Chapter 12a

As the household sat down to breakfast, Theuli quickly refilled the wall salt, a small wooden box with hinged lid that hung on the wall near to the stove, from which salt was meted out for cooking and preserving. Rani looked on guiltily as her mother did this, having repeatedly forgotten to perform this chore, even after being reminded a number of times. Her mother smiled, however, and said, 'I know, you were busy,' and towseled her daughter's hair to show that she wasn't put out. She then handed Pran the knife Ralph had made as she sat down beside her husband, telling him how unbelievably sharp it was, and what it had done to her prized cutting-board. He glanced only momentarily at the sheen of the blade, tested the keenness of its edge on his thumb, muttered something like "very nice," but said nothing more about it, and set it down. However, as soon as breakfast was over, he took Ralph aside and quietly asked him to come out to the blacksmith shop and make something else- an arrowhead.

Mystified by the Elf's request, Ralph obligingly began performing the task with Pran watching carefully over his shoulder. The work did not go quickly; getting the old forge set up for producing a much higher heat and firing it up, adding carbon and baromien to the molten iron in a small makeshift kiln, pouring a sand-cast bar of the alloy, allowing it to air-cool a few times, then reheating and hammering out the white-hot metal until the consistency was right, took much time.

There were shuttered windows on either side of the forge, and a pair of louvers in the roof directly above it, which Pran opened with a long pole as the heat came up. He opened wide the barn doors and those to the hay loft as well, bringing in a welcome draught of cool morning air. He noted wryly that Ralph seemed quite oblivious to the heat, apparently taking no notice at all. If anything, the big Human was enjoying himself immensely, immersed in his craft with the same tireless enthusiasm as Theuli's late father.

At last, Ralph examined the metal closely and seemed satisfied with its consistency. Instead of reheating and folding the glowing alloy back on itself this time, he began shaping it on the anvil with a small but heavy hammer, pausing a couple of times to flex his left hand, which was cramped and tired from gripping the tongs. In no time at all, he deftly shaped the head, and finished up by cooling it off in a small cask of water. He then sharpened it to a keen edge on an ancient treadle-powered whetstone. Once this was accomplished, he grasped it with the tongs once more, placed it back in the forge and reheated it to a bright red, withdrew it from the heat and watched carefully for changes in colour as it air-cooled, then plunged it back into the water at just the right instant to anneal it.

Pran took the finished arrowhead from him and mounted it on a shaft. The two of them then went outside, blinking for a moment in the bright sunshine. With Ralph watching at his side, wondering how his handiwork would perform, Pran strung the bow he had brought, nocked the arrow, drew, and released the shaft at a thick oak tree which grew beside the barn. With a sound like "thup", the arrow vanished into the trunk. Moving almost at a run, they went to see what the arrow had done. Peering into the hole where the arrow had gone, they could see a diamond-shaped slit of daylight. The arrow had gone through three feet of solid oak They found it lying on the grass nearly fifty feet away.

Picking up the arrow and examining it, Pran was unable to conceal either his surprise or his excitement. 'Do you realize what this means?' he said, intently. 'I used only enough force to drive the head part way into the wood.'

'That we've just murdered a tree?' Ralph offered.

'Hardly,' replied Pran with a smile of irritated tolerance at Ralph's taking the matter lightly. 'In all seriousness, though, I can see that you are no warrior. That will have to change. You are going to have to learn how to use a bow and sword, the sooner the better.'

'Why?' Ralph said, feeling a tight knot of apprehension and reluctance in his belly in response to the Elf's words that caught him entirely off-guard. Were he presented with having to learn archery or fencing as a sport, as would be the case in his own world, the prospect would have conveyed little to his mind besides boredom. Confronted with these same tools as implements of war whose purpose was to kill, however, changed his feelings towards them diametrically.

'Because,' Pran replied, his tone conveying both the import of his words and the personal experience that lay behind them, 'that is the way of things in this world. Such skills are as necessary as hunting and tilling the soil, should you value your life, your property, your personal sovereignty, and your livelihood. Simply making your way in this world and being accepted by your peers, depends in part on your own self-sufficiency in these areas.'

This revelation, too, came somewhat as a shock; that in this world, as in the feudal past, of which his knowledge was scanty at best, one literally had to be prepared to fight to keep what one owned, to earn respect from both friends and enemies, and to work or conduct and protect one's business affairs. He realized at the same time that, though this place was not lawless by any means, life was far more precarious. With respect to friends and enemies, he was able to see, instantly, the way in which the strong and just would band together to keep their enemies at bay, and the cold-blooded way that an enemy would exploit any weakness. Such a prospect would be like living at the complete mercy of a school bully. There would be no one to put him in his place except yourself, if you were able. Even your own home would not be sanctuary, should you be too weak to deal with the threat of a strong, evil-minded adversary. As well, people could only exercise their overt behaviour, good or bad, by seeking each other out, banding together for strength. What was the old saying? Safety in numbers? In such light, a saying that conveyed little to the modern mind, became a matter of life-and-death importance, as did a host of other old sayings that came to him in a sudden rush, each seeming to vie for his immediate attention and consideration.

His mind reeling with such thoughts, suddenly reminded very strongly of his grandparents, he pushed such things roughly aside for later consideration, and said, 'What about Doc?'

'Doc is a Healer,' Pran replied with patient certainty. 'Besides, he is far too old to begin learning the rigours of battle.'

With a sinking feeling, thumbs in his back pockets, Ralph ventured look towards the house. As though she were a physical manifestation of his reservations, there stood Nevana. She smiled at Ralph as though Pran didn't exist.

'I have been looking for you.'

With a wry look that he knew went unnoticed, Pran left the two to return to the house.

Kicking idly at a small rock poking from the ground with the toe of his boot, trying unsuccessfully not to appear awkward or uncomfortable in this girl's presence, Ralph said, 'You might at least have acknowledged him.'

'A lot you know ' she said, with a vehemence that may or may not have been feigned. 'He has no right to talk to you about soldiering, especially when he's finally come to his senses and become wise enough to abandon such a disgusting craft. But for this past year, Rani has hardly known her father, and Theuli had been left to raise the children and look after the farm alone.'

Ralph's look was a study in sudden comprehension. In his world, Malina had always referred to Pran as a soldier, yet in this world, the Elf had never been seen to wear anything but civilian garb.

'So Pran is no longer a soldier. I didn't know that.'

Wondering vaguely how this alluring young woman had taken control so easily, so naturally, he found himself walking at her side towards the path which led to the stream in the forest.

'No, and I would be very displeased if you were to follow his advice. War mongering, in any form, is a self-fulfilling prophecy: it doesn't prevent violence, it attracts it.'

For some reason, he found himself wanting to believe her words, more than he accepted them at face value. As if to reinforce his desire, to distract his reticence, she said, 'I saw the kitchen knife you made. Your talent puts the craftsmen of Narvi to shame You could make a good life for yourself here, Ralph.' She said his name as though trying to impress it into her mind, make it her own.

Perhaps probing the degree of pressure she wished to exert on him, he said slowly, choosing his words with a care that on the surface seemed uncharacteristic of him, 'Nevana, there are times when external issues force people to make decisions that are not in accordance with their wishes. That is a large part of what warfare is all about. I mean, when Pran tells me that I should learn about warfare, he's not asking me to sign up and join your King's army. He's only saying that, if worse comes to worst, I should at least know how to fight. For example, if a big hairy Goblin came bursting out from that stand of bushes behind you, brandishing a sword, we'd both be in a lot of trouble.'

Instead of looking the least bit frightened, however, she smiled coyly and drew nearer.

'You cannot frighten me with tales of Goblins in this area of the Elf Kingdom. Regardless, I would much rather you carry me off and take me to a place of comfort and safety than fight Goblins,' she said, drawing very close. 'And that tall bed of grass beneath the shade of yon arbour over there looks very comfortable . . . and secluded . . .'

'You certainly are direct,' he muttered as she reached up to place her arms around his neck. And stopped.

'Pran wishes to speak with you, Rowf.' It was Malina, who stood in the middle of the path. She had spoken in a small, constricted voice. Her features were very pale.

At once, Ralph disengaged himself as though a spell or Nevana's control over him had been broken, and he immediately felt guilty, as though he had been caught betraying the young Pixie woman's trust. Nevana said nothing, but left, but as she did so gave Malina a long, cold, lingering glare. Malina stared at the ground, or at nothing, unable to look the Elven girl in the eye.

When Nevana was gone, Ralph said apologetically, and somewhat untruthfully, 'That wasn't quite how it looked . . .' At the same time, he felt a bifurcated surge of anger, both at Malina for intruding, and for Malina's because of the Elven girl's treatment of her, and for the way she had spoken of Pran as well.

As his thoughts cleared, he could see Malina's hurt rising to the surface. Anticipating her, forestalling her fleeing from him, he approached her and took her firmly by the hand. Before she could say anything, he said quickly, 'You just saved me from making a big mistake. Hell, I'm not even sure I'd ever want to live in this world, and she just about had me convinced that I was going to settle down here, become a blacksmith, and live happily ever after.' His words came in a rush, and he only half-believed them himself, if at all. But he had to say something to avoid hurting Malina badly. She deserved better of him. Without thinking, he added, 'She doesn't seem to have much use for soldiers, or for soldiering in general.'

At this, Malina considered him, as though seeing something new in him that was completely unknown, even to himself.

'If not for the soldiering of Pran, Nevana and her family would have no place to live,' Malina told him. 'They live on his good graces, and have done so for many years. She wants the good things in life without accepting that there are often risks and responsibilities in attaining them. She sometimes reminds me of the daughter of a Merchant.'

Not knowing what Malina meant by this last comment, Ralph said, 'What do you think about soldiering? Pran thinks I should start learning-'

'That is your own affair,' she said, pulling away from him, heading back towards the house.

'Why are you so suddenly in such a rush to get back?' he asked her. It was more than just the fact that she was heading back towards the house; there was some underlying urgency in her demeanor.

Suddenly stopping, sullenly furious as she faced him, she blurted, 'Don't you know that, at least? According to Elves like Nevana, at this moment you are skulking out here in the woods, having your way with this bit of inconsequential Faerie trash-'

'Malina ' he didn't know whether she was simply venting her hurt, anger, jealousy, or whether she was telling him the truth. Either way, he was not about to leave such a statement uncontested or unresolved. Confused, angry, on a sudden impulse that caught even himself completely by surprise, he reached for her, took her gently but firmly by the waist, drew her to him, and kissed her, briefly but thoroughly on the mouth. Unable to do otherwise, she responded, automatically, though she made a small sound of surprise. As quickly, he released her and stepped away, leaving her gaping up at him somewhat breathlessly.

'Don't ever let me hear you talk about yourself like that again,' he told her, surprised at what he'd just done, baffled by the conflict of emotions that seemed like they half-belonged to someone else. With anger (or was it something else entirely?) clenching the set of his shoulders, he stalked off, leaving Malina to watch him go, unconsciously putting her fingers to her lips, wondering if Rowf's kiss was merely conciliatory, or whether it represented anger, friendship, or admonishment of a sort that was outside of her present realm of experience.

Or . . . and the thought almost made her head spin . . . was it, could it be something else?

The following day was that day of the month when Pran often rode to the town of Narvi to purchase goods his small farm was unable to produce for itself, like cloths, oils, ironmongery, glassware, crockery, and such. While there was nothing they really needed at present, he used the excuse that Doc and Ralph would accompany him to town, so that they might become better acquainted with the general area and surrounding lands.

When it was came to leave, Pran put his fingers to his lips, producing a feeble venting of air. As he turned ruefully to the others, before he could make another attempt, Doc grinned broadly, put two fingers of each hand in each corner of his mouth, and gave a piercing, almost deafening whistle. 'One of my few real talents,' he said to Zuic and Rani, who, standing nearby, gaped at the old man in pleased awe. As they left to do their chores, they were trying the trick themselves, with mixed results.

'I never could quite get the . . . what is that expression you use? the hang of it,' Pran told him. Muttering and mulling the expression over to himself, he finally said, in comprehension that may or may not have been correct, 'Ah, like a portrait that will not hang straight on a wall, no matter how often you try to set it aright . . .'

Within a few short moments, a group of six horses came galloping across the fields. Pran selected three of these, and began placing blanket, saddle, and bridle on each.

To Deborah, Malina and the neighbours who had come to watch their departure, he said, 'I would prefer that all of you remain here for now.' As he said this, Nevana pouted in disappointment. 'Malina, you may encounter some untoward difficulty, and Deborah, you have no clear purpose as yet. And,' he added, 'if we were to run into any trouble upon the road, I would feel much freer to act, knowing that all of you were here, safe.'

Just as Ralph was about to mount, Pran handed him a very large broadsword and harness. 'Please put this on. I doubt that you have need of it, but travellers are expected to be armed.' Pran wore a sword, a long knife in his belt, and carried an ash bow and quiver of arrows as well.

It was with a deep sense of foreboding that Ralph awkwardly strapped on a heavy weapon he had no idea how to use. And when he mounted and took his place with Doc and Pran, he couldn't help but notice Nevana's reserved look, or the fear in Malina's eyes.

As Pran began having a few quiet words with his wife, Nevana approached Ralph as he mounted his horse, standing at his stirrup. Touching his leg lightly, though the subtle act conveyed an unmistakable possessiveness for all to see, she whispered vehemently, 'Did I not warn you?' Ralph was distracted from Malina's reaction or her presence by noticing the very real fear in the Elf girl's eyes. 'If the three of you are attacked, you will be a target, because you now carry a weapon. Please, do not do this Tell him you will not bear arms. If your weapon does not act as a deterrent, then the fact that you carry it may cost you your life '

Nevana's mother, a dour, sour-faced woman, suddenly called sternly to her daughter. 'Nevana, come away from there Leave the men to their business. It is unbecoming for you to be an interfering distraction.' Her father, a slight, wiry man who seldom spoke, watched Ralph approvingly, however, and said to his daughter, quietly, 'If you do not learn to be supportive, the things you want in life may come tumbling down . . . under your own weight.'

The import of his words caused her to back away and bite her lip, like a child who, fascinated by a bright and pretty object, has broken it through the mere act of touching it. But as she glanced up at Ralph once more, their was a colour to her cheeks that hadn't been there before, and a shyness he hadn't expected to see.

At that same moment, Ralph happened to glance around and noticed that Malina was nowhere to be seen.

The middle-aged Elf, hooded and dressed in forest garb, watched the small farm as he had for the past several days, knowing that this was the day when Pran might make his way to Narvi, and if chances were in his favour, the former soldier might be foolish enough to make the trip alone. If so, then he could be waylaid and slain, as he and his companions had planned. But as Pran got himself ready, it appeared that no wagon would be going to Narvi. What was more, there were three . . . no, there were four strangers staying at the farm, two men, and two women.

But what was this? Shading his sharp eyes with a long hand, he took a harder look at the smaller of the two women.

A Pixie But why was she here, on Pran's farm, dressed in such strange attire? And who were these strange Humans. On of them was very large, a warrior by the look of him. And the other A powerful Magi, judging by the arcane device of metal wire and crystal through which he viewed the world.

At once, the hooded Elf was tense with anxiety. Marauding war parties of Goblins had already been dispatched, their supposed purpose to blanket the area so that none would escape. But Goblins hunted and killed almost indiscriminately; he had limited control over them, and there was always a chance that they would turn on him, especially when they were so far away from their austere, mountainous home in the North; isolation in these strange southern climes made them cagey, superstitious, apt to panic and lash out at the least sign of danger.

'Well, Pran, my old friend,' he muttered, 'it seems that we shall have to modify our plans somewhat.'

Returning from speaking with his wife, Pran joined Ralph and Doc, who were already mounted, and they set out, Pran setting a brusque pace. Riding abreast as they crossed the fields to the west, they soon struck the trail on the west side of the farm which ran northeast, soon reaching the eaves of the forest, under which lay the road which travelled east-west.

'Damn you ' the hooded figure muttered under his breath as he watched the three riders pass by his position. Two of the Goblins with him stared at the biggest one of the three riders warily. Though Ralph hadn't the slightest idea how to use a sword, he rode well, and Pran had chosen for him a horse fit to be a destrier, large, swift, intelligent, and incredibly tough. Fortunately for himself, Pran, and Doc, those watching were daunted.

Thinking quickly, the hooded one thought of surrounding and capturing the women, to gain information. But, being in the company of Goblins, that left no Elf to follow Pran and his companions, to spy on their movements, and inform Prince Cir of what he had learned. Finally, making the only choice available, he said to the Goblin leader, 'Wait until dusk, when the herds and the field hands are in; then move in, surround all of the dwellings, making certain that none escape, and slay everything that moves, including the livestock. When that is done, you may burn what remains and feast to your hearts' content, but until then, be sure; let none escape '

The Goblin leader nodded brusquely, said some quiet, businesslike words to his companions, and they left as a body, disappearing into the forest as though their apparent existence had in truth been nothing more than a subtle movement of foliage, seen out of the corner of one's eye.

The hooded one took one last look, then went deeper into the forest, where his mount waited, far enough away from the Goblins that it wouldn't bolt in panic. Heading out of the woods, he eschewed the road, choosing instead to travel cross-country, to make certain that he arrived in Narvi prior to Pran and his intriguing companions.

Though Ralph loved horseback-riding, and the weather was perfect, with a cool stiff breeze and hot sun, the air smelling of grasslands, sunshine, wildflowers and forest, he found his thoughts drawn irresistibly to a certain Elven girl. And Malina He kicked himself mentally for not having said goodbye to her, or for not having made sure that she wasn't left alone somewhere, nursing bruised feelings over what she had seen.

'May I have your attention, Ralph?' Pran asked him, making him aware that this was at least the second time the Elf had tried to gain his attention. From his mount on the other side of the Elf, Doc looked on with something between a mixture of annoyed pity and slight amusement, making Ralph all the more uncomfortable.

'Sorry,' Ralph muttered, reluctant to be drawn into the moment. 'Okay, I'm listening.'

'As I said, the ride into town will take several hours,' Pran told him. 'We will be returning some time after nightfall. However . . .

'Now that we are alone together, there are a few questions I would like to ask the both of you. In return, if there is anything either of you would know from me, you have only to ask.'

The two Men nodded in their turn.

Satisfied, the Elf said, 'I need to know whether or not you intend to return to your own world at some point. As I mentioned before, the means, while it is not beyond me, involves procurement of a periapt which facilitates travel between our two worlds. Such magical devices may be used only once; in the process of translation, the periapt becomes spent. In order to send Malina to your world, then later to go there myself to retrieve her, and finally to bring all of us here, three such periapts were required.

'Such devices are purchased clandestinely, and are normally used by the unscrupulous for evil purposes. I had great difficulty in procuring the three, indirectly, from a rather unsavoury character, a Loremaster by the name of Cyphallus, who is in the service of the King.

'This Loremaster does not yet know for whom the periapts were purchased; to obtain them, I was forced to seek the services of yet another unsavoury character, one that Cyphallus trusts, who uses such devices to wreak great harm.'

Unconsciously, in unison, both Doc and Ralph took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

'I wish I could give you a quick and ready answer,' Doc told him, 'but I haven't been here long enough to have given any thought to the matter. For the time being, however, I haven't the slightest intention of going back.'

Ralph was silent for some time, considering. Malina had said that she did not wish to remain in this world. But if she went back, how the devil was she going to take care of herself? She needed someone to look out for her. The problem of her lack of I.D. had never been resolved, and she was simply not equipped to deal with such things herself.

But this would mean he would have to go back with her, in effect losing any chance he might have with Nevana. And Nevana . . . he could have a proper relationship with her, with no complications or past problems (that he knew of) to sabotage a comfortable, pleasant relationship. On the other hand, life with Malina . . . he found himself unable to envision such a prospect. Life with Malina would mean sacrificing everything for the sake of looking after a confused young woman with whom it was unlikely he would ever be able to build any sort of life.

But then, why the hell had he kissed her?

At last, Ralph said, 'I don't know. I have to stay. At least for now. I've got nothing to go back to . . . and there are things here that I have to see through.'

What those things might be, Pran did not intrude upon by questioning. Instead, he nodded, and they continued on for some time in silence.

It wasn't long before they began crossing small stone bridges of remarkable workmanship. Doc and especially Ralph wanted to stop and marvel at some of these, but Pran seemed pressed for time. Besides, he assured them, there were a good many more along the way, passing over the innumerable shallow creeks in this area, and he assured them that they would gradually increase in size and number and quality of workmanship as they drew nearer to civilization, and the river Mirrow.

The trail soon became a road with obvious wheel ruts and hoof prints, and was spotted often with manure. Grass and flowers grew thick at the center and along the sides of the road because of the natural fertilizer deposited there by horses and other livestock.

As they passed the occasional dwelling, people would wave to them and stare curiously at Doc and Ralph, leaning on a hoe or rake while standing out in a field, or leaning out a window. Pran was hailed often, responding to every caller by name.

'Not to seem nosy or anything,' Doc asked suddenly, 'but what is your relationship with the other families living on your property? Do they work for you, or are they part owners? I only ask because where Ralph and I come from, things are done quite differently. Everyone either owns their own property, or else rents houses or space in buildings.'

Seeming to welcome the distraction, Pran replied, 'Those who share my farm do so to our mutual benefit. The farm is mine in title, but serves all of us equally. And,' he added with a smile, 'the others are most pleased with our latest additions. Ralph's smithing has been a most welcome boon. For several years now I have endured listening to Arlon (Nevana's father) and Durphel, as they work out in the fields, cursing whoever made the old plough they use, though until now there had been none better made. As well, the very presence of a Healer is a great source of comfort for those of us who have children, and those who risk injury every day. You have already spared a number of our neighbours and passers-by a long and inconvenient trip to Mirrindale to receive treatment.'

Doc smiled wryly. 'That's pretty much how I live back home. Out in a rural area where I'm still needed since my retirement. Gives me something useful to do. Gives the folks around me some piece of mind. Speaking of piece of mind,' he said, drawling rhetorically, 'it would ease my mind greatly if I knew what this civil war of yours was all about.'

'There is no civil war as yet,' Pran replied evasively.

'That doesn't tell me anything,' Doc reminded him.

Pran was silent for several long moments, apparently considering his own reticence. Finally, he said slowly, 'In some ways it would be better for me to say nothing, and for you to find out for yourselves what is happening in the Elf Kingdom. That way you will form your own opinions, which you will do regardless, despite whatever words I deem fit to say to you regarding the matter.

'You must understand that until recently I was a soldier in the King's Own Fourth Cavalry. I know only those things that a soldier knows. I have heard much conjecture, and the conjecture centring on those who lead us is that they are corrupt and disorganized, that this is so supposedly because the King has become capricious and erratic, vacillating between ignoring his office altogether, or sending forth his minions on some insane and often murderous venture. But I would remind you that conjecture is not certain, first-hand knowledge.

'I know not how it is in your world, but the workings of State here are known only to those few who participate in the affairs of State. There is the King who rules from his city of Valerian, the King's son, Prince Cir, who governs the city of Nith, at least in name, and the Thane who governs Mirrindale, and who also oversees the town of Narvi. To truly understand what is going on in the Elf Kingdom, or to have an idea of what is to come, you would have to stand in their shoes.

'However, I can tell you that there are deep divisions within the Kingdom, which only the blind could miss. The Faerie Folk are being persecuted and murdered, as you know. But not by the Thane's soldiers, and seldom on the lands he governs; he will not have it so. This I know, because I know the Thane personally. The King tolerates his rebellious attitude because most of the wealth of the Elf Kingdom lies within the heavily fortified walls of the Thane's city of Mirrindale.

'And there are a good many other matters, many of which I am simply not privy to. Then there is the Elf Lore, which plays an all-important part in this matter. But of the Lore I will not speak; at least, not at present. For there is nothing I could tell you about the Lore that would enlighten you in the least at this time; not until you learn more about this world, and about the nature of magic itself, which is a secret carried within by all of us; it is a matter, about which only personal experience may render enlightenment. Words from me, in that regard, would avail you nothing, and might later lead inadvertently to misperception and thwarted comprehension. Besides,' he added wryly, 'I know less about Lore than I do about affairs of State, so be forewarned Anything I tell you on either subject may turn out to be so much . . . "hot air", as you seem wont to call it.'

The road came at last to a low bridge straddling a shallow, slow-moving river, perhaps a furlong wide, which lay directly across their path. It flowed from the south, to their left, and disappeared into the forest to their right. Up to the point where it reached the forest, the river was lined on either side by huge, ancient-looking, hoary weeping-willow trees. The moss-covered stone of the bridge had a blunted, worn look, and the road they were presently on continued across this, under the eaves of the forest, until it turned gradually to the right and disappeared from view, as the eaves of the forest curved away northwards. On the near side, however, another road intersected which followed the river's southerly course towards the distant mountains.

To Ralph, the forest looked ominous where the river entered it. Enormous deciduous trees of a shorter, darker sort leaned far out over the river from either bank, creating a dark tunnel which seemed heavy with a disquieting, oppressive stillness. The trees' trunks and branches appeared rough and angular, their dense foliage shaggy and dark, creating a disturbing portrait of sinister watchfulness. Small leaves, motes of dust, and the down from long trailers which hung thickly from these trees' outer branches, seemed to be perpetually falling, like a cloying cloud of debris which refused to settle. Noticing his look, Pran stopped momentarily and said, 'This river is called the Mirrow. A terrible battle was fought here between Goblins and Elves, many a long age ago. I believe there may have been some Men and Dwarves involved as well. Old tales tell us that the river was full of the dead, and that for many years its waters ran black and foul. Now, although it runs as before, yellow with silt, this place still carries an evil memory of death and killing.'

Turning his horse to the left, he resumed their journey once more, and began following the river-road upstream towards their destination.

'Where did the Goblins come from?' Ralph asked him.

As if the question was more complex than it appeared on the surface, Pran was long considering his answer. Presently, he said, 'North beyond the Elidh-Vragh mountains.'

'How far north is that?' Doc put in.

Pran thought for a moment. 'At a hard pace, perhaps a fortnight's ride or more. More than twice that time for them, for no horse will bear them.'

They were coming across bigger farms now, with more and larger houses and barns. And they began to meet travellers on the road as well. Several times they had to leave the road to the left to go around creaking ox carts both laden and empty. Some of the travellers were Men, who eyed Doc and Ralph speculatively as they passed. A few hailed Doc and Ralph, assuming the two would know their tongue. When Pran informed the Men otherwise, they stared in wonder, obviously burning with curiosity. After passing, Pran remarked with relief that the Men were not travelling in the same direction.

'Where is all this north-bound traffic going?' Doc asked Pran, suddenly, frowning. 'So far we've seen over a dozen heavy wagons and twice than many riders and people on foot headed towards the middle of nowhere.'

Pran responded to this by lifting an eyebrow. 'By this, I assume you refer to the fact that the amount of goods carried on those wagons is greatly disproportionate to the number of dwellings you have seen thus far. In this you are correct. But have you forgotten the bridge?'

'I hadn't,' Doc replied, 'but the road on the other side didn't appear to me to be that well-used. The wheel-ruts are shallow, and it looked pretty much overgrown.'

'Ah, of course,' Pran said in comprehension. 'Having lived here most of my life, I take such things for granted. That road is paved, beneath, and doesn't show the passage of traffic. By whom, no one living knows. It is of the same workmanship as the bridge on the river Mirrow. If the workmanship is Elvish, then it is the work of forebears unknown or unrelated to us.'

The road and river began to wind as they got into hillier country, and many of the low hillsides were well cultivated. Flocks of sheep and herds of cows were more frequent, tended by hearders, usually children, carrying long switches, sometimes aided by two or three wolf-like dogs that seemed to miss nothing in their cavorting vigilance. Twice they had to stop as small children herded flocks of very large, orange-footed grey and white geese across the road, honking and strutting their indignance.

And there it was As they came around a long left turn, the town appeared suddenly between the sides of the river valley.

'That, as you can see, is the town of Narvi,' Pran told them.

As they drew nearer, Ralph and Doc could see that five stone bridges of varying architecture spanned the river, and that the town lay more or less equally on both sides of these. There were no large structures. Most were smaller than Pran's house, and there were no real streets or proper rows of buildings. The scene was a bit chaotic at first. There were several areas populated by brightly coloured tents with awnings, which were obviously the stalls of various outdoor markets. Even at this distance, Doc and Ralph's senses were assailed by the smells of wood-smoke, refuse, cooking and livestock.

As they neared the town, with its throngs of people coming and going, Pran was hailed often by Elves, Dwarves, and Men, their aspect at once deferential; a fact that didn't go unnoticed by his companions. As before, all eyed the newcomers with frank curiosity, no doubt guessing that their attire was that of some far-off country of Men. Doc and Ralph didn't know it, but news of their presence had spread quickly, and many had now heard of the powerful Magi residing with Pran who had miraculous powers of healing. Of Ralph they knew little, but from his size and the fact that he was armed, they suspected that he was a well-travelled warrior of great renown.

They passed through part of the town, crossed the second of the stone bridges, and approached one of the few clusters of permanent structures, which lay roughly in the middle of the part of town on the far side of the river. Pran led Doc and Ralph directly to a whitewashed stone building which had black smoke wafting from both of its two chimneys. It was clearly a blacksmith's shop.

Dismounting, Pran was about to show Ralph and Doc how to tie the horses up to a nearby hitching post before they entered the shop, but raised an eyebrow in mild surprise when he noticed that they obviously knew how to do so already. He said nothing, but led the way.

Once inside, Ralph was set to explore the wares hanging from the ceiling and walls, his face full of longing for the craft he loved, but Pran and Doc exchanged a wry look and steered him to the business at hand. The three almost bumped into a middle-aged, caped fellow, his hooded features averted. They scarcely registered the fellow's presence, noticing only fleetingly that his attention was absorbed in some item which did not concern them. Politely, they walked around him.

The shop was owned and run by three brothers. They were Dwarves. When the largest of the three spotted Pran, his beard was split by a wide grin. To Doc and Ralph's surprise, he bowed, as though such a thing came perfectly natural to him.

'Pran, my friend, what is your pleasure?'

'Barodan,' Pran replied, bowing fractionally. 'I would like to know,' he said, removing something from his pocket, 'if you have ever seen the like of these.' It was Ralph's arrowhead, and the knife he had made for Theuli, wrapped in soft leather.

Removing his leather forging-cap and gloves, and scratching his balding head, the Dwarf took the knife and arrowhead and studied them closely. 'What metal is this? In weight it feels somewhat like iron, but there's a luster . . . and a darkness to the metal. What is it? How has it been polished to such a sheen?'

Taking the point from him, Pran took out an arrow shaft and fitted the head onto it. Then, glancing around to make sure there were no witnesses, taking his bow and drawing it, he said, 'Watch.'

He aimed at an oak block to which a great anvil was affixed. What Pran didn't know was that there were great metal pins inside, which secured the anvil to the block. A trail of sparks followed the arrow out the other side, and the arrow lodged itself in a pile of metal debris. Unnoticed, the hooded stranger, there a moment ago, had disappeared.

The one named Barodan retrieved the arrow and studied the head in wonder. Speaking confidingly, intently, the Dwarf said, 'Pran, my friend, I must ask how you came by this.'

Ralph began to answer, but Pran cut him off. 'I know someone who makes these. He asked me about selling them here . . . but there is the problem of who is able to buy them. He is from far away, and does not seem to realize that there is no smithy, at least none that I know of within the Elf Kingdom, who is so mighty in craft.'

The Dwarf drew them off to a corner of the shop and spoke in a low voice. 'You were very wise to tell me this. If the King's own or Prince Cir's began purchasing weapons such as these, there could be serious trouble, for all of us.'

Pran obviously expected this, but said, 'Barodan, is there no one who possesses such craft? More importantly, if I were to introduce you to the craftsman who made these, would you, could you, aid him in turning them out in great number?'

Ralph, who stood by expectantly, was surprised and disappointed to see the Blacksmith's shoulders sag fractionally.

'This,' he said, holding up the arrowhead between them like a talisman, 'is more than mere craft, my friend. I am a smithy, not a magician.'

Pran, too, look crestfallen, disappointed. Then, a bleak smile touched his lips.

'Since the death of Theuli, my wife's, father, I have been coming to you for advice. What do you suggest I do?'

Barodan stared hard at nothing for a long moment, deep in thought, his lips compressed into a thin line. At last, he said, 'The Thane can be trusted, as you well know. It is the King's and Prince Cir's spies who might be a problem. As well, the Thane's position would be made very difficult if you were to tell him of this, for he would risk being caught between your friendship and the wrath of your less-than-exemplary Sovereigns (if I may be so bold ). The Thane has been a powerful ally to you only because, thus far, the King has had no reasonable or plausible excuse to do either of you harm. You must know that the King and Prince Cir would stop at nothing to get their hands on something like this.'

'I fear you are right, Barodan. I thank you for your insight. Perhaps we should simply keep this trifle a secret between us, though it would have been of great aid. Good day to you.'

As they left the blacksmith's shop, Doc said quietly, 'If these things are so damned important, then why don't you just have Ralph make them?'

His features set as they mounted, the Elf replied, 'Ralph might make perhaps a dozen such arrowheads per day. A fully equipped army would require several thousand, and a steady supply of replacements. Swords . . . I would surmise that Ralph might be able to create one or two per day. Armour, perhaps a week for one man's entire outfit. Shields . . . perhaps one or two per day. Then there are spearheads-'

'I get the picture,' Doc said, now understanding the Elf's crushed elation. 'You were hoping that it would be a simple matter of Ralph's showing the blacksmith back there what he'd done.'

Pran sighed. 'I wish I could make you understand how important this could have been, especially at this juncture in time. Many lives might have been saved, and an escalation of the atrocities curbed.' He smiled without humour. 'There is no harm done, though. At the least, the two of you have seen a bit of our fair countryside.'

But as they neared the forest, and the bridge came into sight, they saw that several riders were waiting there. From this distance, Doc and Ralph could not tell whether or not they were soldiers. There was, however, no doubt in Pran's mind. Nor was there any doubt in his mind what they were about.

'Let us turn, slowly, as though nothing were untoward, and begin riding unhurriedly across-country,' he said. 'There is something of the look of those soldiers that I do not trust.'

The moment they turned, however, the soldiers turned as well, and began to approach at a canter.

'I do not like this ' the Elf muttered. 'We are going to have to make a run for it.'

'I guess it's a little late for fencing lessons,' said Ralph, thinking of Nevana's words.

Malina, from behind the curtain of one the west windows, had watched Rowf go with a nameless dread gripping her heart. She stared in the direction the three travellers had gone long after they were out of sight, hugging herself, stung by the after-image of seeing how close the Elven girl, Nevana, had been standing to Rowf, and how they had looked at each other.

Eventually, Theuli, with unspoken understanding, went to her and said, 'They will be back by nightfall. Why don't you come out with the others, instead of staying in here all by yourself? Deborah is beginning to wonder about you.'

Because Nevana is still here, Malina thought to herself, Nevana who is so pretty, who could have any young Elf man she wanted, who wants to take away the only thing in the world that's worth having, to me.

And yet . . . and yet . . .

. . . and yet, there was something else . . .

'Malina, why do you look so worried?'

Malina looking about, suddenly feeling trapped, said in a small voice, 'I don't know. I just feel like something bad is going to happen.'

Theuli was unnerved by this, and gazed herself out the window in the direction her husband had gone with some anxiety. A Pixie's instincts, however diminished, were not to be taken lightly.

'Do you think I should find a way to warn them?'

Malina was perplexed. 'I don't know. It feels like something bad is all around, like a noose.'

The Elf-woman looked around distrustfully. 'Malina, is it around them, or around us?'

Malina's eyes widened.

Wishing to avoid being trapped, Pran led Ralph and Doc through open country that was hilly, with concealing clumps of copsewood. A fear was growing upon him that he had to make his way home. Something was greatly amiss here, though he had no clear idea what that something might be.

His worst fears were confirmed when he saw the thinly stretched line of riders ahead of them, directly across their path. They were moving unhurriedly, and he knew then with cold dread that Prince Cir's Elven soldiers were intent on murder.

'Come ' he shouted, wheeling his mount around, 'we've got to get back to town.' This decision tore at his heart, but there was no choice. Besides, he hoped, and it was a thin hope, that perhaps the soldiers were intent on the menfolk, and would leave the women and children alone.

The moment they turned and began riding away at a gallop towards the town of Narvi, a call went up from the soldiers, who immediately gave chase. Fortunately, Doc and Ralph had some prior experience with horses and knew how to ride with all possible speed. They gained the outskirts just after dark, and it looked as though the way to the town proper was clear. But when they reached the first buildings, their way was blocked by a line of archers. Wheeling their mounts about, they tried to make a run for it, but their retreat was suddenly cut off by a wall of soldiers bearing hunting bows and spears.

There was nowhere to go. They were trapped.

Standing beside the barn, Theuli whistled and called for the horses to come as her friends and neighbours anxiously looked on. She was answered with an ominous silence. Durus, who was Arlon's wife and mother to Nevana and two younger siblings, a boy and girl of Zuic and Rani's age, exchanged a look with Theuli, Mari and Durphel, who was Durus' brother, who with Mari had four children, ranging in ages from six to thirteen. Durus said, with characteristic bluntness, 'No offence, Theuli, but we would do well to leave this place, as soon as possible. You tell me a Pixie doesn't trust what she scents in the air, and I say that diminished in Power or not, like the Old Wives' Tales tell us, "A Pixie's nose for trouble is best doubted from a safe distance."'

'I agree,' said Durphel, who adamantly believed in old farm Lore where lonely farmers and Pixies were concerned. 'We should leave for Narvi at once.'

Theuli, however, stood mired in anxiety and helpless frustration. 'I cannot depart straightaway to Narvi. I fear for my brother-in-law, Io, his wife, Jan, and their children, Zuic's brothers and sisters. Their farm lies east from here, away from Narvi; they must be forewarned. If they are not, I fear that something terrible may happen to them.'

'We should stay together,' Durus said, firmly.

'Our first concern should be for the safety of the children,' said Mari.

'I think,' said Theuli, in a tone that brooked no dissension, 'that you should leave now, taking the children and my friends with you, and quickly, to seek safety in Narvi. I must leave immediately for Io's farm.'

To Theuli's surprise, as she went to leave, she found that Deborah and Malina had already conferred together, packed a few things, and were not only ready to leave immediately as quickly and quietly as possible, but were determined to accompany the Elven woman.

'You cannot ' Theuli said, shouldering her light pack and making her way towards the back door.

'We can and we are ' Deborah countered, with a stubbornness neither of the other women had ever witnessed in her before. 'You are not going alone. Malina's coming because she can sense danger better than any of us, and she thinks that it gets worse the farther east you get. She think's you're liable to run straight into it.'

Theuli visibly acquiesced, unable to argue with the sense in this. But then, she said to Deborah, 'And why are you coming?'

For a moment, Deborah hesitated. But then, reluctantly, she said, 'Because I had a dream last night. Something is going to happen . . . to me . . . something important. Theuli, please don't look at me like that It's not like I'm going to die, or anything It's just that I have to go. It has something to do with the reason I'm here. I think it may very well be the reason I'm here.'

Staring at the Human girl with undisguised mistrust and apprehension, Theuli drew a stiff breath that may have been a mixture of anger and frustration.

'Very well But stay close to me I do not believe that either of you are equipped to deal with what we may encounter.'

As they left the house, Theuli waited until the others were well on their way before setting out herself, with her two companions. Then, looking toward the meadow as though trying not to appear nervous, or make it obvious that she was looking for any sign of danger, she indicated with a curt nod that they were to begin their journey.

Selecting a wandering path between the low but concealing hills, she led the way to a hedge which bordered an irrigation ditch. On the other side was a continuous mound like an earthen dike, which had been made from the soil removed to form the irrigation channel. As they began following the hedge on the inside walking single-file, with Theuli leading and Deborah and Malina following her in tandem, the Elven woman said, 'It is a good two hours' walk to the house of my brother-in-law. This area, the Eastland Waik, is sparsely populated: there will be no aid for us if we are discovered.'

'What does Waik mean,' Deborah asked her.

'It means,' replied the Elven woman, in an unsettling tone, '"uncharted wilderness" in an archaic tongue of the Men who once attempted to populate these lands.'

'Where did the Men go?' Deborah asked her.

'That particular race of Men is no more,' Theuli replied, making the two younger women feel uneasy. 'Twas they who made this irrigation channel and planted this hedge, in many ages long past.'

This knowledge only added to the unease of Deborah and Malina, who cast furtive looks at these vestigial relics of antiquity which bespoke of doomed hope. They seemed to hear, as if from a great distance, the bleat of sheep and the lowing of cattle. It seemed to them that they could feel in their very bones the wildness that had ultimately thwarted the hands and the civilizing will that wished to tame it, that Man's inbred products of domesticity were left to wander forever, abandoned as dispossessed ghosts upon the empty grasslands.

After perhaps two hours into their journey, the dike and hedge came to a sudden end, and the three women found themselves in a transitional area; grasslands and meadows were giving way to marshes where tall rushes grew, interspersed with slightly raised areas covered by stiff, low scrub, that stood out like bald patches; and the tall deciduous forest was becoming replaced by a dense and endless copse-wood of some nondescript tree-like bush, some fifteen to twenty feet high, its canopy well above their heads. Many trails wound their way through this bush, mostly created by wild animals. At last they came to an intersection of several paths. Theuli paused before selecting one of these, turning to Malina for some sign. Without hesitation, the young Pixie woman nodded towards a wide side-trail. Looking down one of the side trails as they stood at this intersection, and which led diagonally to the left, they could clearly see the road, where it wended its way beneath the eaves of the forest.

As they went on, the trail became steadily narrower, and was crossed and re-crossed by many other small paths, which were obviously animal trails of various sorts. Their progress became steadily slower, brought on in part by a disturbing watchfulness which seemed to permeate this semi-wilderness. They stopped often to listen, for they could no longer see far ahead. The high bush and winding trails seemed to conspire to hide what lay just around each turn of the path. Deborah found herself starting to feel very claustrophobic. The air had become very stuffy and still, the trail very narrow, as though something unseen was closing in on them.

By the time they drew near to Io's dwelling, they began to catch a faint whiff of smoke. But it was distinctly a burning smell, not like that of a cooking fire at all. Deborah and Malina looked to Theuli for some clue as to what this might mean, but the sight of the Elf-woman's stricken look was far worse than anything she might have said.

Stopping abruptly, leading them off the trail and following a narrow animal trail where it ended in a convenient hollow in the midst of a dense thicket, she turned to the others and said, 'Stay here Be still and be silent If I do not return within the hour, begin making your way to the town of Narvi, but stay out of sight of the main road.' Without waiting for a reply, she withdrew a knife from her boot and began running in a hunter's crouch, as though speed itself could somehow save Io's family.

She didn't have far to go. The concealing bush soon came to an abrupt end, the path turning sharply right as it passed along the outside of a wooden fence. Within the fence was Io's farm, a series of low, cleared and cultivated hills, surrounded by forest.

All the buildings were gone.

What Theuli saw was enough to know that Jan and Io and their children were dead. The house had burned some time ago, and she saw the bodies of at least two of the children lying in the dirt like discarded bundles of rags. The livestock, too, were gone.

Gasping harshly, struggling to master herself, she tried to get her thoughts in order, to think about the safety of the others. Fighting for calm, and against a rising sense of panic, she tried not to flee blindly.

The welcome sight of her friends waiting for her in comparative safety, and her own pent-up need to unburden her grief, almost undid the last of her composure. But despite the giddy feeling of shock, she somehow managed to keep her wits about her.

'They are not here,' she told them. 'They have left already. We must rejoin the others, as quickly as we may.' Even as she spoke this rush of words, a peculiar light-headed feeling took hold. It wasn't until she found herself looking into Deborah's frightened eyes that she realized she'd almost fainted. Malina was at her side as well, her eyes wide. Groaning at her own weakness, Theuli forced herself to move.

'Maybe you'd better rest until you're-' Deborah said.

'No We leave, now.' Theuli replied, angry that she couldn't control the fearful quaver in her voice. She was still white and trembling from shock, but her resolve was unshakable. The two young women stared, looking indecisive, but Theuli somehow seemed to be able to maintain a hold on their feelings as well as her own.

'How will we do that without being seen?' Malina asked.

'We will cross the grasslands by night,' Theuli replied. 'It will be hard . . . but we must travel cross-country as swiftly as we may. I pray the others have managed to flee to safety.'