I

If you say so' Er'ril sounded little convinced, but he pulled her hand from his cheek and kissed her palm. The warmth of his lips threatened to melt the strength from her legs.

I do, she said, and reluctantly pulled her hand away, closing her fingers around the warmth of his touch, trying to trap this other magick within her heart.

So we go with the shape-shifters? he asked.

She nodded. It is time we face the path we've left behind us. She glanced to those gathered here, old companions and new. Her eyes found Thorn's. If we are to forge a future for these lands, we must not neglect our past.

Er'ril circled her with his arm. But can we survive the present? She leaned into him. We can together.

Greshym rocked with the motion of the horse, exhausted and saddle sore. Daybreak neared. They had ridden all night. With the si'luran army as protectors, there was nothing to fear in the dark wood.

They had set out into the nighttime forest, heading off the main trail. Greshym was quickly lost without his magick senses, and from the way Er'ril kept searching the stars and the woods around him, it seemed the plainsman fared no better.

At first, there had been furtive whispers among the party. He heard snatches of familiar stories as Elena related her coming to power to Bryanna. He had listened with half an ear while pretending to drowse. Though he knew most of the story, some startling bits filled in gaps in his own knowledge. One point particularly intrigued him: She mentioned something about the ebon'stone transforming into heartstone.

He pondered this throughout the night. He had never heard of such a property. He sensed a key to power lay in the answer to this mystery.

Eventually, the entire party had grown quiet, too tired to speak. Only the plodding of the horses accompanied their progress. The shape-shifters out in the woods moved with uncanny stealth, lost in the gloom. But the party knew their captors were still out there, for the flash of amber eyes flickered periodically around them from the wood.

Greshym studied the approaching dawn. They were to rest with the rising sun and set out again by midday. The shape-shifter named Thorn had said they'd reach the si'luran gathering place by nightfall.

Greshym felt a noose growing ever tighter around his neck. The forest was thick with si'luran shape-shifters, and with each heavy plod of his horse's hoof, he was one step closer to where Shorkan waited beyond the mountains. He had enemies on all sides.

He reached to the tiny bit of magick remaining in his heart. It was nothing but the smallest drop, not even enough to loosen his bonds to relieve the chafing of the ropes. But it did allow him to sense a familiar heartbeat deep in the woods, a heart that had been bound to him before his magick had been evaporated. He sent a silent message to this other, encouraging his continued allegiance.

Follow, Rufyh. Follow and stay hidden.

Through his connection, he felt the tiniest thrill of response.

Greshym sighed. For now, it was all he could do. The stump gnome kept pace with their party, trailing by a full league so as not to be caught. At least Rukh had managed to collect the bone staff Greshym had abandoned in the mud beside Moon Lake. The stave was empty of any magick, but like the stump gnome, it was a tool that could prove useful.

Narrowing his eyes, Greshym studied one other resource here, useless now, but full of possibility.

He watched Joach hanging in his saddle, drowsing, half asleep.

As the day brightened, so did Greshym's hopes. A plan twisted slowly into place in his head. Only two things were necessary: patience' and a fair amount of blood.

i

Elena soaked her feet in the cool waters of a stream, her boots on a mossy boulder beside her. She stretched a cramp in her back. They had traveled all the prior night and, after a short rest, a good portion of the day. She leaned back and stared at the sun shining through the branches. A fresh breeze swept along the stream, lifting the muggy air trapped under the dense canopy. Elena drew a deep breath. Summer was indeed upon them, but evening neared; the steaming sun would soon give way to the cool moon.

The crunch of boots drew her attention as Joach limped toward her, a grimace of pain on his face.

Elena scooted to the side and patted a seat. Come soak. It feels wonderful.

Joach dropped to her side like a puppet whose strings had been cut. I don't know if I could get my boots off my ankles have swollen tight inside them. He shoved his feet, boots and all, into the water.

Elena patted her brother's gloved fingers, a small gesture of family. But he didn't seem to notice. He simply stared at the sun-dappled waters, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion.

I used to ride the orchards all day, he mumbled. And still come home and run my errands.

Once this is over, we'll find a way to reverse the spell. I promise, she said.

But he seemed as deaf to her words as to her touch. I can't stand even looking at him, knowing it's my own youth mocking me.

Elena glanced to Joach's hand. His fingers, once strong from picking apples and weeding the orchard, were now just bone and withered skin under the thin riding glove. But as she listened to her brother, she sensed that more was stolen from Joach than just youth. A good portion of his spirit and heart had vanished, too.

He slipped his hand to the staff across his knees; the foul thing now gave him more solace than his own flesh and blood. She studied the length of petrified gray wood, impregnated with jaundiced bits of crystal. She had put off a certain talk long enough. Joach, she began, what have you done to your staff?

His eyes narrowed as he turned to her. What do you mean?

Elena recalled the night of the last full moon, when they had all been transported here. In the courtyard, she had seen Joach's staff aflame with elemental energies. But of more concern were the glowing strands of power that had linked her brother to the weapon. I see you always wear a glove.

So? It helps my grip. I have little strength anymore.

She knew Joach well enough to tell when he was lying. I saw how you were linked to the staff, she said. It was like when I bonded you to the poi'wood staff aboard the Pale Stallion. You've created a blood weapon, tied your spirit to the wood.

He remained silent for several long breaths. When he spoke, it was a strained whisper. I have lost everything. My magic is all I have left, my only hope. I linked myself to it so I could wield it better.

Joach' Warning filled her voice. Er'ril told me how such weapons, forged in blood and spirit, can become living things without conscience or mercy. Blood weapons can grow to corrupt their wielders.

Joach shook his head. I won't let that happen. I only need the staff long enough to break this curse upon me. After that, I'll burn the foul thing myself. He lifted an arm and shook back his riding cloak to reveal his stumped wrist. But before that happens, let me show you what it's capable of achieving.

Light shimmered over the end of his arm; then a hand bloomed into existence, appearing out of nothing. Elena stared in shock as he flexed the new fingers. The hand appeared as real as his other. The only difference was this one was smooth and unlined, a conjure of youth.

Joach picked up a rock, then lobbed it downstream. The splash dislodged a few frogs, sending them plopping into the creek. He held up his hand. It's a dream sculpted into reality.

It took half a breath for Elena to find her voice. Joach, you shouldn't have risked such dangerous magick.

I had to. Bitterness lay thick on his tongue. I've lost too much. i

But forging yourself into a blood weapon is not the answer. Why did you do this? Do you hope to conjure yourself a new body?

Joach scowled. That would be mere illusion. I'd still be aged and bent-backed behind the glamor.

Then why? I said before, we'll find a way to regain your youth. I'm sure

It's not just my youth, he interrupted. Tears misted his eyes. His face tightened as he held back a deeper emotion. He finally spoke in a strained sob. It's Kesla'

Elena sensed that there were words her brother had put off speaking.

She remained silent. She was so beautiful.

I remember.

But it was more. The way she laughed so brightly. The heat of her touch, as if she always walked under the desert sun. And her eyes' They were the violet of a bottomless moonlit oasis.

You loved her.

A tear rolled down his cheek. But she was nothing. Elena frowned at the sudden bitterness of his words. Nothing but a figment. He lifted his conjured hand and waved it away, casting it back to dream. He lowered his stump and turned again to his staff. No more real than my hand.

Elena allowed him a quiet moment, then spoke firmly. You're wrong. She wasn't mere dream. She lived, like any woman lives. Joach shook his head, turning away and refusing to hear her. Who can say where any of us comes from? she continued. When our flesh is born of man and a woman, how does our spirit infuse our bodies? Or do you think we're all just so much clay?

Of course not.

I met Kesla. She was not just sand and dream. She had as much spirit as any of us. And if her spirit was real, then so was she, no matter how she was born.

He sighed, clearly unsure.

Elena reached and grabbed his real hand, placing it between her two palms. You loved her. Kesla could not have touched your spirit unless she was more than dream, unless she had the true spirit of life.

He pulled his hand away. But does it matter anymore? She's gone. Elena spoke softly. As long as you remember her, her spirit will live through you.

Joach sagged. How long will that last? With this aged body' He shook his head.

She patted his knee. We'll find a way through this, together.

He showed no response to her words, sinking again into his private thoughts.

Voices rose in argument nearby. Elena glanced over a shoulder. Er'ril marched with Harlequin toward them. She pulled her feet from the stream and grabbed her boots. Standing, she touched Joach on the shoulder.

He mumbled under his breath. Go. I'm fine.

She heard the he behind his words, but time would have to heal his heart. She turned to the others and crossed quickly in their direction, cutting them off. She did not want Joach disturbed. What's wrong? she asked.

Er'ril's face was flushed with anger. Harlequin snuck off and spied upon Thorn and her people. He glared down at the small man. He was caught.

Harlequin shrugged. It's hard to sneak up on a people with all the senses of the forest's creatures.

I warned you against aggravating them. Er'ril clenched a fist.

Harlequin rolled his eyes. I don't remember bending my knee to you, plainsman. It's my hide, too, that's at risk here; I have the right to protect it as I see fit.

Elena held up a hand. What happened after you were caught? Harlequin cast daggers with his eyes at Er'ril. Nothing. They sent me back with my tail tucked, that's all.

Er'ril scowled. Thorn was furious. She was shaking with anger.

That's the way she always looks, Harlequin mumbled. What did she say?

Er'ril sighed. Nothing. She just strode back into the wood. Harlequin shrugged his arms with a jingle of bells. So no harm done.

You don't know that, Er'ril spat back. The si'lura are angry already. Provoking them

I didn't provoke them. I just watched them.

Enough, Elena declared. What's done is done. Harlequin, in the future, I'd ask you to respect my liegeman's wishes. He speaks with my authority. And as I recall, you did bend your knee to me.

The small man bowed his head. Yes, milady.

Er'ril crossed his arms.

Elena turned to him. And Er'ril, when compared to the destruction of