I

There be a clear choice! Hun'shwa bulled forward. He swung his thick arm and pointed. I say Tol'chuk!

A moment of quiet followed his outburst, but faces screwed into expressions of doubt, even among the og'res. Tol'chuk looked the most shocked of all.

He be already our spiritual leader, Hun'shwa said to the heads of his own clans. But he also showed his bravery in the battle against Vira'ni. He saved our families' lives!

A murmur of agreement passed through the og'res.

Hun'shwa turned to the si'lura. In his veins runs the blood of your own people. If we join og're army to shape-shifter, then the best leader be of both bloods!

Elena opened her mouth to agree, but Er'ril squeezed her hand. Not yet, he whispered.

The elder'root conferred with his own people, then faced Hun'shwa. We do not know this og're. We can't place the trust of

Trust? Fardale stepped forward, still wearing Mogweed's face. He had been standing tensely with Thorn, the daughter of the elder'root. With the urgency and press of the two armies coming together, the pair had little time together, and from their half-angry postures, there was still much unspoken between them. If it is his trustworthiness you question, Fardale continued as he strode up to Tol'chuk, then doubt my own heart. I know this fellow. You will find none more fierce in his loyalty in all the lands. Loyal not just to his og're clans nor his si'luran friends, but to all who are good of heart and who care for the fate of our peoples.

The elder'root remained expressionless.

Thorn spoke at his side. Father, the Root sent us to the twins. Perhaps we should heed Fardale in this matter.

A long sigh escaped the elder'root. So be it.

Only one person remained unconvinced. Tol'chuk stood up. I'm no war leader.

Er'ril slipped from Elena's side and placed a hand on his shoulder. That's what makes you the best choice. You'll take counsel from both sides without prejudice. That's the most important feature of a leader, to surround himself with wise counsel and heed their words.

Tol'chuk stared at the plainsman as if he were mad, but he remained silent. Even he knew a leader was needed to unite the two armies, even if only as a figurehead.

Magnam rolled his eyes. First, spiritual leader, now the head of two armies. What next, The Nameless One's throne? His wide grin blunted his words.

Elena stared as Er'ril clapped Tol'chuk on the shoulder a final time and turned back to her. You knew they would choose Tol'chuk, she said as he stepped to her side.

He shrugged. I've been doing this a long time.

Behind Er'ril's shoulder, Tol'chuk was swamped by the other leaders. Elena felt sorry for their friend. Will he be all right?

He'll manage. We all will.

Jaston brought the swamp child over to them. I suppose Tol'chuk will be occupied for a time.

No doubt, Er'ril agreed.

Jaston shifted closer. Then I'd best be the one to tell you this. Tol'chuk had wanted to wait until after the council to speak to you alone, but we shouldn't wait any longer.

Speak to us about what? she asked.

Jaston pulled the pair a few steps away and lowered his voice. It's about Sisa'kofa.

Er'ril jerked in surprise. What? His hand fell to the rose pommel of the sword at his belt, Sisa'kofa's own sword.

Jaston's next words made no sense, but they still shivered Elena's skin. The wit'ch waits for you down below.

JoACH SAT IN THE MIDDAY SUMMER SUN, HIS NOSE CRINKLING AT THE SMELL

of the og're camp in the valley below. The heat felt good on his aching bones. After the days of cold travel aboard the Wtndsprite, he had not thought his limbs would ever thaw.

Seated near the cavern, he heard a commotion behind him.

The council must be breaking up, Greshym said. The darkmage sat a few paces away, basking, too. His skin had been bronzed by the wind and the sun aboard the elv'in ship. His hair shone with copper and brown. He all but glowed with his stolen youth. Beyond him stood a pair of shape-shifters with spears and slung bows, guarding the mage. Greshym ignored them. Why didn't you attend?

Joach heard the silky smoothness in the other's voice, sly and full of artifice, but he answered anyway. It's a war council. Look at this body. Do you think I'll be leading the assault into the foothills?

Greshym shrugged. A dream sculptor of your skill is not without resources. Have you practiced the magick I taught you?

Sighing, Joach fingered the length of gray petrified wood. Despite his initial misgivings on the journey here, he had taken to trying the spells gleaned from the darkmage. They had indeed refined his sculpting ability. One spell had even strengthened his ties to the staff, weaving blood and stone more intimately for better control.

Show me, Greshym said. Show me what you've learned.

Joach glanced to the pair of shape-shifters, but their attention was elsewhere. With his magick stripped by Cho's spell, Greshym posed little danger.

Happy to demonstrate his skill, Joach shook off his glove and shifted his staff. As his flesh touched the stony wood, he felt the familiar tug on his heart. He watched veins of crimson flow into the length, his blood feeding the staff. In a matter of heartbeats, the gray wood had lightened to white. Exhilaration trembled through his body, a sense of the power at his fingertips. He had barely delved the surface of the dream magicks stored in the staff. He pointed its butt end toward the ground, and his lips moved in a silent spell. From the end of the staff, dribbles of blood seeped into the trampled mud at his feet, his own blood running through the stone, a trick of the spell Greshym had taught him.

Following the drops of blood, Joach sent his spirit slipping out into the hazy landscape between reality and dream. Atop the mud, a simple rose grew out of the dreaming, pushing into this existence. But it was no sandy construction. Its leaves were a summer green, its petals as crimson as his heart's blood, its thorns as real as the staff he held.

The darkmage pursed his lips. Not bad. You're learning.

It's perfect, Joach said, trembling with the flow of blood between his flesh and the staff, suddenly cold again. The sun seemed to have been bled of its warmth.

Greshym leaned closer, studying it, then leaned back. But there is no life in it. It might as well be a painting.

He frowned at the criticism. So?

We both know why you practice so hard, Joach, why you sit with me eking bits of arcane magick from my lore. Greshym waved a hand dis-missively over the sculpted rose. This will never do if you want to bring Kesla back from the sands.

Joach swallowed, hardly breathing. Then how? How do I bring life out of nothingness?

Greshym shook his head. You take and take from me, my aged boy, but you never give. His voice lowered to a hushed whisper. You are one step from piercing the final veil between true life and the mere appearance of life.

Joach was no fool. He knew the darkmage had been passing on these stray bits of magick in the hopes of earning his eventual freedom. But there was only one spell he wanted to know, this last one: how to bring life into his creations. Yet each time he spoke with Greshym, he reached this same stubborn wall of resistance.

Let me show you, the darkmage said with an exasperated sigh. He reached a finger toward the rose.

Joach growled a warning, lifting his staff to ward him back. Greshym paused, finger hovering. Fear not. You know I have no magick. I don't even have the ability to steal magick from you or your staff. That cursed spell and book keep me dampened.

Joach pulled back his staff. Then show me what you intend to show me, and be done with it.

Greshym touched a single petal, then straightened, dusting his fingers. Joach frowned. There seemed to be no change in the rose. So? The darkmage waved to the plant. Look closer. Joach leaned in, cocking his head. His spine sent pangs of protest as he bent over. I don't Then he saw it, at the corners of the leaves, brown curls, edges of decay that hadn't been there a moment ago. But Greshym had no magick to alter his sculpting.

It lives now, Greshym said as if reading his thoughts. It bows to time like all things. Nothing in life is perfect. With life comes all its imperfection.

Impossible'

Greshym knelt forward, and before Joach could cry out, he yanked the rose from the mud and tossed it at Joach.

The attack roused the shape-shifter guards. Spears suddenly bristled, and Greshym was driven back to his seat.

Look! the darkmage spat. Do you doubt your own eyes? Joach waved the guards away as he slipped his glove back on, breaking the blood spell on his weapon. The petrified wood went gray again. He lifted the muddy rose from his lap; the fragrance filled his senses. He shook the clods of dirt from the other end. Roots! The rose had roots!

His hands began to shake. He had not sculpted roots. Why would such a creation need roots when he himself was the source of its growth? He stared toward Greshym, stunned. How' ?

The darkmage folded his arms. You take and take. Joach held the rose tenderly. Greshym had no magick how could he have done this? Joach cradled the flower as if it were Kesla herself. Life' He brought it to life' He stared over at the darkmage. He could not hide the anguish and hope in his expression.

I can teach you, Greshym said. And I can grant you half your youth back. I'll keep half; you get half. Equal and fair.

I don't care about the stolen winters, he gasped. Just the spell.

Greshym cocked his head. My boy, if you want to bring Kesla back, you'll need both.

Joach frowned.

Life takes life, Joach. It is not born out of nothing.

What do you mean?

Greshym nodded to the rose. That flower cost me thirty-four days of my life. And if you want to bring Kesla back, it'll take more than days' it'll take a good chunk of your own life. Greshym eyed Joach up and down. Life which you can't afford to give up in your current state.

Joach found himself growing breathless, as if the air were suddenly too thin. What will it cost me for this knowledge?

Nothing, my boy. All I ask is my freedom, and I'll be on my way. I won't even ask you to destroy your sister's precious book.

He could not hide his surprise.

You drive a hard bargain, Joach. I realize that you can't or won't betray your sister. So be it. All I want is my freedom.

How can I trust you?

Greshym shrugged. With the book still bound, I'll have no magick, not until I'm well away from its reach' at least five leagues, I believe. So if you let me go and I haven't kept my end of the bargain, then there is nothing stopping you from catching me again. I can't be more fair than that.

What of the war? Your knowledge' ?

The darkmage rolled his eyes. You know these highlands better than I. I've told you all I know already.

Joach searched for a trick. For your freedom, you'll give me the secret of life and half my years back.

Greshym nodded.

Joach could not bring himself to make this pact. He stood, still holding the rose. I'll need to think on it.

Don't think too long, my boy. Once this final war starts, I expect the iron plainsman of Standi will find me more a risk than a boon to the cause. If you wait too long, you might find both your youth and my secrets spilled upon the ground at the point of his sharp sword.

Joach knew these words to be true. If he was to make this bargain with Greshym, it would have to be in the next day.

He slipped the rose into a pocket of his cloak. I will give you my answer by nightfall.

Greshym watched the boy stalk off. He had noted the care with which the boy treated the rose. All Joach's hopes for his love were wrapped in that little flower.

You've already given me your answer, Joach.

He leaned against the cliff wall. The midday sun heated his face as he closed his eyes. He searched out with his mind, but if Rukh was out there with his bone staff, the gnome was still too far away to be felt.

You'd better be out there, my dogged friend. If my plan is to succeed, I'll

need that staff.

He sighed. He would keep his bargain with Joach give him half his youth back and teach him the trick to bring life into his art. But he wasn't going to leave. Freedom or not, he needed one other item.

Shadowsedge.

There was no more powerful talisman in all the world. Even the Dark Lord himself could not withstand the magick of that sword. Sisa'kofa had chosen wisely to hide her weapon in the energy-dampening nexus of the Western Reaches. Otherwise, the Black Heart would have smelled such a tool from across the world and hunted it down.

But now it was within his own reach! And he was not leaving without it.

Greshym soaked in the sun, content that this was his last day of captivity. He again pictured Joach pocketing his precious rose.

You're mine again, boy, and this time, you'll dance your way to your own doom. Whether you want to learn it or not, I'll enlighten you on the most powerful blac't magic't of them all: the corrupting power of love.

Er'ril stood before Tol'chuk unable to believe what he was seeing. Impossible, he thought. The og're held the Heart of his people there was no mistaking its shape and size. But it had gone black with corruption, lined by streaks of silver.

It's ebon'stone! Elena gasped.

Tol'chuk kept his back to the cavern, hunched over the stone. Almost all the war council members had abandoned the Chamber of the Spirits. Even Hun'shwa and the elder'root had left to discuss how best to scout the highlands around Winter's Eyrie. Jaston had gone with them, offering the use of the winged swamp child to aid in surveillance. The only ones left were members of their immediate party: Nee'lahn, Meric, Harlequin Quail, Fardale, Thorn, and the d'warf Magnam. They clustered around the og're.

Still, Tol'chuk kept his voice low. The blood of Vira'ni corrupted the stone. I dare not risk opening the Spirit Gate. The taint of the stone might spread. Tol'chuk had already explained about the ring of heartstone at the core of the Northern Fang and the spirit found bound to it: Sisa'kpfa.

None but a handful know of the Heart's corruption, Tol'chuk finished.

Elena stepped forward and studied the stone, careful not to touch it. If it changed once, there must be a way to change it back.

Nee'lahn joined her. The blood of an ill'guard transformed it. Maybe that is a clue.

Meric nodded. Tainted elemental blood corrupted the stone' Nee'lahn straightened. Then mayhaps pure elemental blood could purify it!

Er'ril narrowed his eyes. Could the answer be that simple? I'll try, Meric said.

I don't know, Elena warned. Ill'guard are created by ebon'stone. Its touch might harm you. Remember the ebon'stone Weirgates were capable of sucking the spirit from right out of your body.

But this is much smaller, Meric said, growing excited. Besides, I don't have to touch it. I can just drizzle blood over it.

It's worth trying, Nee'lahn added quietly. Er'ril turned to Elena. What do you think?

Elena sighed. Here is a heart of a mystery. Ebon'stone and heartstone. If we can discover the answer, it may help us in the war to come. We still have another Weirgate to destroy to free Chi. She faced Meric. Perhaps it is worth the risk.

The elv'in prince nodded and slipped a dagger from his belt. Tol'chuk carefully laid the chunk of ebon'stone on the cavern floor and backed away. Biting his lip, Meric took his place before the Heart. He lifted his eyes to Elena, who nodded. Then he glanced to Nee'lahn. The nyphai stood with both fists clutched to her chest.

Meric grabbed the blade of his dagger, squeezing. The only sign of the pain was a slight squinting of his eyes. Blood flowed from his closed fist.

He lifted it over the Heart and bathed the black stone with his own blood.

The droplets struck the crystal and simply disappeared, sucked away into oblivion.

Meric frowned and tightened his fist, increasing the flow. Maybe it takes more, he mumbled between clenched teeth.

They all waited. Blood streamed into the stone, while some drops splattered on the stone floor. But the ebon'stone remained as black as ever. Only the silver veins in the stone seemed to glow as the foulness fed on Meric's blood.

Stop! Elena said. It's clearly not working.

Meric did not argue; the truth of her words was plain. Nee'lahn crossed to his side with a strip of linen from her own shirt. She helped wrap his hand.

Harlequin Quail shook his head. Any other bloody ideas?

Magnam grunted. The d'warf had stood with his arms crossed the entire time. His eyes flicked between Tol'chuk and the stone. Maybe we're looking at this wrong. We're not thinking large enough.

What do you mean? Meric asked, his voice bitter with his defeat.

Magnam unfolded his arms and began to pace. I'm not sure. But I think you were on the right path. Ebon'stone is heartstone tainted by the touch of an ill'guard's blood. But what is an ill'guard?

A corrupted elemental, Er'ril snapped. What are you getting at?

Let me talk it out. Ebon'stone is to heartstone as an ill'guard is to an elemental. Magnam continued to stalk. So what is an elemental?

A person gifted with a bit of the Land's magick, Nee'lahn answered, straightening at Meric's side.

And what about heartstone itself? Magnam continued. Old Mad Mimbly said it's the Land's own blood.

I don't see your point, Er'ril said.

Meric answered. Elementals bear the gift of the Land's magick. Heartstone is the Land's blood. The corruption of an elemental is not a corruption of his blood; it's a corruption of the Land's magick inside him!

So?

It's not my blood that can purify the stone! It's the Land's blood!

Which is heartstone, Elena cried, her eyes going wide. Are you saying heartstone can cure ebon'stone?

The d'warf shrugged. According to Mad Mimbly, heartstone was essential to staving off the darkness that was to follow. We d'warves thought him addled, but maybe instead he was speaking the plainest truth. Magnam turned to Tol'chuk. And we saw Lord Boulder here demonstrate this very truth when he freed you from the Manticore Weirgate, shattering you free with the chunk of rock at our feet.

And the Weirgate changed into heartstone! Elena said.

But it be the magick in the Heart that freed her, Tol'chuk said. Be this not so?

Magnam shook his head. That's what we all thought. But now I wonder otherwise. In Gul'gotha, the Heart was empty of your people's spirits. Did you not yourself declare the stone dead, just plain crystal? There was no extra magick in the Heart. It was simply heartstone, the Land's own blood' but that was apparently magick enough.

A stunned silence followed. If Magnam was right, the answer lay before them.

Could this be true? Elena asked, hushed.

I remember something else, Tol'chuk mumbled as he lifted the Heart from the floor. In the cellars below Shadowbrook, the ill'guard Torwren feared the Heart. He fled from it. I thought he feared the magick in the stone, but maybe he merely feared the stone itself.

Er'ril spoke into the silence that followed. We all know how to find out if this cure will work or not.

Their eyes left the ebon'stone Heart and focused on him.

We test it, he declared. We see if the ring of heartstone can purify the Heart.

Tol'chuk glanced to the tunnel. If it fails, we risk the entire Gate.

I say we must attempt it, Er'ril said firmly. If it's proven true, then we'll have a real means of thwarting the Black Heart.

Elena stepped to Tol'chuk's side. She touched his elbow. I agree. And I think you sense the truth of Magnam's words.

After a reluctant pause, Tol'chuk nodded, then turned to lead the way. I will take you all to the Gate, but I pray we be correct.

Elena met Er'ril's gaze. He could read the worry in her eyes. It was a significant risk.

Meric and Nee'lahn followed Tol'chuk, with the others in tow. Er'ril followed with Elena. As they neared the tunnel, her hand slipped into his. Her fingers trembled. Are you all right? he asked.

Could this have been the answer all along? she mumbled. If heartstone could purify ebon'stone, could it have been used to cure the ill'guard, too Vira'ni and Krai, and so many others? If we had only known'

He squeezed her fingers. It's certain doom to stare behind you and wonder at the paths you didn't take. There is only one path anyone needs to walk, and that's straight ahead of them.

From a few steps ahead, Harlequin glanced back to them. He must have heard their words. This is our only path? Great. I heard what Tol'chuk calls this passage.