Fighting Shadows
                         Prologue
            1,999,998, Age of Life, Late Fall
    Even on nights like these...
    It was a compellingly clear night, the stars shining 
forth untouched by cloud, unchallenged by light of moon. 
Crystalline beams lit his silver skin and the jeweled 
knife sheath at his hip with a soft glow, even sparkled 
sullenly on the steel chain welded to his neck. Trapped 
starlight cascaded between sky and earth, touching even 
the grass with a mystic radiance that vanished if looked 
at with more than an eye corner. It was beautiful....
    Even on this night, the faces came to him.
    Maruss Freewind leaned against the trunk of an oak 
tree that stood above the small hill where the 
Annihilators camped, arms folded behind his head, legs 
crossed, violet eyes half-closed. To all appearances he 
was asleep, or dreamily watching the starplay and thinking 
of something totally beyond the material world.
    That last assumption would have been more correct, but 
the mood was less appropriate to a dream than to a 
nightmare.
    The curalli drew in a breath and shifted his weight, 
leaning toward his left but not quite lying down, as if 
the uncomfortable position could drive away the faces that 
watched him, the eyes that silently mocked. It was no use, 
of course. They had come for months, and would likely 
continue to come for the rest of his life, his own private 
demons.
    Again he saw the face of the first silver unicorn he 
had ever killed, the wide and staring eyes, the hopeless, 
horrified denial as the creature gazed on the blood 
spurting from its chest. The trapped death rattle in the 
silverini's throat was more real to him than the song now 
rising from the slope below. He could smell the redness 
that had slicked his arms more clearly than the fresh air 
of the night around him.
    After that there came another procession of faces, all 
the silverini he had ever fought, staring at him in fear 
or hatred or anger or- hardest to bear- puzzlement. Maruss 
closed his eyes completely and leaned back against the 
trunk, fighting to control his breathing, which was coming 
in thick, terrified pants. He dug his fingers into the 
softness of the grass, trying to remind himself of the 
real world, trying to tell himself he wasn't sitting in a 
void being judged- and condemned- by the parade of eyes.
    It was no use. The world fell away, until he could 
scarcely feel the grass anymore. Every face that passed 
now wore a haunted and sorrowful expression, like a parent 
gazing on a guilty child. Voices whispered to him out of 
the remembered screams: If you hadn't started this war, we 
would still be alive. Even one life is too high a price to 
pay. Will you let your hunger for freedom destroy still 
more innocents?
    "No," Maruss growled defiantly, but it was not an 
answer to the constantly asked question. It was a protest 
against being unjustly accused. He had not started this 
war. If he had, why would his own people still follow him? 
He had not started this war.
    You did, coaxed the whispering voices. You did. The 
world was at peace until this began. And how do you know 
your people do not blame you? Perhaps they hide it, and 
follow you out of fear.
    "No."
    Yes.
    "No!"
    The word exploded from him in a howl of hot anger. It 
rang in his ears, drowning the voices, scattering the 
faces like startled birds.
    A gentle hand rested on his shoulder, and a soft voice 
he had known all his life whispered in concern, "Maruss. 
Are you all right?"
    Maruss's violet eyes flew open. He gulped and gasped, 
trying to draw in as much air as possible, not only 
because he was out of breath but also to remind himself 
that that air was real. "I'm- yes, Myyti, I'm fine."
    The Elwen woman crouched beside him nodded slowly, 
uncertainly, green eyes on his face as if searching for 
some hidden clue. Her green skin shone in the starlight as 
she reached up a clawed hand and touched his brow. "No 
fever," she murmured, eyes still on him. "Maruss, what is 
wrong?"
    The curalli clenched his silver hands into tight fists 
and forced a smile. "Nothing in particular, Myyti. Just- 
dreaming."
    ^He locked me out of his thoughts,^ complained a 
petulant mental voice, directed to both of them. ^I hate 
it when he does that. It usually means he's indulging in 
another bout of self-torture.^ The words were accompanied 
by a physical buzz, and Maruss turned to scowl at the 
silver-chased steel blade in the ornamental sheath at his 
side.
    "Starsheen," he began warningly.
    ^Correct me if I'm wrong,^ demanded the knife. The 
silence stretched long, and the shadowed Elwen received 
the mental equivalent of a smug smile. ^You see? You can't 
lie, and even if you could, your self-imposed guilt is too 
obvious to be denied.^ Starsheen's voice altered to a 
gentler tone, becoming Maruss's own voice. ^It's a 
beautiful night, one to be enjoyed, not spent in grieving 
for what you cannot change. Come down among friends.^
    "I agree with that," said the underground Elwen 
softly. Her green hair rustled as she sat back on her 
heels and gave an exaggerated stretch, speaking with one 
eye on her foster brother, one eye on the merriment below. 
"Will you not join the rest of us, Maruss? I think it 
would do you good."
    It was a very thinly veiled command, and one Maruss 
was not disposed to argue with. He gave his foster sister 
a wan smile that grew stronger when she stood and offered 
her hand to help him rise to his feet. "I don't know what 
I'd do without you," he said gratefully as he clasped her 
wrist and allowed himself to be hauled up.
    Myyti simply shrugged; they both knew he wasn't 
speaking of the help she had just given him. "Always glad 
to help someone in need," she said rather enigmatically, 
and glided down the slope. Maruss followed with a resigned 
sigh, but he had to admit Myyti's presence helped. The 
"nightmares" were already fading.
    As they drew nearer to the campfires, their warm light 
removed the last lingering bits of terror. Maruss became 
absorbed in studying the faces of those gathered around 
the fires to talk, eat, or dance. It was all part of two 
games the curalli loved to play, and which had recently 
become necessary to hold his fiery band's trust and 
respect: remembering the names of those he saw, and 
reading their emotions, their intent, from a quick glint 
in an eye or the turn of a head.
    His success pleased him. The names returned almost 
immediately, even when all he saw was a face half-hidden 
by firelight, and the prevailing mood was reflected in the 
relaxed, happy expression of every Annihilator they 
passed. It also pleased him that he was able to slip among 
them unnoticed, almost as one of them. They were too 
involved in their conversations to pay any attention to 
the curalli, even if he was their leader.
    Maruss, with a way that had become instinct to him 
over the last four months, homed in on the largest group 
and moved to join them. Myyti fell behind, chatting to 
another foster brother of theirs, Geruth Lilacshadow.
    Maruss, as he had hoped, entered the fringes of the 
group unnoticed. It was composed of about twenty Elwens of 
all different races- racial hatred was unknown among the 
Annihilators, and even arguments were often stifled by the 
common hatred all shared for the silverini. All except me, 
Maruss reminded himself quietly. 
    He shook his head and listened more closely to the 
speaker they were all intent on, a blue-eyed land Elwen 
named Sormase. Since the destruction of Velwenalla Minald, 
from which he had been freed, the star of Sormase's 
popularity had risen to radiant heights among the 
Annihilators, one reason he was one of the leaders of the 
nemlafi, the small strike-and-run bands that waged most of 
the war against the silverini. To Maruss's puzzlement, 
however, Sormase was not making a speech about the need 
for unity, as he usually did.
    He was speaking against the nemlafi.
    "The time has come for us to show the unicorns that we 
are not cowards!" Sormase roared, to a murmured chorus of 
approval. "Enough of this running away and hiding; enough 
of this freeing of scattered clumps of slaves! We are 
strong enough to challenge the silverini directly. The 
Lady Elenyi can free thousands in mere minutes with her 
singing. Let us march on the minalds, make our intentions 
known in honorable fashion, and crush the unicorns to 
nothingness!"
    The murmurs had risen to cheers by this time, and 
Maruss was afraid he would be noticed, if only because he 
wore the only doubtful expression in the group. The others 
wore looks of fervor, pride, and belief in Sormase's 
words. How could they have forgotten, Maruss thought 
incredulously, the five Annihilators lost in the latest 
attack on Fabla Slavehold? Granted, their rescue of more 
than eight hundred slaves had more than made up for the 
loss, but the Annihilators were a tightly knit band. Any 
dying were mourned by all, even those who had not known 
them personally.
    Sormase was screaming again, but Maruss didn't listen, 
didn't need to. It was essentially a repetition of what he 
had just said. Still, it puzzled, frightened, and 
frustrated Maruss as to why the blue-eyed Elwen was doing 
this. He had an excellent position as a leader of a 
nemlaf; people gave him the trust and respect he both 
longed for and deserved. Why would he want to change that?
    He wouldn't- unless he truly believed in what he was 
saying. That warfare by nemlaf was a coward's warfare, 
that to demonstrate proof of both their honor and their 
strength they needed to march openly, an action that would 
tell their enemies exactly where their secret strongholds 
were.
    So involved was Maruss in his own thoughts that he 
barely noted the speech had stopped until he felt eyes on 
him. Slowly, he lifted his head. The people between the 
curalli and Sormase had parted like a sea, leaving a clear 
aisle down which they could see each other. The blue-eyed 
Elwen had frozen, hand stiff in mid-gesture, staring, as 
if he expected Maruss to punish him.
    Maruss sighed and spoke wearily, his tongue, which 
normally tangled around his teeth, producing the words he 
needed now. "At ease, Sormase." A subtle reminder of his 
authority- the authority they had granted him- couldn't 
hurt. Sure enough, the land Elwen relaxed, dropping his 
hand and regarding his leader curiously. So did the other 
Elwens in the group, their eyes riveted to the shadowed 
Elwen as well.
    "Warfare by nemlaf is not cowardly." Maruss spoke 
quietly, firmly. He rarely raised his voice anymore, even 
in anger. "It is the warfare we must use if we are to 
survive. I wish there was a different way," he added 
honestly, the faces of those killed in the lightning 
attacks again surrounding him. "But for right now, at 
least, there is not, and our only chance is to keep the 
unicorns fighting shadows." His eyes swept once over them. 
"Understood?"
    There was a murmur of assent, and Maruss turned away.
    He had solved the problem... for now.




                        Chapter 1
                         Schemes
           1,999,999, Age of Life, Early Winter
    Maruss sprawled on his belly on the crest of a hill, 
eyes trained on the slave pens below. The wooden 
constructions stood on the outer edge of Pinil Minald, an 
obvious place to strike.
    Obvious bait.
    But even if the slaves had been laid out as a tempting 
trap, Maruss knew he would have been less than Elwen to 
turn his back on them. They were so very pitiful.
    In one pen, elves huddled together out of an 
instinctive defense against the cold, not because their 
masters had told them to. They wore only light tunics and 
leggings; likely they had been sent here from one of the 
more southern minalds, the unicorns there having no 
experience with the cold of a winter in northern Minamar. 
Even from this distance, Maruss could make out the whip 
weals and heavy scars many of them bore. Their bodies were 
almost broken; there would be no new Annihilators out of 
this lot.
    But they would be free, and Maruss personally knew the 
value of that gift to be beyond anything else in all the 
world.
    In the second pen stood unicorns, not silver ones. It 
was difficult for Maruss to think of the silverini as 
unicorns when he gazed upon the wondrous creatures in that 
second pen. Their coats gleamed as white as the slow 
starlight falling from the sky above, their manes flowed 
like drifts of ice across their backs, their large dark 
eyes and fluid movements spoke of indefinable grace. 
Maruss had never before seen white unicorns, but the 
numerous books he had read, histories of the ancient 
times, described the whites as the noblest of their kind. 
It would please Maruss to see some horned beasts join 
their side; so far they had rescued very few unicorns.
    If nothing else, it would prove a blow to the 
silverini.
    Maruss sent a final silent reassurance to the slaves- 
you will be free soon- and finally tugged his eyes away, 
letting them complete the circuit of the small dell. To 
the north, the land rose slightly again and spread out 
into the vast fields of Pinil Minald, now covered with 
snow. Nothing moved on that indigo blanket, and nothing 
was likely to. Not much stirred in the homes of the 
unicorns once winter, with its long nights, had begun. The 
few silverini standing guard by the slave pens stood with 
drooping heads, nearly asleep on their feet, only walking 
when necessary to stir up heat and shake off the blue- 
violet flakes that had settled on their coats. It was a 
scene out of an alfar tale- dreamy, drowsy, with the red- 
white moonlight only lending the surreal scene a further 
sense of unreality. It was a night on which nothing- or 
anything- could happen. Maruss felt his eyes gleam with 
excitement, his lips twitch into a smile.
    Something would.
    Carefully, moving soundlessly even in the threatening- 
to-crunch snow, Maruss wormed his way down the hill until 
he was sure his silhouette would not be seen by the 
unicorn guards. Then he stood, turned, and again ran 
silently down toward the twenty Elwens who waited there.
    Geruth Lilacshadow lifted his head as his brother 
neared, his deep blue eyes gleaming with curiosity. It was 
hard to see the viaquia against the snow, even for 
Maruss's night-adapted eyes. His deep purple skin was 
nearly the indigo of the falling flakes, as was his hair, 
and like all of them he wore indigo clothes- not that the 
unicorns, with their weak nightsight, were likely to see 
them in the darkness anyway. "Are they as unwary as we 
hoped?" whispered the viaquia. The sharp white clouds of 
his words showed the excitement otherwise invisible on his 
calm features.
    Maruss nodded slowly, Geruth's question forcing him to 
pause and consider. The guards had a right to be lazy; 
despite the fear spread by the Annihilators' devastatingly 
quick attacks, they had not yet attacked Pinil, and the 
unicorns tended to be lazy until they were actually 
confronted by danger. "They appear to be," he said, 
stressing each word.
    The others understood, he saw as heads nodded. Elenyi 
Starwolf stepped forward, her green-gold eyes glowing with 
a luster that not even the falling snow could diminish. 
"Do you want me to take up my position?" she asked 
quietly.
    Maruss knew that the casual question concealed an 
uneasiness that also lurked within his own heart. They 
could never afford to let their guard down, no matter how 
careful they were; some members of this nemlaf might yet 
die. And, too, there was growing dissension within the 
Annihilators' ranks. Sormase was not the only one now 
calling for frontal attacks, and they would listen only to 
Elenyi when she tried to calm them. The wolf Elwen hated 
leaving the main band even for a short period of time. 
"Go," he said quietly.
    His foster sister flashed him a beatific smile and 
sped away, her feet soundless on the snow, her indigo 
cloak and tunic blending almost at once into the night. A 
second indigo-cloaked, shining shape detached itself from 
the main group and faded after her. Maruss concealed his 
smile. No matter how many times Elenyi successfully 
completed her silversinging, Terling, the wolf Elwen 
rescued from Velwenalla, considered it his duty to watch 
out for her.
    Abruptly Maruss thought he caught some of Elenyi's 
unease, and he wanted only to finish this as quickly as 
possible. "Take your positions," he said to the others, 
repeating the command mentally as a soft urging to hurry 
them on their way. Most of the group scattered at once, 
even Geruth taking soundless, wingless flight, until only 
Maruss and three other Elwens were left standing at the 
base of the hill.
    "Will everything go as planned?" asked Larelina 
Lafoxbane, the land Elwen sorceress who had been the first 
to swear loyalty to Maruss. She fingered her dagger 
anxiously, staring toward the hill with hatred burning in 
her eyes. Maruss stifled a sigh and gently tapped her on 
the shoulder, pointing to the cowl of her cloak. She 
pulled it up with a grumble, thus hiding the beacon of her 
blond hair.
    "I cannot say for sure," the curalli responded. "It 
should, but then again-" He let his voice trail away. The 
last attack, on an unexpectedly prepared Crownia Minald, 
had cost them two of the best land Elwen fighters. No one 
needed that reminder, the reminder that their attacks were 
too often not as perfect as they thought.
    "Not to worry," Jesartlu Durillo, Maruss's second-in- 
command, answered absently. "We'll get them one way or 
another, the filthy brutes." The blue-haired land Elwen, 
like Larelina, toyed with his weapon, a sword that he 
whirled and tossed with expert skill. The land Elwen was 
the best fighter among the Annihilators, even better than 
another of Maruss's foster siblings, Phaedon Shoregazer. 
His only fault was his hatred of the unicorns, a loathing 
even deeper than Larelina's, which had prompted him to 
take reckless action in the past.
    The third of Maruss's self-appointed bodyguards said 
nothing, merely nodded. Aeren- he possessed no surname- 
was a dawn Elwen, supposedly the gentlest race alive, with 
dawn-marked skin, blond hair, and eyes almost completely 
golden save for a faint trace of silver. That trace of 
silver was only part of what set him apart from a normal 
alalori. Aeren was Touched- possessing powers of the mind 
far beyond an ordinary Elwen's. Over the six months since 
the Battle of Velwenalla, he had proven himself 
increasingly competent with those powers- and he was no 
longer troubled by his split personality, the dark side 
that had once controlled his Touches.
    Maruss exhaled. Really, there wasn't much point in 
standing around talking. They were doing it to stave off 
fear- fear of sudden discovery, fear that this might be 
the one time they couldn't outrun the unicorns...
    Maruss pushed the thoughts from his mind, realizing 
the others were watching him expectantly. For good or for 
evil, he had to set the example. He again stepped forward 
and laid a hand on the side of the hill. The others 
followed like the trained fighters they were, Larelina 
breathing hoarsely with excitement. Fearing she might dash 
down at the sight of silverini, Maruss positioned himself 
slightly in front of her.
    They reached the crest of the hill, and Maruss 
finished silently asking himself for courage. He raised 
his head to gaze down one last time, sending a silent 
tendril of thought to his foster sister. ^Ready, Elen?^
    ^Ready.^ The reply was cool, self-confident.
    ^Now!^ Maruss's mental shout was so loud that it half- 
surprised him the silverini didn't look up. They certainly 
did at what happened next, however.
    Silversong boomed across the sky, Elenyi's sweet 
cadences summoning tears to Maruss's eyes. He blinked them 
away hastily, springing down the hill toward the startled 
silverini, one hand falling to the hilt of the knife 
strapped to his side. He could hear the others of his 
nemlaf calling aloud as they ran or flew toward the 
guards, letting the echoes play around the hill, so that 
they sounded like a bigger group than they really were.
    Clouds of silver light bloomed into existence over 
each pen and drifted lower, washing the mindless unicorns 
and elves with sparkling mist. A creeping tendril touched 
the flank of a silverini; he leaped away, snorting and 
kicking at the cloud, then trying to cut it with his horn. 
Neither had any effect.
    Elenyi's song was most certainly having an effect on 
the slaves, however. Awareness of their surroundings, of 
who they were, was filtering into eyes that had never 
possessed it, along with shock.
    And anger.
    Maruss was reaching for a curalli's top speed of 
eighty miles an hour, but he was still several feet from 
the elf pen when a furious hand unlatched the wooden gate, 
swinging it open so fast that it banged crazily into the 
side of the pen and flew back to give the emerging elf a 
smart rap. The pointy-eared fellow never looked around, 
but sprang with grim determination onto the unicorn's 
back. Tears of rage flowing from his eyes, he clawed at 
the unicorn's face with his bare hands.
    The horned beast staggered, seemed as if he might 
throw his sudden rider off, but the other elves sprang to 
help the first then, and the unicorn was pulled down. 
Maruss turned away from the terrified silver eyes, felt a 
face join the procession in his head.
    No time now, he told himself coolly, drawing 
Starsheen. He was needed, he saw. The silverini were 
blocking the gate to the unicorn pen and had already re- 
enslaved the front runners, turning the white horned 
beasts against their kin. The briefly freed slaves battled 
mindlessly, and they would continue to do so as long as 
their silver cousins were alive.
    Maruss felt Starsheen's thoughts reach for his, as he 
was reaching for the knife's. They linked, fused, became a 
single being. Maruss felt hands on his hilt, feel himself 
twitch and vibrate with eagerness. He felt no bloodlust, 
only satisfaction that he was fulfilling the purpose for 
which he had been made.
    The intelligent knife launched itself, skimming 
through the air and taking Maruss along for the ride, at 
least in mind. The blade buzzed like a swarm of angry 
hornets as it buried itself in the eye of a silverini who 
had just begun to turn toward them. The silver beast 
screamed pitifully, and then screamed again as Maruss 
reached it and pulled the knife out. The shadowed Elwen 
hesitated, jolted back into his own panting body, feeling 
pity cloud his heart.
    Larelina shot past him and took the decision out of 
his hands. Snarling like a rabid animal, she grabbed the 
unicorn's neck and began twisting. Her eyes did not blink, 
and she seemed unmindful of the knife she had transferred 
from her grip to her mouth. Her gaze was fastened to her 
hands; her face glowed oddly.
    Jesartlu's tactics were no less brutal, but they 
possessed more finesse. He raced past Larelina, spinning 
on his heel as he came between two silverini. They both 
turned to glare at him, eyes gleaming with greed. Maruss 
suspected they were arguing about which one of them would 
get to take Jesartlu as a slave. 
    The land Elwen laughed aloud, meeting their eyes 
fearlessly. Unknown to many of them, he was mutated, 
allowing him to resist the gazepower. It was an advantage 
that served him well in this combat, as in almost all 
others. While the unicorns gaped, he swung his sword in a 
wide circle, shearing off the tip of one's horn and nearly 
severing the neck of the other.
    The second unicorn dropped to his knees, grotesque 
wound pumping blood but immortal body still living. 
Jesartlu drew back his sword for the mercy blow, never 
noticing that the only slightly injured unicorn was aiming 
her now jagged horn toward his back. 
    Maruss jumped straight over Larelina's head, soundless 
on the wind as a butterfly. Starsheen took the unicorn 
straight on her horn. So sharp was the magical steel that 
the horn split in two. The unicorn flung back her head, 
screaming until Starsheen's continuing plunge through eye 
and neck left her voiceless. In moments she was bleeding 
and twitching on the ground, crimson streaking the snow.
    Maruss knelt down, hiding his eyes from her gaze, 
deadly even now, and began sawing her head off. He 
continued until a tremble and a soft sigh beneath his 
hands told him that her spirit, unable to stay in her 
irretrievably scarred physical body, had fled. He leaped 
to his feet and drew back from the corpse, but then leaned 
down and closed her eyes before turning away.
    Jesartlu was there, eyes shining with gratitude. He 
said nothing, simply held out the hand that was less 
bloodstained. Maruss accepted it, wrung the land Elwen's 
wrist, and dropped it. It wasn't the first time he had 
saved the land Elwen and certainly wouldn't be the last, 
but he was not one to count up debts.
    Maruss looked carefully around once more, trying to 
locate the other two silverini who had been standing 
guard. He saw one leaning against the side of the pen, 
head lolling crazily, eyes mindless, and grimaced. Aeren 
had obviously been putting his feeding Touch to work.
    The other silverini lay still in the snow, Geruth 
crouched at its throat, another viaquia hovering patiently 
over him. The sunset Elwen ate half-guiltily, body angled 
away from Maruss. The curalli closed his eyes, feeling 
exhausted, though he knew the attack couldn't have lasted 
more than five minutes. He walked over and dropped a hand 
on Geruth's shoulder. "It's all right," he whispered.
    The vampiric Elwen looked up at him, mouth surrounded 
by a ring of crimson. His fangs dripped still, the blood 
making little sizzling pops as it struck the snow. "Are 
you all right?" he asked with a gentleness that seemed 
incongruous, coming from one so powerful.
    Maruss knew Geruth well and was not fooled. The 
viaquia's name meant "silent strength," and it was well 
chosen. The sunset Elwen possessed a spirit of steel and a 
heart as tender as a mother deer's. "Fine," he answered 
briefly, turning his eyes from the blood. Geruth pulled 
back, and the other sunset Elwen swooped down to feed. 
"Did any of the unicorns manage to call for help?" Maruss 
asked, a routine question after the slaughter of the 
guards.
    "This one," said Geruth, pointing to the corpse and 
rousing a startled oath from Maruss. The dusk Elwen smiled 
wearily and wiped his mouth, staring in the direction of 
the minald, though there was, as yet, no sound of unicorns 
rushing to help their dead kin. "We'll have a fight on our 
hands soon, my friend."
    Maruss glanced about and did not disagree. With the 
exception of four or five who were still roaming about, 
snapping at shadows and occasionally kicking the corpse of 
the unicorn they had pulled down, the elves looked 
exhausted. There was no way that that group, malnourished 
and recently beaten, would be able to run fast or far, 
even with the strength of fear to drive them. The white 
unicorns did not look much better. Their heads hung, and 
they kicked listlessly at the snow, as if hungry but too 
tired to seek grass under the indigo blanket.
    Abruptly a sound from the minald attracted Maruss's 
attention, and his mouth tightened as he listened. 
Unicorns were never subtle, he thought wryly. The sound of 
their bell-hoofbeats and their shouts could be heard even 
from here.
    Abruptly the air rippled before them, and an Elwen 
popped into existence and saluted respectfully. Maruss 
felt his tired face relax into a smile. Gigan, the peach 
Elwen who had grown up cared for by underground Elwens, as 
he had, was a valued part of their nemlaf. With his 
teleportation skill, he was a matchless scout. "Asking 
permission to report, sir," said the zolonora.
    Maruss nodded; he had ceased to object to the 
formalities Gigan and others insisted upon. "Permission 
granted."
    The peach Elwen's cheerfulness dropped away from him 
like a mask, revealing a weariness so profound that Maruss 
reached out a steadying hand. But the scout shook his head 
and stepped back, lifting his own hands in silent protest. 
"I'm afraid the news is not good, my lord," he said 
grimly. Maruss simply nodded again and waited, seeing that 
the zolonora was attempting to collect the right words.
    "Twenty unicorns," said Gigan at last, his voice 
stealing Maruss's last vestige of hope. "Led by Tracker." 
His eyes, on Maruss, were anxious. "It might be wise to 
leave now, lord," he added softly.
    Maruss mentally cursed. All of the Annihilators knew 
the story of Maruss's and Tracker's rivalry. Ever since 
the curalli had cost the immortal magmacat a paw, Tracker 
had hunted him diligently. Maruss had never thought much 
about the feline; his band, and especially this particular 
nemlaf, moved too fast to be caught. But it was possible 
that his people were more concerned, and if they thought 
his life was in danger, they would try to shepherd him 
away. "Thank you for the warning," the curalli said 
coolly. "But it is hardly necessary. I have no intention 
of engaging Tracker in battle."
    He ignored Gigan's sigh of relief, instead spinning to 
face the freed slaves. At the sound of his voice- low but 
urgent, somehow rising above the moan of the wind- they 
looked up and toward him. "How many of you can run?"
    One of the white unicorns left his herd and cantered 
toward Maruss, every movement graceful. Maruss didn't 
tense; he felt only a sense of wonder, despite half a year 
of fighting the silverini. If not for the general form, he 
would have said there was no kinship between the silver 
unicorns and this beautiful beast. His dark eyes were 
gentle, compassionate, and without guile. Maruss knew in 
that instant that the unicorn could be trusted.
    The stallion halted before Maruss, blowing as if even 
that short exercise had tired him. His breath came in 
clouds, and the light shed by his ivory horn was faint. 
Maruss guessed the answer to his question even before the 
unicorn spoke.
    "Lord, it is cold, and neither my people nor the elves 
can tolerate that as your kind can." He spoke carefully, 
as if not quite understanding yet that his words now 
obeyed no will but his own. "We have no understanding of 
the world, our world, beyond the minalds. None of us can 
run fast, and though we cannot take time to stop and eat, 
all are hungry. The silverini can make us slaves again 
with a mere glance. It would be fair to say that none of 
us can run." He paused and glanced over his shoulder 
toward the herd of shivering unicorns, his tail twitching. 
Maruss suspected it was partially so that he would not 
have to look in the curalli's eyes any more.
    Maruss reached up and gingerly touched the silky white 
mane, a fall of ice and moonshadow. Even wet with melted 
snow, it carried a sense of life that the manes of the 
silverini did not. Maruss's determination thickened to 
steel-hardness inside him. "I'll help you," he said 
quietly, "however I can."
    The unicorn swung to look at him, seeming startled. 
Evidently he was not used to generosity. His dark eyes 
widened to nearly twice their normal size. "My lord, even 
your band, heroes though you are, cannot perform feats 
that it would take a miracle to do. I'm sure my people 
will agree to fight our former masters, delay them." Fire 
came into his dark eyes, and he stepped restlessly, as if 
the thought of such a battle were intoxicating. "If you 
could but get our children away-"
    The old stories are true, Maruss thought, with a flash 
of gratitude he couldn't explain. Whites are noble. "All 
of you," he said again, firmly, but as softly as before.
    The unicorn seemed agitated; his ears went flat back 
to his skull, and he tossed his head so that his horn 
swept wildly through the air and his beard swayed. "My 
lord! In attempting to save all, you may doom all! The 
children need less food than we do, and weigh less. If you 
could carry them-"
    Again Maruss cut him off, hearing the bell-beats very 
close now. "I would not have it said I left anyone to 
die." I will not have another face join the parade, he 
added mentally. "I must speak to the members of my band."
    Ignoring the unicorn's frantic protests, he turned 
away and called softly to Geruth. Almost instantly, the 
viaquia, who had only moved a few steps away, was beside 
him. "Yes?" asked the sunset Elwen in a distracted voice, 
glancing toward the minald. Worry lines were already 
creasing his purple brow. But the first words Maruss spoke 
got his attention.
    "We're going to run, Geruth."
    The viaquia turned toward Maruss, blue eyes shocked, 
and the curalli suspected that, had he been anyone else, 
the illusionist would have unleashed a string of 
expletives. "Are you insane?" he yelped. "We'll have 
enough trouble deciding who's to stay behind to delay 
them, without all of us trying to run."
    Maruss kept his voice grim, though it hurt him. He had 
to speak the truth to those who believed as he did, and in 
this case at least, reality allowed for no compromise. "Do 
you really think any blockers we left would delay them for 
long, Ger? One look, and our friends here would again 
become the enemy. And Tracker and the silverini have no 
qualms about killing slaves. Indeed, they might be willing 
to risk doing it, if they captured us in the process. I 
cannot think of any child," Maruss added softly, "who 
would wish to be overtaken and killed by his own parents. 
No, we must run."
    "But-"
    "I know a way to do it," Maruss said with quiet 
ferocity. "Now, will you listen to me explain it, or must 
I override you continually?"
    That, of course, quieted Geruth down. He listened 
intently as Maruss explained, even grinning wolfishly at a 
certain part. "That will be fun!" he exclaimed, deviltry 
gleaming in his blue eyes.
    Maruss smiled briefly and went on, hoping the 
viaquia's good mood lasted, because he was certain not to 
like the last part of the plan. The curalli's suspicions 
were correct. The dusk Elwen spluttered helplessly, 
staring at him. "But-" he protested.
    "It will work," said Maruss, with all the calm he 
could muster. Despite his serene exterior, he felt as if 
his heart was about to pound its way out of his chest with 
his own excitement and fear.
    Geruth abruptly seemed to find his tongue. "Oh, I have 
no doubt it will work!" he snapped. "But it is foolish on 
foolish, Maruss, a risk we dare not take! Myyti is not 
going to like it. Neither, for that matter, is Elenyi." 
The illusionist added the last ominously, as if Maruss had 
forgotten the specter of their foster sister's anger since 
the last time he faced it.
    "Tell her if it fails- as it will not, but chance must 
have its say- that she is to take over. They will listen 
to her." Without waiting for an answer, the curalli 
pivoted to face the unicorn stallion again, who had 
listened to the plan in dumb astonishment and now could 
only stare at him helplessly. "Your people can manage an 
underground sanctuary?" he asked warily. He knew the 
equine love of open sky, sun, and stars, and the very 
thing that had so often proved an asset, by ensuring the 
silverini were unlikely to follow them, could now turn 
into a disadvantage.
    "My lord, we would enter the sea to flee from them. 
But the time-"
    "Will take care of itself. Go!"
    The unicorn seemed to respond instinctively to the 
commanding tone in his voice. He wheeled and galloped 
toward the herd, bugling as he went. They jerked up their 
heads, staring at him in surprise, then nodded eagerly and 
trotted warily toward him.
    The biggest problem will be that hill, Maruss thought, 
glancing at the rise. The elves can manage that, perhaps, 
but it will be tough going for the unicorns. What-
    Ha, yes! If only she could and would do it. Her voice 
might be exhausted after the freeing of the slaves. Maruss 
called tentatively to his foster sister. ^Elen?^
    ^Yes?^ Even her mental voice was hoarse, and Maruss 
winced, hope dying in him. Already he could see the 
silverini, a gleaming silver tide with a single red spot 
at their head. Oh, well, no harm in asking.
    ^Could you sing a silversong cloud that would waft 
these people to the top of the hill?^
    Stunned silence for a moment, then soft laughter. 
^Absolute genius, Maruss. I swear you know more about this 
gift of mine than I do. Yes, I can do it. I'm weary, but 
not that weary- no matter what Terling says.^
    Sudden hope flooding him again, Maruss found the 
cheerfulness to grin, even tease her a bit. ^Ah, young 
love. You should listen to him, you know. He's wiser than 
you, or at least it appears.^
    ^Ha! Listen to you talk! I could say the same about 
you and Myyti, but I don't need to. It's obvious for 
anyone with a pair of eyes and a brain.^ She cut off 
before Maruss could retort, adding only a final, ^Tell 
them to be at the bottom of the hill in one minute.^
    More than enough time, Maruss thought cheerfully. The 
unicorns were already on the move, and only a few yards 
separated them from the ridge. The elves were scarcely 
further behind. He turned and nodded to Geruth, who was 
watching him anxiously. "You know what you need to do, and 
where you need to be."
    "I don't like this," he said a final time, and then 
reached out and swiftly hugged his curalli foster brother. 
"Take care," he whispered fiercely in Maruss's ear. 
"Explaining to Elenyi is going to be a hard enough duty 
without having to tell her that the duties are now hers 
because you acted out of foolishness."
    Maruss squeezed Geruth's shoulders once, tightly, and 
then let him go, fixing the viaquia's blue eyes with his 
own violet gaze. "I'm making you responsible for making 
sure every member of our nemlaf gets out of this safely."
    Geruth nodded toward the bands of freed slaves. Swift- 
moving figures wound in and about them, indigo-clothed 
Annihilators soothing cries of fear and telling the elves 
and unicorns encouraging stories about the freedom that 
awaited them. "I don't think you have to worry about 
that." Maruss nodded, and the viaquia hesitated a final 
moment, gazing at the blue-violet ground, then shook his 
head and leaped into the air, circling toward the top of 
the ridge. 
    Both knew there was nothing more they could say.
    Maruss squinted toward the unicorns. They had slowed 
somewhat, talking and joking; from this distance, it must 
look as if their former slaves were simply cowering, 
meekly waiting to be recaptured. Only Tracker kept up a 
fast movement, anxiously turning his head from side to 
side. Sleek muscles rippled under the shining red coat; 
the movements were graceful despite the missing left 
forepaw. He was a beautiful but merciless creature, and 
Maruss knew he would feel pain to end all pain if this 
plan failed, if he fell into Tracker's claws.
    "Now, Elen," he whispered.
    On the heels of his words, the silversong came. Fog 
bloomed in the air in front of the slaves, who cried out 
in shock, in wonder, but did not cringe away. This was the 
lovely cloud, the wonderful cloud, that had freed them, 
and any fate was better than silverini slavery, than 
returning to what they had once been.
    Maruss barely heard the alarmed bugles of the 
silverini, so entranced was he by the beauty of Elenyi's 
voice. The notes dipped and rose, skimmed and lurched, and 
the cloud responded, curling a tendril as firm as a 
dragon's claw about each elf or unicorn. It drifted with 
deceptive slowness into the air, for already the first to 
be gripped were beyond the leaping power of a silver 
unicorn's legs. The cries had ceased now, the entire 
tableau hanging motionless as the cloud ascended. It was a 
pose that could only last a few minutes longer.
    Geruth timed himself precisely. The air wavered with 
magic, a faint and discreet tingle that even Maruss barely 
noticed, and then the ground shook with the thunder of 
hooves. An army of unicorns- but their coats shone black, 
white, or violet, not silver- swept over the crest of the 
hill. They tossed their heads angrily, leaving long trails 
of lilies, dust, and heated breath behind them. One would 
have to be very close indeed to see that their bodies were 
not quite solid; that they were intangible allies, 
courtesy of Geruth's illusion magic.
    The silverini were hesitating, backing up, but Tracker 
and a few others were coming forward, not fooled. Now, 
Maruss knew, was the time for him to make his move. 
Everything else had gone perfectly; this must as well.
    He touched Starsheen with mind and hand, touched the 
budding confidence within him, and received calm 
assurances from both that he could do this. He flung 
himself forward from where he stood, running at the head 
of the illusory army, screaming like a mad thing. His 
curalli speed allowed him to outdistance even non-real 
unicorns- Geruth had to restrict their speed to make them 
seem real- and he swept a wide arc before the band from 
Pinil, making sure Tracker recognized him.
    As he had known he would, Maruss saw that Tracker 
couldn't resist the bait. The magmacat screamed in rage 
and sprang forward, body curved in an arc like a leaping 
dolphin's. His red-furred feline face was blank with 
purpose, his golden eyes glowed with hatred.
    Maruss had stopped precisely out of range, so that 
Tracker landed a few feet away from him. As the magmacat 
struggled to stand- so great was his impact that he had 
buried one forepaw in the earth- Maruss looked 
consideringly down at him and gave one tiny, crystalline 
laugh.
    Tracker's whole body stiffened at that laugh. Then he 
raised his head, staring at the curalli with such loathing 
that Maruss backed a step before catching himself. He had 
not thought he could inspire such hatred. In a voice empty 
of all emotion, Tracker promised, "You are dead."
    Maruss calmed his fear, told himself this was the way 
he had wanted it to go, and reminded himself of the next 
part of the plan. He was to climb the ridge and get out of 
here. He pivoted on one heel, thinking the way clear.
    To his astonishment, a small group of silverini, led 
by a filly who couldn't have been Maruss's age, was 
between him and the ridge. The filly charged toward the 
curalli, tiny horn lowered, small hooves flying. His 
nostrils flared, and Maruss recognized the scent of Zea, 
Destria's granddaughter, whom he had seen once from afar. 
Her presence here boded no good.
    A growl from behind warned him that he had no time to 
think of such things. He lowered his head and ran blindly 
toward Zea, knowing- or was it hoping?- that he could jump 
over her, and confident he could outrun Tracker.
    The enraged magmacat kept hot on his heels, however, 
snarling and snapping; there were times when Maruss felt 
the warmth of his breath on his ankles. Though strongly 
tempted to kick the feline in the jaw, he kept his ground- 
eating stride steady. He could not afford the time such a 
blow, however satisfying, would take.
    He heard the unicorn filly draw to a stop before him 
and knew this might be his only chance. Jesartlu had been 
drilling him in fighting tactics every spare moment, and 
now Maruss answered the calls of those beaten-in 
instincts. He dropped to the ground and rolled, just as 
Tracker sprang, just as Zea lashed out with a hoof. 
    He heard the magmacat groan with pain as the filly's  
foot slammed into him and the slam of Zea hitting the 
ground. Grinning to himself, Maruss jumped to his feet and 
again turned toward the ridge. With any luck at all, the 
silverini Zea was leading had followed their mistress.
    Luck did not seem to be favoring him tonight. The 
silverini still stood between him and the ridge, and as he 
watched, one stallion, with the star-mark carved into his 
horn that indicated a mage, reared high and moved through 
the intricate dance of silverini spellcasting.
    Maruss felt magic shiver about him, then there came a 
brief feeling of being trapped in a net. The curalli 
desire for freedom rising in him, he thrashed wildly for a 
moment, then realized he was still free.
    That was likely to change soon. The silver unicorns 
now advanced at a casual, deliberately lazy amble, as if 
they believed they could take him with no trouble at all. 
Maruss's muscles tightened, but after all, he had expected 
something like this. With a brief, silent farewell to the 
Annihilators, and a fervent hope that Geruth would 
remember to tell Elenyi of her new position, Maruss 
Freewind fell inside himself, seeking to stop his heart.
    It wouldn't obey him.
    He forced down a brief moment of panic. It was merely 
his instinct for self-preservation, his will to live, 
getting in the way at the last moment. He had to believe 
that.
    Oh, did he?
    Despair filled him, and he knew without trying that he 
would not be able to fall unconscious either. That was the 
effect of the spell the silverini had cast.
    Cursing silently, Maruss did the last thing they 
expected. He lowered his head and ran straight toward them 
like a flying arrow. His scream- for this was an all-or- 
nothing charge- would have done credit to a banshee. He 
saw the unicorns start to part like water before a river 
Elwen, and allowed his heart to cheer silently.
    "No, you fools!" The ringing, clear voice was very 
young, but obviously used to command. "Take him at all 
costs, if you have to kill yourselves to do so. Hold! Hold 
him! My royal grandsire has commanded this!"
    The wavering line firmed, and Maruss swerved to run 
along it, even though he knew it was hopeless. Within 
moments the silver unicorns Tracker had led out here would 
join with these six, completely encircling him. It was 
also no good leaping; unicorns could jump higher than 
Elwens, and any hurled magic could catch him neatly in 
midair. He stopped, panting, his head hanging and body 
shaking, for the first time accepting that he truly was 
caught.
    He heard the ring join around him, but did not give 
his captors the satisfaction of looking at them and ending 
his torment immediately. Eventually he would be enslaved, 
but he would choose when. He gazed over their heads, 
keeping a remote and cool expression of disdain on his 
face, as if nothing in all the world could bother him. But 
he was looking with a purpose, and the breath hissed 
between his teeth when he realized his friends had gotten 
safely away. No doubt they were running with all their 
might, trusting that he was behind him, their faith in him 
complete.
    Brief regret touched Maruss. He was sorry to fail 
them. I'll make up for it all I can, he promised silently. 
I won't cooperate with them in any way, and they will have 
to enslave me to get any useful information out of me.
    It amazed him that he could be so calm, given his 
present situation. As the leader of the Annihilators, he 
knew all the strengths and weaknesses and secret 
strongholds of the band; they could take everything from 
him. He was a volcano waiting to spew its disaster across 
the trusting land.
    And yet, his hands were not cold and clammy with 
sweat; he was no longer considering self-destruction. He 
had done the best he could and had been outfoxed anyway. 
Now all that remained was for death, either physical or 
spiritual, to claim him.
    "Well done," growled a voice behind him, but it no 
longer filled Maruss with fear. He turned to nod to 
Tracker, carefully avoiding the blue eyes of the sweat- 
soaked silverini filly standing beside him.
    The magmacat's face again appeared empty as he stared 
at Maruss, but his twitching muscles and wildly swishing 
tail showed all too clearly his desire to spring on the 
curalli. Zea laid a calming hoof on his shoulder and spoke 
in a tone of cool amusement. "Nothing to worry about, 
Tracker. He isn't going anywhere."
    Maruss started at the sound of her voice, unusually 
musical for one of her kind. He almost looked at her, but 
remembered in time to keep his eyes on the ground. That 
was how they lost so many Annihilators, the warriors 
glancing at the silverini in contempt or fascination. He 
had promised himself never to make that mistake.
    "Nowhere," Zea continued, her voice soft, yet each 
syllable piercing the moonlit darkness like a knife 
stabbing into flesh. She sounded so smug that Maruss 
wished he dared to strike out and wipe the grin she must 
be wearing from her face. "My grandfather will greatly 
reward me for catching him. But first-"
    The silverini filly stepped into the ring, her lessers 
falling respectfully back. Maruss could feel her gaze 
trained full on him, felt the compelling magic of the 
gazepower that insisted he would find total tranquility if 
only he would look up. Gritting his teeth, the curalli bit 
his lip. The pain as a small drop of white blood slid from 
the hole lessened the lure of the magic.
    "Very well." Zea sounded somewhat disappointed, as if 
she had actually hoped to catch him so easily. "I see i 
shall have to persuade you." Her voice sank to a low, 
coaxing murmur that Maruss could barely hear. "My Lord 
Grandfather has come to greatly admire and respect your 
abilities, Maruss Freewind. He would give anything- and I 
mean that quite literally- to have you be his general in 
this laughable little war. It would be quite fair by any 
standards of morality- that the one who started this war 
should help the just side win it."
    Maruss felt himself stiffen and fought back the first 
wave of fear. It was merely coincidence that Zea was 
echoing the words of the faces in his continual 
nightmares. Destria couldn't know of the faces, he just 
couldn't!
    "Consider the offer well." Zea pitched her voice as if 
she had had bardic training, which was possible; it 
carried in the crisp air of the winter night and rang like 
a trumpet. "It is no trick, no mere pittance. My Lord 
Destria will allow you to keep this distasteful freedom of 
yours, if you truly wish to refuse the peace of the Great 
Love. He is fascinated by thoughts of what a free-willed 
two-legged general could do."
    "His curiosity should already be satisfied," said 
Maruss calmly, "if he has been watching me in the past few 
months."
    Zea gave a delighted little laugh. "Well spoken! But 
you are not exactly general of the Annihilators, are you? 
No," she continued before Maruss could answer, "I thought 
not. The Emperor would offer you generalship, and more. 
Simply swear of your own free will-" she spoke the words 
with distaste "-to serve him, and you shall have a promise 
in return that your friends shall not be harmed. Swear 
more, and you shall have more."
    Maruss had never quite understood why Destria seemed 
so afraid of him. This offer was just one more in a 
constant string of maneuvers designed to neutralize the 
threat to the Empire that Maruss seemed to present. Its 
only difference was that it had been the only one to be 
offered without bloodshed- so far. "I thank you for your 
courtesy," the curalli said sincerely.
    "Than you will accept my offer?" He could almost see 
Zea's eyes brighten.
    "Go jump in a bonfire," said Maruss calmly.
    "I thought not," Zea said sadly, her chiming 
crystalline voice actually carrying a note of genuine 
regret. "I'm afraid I must put my grandfather's other plan 
into motion, then." Her hooves crunched in the indigo snow 
as she started forward, horn lowered and pointed toward 
his heart. Maruss closed his eyes, inwardly smirking at 
their foolishness; they would never learn anything about 
the Annihilators now! Calmly, he braced himself, waiting 
for death.
    Zea's horn pierced the skin just above his heart, but 
strangely, the tiny silver spear did not push further. 
Indeed, the filly recoiled when just one drop of white 
blood fell on her horn, as if disgusted. Maruss said 
calmly, "If you're so squeamish, get Tracker to do it. I'm 
sure he'd be happy for the opportunity."
    There was no reply, except for a growl from Tracker, 
and Maruss peeked suspiciously. Zea had dug a small cup in 
the snow with her hooves, and now she dipped her horn, 
shaking her head until the liquid flew off and settled 
into the cup. Studying the drop of blood as if it were an 
infinitely precious gem, Zea remarked absently, "Tracker, 
you know what to do."
    The magmacat growled again, as if to say he didn't 
approve of whatever it was, but then walked to Maruss's 
side and reared up, putting his paws on the curalli's 
shoulders. There came a sharp yank, and Maruss recoiled in 
turn, crying out in spite of himself. Tracker chuckled 
grimly as he dropped back to all fours and spat something 
into the cup beside the curalli's blood. A lock of indigo 
hair.
    Maruss, who knew well how powerful parts of a person's 
body could be in a spell, no longer had any doubt as to 
what they were doing. Acting totally without thought, he 
stamped down, sending the snow cascading back into the cup 
and burying the blood and hair.
    Zea cried out in outrage, the first sound of strong 
emotion he'd heard from her, and started to look up at 
him. Maruss took a step backwards, then threw caution to 
the wolves and leapt into the air.
    The silverini were too stunned to do anything to stop 
him until his feet had lightly touched down on the snow 
and he had begun to run. Then, of course, they bugled 
through their horns and started after him.
    Maruss ran as he had never done in his life before, 
ran recklessly, looking only at the ridge- that, and the 
dark sky beyond it, unstained by the towering spires of a 
minald. If he could reach the ridge, climb it before the 
slower and clumsier silverini-
    His feet abruptly stopped their graceful, noiseless 
skid through the snow. His ankle had caught on a rock, and 
he went flying. Cursing helplessly, his hands flailing 
wildly, he flew face-first into the snow.
    So hard did he hit that he felt his nose break and 
warm blood flow over his face. However, of far more 
concern to him was the fact that his ankle was badly 
twisted beneath him, making him catch his breath as he sat 
up. There was no way he could run with that.
    He looked up, determined that his last sight as a free 
being would be Arcadia's star-speckled sky.
    His vision was blocked as both moon and stars suddenly 
vanished under a thick, inky darkness. Maruss uneasily 
clenched his fingers in the snow, wondering why he had 
heard a soft sigh above him, like the passage of air 
through enormous wings. A residue of magic? Could this be 
the result of a spell Zea had cast?
    Then he heard the terrified cries of the silverini, 
and realized this was not one of their tricks. His heart 
leaped into his throat. The foe of my foe is my friend. He 
repeated the old diplomatic lesson to himself as he 
scanned the darkness, trying to see what might have caused 
it.
    Abruptly the darkness passed, and light flowered 
again, but only for the briefest moment. Then the huge 
creature flew ominously back across the moon and stars- 
and Maruss had no doubt that it was a creature, now, for 
he had seen the shadow of wings. He looked up, hardly 
daring to hope. A friendly dragon?
    So huge as to be nearly incomprehensible, a great 
raven circled above them, calling out a challenge in the 
harsh and croaking language of the black birds. Maruss, 
who had learned a little of the tongue so that he could 
understand these minions of Tirosina, the Goddess of Evil 
Music, caught the gist of its message. "Have you got no 
stomach to face my mistress, unicorns? Or are even you 
smart enough to know that one does not jest with a 
calloran?"
    Maruss's breath caught in his throat with awe and 
wonder. Callorans were as legendary as Dragonlords, but 
for all that, nothing could- nothing would dare to- 
impersonate one. He had no idea how Tirosina, who was a 
fickle ally, sending help at the most unexpected times, 
had managed to bend the immortal bird's will to hers, but 
he was immensely grateful. He climbed slowly to his knees, 
glancing hesitantly back at the unicorns. They were still 
watching the now-laughing calloran with open mouths. The 
curalli began to crawl toward the hill, again filling his 
mind with it, ignoring the pain.
    He covered three yards before Zea's imperious tone 
again rang out, though it sounded pitiful after the 
calloran's cry. "Remember your training! It's nothing more 
than a glorified carrion-eater. Catch Freewind, or by ice, 
you'll spend the rest of your life wishing you had!"
    Maruss wondered if Zea truly had that much nerve, or 
if she merely did not see the dangerous glint that crept 
into the calloran's great black eye. "Carrion-eater?" the 
bird said in its own language, filling the air with the 
rumble of a summer thunderstorm, but a quiet sound after 
its laughter. "Carrion-eater? How very interesting."
    Maruss read its intention in its gaze. It would stoop 
on Zea and rend her limb from limb, or perhaps seize her 
and pull her into the sky, then drop her from a great 
height. Either way would be a terrifying fate for a little 
silverini filly, a terrifying fate for a child who didn't 
know any better. 
    The curalli braced his hands against the ground and 
stood, though he put only the lightest of weights on his 
already swelling ankle. He tossed back his head and called 
to the calloran in its own tongue, hoping desperately the 
monster bird would hear him over the beats of its wings. 
"Don't harm her, please, Great One. I'm sure it's only 
what she's been taught. Do not let a mindless taunt 
release your immortal rage." He saw the glinting eye turn 
on him and swept a hand toward Zea, not caring that his 
face was pleading. He couldn't do anything to stop the 
ordinary killing of silverini, but this situation was 
under his control, and he would be damned before he would 
let a child die. "I implore you, listen to your mistress." 
He was gambling wildly; Tirosina might not have placed any 
restrictions on the harming of silverini by this bird, but 
he had to take that chance. He held his breath and hoped.
    The calloran hissed, a sound that seemed to suck all 
the air out of the sky, but nodded reluctant assent. Then 
it wheeled down toward him, great clawed feet stretching 
out. Maruss watched tensely, not sure if those were truly 
talons or merely the shadow of talons.
    Something hit him from behind, knocking him sprawling 
on the ground and making him release an involuntary shout 
of pain. He rolled frantically, then stopped, gasping with 
agony. A small hoof had been placed on his bad ankle and 
had pushed down. Even now, however, he covered his eyes as 
Zea's taunting voice spoke to him.
    "So easily? You thought I would not take action if my 
'troops' were too frightened to obey? Did you?" Her voice 
was steely, suddenly, as if she found Maruss's lack of an 
answer more insulting than an insolent reply. The curalli 
kept silent. He objected to killing; he didn't object to 
mockery.
    "Very well." He could feel Zea moving close, again 
placing her horn against his chest. This time, he felt her 
cutting a pattern in the skin above his heart. Her voice 
was amazingly calm as she added, "Tell your bird friend to 
keep away until I'm done, or my, this will be a mess."
    Maruss wished that he dared to sacrifice his own life, 
but he couldn't take a chance on the calloran hurting Zea. 
The murder of a child- He mentally shook his head and 
established a telepathic link to the great bird. ^I beg 
you, Great One, hold to your word.^
    The flap of enormous wings continued to come closer; 
there was no answer. He felt the tiny horn trace another 
line; Zea's voice whispered, "Just a little bit more-" Her 
words ended in a shriek of agony. A painful blast of wind 
pressed Maruss to the ground; Zea was torn away from him 
so fast that he smelled blood drip onto the snow. Then 
silence. He sat up hastily, opening his eyes and staring 
into the sky.
    The calloran's face wore a look of sadistic pleasure 
as it hovered a hundred feet above. It held Zea in one 
foot, and the other was poised and ready to rip, the giant 
claws gleaming, angled for the belly of Destria's 
granddaughter. The filly had ceased to struggle and scream 
and had gone into shock, so great was her terror. She 
looked like a white unicorn with her pale fur; her blue 
eyes held the glazed sheen of panic and were fastened to 
the claws that would disembowel her at any moment.
    Something broke in Maruss. No unnecessary killing, 
insisted a voice in his head. "No!" he screamed in the 
tongue of the ravens, finding the calloran's eyes. 
    The great bird glanced at him without interest for the 
barest moment; then the indifference become surprise, and 
the great black orbs went wide. It seemed to shrink in on 
itself even as it hung there, a shadow of doom. This 
immortal creature, this invincible monster, was evidencing 
signs of what in another would have been called fear as it 
stared into Maruss's eyes.
    The fear built up until Maruss could not deny seeing 
it, along with a sense of awe, in the calloran's glance. 
He didn't know what he was doing, and feared breaking the 
fragile spell he had woven with words, but something 
compelled him to speak aloud. "Put her down- gently." It 
was a quiet, firm voice with a startling note of command.
    The calloran obediently sank toward the ground. One 
claw opened a mere two feet above the earth, dropping Zea 
in a small, sprawled heap. Then the calloran soared toward 
him.
    Maruss staggered and went to one knee, which forced 
him to drop his eyes. To his surprise, he didn't hear the 
expected shriek of rage. Claws closed about him, but they 
were gentle, the protective clasp of a parent rather than 
the steel chains holding a prisoner. The bird turned and 
beat its wings, and the ground fell behind with 
astonishing speed.
    Maruss, held close and safe in the claws of Tirosina's 
minion, barely managed to gasp out, "Sweptoromaru," before 
pain and emotional stress overwhelmed him. Quietly, 
without fanfare, he fainted.




                        Chapter 2
               Friend or Foe... Or Neither
    The wind's song pulled him reluctantly back to 
wakefulness at last, though in feeling the coldness of 
their flight he wished he had stayed wrapped in the 
comforting warmth of sleep. Blinking to free his eyelashes 
from ice, Maruss peered down at the countryside racing 
past below.
    His heart leaped. He had familiarized himself with the 
geography within twenty miles of each stronghold, and now 
he definitely recognized the gleaming line of North's 
River below. The calloran was taking him to Sweptoromaru, 
as he had asked. He freed his arms from the claws' hold, 
rested them on the top talon, and scanned eagerly for more 
clues.
    There was the great dry crater that had, in times 
impossibly ancient, held the Twilit Lake, and there were 
the withered forests of the Open Realms- another 
stronghold of the Annihilators, but not one as well 
equipped as the rise at the side of the river that 
concealed a veritable warren of tunnels. Had he possessed 
more strength, Maruss would have wriggled out of the 
bird's hold altogether and stood on the top claw, 
impatient for the first sight of home.
    Sweptoromaru meant "Hill of Freedom" in the Primal 
Tongue, and it well deserved its name. At any given time 
it held at least one nemlaf and nearly two score of slaves 
waiting to be sent to a more congenial location where they 
could recover their strength- though some later returned. 
It was a fortress that hid successfully from silverini 
seekers by being in plain view. Maruss had helped discover 
it, and now he looked forward to rejoining his friends 
there- preferably as a prelude to a long rest.
    "Why did you prevent me from killing the silverini 
filly?" The echoing words were touched with brass, like 
the rings of a great gong.
    Maruss looked up, startled, having not realized that 
the calloran could speak the Primal Tongue at all, much 
less so beautifully. "A child is not the enemy," he said 
honestly (not as if he had any choice). "Zea is misguided, 
but I could not bear to live with myself if I had let you 
kill her simply because of that."
    "She is Destria's granddaughter, and more dangerous 
than many full-grown unicorns. I think in time you will 
come to regret sparing her life. I think in times to come 
she will yet cause you pain."
    "Mercy never has yet," said Maruss calmly, turning to 
stare forward again, not wanting to admit his own feelings 
of discomfort with his hasty decision.
    The calloran did not pursue the topic, but switched to 
a different one. "I have not yet been able to figure out 
what Word of Command you used to bind me to your will."
    Maruss would have liked to smile secretively and state 
some small untruth. After all, it couldn't hurt for so 
deadly a monster to respect him. But the staroath he had 
sworn what seemed so long ago would not permit him to lie 
to those who shared his beliefs. "It was no Word. I was 
simply desperate. I wanted you to spare Zea's life, and I 
seemed to-" He groped for the words. How could he explain 
what staring into a soul was like, what commanding it was 
like?
    "I have heard of such things." The calloran's voice 
was distinctly uncomfortable. "Though I never expected to 
see it tried, much less feel it tried on me." It shook its 
head, the wind filling Maruss's ears and drowning out the 
song of their flight. "I think I shall ask my mistress to 
release me back to my home after this. I have no stomach 
for dealing with wizards who lie to all, even themselves, 
about their powers."
    Maruss's mouth hung open. Had his unexpected and 
uncontrollable display of will cost them such a valuable 
ally? "I- I don't know what you're taking about," he 
finally spluttered. "I am Touched, and I have never denied 
that. But I have no gift for psychic coercion." He felt 
his face screw up at the mere memory of forcing the 
calloran to do his will. It had been a spontaneous thing, 
and he wasn't sure he could do it again, even to save a 
life.
    The giant raven snorted, but said no more. Instead, it 
abruptly winged toward the ground. "We are here," it said 
shortly, voice nearly bereft of music. "And I, for one, am 
glad."
    It settled to the ground before a small green hill 
that looked no different from any other one of the 
numerous hills that dotted the riverbank and released its 
grip. Maruss rolled free on the grass, rose to his feet 
brushing his leggings off, and turned to thank the raven- 
only to find the calloran already gone, winging its way 
into the white sky. Shaking his head helplessly, Maruss 
turned about and glided gracefully toward the side of the 
hill. After a bit of searching, he located one specific 
stone embedded in the earth at about eye level and tapped 
on it.
    The stone shivered, then popped away, drawn by an 
unseen hand. A pair of sharp eyes peered out at Maruss, 
but their vigilance relaxed almost at once, and Maruss 
could hear the warm and welcoming smile in the voice that 
spoke next. "Lord Maruss. You are welcome in Sweptoromaru. 
Your comrades have missed you. Come in at once, if you 
would." There was a sound of excited hands fumbling at a 
bolt, and the warden cursed roundly.
    Despite his weariness, Maruss marshaled all the 
sternness he could. Discipline had obviously gotten a bit 
slack around here. "Flame!" he barked sharply. The sounds 
of fumbling paused. "You never simply look at a person and 
invite him or her inside, however familiar the intruder 
may appear. Come now," he added when Flame hesitated. 
"Make me go through the Ritual."
    "But, my lord Maruss." Concern infused Flame's voice. 
"Your ankle and your nose. You need to see a competent 
healer- or Lady Elenyi- at once. Besides, why would the 
unicorns send a spy in such bad shape?"
    Maruss grinned in spite of himself, then winced as his 
ankle throbbed. "No exceptions, Flame. You know how adept 
the unicorns are with illusion."
    "Oh, very well." The warden did not sound happy about 
it, and his next question, the first Ritual question, was 
only half-hearted. "Who are you, and whither are you 
bound?"
    "My name is Maruss," said the curalli in a carefully 
neutral tone, making a mental note to have a little talk 
with Flame later. "And I am bound for Sweptoromaru. Tell 
me, good lord, if you might know where it lies?"
    "You stand before it, Lord Maruss." The shadowed Elwen 
ground his teeth but let the oversight pass. "You will be 
welcome if you can but answer three tests for me. Are you 
up to the challenge?"
    "I am."
    "Of course. First, where lie- You're bleeding on your 
tunic, Lord Maruss."
    "I know, Flame." The indigo-haired curalli wondered 
ruefully if the little elf would be this chatty with a 
unicorn spy. "Go on with the Ritual."
    "I only mentioned it because the Lady Myyti will not 
be at all pleased."
    "I know. Go on."
    "She said you go through the tunics at an astounding 
rate. Just last week she had to throw three of them on the 
refuse heap."
    "They got good use, Please, Flame."
    "All right." The elf sounded sulky. "First, where lie 
the homes of the enemy?"
    "In all directions," Maruss replied automatically, the 
rehearsed reply coming to his lips before he could think 
about it, "for our enemy is the silverini, and any who 
believe in subjugation in the name of peace."
    He could almost see Flame nodding wisely. "You are 
correct." There was more than a bit of anxiety in the 
elf's tone now, and he hurried through the next question. 
"Second, what do we struggle for?"
    "To bring war and wisdom, freedom of choice and will, 
back to Arcadia."
    "Correct." The elf's bright green eyes glittered with 
distinct relief. "Third, what must we bear?"
    "War and death, grief and loss and eternal struggle, 
if in the end it will mean freedom."
    "I told you you were real, Lord Maruss." The bolt shot 
aside with a noise like the snap of a bowstring, and Flame 
bustled out, all fussy efficiency, extending one shoulder. 
"Lean on me, my lord."
    Knowing the door warden wouldn't be happy until he did 
so, and needing the support anyway, Maruss nodded in 
acceptance. He took a step toward the elf, wavered, and 
nearly collapsed.
    Wiry arms slipped around him, hauling him up, and the 
curalli leader grinned sheepishly at Flame. "Thank you. I 
suppose I must be getting old," he joked, glancing at the 
wrinkled hands that gripped his shoulders. Though he was 
considered slight for one of his people, shoulder height 
was about as high as any elf could reach on an Elwen.
    "You don't know what age is until you start hearing 
squeaks in your bones," sniffed Flame, pulling him toward 
the dark sanctuary of the hill. "That's age."
    Maruss studied his companion affectionately. Flame had 
been one of the slaves rescued from Velwenalla Minald, and 
so far was proving one of the most energetic and hard- 
working. Though too old to fight for the Annihilators- 
Maruss privately calculated his age at six hundred, past 
middle years for an elf- he was not too old to help, and 
had assigned himself the task of watching the door.
    He looked the part of a warden, too. He had a kind 
face and a mouth that always seemed ready to smile; he had 
a friendly word for everyone, and had proved a great help 
in calming the more hysterical of the newly freed slaves. 
His slender frame, green eyes, and the unusual red hair 
for which he had been named were all those of a much 
younger elf. Only his wrinkles and his voice- deep, not 
high-pitched and piping like a youngster's- showed his 
age.
    For some reason the curalli would never understand, 
considering that he was nearly drunk on his new 
independence, his attitude toward his rescuers was one of 
reverence, and he adored Maruss. Certainly his hands were 
gentle as he guided the slowly limping curalli away from 
the door, which he had again tightly bolted, and down the 
main tunnel of Sweptoromaru. Maruss could have walked this 
route blindfolded, but for the moment it was pleasant to 
lean on Flame's shoulder and listen to his endless stream 
of chatter, a mix of gossip, fussing, and out-and-out 
lies.
    "The Lady Elenyi was very upset when Lord Geruth told 
her, at dawn, what you had said." The elf grinned like a 
fox with its mouth full of rabbit. "The fur flew, I can 
tell you- and crockery for a while. By the time she 
finished, she was cursing you and saying she hoped you 
never returned." He paused to nudge open a door to a side 
tunnel and clucked his tongue. "I caught her weeping in a 
corner a mere five minutes later. No sense, that one. She 
shouldn't cry where people can see."
    Maruss looked at him sharply, earning a half-guilty 
shrug from the elf. "Of course, the door she was behind 
might have had a little help in opening..."
    The shadowed Elwen didn't have the heart to scold 
Flame; he really couldn't blame the door warden for being 
curious. He was more concerned with the implications of 
Flame's news. Elenyi was going to be indignant- or, more 
likely, Indignant.
    Flame rambled on, but Maruss had ceased to pay much 
attention. They were walking through his favorite part of 
Sweptoromaru, the "picture tunnels" as he had named them 
in his mind.
    The Annihilators had discovered, not built, these 
corridors under the earth. Fleeing from a silverini mage 
one day, Maruss had slammed against the opening stone and 
literally stumbled into these tunnels. Warm and dry, quiet 
and dusty, they showed evidence of expert construction- 
their floors smooth, their walls shaped like falls of 
water, their ceilings sturdy.
    And the pictures.
    Whoever had once lived here had been either bored or 
very interested in drawing daily life. Scene after scene 
of people quietly going about everyday chores- cooking in 
huge kitchens, weaving mats, baking, fishing- haunted the 
walls in this section of the tunnels. The only thing 
Maruss had been unable to determine was who these people 
were. 
    He was gazing at the drawings with such interest, 
concentrating on the ancient mystery rather than present 
surroundings, that he started sharply when an acidic voice 
said, "Geruth said you were dead. But then, he always was 
short-sighted."
    Maruss whirled quickly, nearly throwing Flame off. The 
elf supported him as he wobbled, whispering in a 
comforting voice, "There, there, my lord Maruss. You've 
had quite an experience. It's natural that you should be 
jumpy- but it's only your brother." There was distaste in 
the elf's words, as there often was when he met Phaedon.
    Maruss calmed his breathing and nodded courteously to 
the one who now stepped out of the shadows to face them. 
The other Elwen raised a dark eyebrow, his moonlit silver 
eyes faintly, distantly amused, and nodded in return. 
"Still holding to your manners after all this time, eh 
Maruss? Certainly you've had time to change them."
    "Yes, my lord holds to them- unlike some I know," 
muttered Flame, not heeding the warning glance Maruss shot 
him. Phaedon was the only one of the set of foster 
siblings that the warden did not address as Lord or lady.
    The other Elwen was a curalli also, his skin shining 
as silver as Maruss's, but he glided with a fighter's 
grace that Maruss had never added to his movements and 
never would. Only Jesartlu could truly outmatch Phaedon, 
the curalli leader thought with reluctant admiration, and 
then only by a little. Being such a skilled fighter, Phae 
was an invaluable addition to their nemlaf, but he had 
chosen, for reasons of his own, not to accompany them on 
this latest trip.
    Maruss abruptly became aware that Phaedon had halted 
and was staring at him with that disturbing expression he 
had always possessed, as if Maruss were some slightly 
grotesque stain blocking what the warrior truly wished to 
see. He didn't do it on purpose, the Touched Elwen was 
sure; he merely didn't realize how impolite it was.
    As if reading his thoughts- which he might well have 
done- Phaedon suddenly smiled reassuringly. "I'm glad to 
see you back again, truly I am," he said sincerely. "I 
don't know what we'd do without you."
    "I do," said Flame in an uncomplimentary, though 
bland, tone. "Somebody would start to talk about how 
suited he is to leadership. Someone would-"
    "Flame," warned Maruss swiftly, seeing Phaedon's 
silver eyes narrow. "He is a fighter, remember?" He nodded 
to the sword belted to the shadowed Elwen's waist. "He 
wears what are called weapons. Remember?" He hoped 
desperately that his teasing banter would soothe any of 
his brother's ruffled feelings and at the same time warn 
the elf of the danger of continuing.
    Phaedon actually smiled and stepped backwards, his 
amusement growing from a cool mockery into a full, warm, 
real Elwen emotion. "As always, brother, your genius 
impresses me," he said, with a playful bow. "I will let 
you and your friend go for thy skillful words." He looked 
directly at Flame then, and Maruss hoped with all his 
heart that the fighter's next words were teasing. "Do be 
careful, elf. Next time we might meet when you do not have 
such a silver-tongued friend beside you- and I might be in 
a worse mood." He turned and paced into the shadows again, 
his silver skin blending with them at once, leaving his 
not-quite-threat to linger in the air.
    Maruss looked in concern at Flame as soon as the 
nearly inaudible footsteps had faded. "You are taking a 
terrible chance, Flame," he said somberly. "He had a 
disappointment with his elven fighting master, Yuzim, and 
since then has not trusted your people."
    To his surprise, the forestland elf neither ignored 
him nor brushed his worry away with a light comment. He 
looked up at Maruss with narrow green eyes, so cool that 
the curalli would have taken a step away if not for the 
supporting arm and his bad ankle. "Perhaps he is the one 
taking chances," said Flame with terrible calm. "I am no 
fighter, nor a mage who could turn him into a frog as 
punishment. I am simply an elf who knows what is right, 
and what is wrong."
    His hold about Maruss tightened, his next words as 
strong as the wind from the calloran's wings. "What's 
wrong is his putting down of you. What's right is your 
keeping the leadership we have chosen you for. You have 
qualities he does not, lord; always remember that."
    Maruss gnawed his lip, suddenly uncomfortable with the 
turn the conversation had taken, and finally managed to 
wrench his eyes away from the elf's weirdly glowing green 
gaze. "Thank you," the shadowed Elwen said softly. "Now.. 
can you tell me where everyone is?"
    Flame remained silent for a moment, studying Maruss, 
then shrugged. "In a meeting. Lady Elenyi wished to 
discuss matters, she said, especially those who insist we 
should attack the minalds openly."
    Maruss grinned. "In a few minutes she'll be pleased to 
know she can hand that chore back to me. In the Gathering 
Room?" When the elf nodded, he added, "I've kept you away 
from your duties for too long, Flame. You are welcome to 
return to them if you wish." He would not command the 
warden to do so, but he desperately hoped the elf would 
take the not-so-subtle hint and go.
    Flame shook his head, however, not seeming to note his 
sigh. "No, Lord Maruss, you need my support and-" He 
hesitated, then nodded sharply, as if he had come to some 
decision. "They need to be told about what Phaedon said."
    "It was a comment, no more," said Maruss carefully, 
keeping a second sigh in check.
    "A comment that could indicate any number of things," 
Flame retorted. "A comment you wouldn't report to them, 
would you?"
    His green eyes, Maruss thought uncomfortably, were 
uncommonly keen. "No," the curalli said, the word plunging 
upward from his throat and stifling all the things he 
wished he could say. "But I honestly don't think he meant 
anything, Flame. We've always sniped at each other; 
siblings do. Surely you can't honestly think that he was 
disappointed to see me alive?"
    "You said it, my lord Maruss, not I."
    Maruss ground his teeth, but knew there was no way to 
get rid of the elf short of actually shoving him away, and 
he had not the strength to do that. "All right. I would 
appreciate your company walking into the Gathering Room." 
That, at least, was the truth.
    Flame chuckled softly. "An extra face to throw 
crockery at might distract them a bit, yes?"
----------------------------------------------------------
    The voices from behind the wooden door were loud, but 
Elenyi's voice overrode them all. Maruss winced at her 
strident, nearly shrill, tone, and he and Flame exchanged 
helpless looks. Elenyi only sounded shrill when she was 
hysterical- and once she was hysterical, she was 
extraordinarily difficult to calm down. "No, I will not 
agree to hold the funeral today!"
    "My lady." The voice was Gigan's, respectful and oddly 
choked but firm. "There was no way he could have survived 
Tracker's wrath, and we all saw him run to meet the 
magmacat. He must have been taken, and that means he is 
dead, either physically or spiritually."
    "No!" Elenyi flared, and there came the sound of a 
harsh sob. The wolf Elwen could as well be weeping from 
anger as from grief, however. "Not my brother! He has 
never failed us before, and he has not done so now!"
    "There's always a first ti-"
    There came the smash of breaking glass, and Flame, who 
shared with Maruss an appreciation of fine things, winced 
in tandem with him. The curalli shot a glance at the elf, 
cocked an eyebrow, and pushed the door open. He could feel 
heads swinging to look at it as the old wood creaked.
    There was complete and stunned silence when he hobbled 
into the room, somehow doing it without Flame's support. 
The red-haired elf hovered behind; despite his claim about 
distracting some of the crockery from Maruss, he seemed 
content to stay in the shadows.
    "Maruss." Elenyi's voice was soft, and so filled with 
emotions that Maruss could barely sort them all out- 
gratification, surprise, joy, relief, fury. "Where have 
you been? How did you get here?" She had been sitting at 
the head of a long wooden table, but now she rose and 
moved swiftly toward him. She hadn't bothered to remove 
her indigo cloak, Maruss noted absently, and it dripped 
melted snow on the floor as she moved.
    "It's a long story-" the curalli began.
    Abruptly the chamber exploded. Whoops of joy filled 
the air, and it seemed as though eighteen hundred people 
rather than eighteen were trying to hug him all at once. 
Elenyi reached him first, wrapping her wet cloak around 
him and clucking at his injuries while at the same time 
whispering fiercely, "If you have to do that again, choose 
someone else as your successor!" Geruth was pounding him 
on the back, eyes wild with relief, and Larelina was 
railing at him for his stupidity. Jesartlu met Maruss's 
eyes from a distance and smiled warmly, an expression that 
seemed to have all the relief of the world in it. Aeren 
nodded courteously, politely, for a moment, then broke and 
raced to embrace him.
    However, the reaction that touched Maruss the most 
profoundly was none of these. Myyti, still sitting at the 
table, had stared at him for a long minute before burying 
her head in her clawed hands. Her shoulders shook with 
gentle sobs for a few moments, then Maruss heard her 
whisper a prayer of gratitude to the stars. His heart 
melting, he started to go to her.
    Elenyi stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Where 
do you think you're going? I have to sing and heal your 
wounds, especially that foot." She nodded toward his 
ankle. "What happened? Did a unicorn kick it? Or your 
nose, perhaps?"
    "Nothing that dramatic," said Maruss absently, his 
eyes on Myyti. He wanted so badly to go to her, but he 
would probably end up having to submit to the wolf Elwen's 
silversong first. "I tripped and fell. The fall broke 
this-" he pointed gingerly toward his nose "-and twisted 
my ankle."
    "How did you get away?" asked Geruth, ignoring 
Elenyi's calls for silence.
    "A calloran-"
    Geruth gasped, his blue eyes going wide with shock and 
his purple cheeks paling, until he looked as bloodless as 
one of his own drained victims. The pallor made the dark 
circles under his eyes visible, when before the lavender 
skin had disguised them. "You escaped with the help of- 
the Maimed One?" He could barely choke the words out, and 
his expression of shock had turned into one of disgust, as 
though he had just bitten into a sour apple.
    Maruss stared at his brother, perplexed. Though at 
first they had objected to the evil goddess's minions, the 
Annihilators had at last accepted that the ravens had as 
much right to destroy the unicorns as anyone, and there 
had been no grumbles for months. Why this sudden loathing? 
"Geruth," said the curalli, with his usual directness, "I 
don't understand. If someone could explain to me why 
Tirosina is suddenly so objectionable-"
    "There is nothing of honor in dealing with a foul 
immortal like that," said Gigan with heat, nearly the 
first time Maruss had ever seen him get angry. "How can we 
claim the war we wage is just when we accept her help?"
    "The war we wage is not just," said Maruss, and that 
one quiet little sentence seemed to steal the wind from 
Gigan's wings. The peach Elwen blinked stupidly as Maruss 
went on. "Those two words cannot be linked together; they 
are an oxymoron. We are crushing a greater injustice with 
a lesser, turning evil's own weapon against it. In that 
case, how can it be out of place to accept evil's help?"
    "But-" the zolonora protested weakly. He was the only 
member of Maruss's nemlaf who favored open attacks. "We 
fight in the name of freedom and justice!"
    "I never said our ideals were corrupt," Maruss pointed 
out. "They are not. But we can only bring them back to a 
continent bereft of them so long in this manner. I don't 
like it- but it's the only option open to us."
    His eyes traveled the circle of his friends, noting 
their stunned and suddenly despairing expressions. 
Outwardly, he was composed, but inwardly his surprise was 
as great as theirs. He had assumed they knew there was no 
honor in war, that open attacks were impossible for 
exactly that reason. It had come as a shock to know how 
much they trusted in those ideals Gigan had just spoken 
of.
    Now, would they ever find the heart to fight again? 
Had they destroyed peace for nothing, lives for nothing? 
They had to be wondering that.
    Elenyi lifted her head again and gave him a tremulous 
smile. Her green-gold eyes glittered with tears, and the 
moisture running over her night-blue face made the white 
dots on her skin sparkle like true stars. Her voice was 
pleading. "Maruss, tell me one thing. If that is true-" A 
sob caught in her throat; she choked it down and started 
over. "If that is true, then how do we know that what the 
silverini were doing was evil? Who are we to judge their 
actions, if our own performance must be damned?"
    Maruss felt a tranquility spreading from the center of 
his being, filling him with inner peace. Unexpectedly, 
wondrously, he knew the answrr. He responded in a clear, 
pure tone; his words chimed like bells. "We judge because 
we can do nothing else. Perhaps we're wrong, but fighting 
the unicorns' corrupt peace is the only thing that makes 
any sense." His eyes flitted to Gigan. "You are welcome to 
leave the Annihilators if you wish, Gigan, and I wouldn't 
blame you. Perhaps a smaller group could discover a way to 
fight war with honor. I would miss you, however."
    Gigan bit his lip, lowered his head, and then slowly 
shook it from side to side. "My Lord Maruss." His voice as 
he spoke the title abruptly turned into an uneasy laugh. 
"I had everything figured out- what I was going to say, 
what you would say, and so on. I had planned to be 
strong." His eyes rose again, met the curalli's wondering 
violet ones. "But what do you do when someone wins over 
your resolve, not with force, but with kindness? I doubt 
myself now, after listening to you. Perhaps- perhaps I 
will stay here a bit longer." His last words were a 
whisper. Timidly, he touched Maruss's shoulder in a 
gesture of friendship and then glided from the room.
    Maruss watched him go with brow furrowed, almost 
hoping the peach Elwen would challenge him again later. 
His little speech had shaken even him, and that it had 
shattered another's beliefs-
    Elenyi's arm encircled his shoulder; she hugged him 
warmly as she softly began to sing. Her mental voice spoke 
warmly, approvingly, in his head, and he wondered when she 
had picked up the trick of speaking and singing at the 
same time. ^Always the hero. I still can't understand you, 
Maruss, and I wish I knew your secret. But I'm willing to 
follow someone so self-confident.^
    Self-confident? Maruss felt that his doubt of himself 
must be nailed on his face. He cast a swift glance around 
the circle, waiting for someone to say something, point 
out the obvious emotion. They watched him with various 
feelings- thoughtfulness, faith, adoration- but in no face 
was there a tremor of suspicion.
    They needed the facade, perhaps, Maruss thought 
gloomily, and decided to keep up a strong front for their 
sakes. He didn't even groan when Flame said in a 
purposeful voice, "We met Phaedon in the hall near the 
drawings. He said something you might find of interest, 
Lady Elenyi-"
    Maruss left them to their conversation and glided 
slowly toward Myyti, who still had not moved. The verde no 
longer had her head in her hands, but had raised it, and 
her emerald eyes, fastened to his face, sparkled. Her lips 
parted in a gently teasing smile, and Maruss nearly 
stopped in his tracks as realization slammed into him with 
the force of a dirt wall.
    Of course! The underground Elwen who knew him better 
than he knew himself knew his own anxiety. Predictably, 
she was saying nothing. She seemed to think that he was 
right, that the others needed to see someone strong and 
irrevocably committed to this difficult task. It didn't 
help that he filled the second requirement, if not the 
first. It never helped when she was so totally right.
    Myyti extended her clawed hands, her voice the gentle 
murmur of wind sighing in a cave. "Hello, beloved." Her 
green eyes took on an even brighter sparkle when he sat 
down beside her, leaning warily and without embarrassment 
on her shoulder. One arm went around him, holding him 
close. "Tiring flight?"
    Maruss nodded, grateful beyond words to have someone 
who understood him so well. "Stars, yes. The calloran 
gripped me in its claws, which was not comfortable in the 
first place, and then my sleep was rather cold." He 
managed a weak grin. "We didn't exactly have time, I 
suppose, for me to climb on its back."
    Myyti said nothing, but remained sitting, staring at 
him expectantly. Maruss stifled a groan. He couldn't hide 
anything from her, and he knew the faster he told the 
entire tale, the sooner he would be able to sleep. "Zea, 
Destria's granddaughter, came after me," he admitted 
slowly.
    Only Myyti's indrawn breath showed how serious the 
verde though this. Her face remained calm and she motioned 
for him to go on when he hesitated. "Yes?" Her voice had 
changed, its hollowness filled with concern, adding a 
musical sound to the moan of the wind.
    "They herded me toward the hill," he said softly, "and 
Zea tried to perform some sort of spell using a drop of my 
blood and a lock of my hair. I wasn't exactly eager to 
stay around and find out what the spell's effect would 
be," he added, winning a gentle smile from her. "I kicked 
snow over it and jumped. Earlier I had tried to kill 
myself, but-"
    He had made the statement so casually, his mind not 
concentrating on it, that he only noticed Myyti's tears 
when she gripped his chin with one hand and really made 
him look at her. "If you had committed suicide," said 
Myyti softly, and then stopped. The grip of her hands on 
his shoulders tightened. "Maruss, ah Maruss. Do you know 
what that would do to this war? What it would do to the 
Annihilators and to me?" Though she spoke in a whisper, 
the anguish in her voice caused Maruss to flinch.
    "I wasn't thinking," he said truthfully. "At any rate, 
it didn't matter. They had put a spell on me to keep me 
from doing that very thing. I jumped over them, fell, and 
thought for certain that the end of my life- or at least 
of my freedom, which is the same thing- was near. I tilted 
back my head, not knowing if I would see the eyes of a 
silverini or not, but wanting to gaze on the stars."
    Without realizing it, he allowed music into his voice, 
until he was half-singing the tale. The others turned to 
look at him now, some curious, but all listening.