Prophecy

Chapter 10

Barrin and Rayne spent nearly a week together, but it went by very quickly. Soon the two of them were sucked into the madness of the war in Jamuraa.

Teferi came into the map room where the two Tolarian scholars were working. "I'd like to introduce you both to a good friend of mine. Barrin, Rayne, this is Jolreal, affectionately known here on Jamuraa as the Empress of the Beasts." Beside Teferi stood a tall Jamuraan woman in ornate purple and green robes and a finely crafted headdress of feathers. She was very tall and slender and carried herself in a regal fashion, befitting her title of empress. "It's a pleasure to meet you both. Teferi has told me much of you over the years." Jolreal bowed to her new acquaintances.

"Yes, well, let's leave the stories of my schoolboy antics until later," said Teferi, looking at Barrin and coughing into his fist. "Jolreal has agreed to do some scouting for us," he said, changing the subject.

"My friends make excellent spies." Jolreal lifted both of her arms, and from behind her robes stepped two gray wolves. The great beasts moved casually around their empress, and then they lay down at her feet, looking like tamed hunting dogs but with tremendous fangs.

The sudden appearance of the wild animals startled Barrin, but their passive nature soon calmed his fears.

"It seems that you have things well in hand," said the old wizard. "With such creatures on our side, we will easily fill in the gaps in our intelligence."

"Yes, Jolreal will be able to report on all the Keldon movements on the eastern perimeter, but Northern Jamuraa is a very big place, and even with her help, we still won't be able to cover all the land that we need," conceded Teferi.

"One of the Tolarian dirigibles is bringing in forty fast runners," Rayne interjected. "They aren't numerous enough to stiffen the army, but I believe they are the fastest light machines on the ground. Perhaps we could use them to fill in the gaps."

"I am a mistress of beasts, Rayne," Jolreal explained. "What do I know of maintaining artifacts? No matter how cleverly made your machines are, they will break down. Who knows how many would be stranded behind the Keldon lines?"

"Well then," Rayne said, crouching down to stroke the head of one of the wolves, "I will use them to fill in the gaps." She stood and placed her hand on Barrin's arm, silencing any objections her overprotective husband could raise. "I brought students from the academy as well as machines, and I can maintain the runners under any conditions," Rayne said with confidence. "You'll have no one stranded under my care."

"But why go yourself?" Jolreal asked quizzically. "Surely there is much you can do here?"

"I will not ask my students to do something I will not," Rayne said with intensity. "I have sat in an office too long, and it is time to see war's face."

Jolreal was impressed when she saw the machines that Rayne had ferried over to the League. The runners were bipedal, with the long legs of a running bird, and like a bird, each machine had a set of wings, but these wings snapped out of long depressions on each side of the runner like giant sabers. A battery of twenty bolts peered forward from the machine's torso aimed by the runner's sensors and the rider's direction. But to Jolreal, the most impressive aspect of the runners was their grace and economy of motion. Even fully loaded with a pilot and supplies of every sort, they accelerated smoothly, bounding and turning sharply. As rapidly as the deadly birds of the north, they covered ground in long lopes that outdistanced horses. The runners' sensors placed their feet faultlessly, and their speed over broken ground was unmatched. Jolreal shared Rayne's confidence that outrunning Keldon cavalry was not a problem. As long as the scouts weren't encircled by terrain or enemy forces, they would be able to escape.

Rayne felt only a little trepidation as she and her aide, Shalanda, readied themselves to ride out with Jolreal's scouting party. Barrin exited the building where he and Teferi conferenced when in camp, and he approached his wife.

"You are determined to do this?" he asked.

"Yes, my love," Rayne replied. "You fight where you can, and I can do no less." Barrin only grasped her hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

"Come back to me," he whispered. Rayne saw the other scouts leaving and followed.

"I'll see you in three weeks," Rayne called as she followed Jolreal into the eastern wilderness. Who knew what the Keldons were doing and who was stationed in the east?

One thing that was not out east was people. Within hours of leaving camp, the scouts began running across destroyed and abandoned property. It was a depressing look at the failure of the League to protect itself, and Rayne grew more depressed as they pressed farther east. A week of riding and still they saw only the leavings of the enemy.

"Where are the Keldons?" Rayne asked Jolreal.

The empress could only shake her head. "The signs all point to them drawing back and to the east," Jolreal stated. "Perhaps they are massing deep in their own rear area."

"Then perhaps we should turn north?" Rayne opinioned.

Jolreal shook her head again. "There's a chance that the Keldons might be advancing farther east. My other scouting parties can cover that area. We can afford to check the possibility."

The land grew rougher, and there were more and more trees. The scouts still sped over the landscape, detouring around isolated stands of trees that impeded their rapid passage. The runners sped around the obstacles and began to head north, looking for the enemy. What finally stopped them was the fresh sign of Keldon passage.

Jolreal followed the tracks slowly, watchful for members of the enemy party. On foot, the empress sent her power into the forest, trying to taste the passage of warriors and their beasts. The forest seemed distant and the flow of its power chaotic and confusing, but the signs of the enemy were plain enough. Rayne and the other scouts waited at the edge of the forest wall.

"Wait here while I scout ahead," Jolreal had ordered as she dismounted. The enemy had entered a path leading through trees. The path was narrow and almost lost among the giant forest trees. The Empress of the Beasts raised her hands above her head as she had the day she met Rayne. In the distance, along the path Jolreal had found, several sets of eyes appeared. She nodded and turned back to the rest of the party. "Now hide yourselves out of sight in the tree line and be prepared to run if necessary. We'll rendezvous at last night's camp if we are separated."

Jolreal stalked the trail, moving in and out of the forest, keeping out of sight as much as possible. Forests and jungles had always been her natural home, and she had friends here as well as in other places. Only minutes later she came across the Keldons.

It was the smell of the guard's leathers that alerted her. The odor of sweat-stained hide wafted from the warrior and revealed his presence even though he was hidden from sight. Jolreal slowly moved through the trees in an arc until she was behind the sentry. The Keldon sat behind several bushes in a small depression. Anyone coming up the path would have been spotted and the alarm given. Jolreal signaled for her animal escort to stay out of sight, noted the alertness of the guard, and continued carefully toward the main party. Soon she saw them.

A huge tree had toppled, knocking down several others on its way and creating a tangle of logs and smashed brush. There were thirty men in the temporary camp. Half seemed slaves from their ragged clothes and fawning manner as they served the warriors taking their ease. The Keldons sat in a series of small groups, conversing as their servants packed the camp.

A hundred feet away, the party's riding beasts milled as saddles were slung onto their backs. Horses and mules accounted for most of the beasts, but three huge goatlike creatures stood to the side. They were six feet at the shoulder and massively muscled. Armed with heavy curled horns, the rest of the animals nervously kept their distance. She had heard that Keldons in the far north rode such beasts. Colos, they were called. A warrior saddled them, pushing slaves out of the way as he separated the saddles from the rest of the gear. One group of fighters broke up and went into the forest. A Keldon passed within a few feet of her as she lay with stilled breath. The party was preparing to leave, and the sentries were being fetched in. She needed to get closer, to hear something. Like a snake she slid over the ground, moving slowly nearer to the men of the camp. Hidden behind a huge root, she could make out the low voices of the seated warriors. Her knowledge of Keldon was limited and laboriously acquired, but she could follow the talk.

"This great beast is not here," a voice said forcefully. "We are being dragged away from the advance in a futile quest for glory."

"And the statement of the elf prisoners?" another voice countered. "These beasts stand guard over ancient ruins. Perhaps the ancient heroes lived here millennia ago. Can you imagine standing on the streets where our distant ancestors lived and fought? Can you imagine the respect that would flow to us from the army and Keld? This would make us known in every cradle house and in the Witch King Council. It is worth missing the first few battles of the new offensive."

The only reply was a snort of disgust.

Jolreal carefully moved so she could see the speakers, but the warriors were standing up and moving toward the mounts. They knew something about the timing of the new Keldon offensive. She must learn more. Jolreal watched the warriors pulling themselves into their saddles. Slaves finished packing the last of the gear and threw it onto mules. A few minutes to let them ride on, and Jolreal would go back for Rayne and the others. It was vital that they capture one of the Keldons. A breeze blew over her, and she shivered slightly. The gap in the trees overhead allowed the wind to dip toward the ground.

Jolreal tensed, her blood beginning to race. There was something in the air, some odor. The Keldons and their slaves rose in their stirrups, their heads held high like dogs smelling the wind. The horses, mules, and colos breathed in the air as well. Like stallions to mares in heat, they began moving, their riders pulling briefly at the reins but soon losing themselves in taking deep breaths.

Jolreal's mouth watered as she inhaled the intoxicating odor. It took all her will to lie there and not look for the source of that delicious smell. She concentrated on her mission-find the Keldons and bring back information. But the Keldons were riding off, their noses questing for something. The colos shouldered their way to the head of the party and off the trail into the forest. Warriors and slaves jostled after them. Keldons swore as their fawning servants ignored their orders to clear a path. Jolreal followed the fragrant lure, dragging after the party she spied upon.

Everyone rode into the trees, spreading out as riders and beasts ignored everything in their rush. Jolreal was in the open now. She ran after them, still trying to use cover as her mind fought to overwhelm her instincts. She stumbled over roots and depressions, her usually invisible trail looking like the passage of a drunkard. The Keldons should have outdistanced her but each warrior and servant fought to pass by another, and the whole party began to string out. Jolreal raced to the side to get a better view. The colos and their warriors stopped in front of a soaring tree. The smell that had been so overpowering intensified as the warriors dismounted and tore into the trunk. The bark was ripped, and mushroomlike growth grew in giant clusters up the vertical slashes. The wounds continued high past the heads of the mounted men and the warriors drew swords to cut more of the spongy flesh free.

Jolreal's mind went blank, and she moved blindly forward. She was some yards away from the milling crowd and ignored the land around her. The pit was shallow and overgrown, left by a toppled tree, but it was deep enough to collect water, and her mouth and nose submerged in scummy muck as she fell. Swollen flowers and pitcher plants burst as her limbs churned the mud and rotting needles.

Just then she felt a tugging at the back of her robes, and her head cleared the water. The plants were acrid, and her eyes wept with tears even after she cleared the muck from her face. The crushed foliage wept potent chemicals, and Jolreal's nose filled, a headache pounding at her temples. A dire wolf, one of her escorts, had a firm hold on her clothing and was pulling her free of the trap. She was aware again and furious at her soiled condition, but a look at the Keldons made her glad for her accident.

The party members were fighting amongst themselves. As plentiful as the fungus encrusting the tree was, the greed of the men tolerated no sharing. Slaves tried to fight their way through to the tree. Knives used for cooking were yanked out of saddlebags and pierced living flesh as the former servants attacked their masters.

Jolreal watched the slaughter. Warriors went berserk as they turned on the men scrabbling to the tree. One Keldon grabbed hold of a slave and began hitting the smaller man with bone-breaking blows. Ribs shattered like cheap pottery, and then the warrior laughed as the dying man stabbed at the arm holding him up with a table knife. Kettles rattled against the shield of the apparent party leader as desperation overwhelmed the slaves' survival instincts. The huge whip sergeant swung himself off an unmanageably large colos as his bloodthirst overwhelmed the unnatural appetite inspired by the tree fungus. He did not even draw the sword slung over his back but pulled a mace from his saddle. Single blows turned charging madmen into corpses. The few surviving slaves crept up to the tree under the bellies of horses and picked up chunks of fungus from the ground. They ignored the blood and mud and scrambled for cover, stuffing their mouths as they hid.

The warriors mastered the servants, but their mounts now fought to eat of the tree. Horses reared and struck at the trunk, tearing off more of the fungus. The spongy mass went deep, and a horse's head plunged out of sight to eat and tear. The colos pushed the animal away with sweeps of their curled horns. Horses collapsed as broken bones tore internal arteries and organs ruptured. The colos turned their heads outward, seeing their riders. Warriors and mounts charged into new battle. The Keldon whip sergeant swung his mace overhand into the head of his colos, but the beast shook off the blow like a bothersome fly, sending his rider cartwheeling back. Other warriors darted in from the side, plunging long swords deep into colos sides. The blades snapped off as the mounts spun, knocking the men down. Cries sounded from the animals as they coughed up blood. Even dying in agony, they reared and trampled men and lesser animals. The living and the dead came apart under the thrashing hooves.

Jolreal felt the pain of the animals tearing at her self-control. The colos finally fell, one landing on top of a crippled slave whose limbs protruded from under the massive animal. The legs scrabbled and pushed at the ground for minutes as the trapped man slowly suffocated. The animals were nearly all dead and only a few mules remained. The heavy freight saddles broke in the fighting, and heaving withers tossed them free. A mule spun like a dancer, and two rear hooves thudded into the face of a warrior. He fell, a limp doll as his neck snapped. The expedition leader was back on his feet and charged the victorious mule. The Keldon's gray skin was suffused with blood, and he grabbed the animal's neck with two swollen arms. The beast tried to tear free, but even its strength and energetic rolling on the ground could not break the implacable grip. The crack of its spine signaled a pause in the battle. Only a few warriors and slaves survived. All fell to devouring fungus spread over the forest floor, ignoring the dead and dying as they filled their mouths. The feasting stopped as stomachs began to rebel, and the men sat in a nauseous stupor.

Jolreal mastered herself. The odor of the crushed flowers and pods filled the little depression. The fighting appeared to be over as the men groaned and rolled, their eyes glassy and unseeing. She began to get out of the water and froze. There, at the edge of the battlefield, a massive form gripped the corpse of a horse and whisked it out of sight. Jolreal put it all together. The lure of the fungus, the self-destruction of the Keldon party, the gargantuan beast-this place was a thresher beast trap, and it had caught a full load.

The thresher beast worked hard. The carrion under the tree was far more plentiful than ever before. Some of the prey was far bigger than the animals it usually found. The food would have to be buried fast or other scavengers would gather. The monster dug deep pits in minutes, tearing through thick tree roots to make the cache large enough. With each pit completed, it went and gathered more meat to store. Carrying the giant colos corpse was hard, and its neck muscles ached. It paused to rest, rubbing its back and neck against a tree. A new lure needed to be created, and the excitement of the huge kill tickled at the poison sacks behind its claws. It loped toward a huge tree several hundred yards away from the lure.

The thresher beast reared and set its claws into the thick bark. Several swipes were necessary to tear through a foot of bark to the inner wood. Sap oozed out as the thresher beast gouged out a fifteen-foot strip. The poison in its claws was driven into the wood and bark with every slash. The creature's venom and the tree sap would enable a certain fungus to grow, and within a year a new lure would be calling animals to their doom.

The thresher beast felt spent and sleepy. Perhaps the carrion could wait on a nap. But a faint odor wafted between the trees, banishing its tiredness. The scent of another thresher beast floated in the air. The bloody corpses were already attracting attention and must be buried for storage. The creature grew angrier as the scent of the rival slowly grew stronger. The prey might have killed themselves, but the monster would still have to fight for its meal.

Rayne watched the trail intently for Jolreal's return. Her aide Shalanda nervously opened and checked her saddlebags, muttering as she took inventory yet again. The other Kipamu League scout, Boyle, appeared quite at ease. The tall, lanky man sat loose in the saddle of his runner. His black-haired head turned slowly, showing a tanned and weathered face to the world. Only his blue eyes showed worry, peering rapidly over the landscape in direct contradiction to his indolent pose. He straightened suddenly. Rayne turned her attention back to the trail, and there was Jolreal coming at a run. She was soaking wet and great masses of vegetation hung around her shoulders and dragged on the ground behind her.

Rayne, Boyle, and Shalanda sent their machines toward Jolreal.

"How close are the Keldons?" Rayne demanded, swinging her mount to cover the forest with its bolt launchers.

"The Keldons aren't coming," Jolreal gasped, "but they are close by, and we need to reach them now." The odor of the plants Jolreal carried suddenly impressed itself on Rayne and the others.

"What are you carrying?" Shalanda gasped. The rest of the League scouts arrived, and Jolreal quickly told of the fight she had witnessed and the thresher beast's trap.

"It fills the mind and renders the victim unable to think clearly," Jolreal explained. "These plants fight off the effects, so I gathered as much as I could. Everyone must wear some when we get to the Keldons." Even as she spoke she made garlands and handed them out.

"I will hold the thresher beast off by magic as the rest of you round up prisoners," Jolreal ordered. "Some of the warriors know details about the Keldons' plans for an offensive strike, and we need to capture one for interrogation. The men should be unconscious, but hold your launchers ready, just in case." The scouts were all equipped with weapons holding web rounds for the capture of prisoners.

Jolreal walked back into the treeline where a dire wolf waited for her. She leaped to the creature's back and began heading back down the trail. The League scouts donned their garlands, and a fresh wave of acrid stench flowed.

"You must be joking," Boyle said, jerking his head. More vegetable pods ruptured and soaked into his clothes.

"Madness would be even less funny," Jolreal said and flipped another garland over her head. "I saw about twelve people left alive around the tree, six warriors and six slaves. Hopefully the thresher beast hasn't touched them yet, being a carrion feeder."

"How will we know which ones have information about the offensive?" Rayne asked as Jolreal started riding.

"Look for the one seven-feet tall," was the shouted response.

Rayne and the others rode up the path and reached the turnoff to the thresher beast's trap. The delicious smell Jolreal had described was smothered by the garlands, and except for watering eyes, Rayne felt totally in control. Jolreal stepped clear of the dire wolf and gathered herself, waving the rest of the party ahead as she began her spell.

The warriors and slaves under the tree were awake and watching each other. The League charge took them by surprise.

The men swung themselves up and grasped their weapons, but five launchers fired before they could do any more. Nets sailed out and spread wide, wrapping armed warriors in metallic strands that stuck to flesh and clothing. The glues surrounding the wire cables set quickly, and each movement tightened the restrictive cocoon. The free warrior and the six slaves closed in on the netted prisoners like rabid dogs.

"Try to keep them off!" yelled Boyle as he rode at the men. The runner stopped over a prisoner and flashed his wing blades in and out of their housing to cow the madmen. They only snarled and closed on another immobilized victim. Clenched fists raised knives as they fell in a stabbing frenzy over the warriors.

Rayne webbed the largest warrior when the attack first began. A screaming Keldon closed on her prisoner, and she bolted the berserker three times. The heavy projectiles left tunnels as they blew through the attacker's chest, and a bloody corpse fell onto Rayne's capture.

"Somebody help me!" Boyle screamed. He had sent his runner toward the crazed slaves and was now trapped. His runner stepped on a dead mule, driving its foot into a gaping wound. The machine dragged the thousand-pound animal around like a man with a stubborn terrier. Boyle cursed as the jolting destroyed his ability to control the machine. The six crazed slaves stopped cutting at a webbed corpse and swarmed on Boyle. The League scout jumped from his mired machine to get some fighting room. Rayne grabbed for her reloads and glanced down to ram another web round into her launcher.

Two of the other League scouts dived from their machines in an attempt to save Boyle. The runners stood impotent, their bolts deadly but unable to distinguish between Boyle and the slaves.

Boyle's rescuers used the flats of their swords at first, still thinking of the slaves as victims. A crazed slave buried a pickax in the throat of a League scout. The rest of the Kipamu League soldiers now used the edges of their swords in an attempt to save their own lives. Blood poured from the wounds they inflicted, but the injuries were ignored as their opponents showed their teeth and closed with scouts. Boyle lost his sword as he buried it in a man's side.

Two slaves fell on the dying man with the pickax wound in his larynx. Shalanda and Rayne fired as one and webbed the three into one screaming, cursing mass. Like fighting animals in a sack, they went at each other with teeth and screams until both the survivors were trapped at opposite sides of the corpse.

Rayne drove her machine forward. The academy chancellor felt nothing but rage for the death of the scout, and she triggered her runner's wings, closing with the two slaves. Rayne left a trail of blood and lopped off flesh before her machine crushed the bodies under its metal feet.

Only a screaming man with a Keldon's sword remained free, and Rayne emptied her runner's bolts into him. The dead man's hand still gripped the bloody weapon when she was through, but the arm was no longer attached to a body. Rayne shuddered as she looked at the corpse and then twisted her head to look at what remained. Jolreal still stood off to the side, locked in a trance. Rayne stepped down from her runner.

"Boyle, are you all right?" asked Rayne. The ground was soaked with blood, and she stepped carefully. Many of the corpses were gone, and Rayne wondered how Jolreal was doing with the thresher beast. She steered clear of the webbed captives. Out of the five warriors webbed, only three survived. Two were actually stuck to the tree and the fungus that had doomed the Keldon party in the first place. Boyle was kneeling on the ground, a strip of his shirt cut free and pressed against a wound.

"I'm cut, but I'll live." He tried to smile, but Rayne could see a jolt of fresh pain hit. The adrenaline was used up, and the pain that fear and rage had buried was becoming more and more potent.

Shalanda hurried forward on foot to help with the wounded. Rayne looked at the Keldon leader. Had it been worth it? She walked back to her machine. They needed to secure the prisoners and start back for the base camp. Rayne started her machine toward Jolreal, but the sorceress suddenly fell in a seizure, her body jumping and twisting on the ground as her muscles contracted out of control.

The monster sprang to attack as Rayne shouted for Shalanda and her healing hands. It came around the tree and slammed into Rayne's machine. The beast was massively muscled with long legs. Its head was roughly canine in build but was twice the size of a great bear's. Its body was tremendous and bulbous and belied its great speed, and its skin was tight and looked to split as it roared.

"Somebody kill that thing!" Rayne shouted as she jumped free from her machine. The monster pushed the runner over and gripped the mechanical legs. It ripped a limb loose and howled with victory. Rayne ran for a riderless runner as the thresher beast ripped more parts from its metal victim. It must have tired of the metallic taste because it pursued her with leaping bounds. Then it spotted Boyle running for his trapped craft and followed him. He jumped for his runner and its weapons and started to swing himself aboard.

"Mother!" he screamed as the thresher beast's claws hooked into his calf. The muscle stripped away, and his other leg broke as his body was pulled free of the saddle. Boyle was face down but scrambling, his eyes wide and teeth clenched. The monster had run past him, and it scrapped its claws clean of Boyle's flesh as it turned to continue the attack.

Boyle was in the midst of the dead Keldon warriors, and he drew a sword from one of the fallen men. Rayne could see him sitting up and waving it in defiance as she got aboard an abandoned machine. Rayne laid the sights on the thresher beast, but the creature was upon Boyle again. The scout swung his newly acquired weapon. The sword sheared into a claw and a spray of blood and poison coated one side of his face.

Boyle looked at Rayne. "Shoot!" he screamed and then fell silent as the thresher beast continued its attack. Rayne fired a stream of bolts and felt the world drop away as Boyle's body took several hits. The thresher beast howled again. The giant beast flung itself to the side as Rayne's bolts spent themselves on a pile of slave and Keldon corpses. Its eyes locked on Rayne. Blood poured from wounds in its chest and front legs. The beast walked stiff legged, its rage obvious with every faltering move. Rayne knew she could outrun it, but she wanted it to die and readied herself to attack with the runner's wings.

A growing howl turned her attention from the monster in front of her. Another thresher beast stood over the dead slaves. The new thresher beast was smaller than the wounded beast advancing on Rayne, but it still out-massed a good-sized horse. It ignored the corpses in front of it and advanced slowly on the wounded monster. The bloody monster put its back to a tree and readied itself for battle. It glanced toward Rayne as if to promise a reckoning.

Rayne backed her machine toward Jolreal. Shalanda and the other scout were at their machines but made no move to use the bolt casters. Rayne wondered if they had enough bolts to kill the monsters. She looked quickly at Jolreal, The sorceress was beginning to tremble once again, and Rayne knew that soon there would be two monsters attacking the scouts. But then she saw her aide tense as she gathered power.

Shalanda was a healer, but it was destruction that she called up. Her head snapped back and blood poured from her nose. Rayne could hear a roar arcing through the sky, then Shalanda's wrath fell. The strike brushed against the tree trunk as it hammered the ground. A hail of splinters pierced everyone in the area. Rayne stared in shock at the chunk of wood through her side.

The monsters were alive, though spears of heartwood pierce both their hides. Jolreal lay on the ground, a victim of strain or Shalanda's attack. The monsters turned toward Rayne, and the scholar knew that her party would die as a great crack of sound broke her concentration and she looked up.

Her eyes picked up a twig falling gently to the ground. The twig grew and grew, expanding to huge dimensions. It was a log, several feet thick, and it slammed into the two thresher beasts, ending the battle in a wave of gore.

It was hours before Rayne and the others could leave. Shalanda aided Jolreal first at Rayne's insistence. The waves of healing energy from Shalanda's hand washed through the sorceress's body, and soon Jolreal was awake and talking. Rayne waited patiently for her aide to begin work on her wounds but pressed Jolreal for an explanation of the thresher beast's attack.

"I don't know," Jolreal stammered as she took in the blood and corpses, her eyes lingering longest on Boyle's body. "I tried to command the creatures, but when I tried to enfold it in the spirit of the forest, I was pushed away. Not only did the thresher beast resist, but also the land itself was distant. I could not draw power, and the thresher beast would not stop fighting. My body and mind stumbled under attack." She took a deep breath. "Perhaps there is a buried city or ancient Keldon battlefield nearby-something that poisons the land and drained my strength.

"After I lost the first monster, I tried to call up something to fight the first. The other thresher beast was nearby, and I could command it with some difficulty." Jolreal sighed. "I knew my command of this one was weak, but it was close by and already a danger to us. I just hoped to use it against the first beast." Shalanda returned from her examination of the prisoners and the other scouts.

"Only four of us remain, and the big Keldon webbed to the dead one survived. I collected Boyle and our other scout. There is a deep depression off to the side where we can bury them. What do we do now?" Shalanda asked.

Jolreal still seemed dazed, and Rayne answered after a few seconds' pause, "We'll bury our people, keep our prisoner tied and doped up, and ride for home."

The scouts rode for a week back toward camp. The prisoner said nothing, being drugged and tied upright to a pole

Rayne rigged on a runner. The smooth stride of the runner and the last of their medical supplies kept him reasonably compliant. Perhaps it was the deaths of their comrades, but even the successful capture of the Keldon officer couldn't raise the scouts' spirits. Jolreal and Shalanda felt particularly listless, and guard duty at night was an ordeal since a watch had to be kept on the prisoner at all times. Even the land seemed to reflect the mood, as Rayne noticed patches of blight in the grass and trees.

"Is that normal?" Rayne asked, pointing to withered vegetation along a ridgeline.

"I'm not sure what normal is anymore," Jolreal said tiredly. "I failed to control a beast of the forest. Perhaps it was the effects of some ancient magic or the thresher beast's lure, but I couldn't grasp it. Now everything feels off, as if a piece of that monster was caught in my head."

"I feel different too," Shalanda joined in. "I cast my power out to kill instead of heal. Now the world seems… sour somehow."

That two magic users should feel a change was worrisome, Rayne thought. Perhaps this wrongness was something that needed to be investigated. If only they weren't burdened by their prisoner.

At last the party reached the base camp, and Rayne felt relief as the Keldon was put in a proper stockade and she could get a full night's sleep. The next morning saw her and Shalanda inside the camp headquarters. They would discover what they had brought back to the League.

The building was dark and cramped. Rayne and the others seated themselves to the side. The room reminded the scholar of a courtroom, and Rayne wondered if she should oversee the interrogation.

Camp Commander Priget inspired no confidence in the scholar. Small and fat, he squinted from behind a heavy desk. He was pale, and Rayne wondered if Priget ever went outside. The night before he had listened to Jolreal giving her account of the scouting expedition in obvious disbelief. Only the sight of the drugged warrior outside his office had silenced his snorts of incredulity. The commander had taken the prisoner, and Jolreal had been too exhausted to argue.

Priget sat on a dais on one side of the room, flags and apparent battle trophies ranked behind him. A low table rested on the floor. On it were instruments of torture. Thumbscrews, skewers, and knives lay arrayed. Next to it sat an unlit camp stove with branding irons leaning against its side.

The Keldon warrior was herded into the room like an animal. Four men with poles controlled rope nooses over the prisoner's neck. The chair they chained him in was short, and his knees rose nearly to his chest. The guards dropped their poles and withdrew.

"You are called to explain your crimes," Priget announced. "Any attempt to deceive this court will be punished." The commander gestured to the tools of pain. Rayne hoped that the prisoner was fluent in the languages of the League, because Priget hadn't thought to use an interpreter.

"I am Couric, war leader and blood letter." The warrior paused to spit on the floor. "You mean nothing to me."

"Such behavior will result in punishment," Priget warned, waving a sergeant to stand by the table.

"You haven't even heated the irons," Couric said with contempt. "The League knows nothing of terror." He ignored Priget and turned his head to glare at the rest of the room. "You are weak, and we will sweep over your armies. Even now our forces march into position to start the final attack.

"We will pour from the north, and your men shall fall under our swords. Our barges will bull their way through your flimsy cities. The screams of your fallen comrades will announce our coming. We will own you all." The Keldon's voice filled the room, overriding Priget's weak tenor.

"The lands of our ancestors will be ours again. We shall walk in the footsteps of the Heroes and kick aside the trash that has settled the land." Couric spit again, the saliva carrying to the shoes of a guard.

"You all will be whipped and beaten into service. Your women," Couric jutted his chin to Rayne and her aide, "will go into the cradle houses and bear warriors for the greater glory of Keld!" His body heaved with each shout, and the chains scraped against the wood of the chair.

"Our ships will carry a river of captives to the north, and the League will cease to be anything but a story whispered by slaves!" Couric bellowed. The big Keldon stared at Priget with eyes full of hatred and disgust. "The winds of Twilight are upon us. The witch kings will ascend from the grave, and all of you will be judged by Keldon steel."

"Silence him," Priget shouted, and the sergeant moved toward Couric, a bludgeon held high to shut off the torrent of words.

Couric strained, the chains pulling against the structure of the chair, and he began shouting words from memory.

"The first wind of ascension is Forger, burning away impurity," he growled. A burst of flame exploded below the prisoner, and the arms and legs separated from the chair. Couric stood free, glowering at the sergeant, his arms still manacled to scraps of charred wood that used to be the arms of the chair. The angry Keldon warrior looked around the room, challenging the guards and magic users with his eyes. The guards hesitated at first, taking the Keldon's measure, then charged him en masse.

"The second wind of ascension is Reaver, slaying the unworthy." Couric was heavily muscled, and the Keldon scythed down the charging men with the broken wood still attached to his arms.

More guards poured into the room, trying to subdue the prisoner, but Couric surged back, ripping the handles from several poles at once.

"The third wind of ascension is Eliminator, clearing Keld's path to victory." One pole was in the Keldon's hand, and he stabbed it at the faces of the circling guards. Teeth and bones broke, and the victims fell to the floor, constricting the room even more as the captured warrior moved toward the door.

"Somebody get a webcaster!" Rayne called, and she moved closer to Priget, hoping to use his huge desk as cover.

Shalanda, who was nearer that door than Rayne, forced her way through the stream of oncoming guards to find something she could use to subdue the Keldon.

Couric was hemmed in, but he was holding his own and making ground. The dead bodies of the first round of guards littered the floor, and while the new soldiers carried stabbing spears, they were wary of the massive Keldon, not wanting to be another of his victims.

"Kill him!" Priget ordered. The commander was trapped but was ready to hide beneath the heavy desk if fighting moved any closer.

Couric gasped as a blade punctured his side. He struck at the attacker, but the League soldier retreated into the ring of spears. Priget rose from behind the desk to watch his troops dispatch the Keldon officer. Rayne stood beside him, feeling powerless in the interrogation room with no weapons.

"The fourth wind of ascension is Anointer, defying the worthy," the Keldon bellowed, and spinning to face the camp commander and the Tolarian scholar, the mammoth warrior threw himself at the dais. Priget retreated toward the wall. Couric shouted at his retreating face, ignoring everything in the room now except the man who had given his death order and the woman who had captured him.

Shalanda rushed through the door, a blue-robed figure in tow.

"The fifth wind of ascension is Exalter, fulfilling Keld's destiny." The warrior raised his hands for a mighty blow.

Spears sank into Couric's back, and the blood coated his clothes. He slammed into the heavy desk, and the bolts securing it to the dais sheared under his weight. Blinding blue-white energy arced from the doorframe toward the desk and the charging warrior. The Keldon seemed to slow in mid-attack, his cries of rage sounding deeper as his words stretched out. Another blast of arcane light burst from the blue-robed figure-this one targeted at Rayne.

Shalanda had returned with Barrin, and the ancient wizard now acted to save his wife from being crushed by the rampaging Keldon. The spell wrapped itself around her frame like a giant gloved hand, and it pulled her away from the sliding desk. Barrin's first casting had given him the time to save Rayne's life, but the camp commander wasn't so lucky. Hundreds of pounds of hardwood and Keldon forced Priget against the paneled wall. The commander was pinned at the chest, and Rayne could hear bones breaking, tearing into Priget's internal organs. Couric sprawled over the desk, bled out and nearly dead as he looked into the eyes of the crushed commander.

"Even a chained Keldon can kill one such as you,"

Couric whispered as angry soldiers stabbed him again and again with spears. The Keldon warrior died smiling under the dead gaze of his final victim.