pressing need to eradicate the undead thing, Haarn took a moment to harvest the dolodrium blossoms. The plant was hard to find even when someone was looking for it. When harvested properly-from within the third morning sun to the moon of the fourth night, only a small window of time-the dolodrium plant yielded medicinal flowers that could be crushed and boiled into a weak tea that helped cure infections and headaches. Broadfoot snuffled only a few feet away and stepped out of the trees. The bear stood on his rear legs and scented the air, snuffling again. The prey was near, and Broadfoot knew it. Silently agreeing, Haarn followed the trail across the uncertain foundation of too-wet ground. In three other places he spotted evidence of the skeleton's passing, all of them marked by bare spots where the yellowed grass had been torn away. Haarn continued up the hill, catching Broadfoot from the corner of his eye as the bear lumbered uphill as well. Reaching the crest, he flattened and stayed within the cover offered by the scraggly brush and tall grasses. Gazing down the hillside on the other side of the valley, aware of the hot afternoon sun burning down on the back of his neck, Haarn spotted deer, rabbits, ground squirrels, and nearly three dozen different kinds of sparrows, finches, and songbirds. There were no paths, save for game trails. 'Civilized' men from Turmish and other places around the Vilhon Reach had not yet found the valley. Blowing his breath out, controlling the anger that filled him, Haarn stared down at the yellowed ivory form that forced its way through the brush and tall grasses covering the eastern side of the short mountain range. Revulsion filled the druid. The skeleton showed no affinity for the living world around it, merely bulling its way through whatever obstacles it encountered. Already, the skeleton was a quarter of a mile away and moving at a steady pace, unhampered by the fatigue of flesh, running on the mystical energies that had called it forth. Broadfoot snuffled again, sounding angry this time. Wanting to take advantage of surprise, Haarn lifted his arms and spoke a shapeshifting spell. Magic flowed throughout his body, molding it along the lines of the great horned owl. Pain, only a little discomforting because it was so small, echoed throughout his body as he changed. His father had told him that not every druid with the ability to shapechange suffered through any pain at all, but that some agonized during the spell. In his owl shape, Haarn leaped from the mountain's crest and caught the north, northeasterly winds. The druid lifted from the mountain, tilting his wings. Broadfoot grumbled in displeasure. The bear had never cared for Haarn's abilities to alter his shape and leave him behind. An owl's sight was far keener than Haarn's own half-elf eyes. The terrain revealed itself to him in intimate detail, and he seemed able to track every motion. He whipped his wings, gaining altitude to get a better view of the countryside. He saw Druz Talimsir stumble up the mountainside, stubbornly not giving up the pursuit. Broadfoot took to the foliage, racing down the mountain to intercept the skeleton, which so far had given no notice that it even knew anyone was around. Marsh hares and brightly colored birds scattered ahead of the skeleton. Screams from the angry birds that had been feasting on floating eggs and drowned lizards and rats filled the sky. Haarn winged toward the skeleton. Flying came naturally to the druid in his owl form, and he'd had years of experience. Sunlight glinted from his claws as he sped toward the skeleton. Something warned the creature before Haarn arrived. The druid knew he made no sound gliding on the owl's wings. He thought perhaps his shadow had fallen over the ground in front of the skeleton, then he realized he'd flown into the sun, which still hung slightly to the east. He reached the skeleton only a heartbeat before his shadow did. Still, the undead thing whirled and drew up an ivory arm to ward off Haarn's attack. Haarn raked at the creature with his owl's claws. The hard black nails tried to rip the ivory bone of the skeleton's uplifted arm, but left only scratches as Haarn passed. Wheeling high in the sky, shutting his eyes tight against the sun, Haarn gloried in the rush of air sweeping by him. Part of his owl's mind wanted nothing more than to follow the wind and leave anything earthbound far behind him, but he controlled the impulse and stretched out his wings, gliding around in a tight circle to his left. Glancing down, he spotted his prey. The skeleton ran, ducking under scraggly trees and brush, disappearing at times, but the cover didn't last for long. Though the ground was marsh at the moment, it was normally dry and baked hard. Only the hardiest grasses and less demanding of trees thrived there. Haarn flew, speeding through the air and judging from the brief glimpses of ivory when the skeleton would come into view again. When it did, he struck the foul creature in the back of the head, knocking it off balance. Flapping his wings and dropping the right one so he could see the skeleton, Haarn watched the undead thing tumble to the ground. Ruby lights glinted from the skeleton's rib cage. Haarn tried to identify the thing inside the skeleton but couldn't. Turning his attention back to the attack, he swooped again, hoping that the force with which he struck the skeleton would knock its skull from its shoulders. He knew that action sometimes destroyed the spell that animated a skeleton. The creature had only succeeded in pushing itself to its knees when Haarn struck again. His blow toppled the skeleton over on its side, but not before the creature managed to fling an arm out and strike Haarn. In his owl form, Haarn was weaker and more vulnerable. If the skeleton's blow had connected more solidly, Haarn's wing, and possibly his back, would have been broken. Off-kilter, paralyzed a little from the impact and knowing that he could no longer stay aloft, the druid spoke the spell again and struck the marshlands as a half-elf instead of an owl. Buried facedown in the muck and slime, Haarn heard the skeleton's feet slapping through the mud toward him. The druid threw himself to one side, feeling the weight of the mud clinging to his body. Even as fast as he was, the skeleton managed to catch him with part of a blow that set Haarn's ears to ringing. The thing was frightfully quick, quicker than it had any right to be. Its jaws opened, and even in the daylight Haarn could see the unnatural fire in the skull's hollows. The thing's mouth snapped open, revealing broken, jagged fangs. An odor, the musk of the grave acerbated by the dank marsh water running slowly around them, clung to the skeleton. Haarn had barely set himself to face the thing, his hand on the hilt of his scimitar, when it lunged at him.
'Are you having any luck, lady?' Shinthala Deepcrest looked up from the smooth river surface she'd been studying. She shaded her eyes against the late morning sun to glance at her unexpected visitor. 'Ashenford Torinbow,' she greeted, rising from where she sat beside the Calling River. Despite the fear that thundered in her heart and the fatigue that gripped her from maintaining the scrying spell she'd been using, she summoned a smile for the man who stepped down from the rocky shelves toward her. 'Lady,' the half-elf said, taking Shinthala's offered hands in his own and kissing them gently. 'You are as beauteous as ever. A sunrise full of her own glory.' Torinbow's greeting embarrassed Shinthala. Despite her position as one of the Elder Circle of the Emerald Enclave, she wasn't used to such pretty words. 'You came all this way to turn my head with your flattery?' she asked. Torinbow squeezed her hands and released them. 'Lady, I came here to Ilighon only to visit with you, and perhaps to sup of good Kate's table while we talk of my travels along the Vilhon Reach.' Shinthala took her hands from Torinbow's. He was a half-elf with pale blue eyes and golden skin. At five eight he was still inches below Shinthala's own six feet plus in height. His light brown hair was neatly coifed and hung in curls to his shoulders. 'How long have you been on Ilighon?' she asked. 'Only long enough to disembark the ship that brought me to Sapra then begin the long march here to the Elder Spires.' 'I suppose you've heard the news.' 'About the beast being freed from Eldath's prison?' Torinbow nodded. 'I didn't sleep since I heard of it this morning, and the trip over by ship wasn't restful with the storm playing hob as it was.' Remembering her manners, Shinthala asked, 'Have you supped?' Torinbow shrugged. 'A bit of crust and some hard cheese along the trip up the Hierophant Trail, Lady. There wasn't much time for taking on provisions. I insisted upon leaving the city at once when I heard about Borran Kiosk. Thankfully the horses we were able to procure in Sapra were fleet of foot and strong of heart.' 'You learned of Borran Kiosk's freedom in Sapra?' Torinbow nodded. 'Only this morning.' Shinthala grimaced and said, 'Then the news has spread as far as the city.' 'All of Sapra was talking about it while I was there, which I assure you wasn't long. Perhaps I was misled, but I think much of the news of Borran Kiosk's attacks on Alagh?n got carried over on the ships that left there last night and arrived at Sapra only this morning. Some captains chose a hasty departure. The mohrg's reputation is still strong there.' Anger touched Shinthala, and she knew she wasn't much good at hiding her displeasure. Besides being a member of the Elder Circle of the Emerald Enclave-one of the three druids who were the leaders of that organization-she'd also led battles against Malar's forces as a hierophant druid. 'Tongues wag too easily these days,' she said. 'It's the war, Lady, and the changes that have taken place within the Sea of Fallen Stars. Much of what the citizens of Sapra knew about their sea has changed. They fear what happened to the Whamite Isles might someday happen to them.' 'There is no chance of that,' Shinthala declared, then gestured up the plateau above them at the open structure of wood and granite that provided only meager shelter from the elements. 'Not as long as the Emerald Enclave chooses to maintain the House of Silvanus here.' 'May Silvanus forever bless this place.' Torinbow touched his chest over his heart respectfully. Shinthala echoed the blessing then turned her gaze higher up the plateau. Other druids were there in the House of Silvanus. Some of them were deep in prayer and meditation, while others had returned to the Emerald Enclave's stronghold to heal and exchange knowledge. The Calling River at Shinthala's feet started out as one of the three waterfalls that spilled
