I

her throat as a large white she-wolf stalked from the darker forest and revealed its white pelt and glowing amber eyes. Nee'lahn recognized the shape-shifter who had tracked them through the streets of Woodbine.

The wolf circled the tree once, rumbling a long growl. As it crossed back into sight, its flesh melted and the shape-shifter shimmered from its wolfskin, straightening and rising. A woman's face replaced the wolf's, but the amber eyes still glowed with a feral bit of the wild forest. She stood naked before Nee'lahn, unabashed, shoulders back. A long flow of white hair, straight and fluid, draped to the middle of her back.

Attempt to free yourself again with your magick, and you'll find your throat torn out before you can take two steps.

Nee'lahn did not doubt the threat. She remained silent and stared back at the si'luran woman.

The shape-shifter's eyes narrowed, studying her. We have your companions surrounded, she said quietly. But before we attack, I want to know why you broke your vows to the forest, nyphai. Nee'lahn's brow crinkled with confusion.

A hand shot out toward her face. Nee'lahn cringed back, but the woman's fingers settled to her gag. I'll loosen your tongue, but one note of magick from you and it'll be your last.

Knowing that any hope of freedom lay in cooperation, Nee'lahn nodded once in acknowledgment.

With a deft flick of fingers, the gag fell away. Nee'lahn coughed. Wh-who are you?

The si'luran's back straightened. My name is Thorn, prime tracker of the Freshling clan, third daughter of the elder'root. You're to be brought before my father and the Council of Wishnu, to be judged for your atrocities against our forest.

Nee'lahn was taken aback. What do you mean?

Thorn snarled. Nothing happens in the Reaches that is beyond the eyes of the si'lura. We have been watching you, nyphai, since you first were reborn here in our forests.

Nee'lahn could not hide her shock. Over a winter ago, she had used the magick of the great forest to pull her spirit from its resting place inside a black acorn and birth her body anew. She'd had no idea that the si'luran people were aware of her.

We watched you and your companions last winter, leaving a path of destruction.

We destroyed nothing. We sought to mend the Northwall and fend off the Grim wraiths who harried the edges of the forest.

You brought down the Stone of Tor, Thorn spat back. A place sacred to the si'luran people.

Nee'lahn was stunned. She remembered the crash of the pinnacle of stone. While imprisoned in a wagon headed to Castle Mryl, she had felt the rending of the forest and the resultant flooding as the toppled peak dammed up rivers and streams. A good portion of the Western Reaches had been destroyed that day. The Grim had to be stopped, she offered weakly.

Thorn's eyes flashed with ire. The results of your actions were a thousandfold worse than any threat from the Grim. Nee'lahn remained silent.

The forest gave you life, and you repaid it with death.

You don't understand

And now Moon Lake, the shape-shifter continued, ignoring her protest as she stalked back and forth. Hundreds of my people were slain but you walked out unscathed. Word spread quickly through the si'lura, one mind speaking to another. We recognized you. Again you walk our forests and leave a wake of devastation. Fiery rage entered her voice. But no more!

Nee'lahn listened, stunned at the accusation. But a small part of her understood this one's fury. This was their home. They knew nothing of the greater war beyond the woods. Isolated from the world at large, all the si'lura saw were great swaths of their homeland forests destroyed, and at each instance, the same person had been present.

Nee'lahn stared into the angry eyes of the other and recognized the true face of those caught in the battle of magicks. All these folk saw of the small victories against the Dark Lord was the destruction of their own homes, their own peoples. Here stood the folk who bore the brunt of the larger battle, forgotten and dismissed, never mentioned in tales or songs those left behind.

Nee'lahn struggled to find words to encompass the pain, some reason to justify the loss of lands and people. But all she came up with were three heartfelt words. I am sorry.

Thorn stopped in her tracks. Her eyes narrowed as she studied Nee'lahn. It was the suspicion of a wolf staring back at her.

Nee'lahn faced the accusation in the other's gaze. I am truly sorry for all you lost.

A crinkle marred Thorn's smooth brow. The fire dimmed in her eyes.

When next she spoke, it was a plea: Why?

Nee'lahn slowly shook her head. She had no answer to why some folks suffered so that others might live freely, why there was always a price in blood that had to be paid. There is much guilt I and my companions bear. Over these last winters, we've stared too hard at the larger world and grown blind to those nearer at hand. Of that we are guilty. But there is a greater war that threatens not just portions of the Western Reaches, but the entire forest. It is a battle for the very heart of the Land.

A shimmer of doubt passed over Thorn's features.

Nee'lahn continued. The world bleeds, not just here but across many lands. So while I'm sorry for the loss of your people and the wounded forest, I cannot apologize for the war we wage. Though the forest bleeds now, it will heal and grow stronger. But if the darkness claims it, nothing will survive.

Thorn turned away from her words. You speak from your heart; this I can tell. But the elder'root of the si'lura has called for you and your companions to stand before the Council of Wishnu. His call must be answered.

Nee'lahn sighed. I will not fight your father's summons. And if I can explain to the others, neither will they. She sensed it was time to face those who had been harmed in this war, to acknowledge their pain and sorrow. After Woodbine, she sensed Elena would agree.

Then I'll let you speak to your companions. But if any try to flee' A growl of threat flowed from the woman.

Nee'lahn sensed the shaky balance achieved here. These lands belonged to the si'lura. Even with Elena's magick, they would be hard-pressed to escape the forest. This summons to account for their actions here in the Western Reaches would have to be answered.

Thorn turned and loosened the vine ropes that bound the nyphai woman, but did not free her wrists. Nee'lahn stumbled away from the tree. Thorn caught her elbow to help her keep her feet.

Nee'lahn straightened. In the surrounding gloom, the flash of amber eyes flickered though the forest. She sensed the strained anger out there in the woods. It would be a hard wound to soothe.

She turned to Thorn to thank her for this small amount of trust.

The shape-shifter's eyes remained wary, but the fury had dulled. In its wake, something else shone in her eyes: sorrow and loss. Clearly Thorn had lost someone close to her. Nee'lahn suspected it was this pain that had fueled the rage of a few moments ago.

Nee'lahn repeated her earlier words. I am sorry.

Thorn's gaze hardened. He should have been with you, she mumbled under her breath as she guided Nee'lahn forward.

i

Her strange comment mystified Nee'lahn. Who? Thorn's lip edged into a snarl. Fardale. He was with your party last winter as you traveled north. I tracked him myself.

Nee'lahn glanced to her. The two si'luran brothers had been banished from the forest due to their curse, ostracized by their own people. But she sensed something more personal in Thorn's tones. You knew Fardale? The snarl deepened. He was my mate. Nee'lahn tripped over a stone.

Thorn continued speaking through clenched teeth. But he was cursed after our first union and forced to leave.

Nee'lahn sensed conflicting emotions warring in the si'luran woman: anger, pain, sorrow, and loss. And she now understood why it was Thorn who had hunted them all along. She saw the pained love in the other's eyes. He still lives, Nee'lahn said softly. He fights the darkness, as we do here.

Thorn turned away. It doesn't matter. But from the way her voice cracked, the exact opposite was the truth. It was her next comment, though, that stunned Nee'lahn into silence. I had just hoped Fardale could meet his son.

Elena stood with her back to the fire. The flames danced shadows among the trees, while hundreds of pairs of amber eyes stared silently upon them.

We must find Nee'lahn, Meric insisted. His silver hair shimmered, moving to the unseen winds of his magick.

It is death to go out there now, Er'ril warned. Let us see how this plays out.

What are the shape-shifters waiting for? Harlequin asked. He bore two daggers, flipping them end over end, catching the handles deftly each time. They flashed in the firelight.

The large trapper, Gunther, answered. They seek to unman us. To make us run in fear.

We'll not run, Elena said calmly. She clenched a fist, building her magick to a deep crimson glow. Wit'ch fire in her right hand, coldfire in her left. She kept her fingers tight around the rose-carved handle of her silver dagger, ready to bloody her hands and unleash the magick pent inside. The wild chorus sang in her heart as she touched that part of her that was Cho, a being of unfathomable nature.

Bryanna gasped, staring wide-eyed at Elena's hands. What manner of demon are you?

Elena glanced to her face. I am as much a woman as you. She held up her hand. Like the shape-shifters out there, I simply bear a unique gift.

Do not listen to her, a voice said coldly behind them. She's a wit'ch. It was Greshym. The darkmage sat beside the fire, his elbows bound behind him. She'll kill you all before this night is over.

Joach cracked Greshym a blow to the side of the head with his staff.

Er'ril stepped toward him. Speak your lies again and I'll remove your tongue.

Bryanna frowned at Elena. Wit'ch?

Elena sensed the suspicion growing around her. One of the other trappers touched his forehead with his thumb in a warding against evil.

I bear magick, she said. But in my heart, I am a woman like any other. I

So you are a wit'ch! Gunther blustered, his face growing as red as his beard. A woman who bears magick! You admit it!

Tensions rose around the fire. Gazes shifted between the si'luran army in the woods and the strife within the camp.

Amidst this strain, Harlequin suddenly laughed loudly, a bright sound accompanied by the jingling of bells. Eyes turned to him. All of you strapping forest men frightened of this little slip of a woman, the small man scoffed. So what if Elena has a bit of magick? Don't all women? He eyed Bryanna up and down. Something tells me a pretty lass like you has turned a man or two stone hard with nothing more than a smile and a wink. That's what I call true magick! The small man's bells rang with amusement.

Gunther growled at the implication.

You're not helping, Harlequin, Meric warned.

I will not suffer a wit'ch in my camp, Gunther grumbled. I'll throw the lot of you to the shape-shifters.

Bryanna stepped forward. Enough, Brother.

He opened his mouth again, but a glare from his sister silenced him.

I sense no evil from her, Bryanna insisted, only concern for their lost friend. She turned to Elena. Once this matter with the shape-shifters is finished, I would know more of these powers of yours.

Elena nodded gratefully. It is a long story.

Bryanna turned to the forest, directing her arrow outward. Then if we survive this night, I'd like to hear it.

I give you my word.

One of the trappers who stood nearest the woods suddenly stumbled closer to the fires. Someone comes!

Elena turned her full attention back to the forest. The legion of amber eyes remained steady, but the distinct sound of crunching leaves and the shuffle of steps sounded. Sword tips moved in the direction of the noise.

Two dark shapes became distinct from the deeper gloom. One figure bore the amber eyes of the si'lura. The pair stopped just beyond the reach of the firelight.

Who's there? Gunther called out, stepping forward. What do you want?

A voice called back. It is I' Nee'lahn! Meric gasped with relief.

Gunther glanced back to their party. Er'ril nodded his confirmation and moved to join the trapper. Elena followed him.

The two figures in the woods continued forward again. Elena saw with relief that it was indeed their friend. Nee'lahn was paler than usual and a trail of dried blood marred her forehead.

Meric hurried to her side. Nee'lahn allowed herself to be pulled into his embrace. You're safe. Elena met Nee'lahn's gaze over the elv'in prince's shoulder. Her eyes denied Meric's words.

Firelight limned the second figure, reflecting from her snowy hair. There was a wildness about her that reminded Elena of Fardale. She stood straight and unafraid before so many blades.

Thorn, Bryanna whispered with shock, naming this shape-shifter. You know her? Elena asked, raising an eyebrow. The trapper woman nodded. She sold us the black stallion. The shape-shifter turned her amber eyes toward them. The stallion was bait, she said simply, crossing her arms. What do you mean? Elena asked.

Pulling from Meric's arms, Nee'lahn answered. The si'lura captured Rorshaf after the destruction of the Stone of Tor.

Thorn nodded and spoke coldly. We searched the stallion's packs for any clue as to why a nyphai and her companions would wreak such havoc to our forests. We discovered nothing of use, but kept the horse in case it was needed again.

Then the si'lura heard of the devastation around Moon Lake, Nee'lahn explained. They planted Rorshaf in Woodbine, the closest village to the blasted region. They hoped whoever was to blame for the lake's destruction would end up there and perhaps recognize the horse, linking the two events.

But in the end, the horse was not needed. Thorn glanced to Nee'lahn. While spying in the town, I scented someone familiar.

Nee'lahn faced the others. They hold us to blame for the destruction both here and up north.

That's ridiculous, Er'ril said.

Elena touched his arm. These are their lands, Er'ril. She faced Thorn, recognizing the hundreds of eyes watching from the wood. What would you have of us?

The elder'root of our clan has called for you to stand before our council and explain yourselves. His summons will not be disobeyed.

We don't have time, Er'ril argued. We've a rendezvous.

Nee'lahn moved closer to them. Calm yourself, plainsman. The Council of Wishnu meets just two days from here in the direction of the mountains. It would require no more than a single day to plead our case, and with the cooperation of the si'lura, we could make up this extra time.

But we did nothing wrong, Er'ril said.

Nee'lahn raised one eyebrow. Didn't we?

Elena found Thorn's gaze on her. The shape-shifter stood proud, her face unreadable, but in her eyes, a font of sorrow shone.

We'll go with them, Elena said finally, cutting into the dispute.

Er'ril frowned and motioned her aside. We know little about these shape-shifters. Over the centuries, they've had little contact with outsiders.

But they're also a people of Alasea, as much as any man. Their blood has been spilled to protect these lands, willingly or not. They deserve an explanation for the price they've paid and may yet pay again. These are their lands. I will not burn a path through them now for the sake of expediency.

Er'ril stared at her, his storm-gray eyes judging her resolve.

A shadow of a smile came unbidden to her lips as she read the deep lines of Er'ril's brow. He already agreed with her, but the guardian in him feared for her. She reached a hand to smooth those worried creases from the corner of his lips with the caress of her thumb.

He covered her hand with his own. Elena' he whispered with a brush of breath.

She stared into his eyes. You say we don't know these people. But we know Fardale, even Mogweed. At their core, they are a noble and just people.

Fardale maybe, he grumbled, but Mogweed is cut from a different cloth.

I think you just need to look a little deeper into that one's heart. In many ways, he's more sensitive than his brother.