The details didn't matter. Rhendishwas powerful, but he didn't stand a chance against the combinedmight of his fellow adepts.
There was but one solution: Removethe other adepts before they could learn what the elfknew.
It did not occur to the old man tokill the elf. She would die, of course, but not before she led himto the Thorn.
Chapter 2: Starsingers Grove
Nimbolk's gaze swept the clearing,looking for anything that might explain his unease.
All seemed to be in order. New snowblanketed the Starsingers Grove, and a jeweled night sky borewitness to the midwinter tribunal. Elves clad in nightfall bluestood about in small groups, talking softly as they awaited thequeen's call to order. Tonight they would learn who had triggeredthe Thorn's alarm and pass judgment on the traitor they'd soughtfor many years.
A slim hand rested on his sword arm.He looked down into the serene white face of the ForestQueen.
'You are as restless as caged cats,'she said. 'Are you uneasy without a sword at hand, or are youcontemplating your reunion with my sister?'
'The two feelings are notunrelated,' he said in a dry tone.
Asteria, Lady of Mistheim and queenof the forest folk, responded with an inelegant snort. Heramusement soon faded, and with it, her resemblance to the warriorwho was her twin-born sister.
Most elves would say Asteria andZiharah were as alike as two raindrops. Nimbolk, who from hisboyhood had worshipped the future queen and wrestled in the leavesand mud with her sister, saw no resemblance beyond a similar shapeof face and feature.
Asteria dressed all in white andwore her hair long and loose, as befitted a queen. The snow-coloredwaves fell nearly to the ground, more lustrous than the fine whitefur of her cloak. She had delicate hands and the wise, deep gaze ofone who heard the echo of ancient voices in the starsong they allshared.
Her twin possessed a sterner nature.A warrior to her bones, she'd been named Queen's Champion at an agewhen most elves were still learning runes and forest lore. She'dearned the honor. Nimbolk couldn't deny this, even though he'd comeout the loser in this particular competition. And he had to admitthe role suited her, as did her shadow-name:
Parchment whispered as Asteria drewa tiny, well-worn scroll from her sleeve. She unrolled it andsmoothed her fingers over the runes with the reverence usuallyafforded ancient treasures and newborn elves.
'The first word I've had from her innearly ten years,' she said. 'Ten years, Nimbolk!'
'Ten years is a long time for aChampion to leave her queen.'
'She traveled at my command,'Asteria reminded him. Her face turned wistful. 'Though she mighthave written sooner.'
'And less cryptically.' He shook hishead. '
Asteria didn't respond, but then,his question didn't merit discussion. The message was clear enough.Midwinter night was the traditional time for elven tribunals, theappropriate time to bring a traitor to justice. Many elves hadsought this traitor, but the Queen's Champion had won again, andshe was bringing her prize to the Starsingers Grove to be judged bythe Thorn.
The queen drew the crystal daggerfrom a sheath on her belt. The rose within had folded its pedals atdusk to a tightly furled bud.
She glanced up at Nimbolk. 'Do youremember when the rose appeared?'
'As if it wereyesterday.'
A rose blooming in the heart of acrystal blade-just the sort of whimsical touch expected of elves.Only the old races would read the warning in it, portents of magictwisted into unnatural shapes for treacherous means.
Nimbolk had been among the first tobare his sword arm and demand that the Thorn taste his blood. Everyelf in Mistheim had followed. Not once had the crystal rose bloomedred.
If Ziharah was right-and she hadthat annoying habit-it would bloom tonight.
A murmur rippled through theclearing, and the tribunal members near the western border of thegrove fell back to reveal a new-come elf.
For a moment Nimbolk did notrecognize her, though he knew her face as well as he knew his own.Her warrior's frame had grown thin and frail, and deep shadowsgathered beneath her eyes and in the hollows of her face. Thewinter Fading was slow to come upon her; her eyes had changed fromthe hazel green of summer to winter gray, but small dark streakslingered in the white of her hair so that it resembled the bark ofa birch tree. She walked slowly, and with the aid of a rudelycarved wooden staff. Elfin runes ran the length of the staff, allbut hidden by the rough texture. Nimbolk could only make out oneword:
The queen's eyes lit up and shestarted forward with a glad cry.
Nimbolk leaped into her path andseized her shoulders. 'That isn't Ziharah.'
'Of course it is!'
He moved aside. 'See how she moves,slow and heavy. Ziharah moved like a cat, like the wind. Look ather eyes. Ziharah doesn't live in them. They are empty.Haunted.'
'She has been wounded,' Asteriasaid, but she sounded less certain.
'Look at her staff,' he said.'
'
The queen's eyes narrowed as shestudied the staff, then widened in alarm. '
She repeated the warning in high,ringing tones.
The elves whirled toward the trees,poised for flight.
Too late.
The crash and clatter of heavyfootsteps rattled the forest in a sudden, thunderous rush. Armedhumans, far too many of them, burst into the sacredgrove.
Throughout the clearing, elfin handsreached instinctively for the weapons they usually wore.
Crimson rain spattered the snow asthe first elves fell. The humans came on in a wild rush, jostlingeach other in their frenzy to kill.
Nimbolk backed Asteria against agiant fir and placed himself between the queen and the invaders. Helooked to the trees, to the hidden places where archers keptguard.
No arrows answered the attack. Noneof the guards who kept watch in the forest around the grove ran toprotect the queen and the tribunal. The humans could not possiblyhave destroyed them all, unless…
His gaze found Honor. Elves werefalling all around her, but she did not fight. She walked steadilytoward Asteria, every step so heavy she might have been sloggingthrough knee-high mud.
A surge of power swept past him. Hefelt the edge of it, as if he'd been brushed by the fletching of agiant's arrow.
Honor stopped. Her eyes cleared andfilled with anguish.
'Together,' Asteria urged. 'Join me,sister! We'll fight their magic together.'
A tall, bearded human ran pastHonor. Her staff made a quick, subtle arc, and suddenly the man waspitching face-first into the snow. His sword flew from hishand.
She caught it by the hilt, nevertaking her eyes from Asteria's face, and flipped the weapon towardNimbolk.
The sword felt strange in his hand,heavy and graceless, and the notched grip of the aurak-tusk hilthad been carved for a larger hand. But when he tested it against ahuman's throat, he could find no fault with its edge.
