one knew where they hid between attacks; it wasn't anywhere that mortal men and women dwelt. Once they'd been rare in the Yuirwood, creatures of legend not experience. That had begun changing several years ago. At first the Simbul had believed the cause was delinquent magic left over from the Time of Troubles but now-with her meeting with the elven sages fresh in her mind-she suspected it had something to do with the Yuirwood's old, wild gods.
A year ago, she'd offered all her foresters rings enchanted with spells meant specifically to counter the unseelie. Halaern had politely declined. He didn't like wizard magic, didn't like any magic unless it was rooted in his beloved Yuirwood. It had taken Alassra years to get him to wear a verdigrised circlet that worked with the forest's innate magic and-because she'd made it-allowed her to sense his well-being whether she was in Velprintalar or six paces to his left.
Her forester was tiring, starting to think that he'd have to leave the she-bear and her cubs to an unpleasant fate. He wouldn't appreciate great gouts of spellcraft, but he was ready to welcome a sword swung by a friend's arm.
Alassra shed her bow, drew her sword and, mindful that interrupting an ongoing fight was dangerous all around, crept through the brush until she was in Halaern's direct line of sight. When she was certain he'd see her quickly and clearly, she gave a warbling war cry and whacked a grotesque seelie with the wings of a bat, the lower body of a serpent, and the upper body of an orc just before it loosed a spell.
She meant to kill it, but instead of falling to the ground, it vanished with a hiss of magic.
'Be wary! They cast spells!' Halaern shouted an unnecessary warning, but then, for all he knew she was just another Cha'Tel'Quessir passing through the Yuirwood.
The dark seelie cast spells in waves, a handful of them darting down from trees to utter obscenities, then vanish, as the bat-serpent-orc had done, only to be replaced a moment later by another group from whatever demiplane they called home. Alassra felt the spells like raindrops: nasty variations of simple magic, just as she'd suspected.
Of course, the unseelie didn't know who she was any more than Halaern did. What they saw was a Cha'Tel'Quessir sell-sword without even a circlet to protect her. When she didn't succumb to their first assault, they tried again, in greater number, with poisoned weapons in addition to their spells. Alassra swung her sword double- handed and struck three of them simultaneously. Two vanished, but the third hit the ground with a thud. She sidestepped and planted her heel on its rib cage.
That was one dark seelie who wouldn't be leaving the Yuirwood.
Alassra ducked another onslaught of poisoned spears, arrows, and spells meant to transform parts of her into a rat. One of the spears narrowly missed her eye, a reminder that even the Simbul could find herself blinded when there were more sharpened objects flying through the air than she could count. She longed to use a spell or two, if only to convince the hovering nuisances that they shouldn't use theirs, but if any Red Wizards made it as far as the Yuirwood, the dark seelie would be their natural allies, and she didn't want to take the chance that any of the here-and-gone-again creatures might guess her true identity.
They gave up after a final wave of weapons and spells that left the she-bear lying on her side, oozing green ichor onto the moss, and Halaern nursing an empty weapon hand that swelled to twice its proper size in the space of three heartbeats.
'Let me help.'
'No. Many thanks for your arm, dear lady, but my wound is nothing.' He closed his eyes and furrowed his brow. The verdigrised circlet shimmered, surrounding Halaern with a pine-scented mist. When it was gone, so too was the swelling in his hand and all the other angry scratches he'd taken on his arms and face. 'A gift from a friend. And you? Were you harmed.'
'No,' she said with a smile, and would have teased him a bit, if the she-bear hadn't tried to rise from the moss.
Maddened by pain, magic, and fear for her cubs, the bear took them for enemies. Alassra readied the same spell she'd used on young Ebroin while Halaern-who had yet to recognize his 'friend,' placed himself in harm's way.
The she-bear dropped to three feet, holding a maimed forepaw off the ground. Making an eerie sound in the depths of her throat she began to sway from side to side, as if indecision as well as pain, were truly tearing her apart. Finally she stood still and allowed the forester to place his hands on either side of her head. Staring into her eyes, Halaern quieted the bear and gained her trust. She flopped to the ground with a weary sigh and let him probe her wounds.
'I can heal her, even her paw, once the spells wear off. She's agreed to be calm until then.'
Halaern left the bear on her side while he examined her cubs. Alassra had already looked at them. The mewling cub was more frightened than hurt; healing its mother would be all the healing it would need. Not so for the second cub. The dark seelie shapeshifting spells had transformed its hindquarters into a corrosive ooze. It might die before the spell wore off; it would certainly die afterward, no matter what she or Halaern did. The forester needed several moments to reach the same conclusions. He sat back on his heels, his hands limp across his thighs.
'There's nothing else you can do,' Alassra said gently. 'If you healed the cub now, it would still be crippled. If you wait, it will die in agony. Right now, it is unconscious, and feels nothing.'
Halaern nodded. He placed his hands around the furry throat and with a single, sure movement, ended its life.
'They are evil, my friend. Death has an honored place in the Yuirwood, but not evil. They don't belong here.'
Thinking of the Sunglade, Alassra hoped her Cha'Tel'Quessir forester was correct. She offered him a hand up and he accepted. Wrist against wrist, Halaern recognized his queen as he rose. He became awkward and tongue- tied.
'My lady… my queen. I didn't… couldn't… I had your message, my queen, but I didn't expect you.'
He tried to kneel; Alassra stopped him with an embrace.
'I was late. I didn't tell you half of what you needed to know. And, above all, dear friend, you had more important matters on your mind.'
The embrace became a kiss that represented more than friendship. Alassra drew her fingers through his partly braided hair. They gazed at each other, saying nothing for several heartbeats.
'It is good to see you in the Yuirwood,' Halaern said when there was once again an arm's length between them.
Of all the men Alassra had met and loved in her long life, Trovar Halaern was one she'd never meant to love her in return. But he was younger than Ebroin when they first met, and she'd appeared very much as she appeared right now.
'And you, forester. I should come to the Yuirwood more often.'
'You should, dear lady.'
There was no point to saying Halaern should come more often to Velprintalar. He came to the city when he had to; and looked like a feral cat trapped in an iron cage.
'Shall we heal mother bear?'
'With your help, there's no need to wait till the spell wears off.' Halaern knelt and laid hands on the bear again. 'With your help, my queen, it's a wonder any of those evil things got away.'
'If I'd helped in that way, the wonder would be that you were still speaking to me.'
Tension drained from the forester's face as he flashed a wry grin. 'I might have made an exception.'
'You're not saying you'd accept a gift, are you?'
The Simbul dispelled the shapeshifting magic, then stood back and let Halaern finish the healing. The bear lumbered to her feet. She called her cubs, greeted the one that came, then nuzzled the one that didn't.
'You have the other one,' the forester said without sentimentality. 'Raise it well.'
She stared at her Cha'Tel'Quessir protector with great, liquid eyes before leading her living cub away. A silent moment passed. Halaern turned to his queen.
'In conscience, I couldn't refuse any gift, my lady. There's darkness loose in the Yuirwood, and I cannot drive it out.'
'Does the darkness bear the name Zandilar or Zandilar's Dancer?' the Simbul asked as she became herself long enough to remove a simple topaz ring from the fourth finger of her right hand.
