into a verdant field a hundred and forty miles south of Shadows. Almost instantly, he slowed his pace and smiled in relief at the small white cottage perched on the edge of the grassy expanse. "Well, well," he whispered into the wind. "Let's see if Keren is home." Lately, the land Elwen had been taking long trips, fulfilling his oath to the wolves as well as other commitments. But Echelli could see the bay horse his friend favored grazing peacefully in the grassy garden in front of the house, so he was most likely home. Echelli could hardly have hoped to near the house undetected, but he was a little annoyed when the silver-haired land Elwen came out through the door of the cottage, smiling to welcome him. Echelli had hoped to be a little more stealthy than that. But then he shrugged, let his own face break into a smile, and hurried to greet his friend, whom he had not seen in a year. His last few bounds ended near Keren, who grinned widely at him, clasping the curalli's silvery arm. "Well met, Echelli!" he said heartily, white teeth reflecting the late afternoon sun in blinding flashes. "I expected you back before now, but, according to rumor, you've been busy." Echelli, wondering just what kind of tales his friend had heard, returned the tight grip. "I was a little busy," he admitted. "I wanted to explore Lillomar, and see the beautiful forests they have there." "I see you did more than just explore," Keren chuckled, eying Echelli's light blue-gray tunic and tan leggings. The clothes were really more appropriate for the summer heat of southern Lillomar than for the Tableland's temperate spring. "Did you turn yourself into a hero again?" Echelli grinned good-naturedly, enduring his friend's teasing with a dignified air. Coming from anyone else, the comment would have brought Echelli's blade flashing for the throat, but the camaraderie between the two friends had passed far beyond even playful threats. That didn't mean that Echelli couldn't needle his friend back, however. "And how else do you call your own life?" he retorted, not bothering to hide his widening smile. "The bards have been busy in all twelve provinces. You're one of their favorite subjects." Keren flushed brilliant silver, as Echelli had known he would, and stepped backwards, turning his head away slightly. "That's hardly important," murmured the land Elwen. "What is really important is what the talesingers don't hear, thank the stars." "What?" After his disastrous journey, Echelli was curious about any news that was remotely cheerful. But, usually undemonstrative, even with those who had earned his trust, he hid his true emotions behind a barrage of deviltry. "Did the wolves release you of your oath?" Keren's glare was pure anger, but Echelli simply smiled. He was the only one- with the possible exception of Keren's wife, Esme- who could infuriate the powerful Elwen and know he wouldn't retaliate. The land Elwen smiled suddenly, banishing his anger. Again, Echelli had mentally predicted that reaction. "No, actually. It's a different kind of news, wonderful news, in fact. But I don't think it's really proper to tell you without Esme around." He closed his eyes, and Echelli knew he was mentally asking his wife to come outside. A moment later, the cottage door opened, and Esme stepped out into the light, tossing her dark hair from her equally black eyes. That rich darkness hung in vivid contrast with her snow-white skin and the soft white robe she had chosen to wear on this, the first really warm day of spring. She came toward them gracefully, smiling and nodding pleasantly at Echelli. At this distance, the shadowed Elwen could clearly feel the enormous thrumming power of magic that hung around her. He knew he would never really understand why Keren had chosen to marry a human- or maybe he could. After all, Esme was a lot more pleasant than most Elwen women- including one he couldn't name- and her magic gave her a lifespan nearly as long as her husband's. And they were extraordinarily happy together. Not that I'm envious of them, Echelli thought to himself. "It's nice to have you back, Echelli." Esme's low, sweet voice scattered his musings, and he blinked, bringing up a smile as he accepted her dove-white hand and bent low over it. When he released her fingers, she gave Keren a swift kiss, then returned her attention to Echelli, a soft smile curving her pale lips. Echelli cocked his head, impatient and nearly burning with curiosity, and finally attempted to heart-read the human woman. He was brought up short by the girl's extremely powerful heartscreening barriers, and he snorted in disappointment. Esme chuckled, casting a mock-scolding glance at Keren. "You told him, didn't you?" she asked with every hint of real exasperation in her tone. But Echelli's ears could hear the love underlying her words. "Just enough to tease him," Keren admitted sheepishly. "Then I'll tell him the truth." Esme, shaking her head, as if to tell the world in general her opinion of Elwenish games, turned to face Echelli again. "We're going to be having an addition to the family." Echelli could feel the grin breaking across his face like the sun after a storm. "That's wonderful, Esme!" He gave both her and Keren swift hugs. "Do you know yet if it's going to be a boy or a girl?" Esme shook her head. "It's too early for my magic to divine that yet. But, whatever it is, we were hoping you would return soon. We were going to ask if you'd stand as the baby's adopted uncle." Echelli bowed low in Elwenish recognition of respect. "You do me great honor," he said truthfully, blinking back the happy tears that threatened to stream down his face. He had made a vow to himself once not to cry unless he absolutely could not resist it. Since that day, he had rarely wept. "Echelli, we are your friends," sighed Esme, stepping forward to clasp his hand once more. "It's perfectly all right for you to show emotion in front of us." Echelli dipped his head in assent, but he still did not permit himself to shed tears. "I would be honored," he repeated. "Well, it's settled then," said Keren briskly. He flashed another warm smile at Echelli. "You seem harried. Was there something you wanted to talk to a friend about?" The curalli nodded, grimacing inwardly at how well the land Elwen knew him. "Yes." Quickly, he spoke of his encounters with the efgoan, the river monsters, the wanderwolves, and the burned trees, emphasizing his growing dislike of the dangers of the road. He omitted any mention of the strange Elwen, but concluded with, "I have a notion that, perhaps, I should do what you've been urging me to do, and settle down. I was wondering if you would mind if I lived near you?" "Do you really need to ask that?" Keren smiled at him affectionately. "Of course, I'd be delighted." Abruptly, though, his smile faded, and he regarded Echelli somberly. "Other people might not be completely thrilled to learn of your plans, though." "Which ones?" Echelli looked up, startled. He had been so busy worrying that Keren would urge him to continue wandering, he hadn't thought about objections to his use of the land. "Does somebody own all the land near here?" "Not somebody," Keren corrected quietly. "Someplace. I don't think that Rowan would want you to use their land without asking their permission- which, of course, they would never grant." Echelli frowned. He had certainly not thought of that obstacle. Although Rowan controlled lands up to seventy miles away from it, the only ones that were heavily patrolled were the stretches of border forest the mighty city shared with Shadows. Echelli hadn't thought the land Elwens would care about the southern part. "Did they let you live on it?" "Yes," Keren admitted slowly, "but with you, it would be different." He glanced at Echelli, hesitating. The curalli smiled humorlessly. "You can go ahead and say whatever you're thinking. We've known each other too long for you to offend me with truth." "All right then," sighed Keren, visibly relieved. "It would be a matter of race with you, Echelli. How can my hometown allow one of their traditional enemies to live on their land, and still continue in its rigid adherence to its laws? Rowan may have changed, but not that much. Their thinking is this: If one law is bent, the younger, more emotional generation are going to see that as an excuse to bend another law. Their giving you permission could cause an uproar." The mixed-blood muttered an oath under his breath. All his life, his heritage had caused trouble for him, and he had to admit the truth of Keren's words, however much he disliked them. The Council of Rowan was- with a few exceptions- made up of stubborn fools who were locked into long traditions of strict laws. Though they truly had the city's best interests at heart, they had a tendency to get fanatical about things. Echelli winced at the thought of how long it would take them to reach a decision about his idea. The curalli decided to follow his usual method, and be blunt. "I don't understand why they couldn't make an exception, just this once. I have most certainly never been an enemy to them." He paused suddenly, a devilish idea wandering into his mind. "Of course," he purred, "the Council has a whole city to take care of. It would be a shame to bother them with my little problem." Esme looked puzzled, but Keren picked up on his meaning right away. "Echelli," began the land Elwen, eying his friend incredulously, "you're not going to tell them?" At Echelli's stubborn look, he shook his head frantically, his silver hair flying into his eyes. "Do you know how deep in hot water you'll be if they catch you?" "About six feet?" Echelli guessed. "Echelli, this is no joking matter!" snapped Keren, looking frustrated beyond belief. "Rowan would be perfectly within its rights- at least, the rights of their laws- to capture you and drag you in for a trial!" Echelli shrugged. "I don't really care all that much. Besides, if I don't proclaim my intentions to the world, they'll never know. It's not as if patrols take care of the southern lands." "That's my point!" Keren clasped his friend's arms, staring deeply into Echelli's eyes. "Rowan is changing, and it's patrolling the south of the city with greater vigor now. They're determined that nothing like the Sublimation should ever happen again, at least without alerting them first. This way, they'll be able to see practically everything that goes on in the lands they control. Do you honestly feel you can escape their notice?" Echelli stirred restlessly. Though he would not admit encountering the strange land Elwen girl- his real reason for deciding to stop wandering- he had to explain to Keren his desire to settle a patch of Rowan's land, regardless of the danger. "Ker, please, listen to me! If I'm giving up wandering, I need another challenge to replace it. Later, I might be able to live a quiet life, but not right away. At least, allow me this little adventure to wean me off excitement." He fixed his friend with cool dark eyes. "You won't tell, will you?" Keren looked saddened. "No, Eche. I just think you're making a mistake." "At least it's mine to make," replied Echelli softly. "I feel as if I have to take charge of my life, make my own decisions." He looked at Keren wistfully. "Lately, my life has been controlled by my need to wander. I don't want that to grip me again, because I was afraid of being caught by Rowan." "All right, Echelli," sighed Keren, stepping back and releasing his friend's wrists. "I just hope it works out for the best." "Luck, Echelli," added Esme quietly. The curalli nodded his appreciation of their good wishes, feeling a strong sense of pride and satisfaction. He was finally going to do something that would not involve a fight, but that had a certain degree of daring to it. This was what he had truly been longing for. "Let me know when the baby comes," he told Keren easily. "I'd love to stand as adopted uncle." The land Elwen and his wife had barely stammered their thanks before the shadowed Elwen was off again, springing over the grass of the field with the grace of a wild thing. He paused to wave to his friends, then ducked into the thick forest cover. As he raced north, he thought he saw a mysterious, vague shimmer out of the corner of his eye, but he dismissed it with an angry growl. Chapter 2 Objection Echelli crouched on the branch of the midnight elm, locked in a half-doze. He had thought long and hard about choosing the clearing that the dark-casting tree grew in, and he still didn't know if it would be the right choice or not. However, he had exhausted himself with three straight days of running, and he thought it best to rest before going to check on another potential homesite. A snort from below made him open his eyes, and sit up slowly, with utmost care. The snort was almost instantly followed by a grunt, and then some more strange noises. Fascinated, Echelli peered downward, his eyes piercing the thick darkness shed by the elm's leaves with perfect clarity. Below, one of the ugliest creatures he had ever seen was using long tusks to uproot a small sapling. Blunted, rounded jaws curved open, and large, flat teeth shredded the bark of the young tree. That meal done, the wild boar grunted and moved on to another small tree, nudging it with his tusks. Echelli dropped lightly behind the pig, his eyes fastened to the bristling flanks. Wild boars in this area of the Tableland forest looked like a cross between pigs and porcupines, so it was best to be careful. The shadowed Elwen moved forward with hunter's grace. The boar had the instincts of a forest creature, however, and it whirled at once. A spiked snout faced Echelli, and tiny red eyes began to glow with the dim- witted fury of pigkind. The boar stamped the ground with one cleaver-sharp hoof and charged. Echelli spun and sprang nimbly from the charging creature's path, his eyes alight with amusement. Then he stepped slowly forward, touching the pig's raging mind with his own. ^Wait, brother. I have something to tell you.^ The pig looked confused, and the stamping of its hooves slowed. Then the reddish glow began to fade from its eyes as Echelli talked on in the mental tongue that transcended all barriers. ^I want to live here, but there is a problem. I am not sure if the land Elwens will let me. Can you tell me if the patrols of the city come here? I would be able to reward you very well- with much food.^ The pig halted its movement, except for the slow swish of a curly tail. It seemed to be considering. Then it gave a sharp snort, and Echelli knew it was agreeing, telling him that land Elwens did indeed come here. The mixed-blood's mouth tightened. He had seen no sign of patrols and had devoutly hoped that Rowanians did not care about this part of their lands. The boar snorted suddenly, and Echelli recalled his attention to his promise with a start. Concealing his surprise with a wry mental smile, he spoke, gliding into the forest's eaves. ^Come. I passed a stand of saplings not so long ago. I should be able to find some food there.^ With an agreeable grunt and a rattle of quills, the boar followed. Echelli kept a careful eye on it, just in case those razor-sharp tusks or metallic hoofs came too close to his back. But the creature seemed perfectly happy to follow him down a winding, twisting game path, confident that the curalli could deliver what he had promised. At length, the pair emerged into a tiny clearing where the forest thinned. Echelli swept a hand toward a large, thick cluster of very young trees. ^They're all yours, my brother. Thank you.^ The boar bounded forward eagerly, flat teeth already reaching for the bark of one of the trees. Echelli smiled slightly at the sight of the creature's joy, and started to turn away. "Well done." The smooth, melodic voice sounded faintly amused. Whirling to the left, Echelli saw its owner, lounging against a tree, clapping her hands in a slow parody of applause. Dawn-marked eyes fixed on him. Echelli snarled and pointedly turned his head the other way, beginning the walk back to the clearing. As easily as if they had been friends their entire lives, the orange-haired Elwen maiden fell into step beside him. The curalli knew by now that any blow he gave would pass right through her, so he ignored her, keeping his eyes ranging among the thick branches and the plants at the side of the trail. They had walked perhaps half a mile when the sorceress spoke again. "I wonder, Echelli, how skilled you could be in areas other than fighting or forestry, if you gave yourself half a chance." The mixed-blood quickened his pace, but the girl matched it. Echelli knew he would feel ridiculous running through this forest with no threat behind him, so he finally growled, "I suppose I'll just have to tolerate you." Echelli could practically feel the girl smile smugly, though she wasn't looking at him. "You see?" she asked brightly. "I knew you would accept me sooner or later." "Just don't get in the way," said Echelli shortly, once again emerging into the clearing where the midnight elm grew. "I'm going to be busy here, and I don't need a ghost hanging around." Already, he knew how his words would infuriate her. She was not so mysterious that he couldn't make some kind of guess at her character. Sure enough, she flared with anger, and Echelli stifled a grin. "I can help you, Echelli Durillo! When I'm with you, I'm no less real than you are." Echelli shook his head as if flies were tormenting him. "So you've said during times beyond counting," he growled, gliding over to the tree and disappearing within its shadow. The girl followed him, acting every bit as confident in the darkness as he did, despite the fact that she should have been blind. Echelli put that fact away for further notice. "I don't see why you would want to help me." The sorceress wove her hands in a soft spell, murmuring words just beyond the edge of Echelli's hearing. Suddenly, he felt content and subdued, with no desire to continue his tirade. "What did you do?" he asked quietly. He marveled at the fact that there was no trace of anger in his voice. "I'm getting tired of questions about who and what I am, and about my bond to you," she explained easily. "This spell will stifle your curiosity about me for the moment." Echelli would have liked to explode in shimmering rage, but the spell would not even let him question it. Instead he led the magic-wielder on, keeping a wary eye on her. Who knew what else her magic could do? Suddenly the land Elwen girl halted, her eyes wide with curiosity. "What is that?" she murmured, tilting her head as she listened. "I could have sworn I heard it somewhere before, but I can't place it." Echelli lifted his head, and promptly snarled in unshamed fear. His hands flew to his waist, and he drew his dirks, which seemed to flare with a light and life of their own in the magical darkness. "I know what it is," he growled. "And, if you really value your own life, you'll leave." The girl started to ask why, but then had to sprint after Echelli as the curalli raced to the edge of the midnight elm's cover. The shadowed Elwen stepped into the middle of the clearing once more, the land Elwen panting up beside him, and focused his eyes on the forest to the east. Again came the sound that had alerted both members of the pair- a sweet, satiny, crooning song, sung slightly out of time, as though one singer was just an instant behind the other. The overall effect was haunting. Echelli began a long, steady stream of curses that made his companion stare at him in astonishment, and lifted his weapons to a ready position. He almost started when he felt warm fingers on his arm, and the sorceress's voice whispered, "Echelli, what is it?" The song was coming closer, and the shadowed Elwen only had time to bound closer, shouting a single word. He saw the girl stare down at the ground, as if expecting a chasm to open between her feet, and corrected his speech. "No, nothing's cracking! I didn't say that!" "What is going on, then?" shouted the girl. "Gracken!" The earth began to shake- or perhaps that was only Echelli's feverish imagining, as the trees parted beneath the beating wings of Arcadia's deadliest forest creature. The two-headed bird, black-splashed blue feathers gleaming the sun's last light, shrieked and dove at him, still singing. The light now played on the diamond talons that reached for Echelli's face, and the gracken stooped with preternatural speed. It just missed as Echelli rolled from its path, causing its claws to sink deeply into the soft sand. As the abomination flapped all four wings and tried to haul itself back into the air, the curalli moved, still snarling all the way, back into the shadows of the midnight elm, trying to form a strategy. He knew the bird couldn't attack him in the darkness cast by the tree's leaves, but neither could he stay in the elm's refuge forever. "So that's a gracken." The lovely voice behind him was subdued. Echelli turned, regarding the orange-haired sorceress with a measure of annoyance. However, her luminous eyes were fastened on the bird, an expression of awe turning her face incredibly beautiful. Echelli swallowed the emotions that the sight inspired in him long enough to answer, "Yes. It's the most deadly bird on the continent, and makes a strong bid for most evil of the intelligent races. Haven't you ever faced one before?" The sorceress gave him her unreadable look. "Have you?" Echelli rolled his eyes, and continued. "I don't think you have. So, while I fight it, the best course of action for you would be-" "To run?" The magic-wielder plucked the thought from his head with her usual talent. She shook her head, her lip curling. Her mysterious expression turned withering. "My purpose in coming here is to protect you, Echelli. We are joined in a bond stronger than you can imagine- just as my magic is stronger than you can imagine. We face this together." "But you have never fought one," Echelli pointed out with weary impatience, over the beginning of the song from outside. "And I think that you can best protect yourself by leaving while I distract it. If you don't, I'll get distracted with worrying about you." He abruptly snapped his mouth shut and looked the other way as he realized what he had just said. He heard the girl chuckle softly behind him. "I suppose I must be growing on you," she murmured. Echelli ignored the comment, instead tossing his sable cloak out of the way and racing out of the magical shadow, his dirks cocked to kill. He heard a light patter of feet behind him as the girl followed him out, still chortling with mirth. Trying to remind himself that she could evidently fight with her magic, he tossed a dirk at the gracken. The gracken appeared mildly startled at their sudden appearance, but it was still able to whirl easily out of the way of the dirk. Flexing its wings in contempt, it stooped for Echelli, apparently thinking that the enchantress was either too easy a target, or that it could resist her magic. Its four eyes obviously considered Echelli the main threat. The curalli watched and waited, tense. If the gracken meant to attack with its talons or beaks, and this was not merely a feint, he could easily dodge out of the way. But if the great bird did what he thought it would do... One diamond, four-taloned foot struck for his face. Echelli remained immobile, disdaining to move, even when he heard his companion scream from behind him and start to run forward. The gracken's heads shook, and oozing blue acid flew from the bright red eyes, just as he had thought it would. Triumphant, he dodged out of the liquid's way and grabbed the shining white foot swiping at his face. The talons themselves were diamond, and therefore Echelli could not grip too hard, or he would slice his hand off. But under their hard covering, the gracken's legs were still only bone. A snap of Echelli's wrist, and the fragile bone sagged. The gracken shrieked in rage, stabilizing itself in midair with the beating wings. It tried feebly to move the foot that hung limp, but it obviously had no feeling there anymore. Echelli smiled and reached upward with a dirk. Too late, he saw the glowing white hind foot sweeping in from the left. Before he could duck, sharp diamond razed his face, and white blood trickled down his cheek. Gasping at the pain from being cut by the hardest mineral in the world, he dropped to the ground and rolled away. By the sound of its wings, the bird was coming after him. Then for the first time, it spoke- not aloud, but in a telepathic voice that was as silky as its song. ^You hurt me. I am very old, and I never underestimate my opponents. Thus, not many times have I been hurt.^ The talons flexed as Echelli glanced defiantly back over shoulder at the creature. ^You have changed that, sand for that I am angry.^ Echelli started to respond, but another voice entered his mind, warm and soothing. ^Don't talk, Eche! Distract him! I'll lure him toward me so subtly he won't know I'm doing it, and then we'll have him!^ So confident was the voice of the enchantress that Echelli obeyed instinctively. He rose to his feet with a bound and tossed the dirk high in the air. The gracken's left pair of eyes turned to follow the shining blade, while the remaining pair fixed on the curalli. It snickered. ^You shall not kill me so easily, shadowed Elwen.^ "I am no more a shadowed Elwen than you are a simple forest creature," answered Echelli aloud, knowing that the deadly one would understand, even though he didn't know exactly how. "I forsook that part of my heritage long ago." ^You may have forsaken it,^ answered the gracken, obviously striving to sound distant, cryptic, and wise, ^but it has not forsaken you. Do you honestly mean to tell me, Elwen, that you have no idea what your heritage has bequeathed to you?^ "A twisted, tormented life," snapped the curalli, feeling that he must distract the gracken with words, if not actions. It took all of his willpower to stop from staring at the land Elwen sorceress as she wove her hands in a beckoning spell, mouthing soft words. "And a curse on me; I can never call any home or either people my own." ^There may be truth to what you say,^ responded the bird, beating its wings slightly as if fighting a small breeze. Echelli had to work hard to stifle a smile as he saw the monster begin to be carried backward. ^But you also have a hefty dose of magic.^ Echelli stared, eyes narrowing. He could detect no lies in the gracken's words. What if what it was saying was the truth? And what if the appearance of that strange land Elwen was tied to his magic in some way? What reason would the bird have for lying? He cut short his imaginings with a ruthless suddenness that surprised him a bit. The gracken could be lying very carefully. The mental tongue was not as easy to probe for deception as were spoken words. And it could be avoiding the truth just because, as an evil creature, dishonesty would please it. Still... He shook the thoughts from his mind and spoke aloud, realizing that the bird had fixed its eyes on him and was waiting for an answer. "I have no magic, save the little innate curalli magic that has survived my fighting." He set his muscles into a subtle fighting stance, one of the more effective ones, because the mere tension could allow him to leap in any direction. "And even if I did, I would not use it." He smiled slowly, still talking, still holding the bird's attention. "My shadowed Elwen heritage may be bred to magic, but, as a land Elwen, I dislike it." ^You cannot forever deny your heritage!^ called a voice, and the mixed-blood was not sure if it was the voice of the gracken or that of the sorceress. He put it out of his head as the deadly bird stooped again, shrieking like a raptor. He focused his telekinesis on the broken foot, knowing that he wouldn't be able to disrupt the hunter's flight by breaking into its alert mind. He would try a less dangerous tactic. The gracken squawked in surprise as a small shower of leaves and dirt floated up from the floor of the clearing and affixed themselves to its broken foot. The weight began to drag its slowly earthward, and it flinched. Echelli guessed the cause of that was the hot spurts of agony running up its leg, but he felt no pity. He knew full well that the deadly abomination would kill them if it got the chance. With startling abruptness, a net formed out of thin air, its thin silver tendrils embracing the bird. The gracken tried to flap free, but by the time it had managed to cut a few shining strands with its three good feet and snap apart several more with its diamond beaks, its wings had become pinned. It dropped to earth with a protesting squawk. Triumphant once more, Echelli stepped forward and bared his dirks to slice into the bird's throat. He heard the sorceress cry out behind him, but he did not stop. Moving too quickly for any magic to detain him, he sliced. One of the heads hung limp as blue blood stained the shining feathers, and he turned toward the other. Strong hands caught him from behind, as they had caught him during the fight with the wanderwolves nearly a week earlier. Echelli bucked as if he were a wild horse, nearly going mad, desiring only to be on his own, to run free. The girl's incredible physical strength held him still, and, when he finally turned to look at her, the rage in her lovely, dawn-marked eyes silenced his protests. She turned, making a sharp gesture of dismissal, and tenderly caught up the remaining head of the gracken. The red eyes blinked up at her, the diamond beak snapping at her slender fingers. She ignored the bird's obvious distaste for her attention, and moved her fingers over the sparkling feathers, marveling, as if the bird were a beautiful creature as well as a deadly. Then, with a gesture almost caring, she closed the acidic eyes and laid her long hands over the bird's unslit throat. When she lifted them again, the gracken lay still. Echelli, still rubbing his bruised elbows, felt a hot anger rise in him. "You didn't have to cheat me of my chance to kill it," he hissed, fury making him oblivious to the consequences of challenging her. She whirled around, roughly cut orange hair flying behind her, and he was caught totally off guard at the rage-filled gaze she leveled at him. She said nothing, but her silent disapproval, the scorn visible in her stalking movements, stung him more than any words she could have uttered. He heard her saying once more that he had faults, that he desperately needed to change. And he heard her saying that she had come to him to correct those faults. Was one of them killing his enemies when they were down? "We couldn't have done anything with it, you know," he said to the magic-wielder's taut back. She had crossed to the opposite side of the clearing and was staring into the distant silence of the forest, steadfastly refusing to talk to him. A slight breeze caught her hair, whipping it behind her and revealing the cords in her neck, her fair skin bulging with their tension. Echelli continued talking, choking his words out past the lump in his throat at the sight of her beauty. "Grackens never accept an excuse to run away, unlike wanderwolves," he told the silent figure who had come to tangle herself in his heart so strangely. "If I had spared its life, it would simply have retreated, found some wellspring of magic in which to heal itself, and returned with a vengeance." The sorceress sighed, and Echelli could sense a certain sadness in her eyes as she turned to regard him once more. However, there was still accusing anger in her voice. "Don't you ever feel, Eche, as if you are too consumed by bloodlust?" Echelli narrowed his eyes, his momentary remorse draining away. It was his habit to speak bluntly, to take offense easily, and to waste no time in letting people know exactly how he felt. Now the enchantress had overstepped her bounds. "I refuse to answer that question. You claim to be bonded to me, to be even more than a friend. A true friend would not ask me these questions." For the first time, he saw pain flicker across her face. She had expressed a variety of other emotions, ranging from joy to concern for him, but never before had he hurt her with his words. Burying his momentary cry of conscience, he went on, pressing home his small victory. "I go where I choose, do as I please, and live according to my own decisions. Nothing will ever change that." He whirled and stalked into the forest. He truly expected her to simply vanish as she had before, and was surprised to hear the light patter of bare feet coming after him almost instantly. The long fingers, burning with that strange warmth, caught his shoulder, and the girl whispered haltingly, "Echelli, I know the gracken would merely have attacked us again. The reason I wanted it alive is because of what it said about your magic. I can see in your thoughts that those birds are powerful mind-readers. It might have been able to tell us the truth." The curalli turned to study her, stifling a smile at the fact that she actually sounded contrite. "Grackens don't really know all that much," he sniffed, shrugging free of her hand. "And besides, I have very little magic, unless you count the way I can bond with steel. As I have given myself over to fighting, my curalli talents have drained away." He caught a feeling of hesitation charging the air behind him, as if the girl were on the verge of saying something. But then she sighed, and began to murmur lowly in the words of magic. Echelli felt a spell, a shackle, lifted from him, and he backed away, his land Elwen mistrust of magic flaring to life again. "What did you do?" he snarled. "I removed the enchantment that did not permit you to question me," sighed the land Elwen. "You're right. If I want to change you, it can't be against your will. You'll have to work with me, and it can't be done if you mistrust me." Echelli could feel his harshness fading a bit, and he managed to let a tentative smile creep onto his face. "Thank you," he replied, snapping his heads in the slightest of bows, an Elwen gesture of courtesy. "Perhaps we can be friends after all." The girl started to speak, but Echelli hurried on, his guilt goading him. "I haven't properly thanked you for saving my life with the efgoan and the wanderwolves," he said swiftly. "I suppose I thought I could take care of them on my own, but-" He gave a small shrug. "Thank you." "And the gracken?" asked the enchantress with playful coyness. She peered up at him, blinking her eyelashes in mock indignation at Echelli's omission of the most recent battle they had fought together. "That wasn't anything I couldn't have handled on my own," huffed Echelli. "It was nice having your magic on my side," he said hastily, "but hardly necessary." He looked uncomfortably the other way, knowing that he was lying for the sake of his pride, but unable to deny his stubborn nature. "Of course it wasn't necessary," the female muttered in tones that showed she knew otherwise. But she did not press the point. Instead, she slipped her arm through Echelli's, pretending not to notice the curalli's flinch and attempt to tug away. "The stars will be coming out soon," she murmured in her clear voice, not so different from the teasing chatter of a brook. "You will want to sing." She did not make her last statement a question. Echelli shrugged impatiently, but he knew she was right. Already the sun had sunk, and the darkness about them was deepening, becoming more comfortable to his eyes. Soon, the countless points of light and darkness would dot the deep green sky, and everywhere elwensong would be rising. "I do not usually sing in company," he told her, a fairly feeble last attempt at warning her away. "My voice may be out of tune." The girl laughed gaily, flipping her hair over her shoulder without releasing his arm. Again, she appeared like a child. "How can you be out of tune, dear Eche, when the song to the stars has no fixed pattern?" The curalli, growling slightly at having been outsmarted, moved to the center of the clearing where he could clearly see the gems of the heavens through the branches of the trees. The girl followed him, giggling at first as he tugged her along, and then nestling against him, resting her head on his shoulder like a youngster. How could she trust him so much? Almost before he realized he was doing it, his arm curved around the shoulders pressed so trustingly against him. Because he had always felt trapped when encircled by something, and because he respected freedom, he held her very gently, ready to release her the moment she stirred. But she seemed content, as starlight began to cascade into the clearing, to simply hold onto him, her eyes closed and a soft smile wrapping her lips. Echelli began to sing in a low vice, hoping he wouldn't disturb her. But soon that concern vanished, replaced by the nearly delirious awe the stars inspired in any Elwen. He sang, fiercely blinking back the tears trailing down his cheeks, and forgot himself in his rapt adoration of the heavenly light. Halfway through his song, the voice of the enchantress, joining his with a delicate melody he had never before heard, rose into the air also. He turned to look at her, astonished buy the sweet, lilting cadence of her voice, by the fact that he could follow the tune almost as soon as she began to sing it, flashing among its intricacies and silvershine as if he had sung it from the cradle. Again, he was reminded that she had spoken of how closely they were bonded. He pulled himself back from the brink suddenly, frightened- terribly, horribly frightened. He released his companion and drew away, himself once more, caging his heart and tucking away the beauty that had laid it open. His voice was as cool as the starlight cascading onto the ground as he spoke. "Well, it seems that it is past time for work to begin on my house, if I am to live here." He wheeled and trotted into the forest, shaking so badly that he finally had to lean against a tree to keep from losing his balance. He had very nearly exposed himself there, had very nearly lost control. Almost he could not remember why that would be such a terrible thing, but he remembered almost immediately. He would not be lost in such a bond with another person. He would not. He had chosen to live on his own, as he pleased, and he was determined to do so. Too many things had happened to him for it to be otherwise. He took another deep breath and then continued walking, his eyes searching for the kind of wood he would need to build a small cottage, no larger than Keren's. Black hylea would have been the easiest to work with, but no kin of that tree grew near here. Oak would be tough and unyielding. He was opposed to rowan; it reminded him too much of the Elwen city that might object to his having a home here. Perhaps blithaine? And then he nearly stumbled over the enchantress, who was busily collecting small slivers of black hylea from the ground. Echelli glanced in astonishment at the tree. It looked as if it had been blown to pieces by lightning. "I thought no black hyleas grew around here," Echelli muttered as he moved to help gather pieces of the shining ebony-dark wood. The enchantress simply glanced at him- a quiet, smug glance of pure pride- and went on sorting the wood into a pile that could easily be lofted by telekinesis. Echelli, growling in irritation- how he hated disruptions in the natural order of things!- started to reach out with his mental power. And then, for absolutely no reason- the land Elwen's hands were still- there was a shimmer in the air, a faint tingle, and a wild, free smell. Echelli looked around in astonishment, for he felt magic. Magic where there should have been none. When he thought to look back at the enchantress, thinking to ask an explanation, he found her staring at him. He followed her next gaze to the ground by her feet. All the wood was perfectly stacked, laid out in long, neat rows, easy to lift with telekinesis. Echelli regarded the other Elwen with grudging respect. "So magic can be useful," he murmured. 'That's a handy spell. How long did it take you to learn it?" The girl looked at him helplessly. "Not very long at all," she whispered. Echelli's eyebrows snapped up, his admiration growing. "You must have a real tal-" "Considering that I never learned the spell," the girl added. "-ent for magi- What?" Echelli stared at her. "You never learned it?" At the shake of her head, he drew his dirks and glanced around suspiciously. "I wonder what animal in the forest would want to help us in that manner?" "None," snapped the girl, sounding flustered. When he looked at her again- sharply, for there was something in her voice that should not have been there- he found her regarding him steadily. "You did it, Eche," she whispered, her words falling on the darkened forest floor like soft rain on parched ground. "The gracken spoke the truth. You have magic in you- a very strong gift of it, stronger than mine." Echelli cocked an eyebrow. "My, my, haven't we made a great scientific discovery?" He saw the girl's look of awe and exasperation turn to one of confusion, and he pressed his advantage. "We've found out that madness is catching. First the gracken was infected- but they're all mad anyway- and now it's given it to you. You're having dire hallucinations." "You don't believe you have it?" The girl regarded him incredulously. "Even though you just saw for yourself what it can do?" Echelli burst into laughter that held no humor. "My dear girl, saying that I have magic of the kind you're talking about- the power to change reality- is like saying that Arcadia has one moon instead of four." The land Elwen's confusion became irritation. She shoved wisps of brilliant orange hair from her face and waved a hand dismissively through the air. "Eche, the comparison makes no sense. Arcadia does not have one moon, it has four. You can't violate the laws of nature." "Precisely." Echelli reached out, grabbed the largest bundle of wood he could with his mind, and trotted back toward his clearing. The girl screamed out and glided after him. "You still deny you have it?" "What do you think?" The curalli forced himself to keep his voice calm, his words filled with the strength of his conviction that no magic resided in him. "Gods!" she swore. "You are unbelievably stubborn." "Thank you." Still with the enchantress ranting and raving behind him, Echelli floated the wood into the glade and laid it gently down. Then he turned to go back for more- and found himself bounced, as though off a huge, soft wall. "That was magic," sniffed the girl, rubbing her hands as if they stung. "Now let's see you do it." Echelli have her his most mulish expression. "Hardly. You have magic because you're meant to. I understand that magic is real. I also understand what is the truth and what is not." "Are you accusing me of lying?" she hissed, flipping her hair over her shoulder in a breathtakingly beautiful gesture. "If you want to put it that way, yes," said Echelli mildly. The land Elwen was obviously trying to control herself as she took a step forward, grasped his wrist, and tugged him to his feet. "At least now you won't have trouble with Rowanians," she murmured, reaching up one finger to touch his cheek. "Your magic will take care of them." Echelli smiled darkly, pulling free and racing down the trail to the rest of the cache of wood. "No, it won't," he called. "I'll handle them the same way I've always done: with blades. I need no miserable magic to secure an escape." "I thought it would have occurred to you by now that you can't escape me anyway, not even by settling down," said the girl quietly, appearing before him on the path without a whisper of sound. Her dawn-marked eyes bored into him, held him, filled him again with that terrible fear that had suffused him on the night he battled the wanderwolves. "I have told you that. I always tell the truth, because I have no choice, Do not accuse me of shielding the truth in pretty words again." A moment later, the cry of a sable jay split the silence. Echelli glanced swiftly upward into the jade-green darkness of the sky. The harshest and most alert of sentries circled there, six-foot sable wings