The faeyn took their weapons. The staves they held on Theris and his hunters turned out to be bent shafts of wood with cords stretched across their ends. The short spears which had decimated the gob-bocari and pierced the leg of one of Theris' men were held against the strings and aimed at the rest of the prisoners.

The faeyn spoke in urgent tones with the young lady who had so captured Theris' heart. With a final word of command from her, the faeyn directed the captives eastward with gestures from their weapons.

Theris had heard the faeyn haunted the endless forests of the far south and wondered if they would ultimately being taken there. They stayed east of the Pardos River veering slightly southward along the southern range of the Pelahi mountains. As they traveled, the leader repeatedly met Theris' devoted gaze with a puzzled expression.

"Theris," he said, slapping his chest whenever she looked at him. The men of the Hunt seemed surprised he had a name. The woman simply frowned and looked away. This continued whenever they stopped to rest or drink from their water skins. The faeyn gave the humans one of their water skins since the Hunt had been living off the land like animals and lacked basic supplies. Finally, at a stop in the shadow of the mountains, Theris walked up to the woman held her with his eyes and told her his name again.

Staring up at him with evident discomfort, woman answered almost shyly, "Toeksa."

Theris smiled.

Toeksa returned a faint smile, then seemed to snap herself out of it. She got up and rattled off orders to the faeyn who then gathered their things as if to leave. "Deesora! Deesora," she repeated with gestures toward the mountains and with that Theris understood it was time to leave.

The faeyn led them straight into the side of a mountain, through a narrow, brush-hidden cleft, into a deep ravine where a hundred or so faeyn had an encampment. The members of the Hunt stood in an awkward knot as faeyn bustled around them. The faeyn all wore animal skins and carried what Theris later learned were bows at the ready. Theris eyed the hide tents set up among the rocks and racks for smoking meat and realized they had been there for some time.

After a while, Toeksa returned with two people, an older faeyn male and a younger man who—though he looked faeyn—had rounder eyes and ears and a broader jaw than the others. The old man spoke in the faeyn tongue while the younger man translated it into tacu.

"Why are you here? What do you seek?"

The hunters exchanged glances, then turned to Theris. "We seek the blood of the guilty," Theris said.

The young man translated and the faeyn standing around listening gave grim nods of approval. The old man spoke again. "And who are the guilty?"

"Those who spill the blood of the innocent."

"But who are the innocent?"

Theris hesitated and looked down at his hands. "Those who have spilled no blood?"

"Our oracles tell us you have cursed the land."

"We have not. But I know one who has."

"Your kin have," the oracle insisted through his translator, his face growing harder. "Some of our kin think we should fight you humans. The curse has come from you and the blood of many innocents will be on your hands for that."

Theris gestured helplessly, unable to offer a defense. He looked into Toeksa's eyes and saw judgment there, judgment...and pity.

"But our oracle also tells us that the Promised One will come through you, the one who will open the path to the sacred mountain."

Theris thought of his cousin Karux who had fallen from the sacred mountain in what seemed like a million years ago. "Perhaps."

"We think your curse may be the judgment of the Creator. Both His judgment and His salvation flows through you. If you seek to oppose the guilty, we will join you under one condition."

"Which is?"

"When the path of return is opened, you must take us with you."

The path of return, Theris wondered. They want to ascend the mountain with us? Theris looked into Toeksa's eyes and saw a silent plea there. "If a way can be found, as far as I have the ability, I would have you at my side forever."

<====|==|====>

"We attack tonight," Nebashi said. A cheer rose up from the crowd in the fish-loaf tavern.

"Perhaps you should say it louder so the city guard can hear," Boah suggested sarcastically.

"I should hope so."

Boah gave Nebashi an incredulous look. "You want the guard to know we're going to raid another warehouse?"

"Of course, that's the whole point."

"But why?"

"Because we're not looking for wealth," Tarakae interrupted. "We're looking to finish off the guard."

Boah shook his head incredulously. "I thought we already had."

"We took care of their trained men," Tarakae said. "But the merchants have spent the last couple of months hiring and training more. They've sunk all their money into this. If we wipe out the guard again, they'll be broke. They'll have to pay use for protection as they'll not be able to afford their own."

"Oh."

Tarakae smiled as understanding dawned on Boah. He went over to his drum to pass the time and work the crowd up.

Pronos had refused to talk to him after the first attack. Needless to say, the funds stopped coming as well. Tarakae was confident that Pronos and the guard had declared war on the mob. It was only a matter of time before they rebuilt their strength and attacked. This threat, however, would force the guard to move before they were ready. If they failed to defend another rich merchant's warehouse, they would lose their support. Tarakae was confident he had timed it perfectly.

Tarakae beat the drum and the crowd into a frenzy. With a final explosion of pounding, the mob charged from the tavern and flooded into the streets. With a festive atmosphere, they laughed and swung their clubs against the sides of buildings, smashing shutters as they passed.

The guard stood in a tight row across the craftsmen's square, spears at the ready. There were more men than the last time, but the mob still out-numbered them at least two-to-one. The mob rushed forward eager for blood, singing a victory song. The guard seemed to tense and their spears snapped up. The mob charged, clubs upraised and their first wave was caught on the end of those spears. The guard drew their spears back and with a flourish, whirled them around to cut down the next group, and then the next.

Soon scores of men lay dead or dying on the ground and none of them were guardsmen. Tarakae, standing at the end of the street, watched the carnage wishing he had some way of calling them back or at least warning them. The mob didn't seem to realize what was happening and surged forward, trampling their fallen members in their urge to pound the guard. A few guardsmen were clubbed down out of sheer enthusiasm, but as the mob's numbers were depleted the attack paused and soon individuals were running away in all directions throwing down weapons and leaving a trail of bloody footprints in their wake. Tarakae slipped into the shadows as the guards chased down the slowest runners, flinging spears into their backs.

Tarakae decided not to go back to the fish-loaf tavern that night.

<====|==|====>

Z'taes whistled as he stared up at the high stone walls enclosing the village that had grown up outside Har-Tor. "Very impressive."

Labrose looked around gape-mouthed. "This must have cost you many fortunes."

"The dwerka have been busy," Garanth agreed, "but this isn't really Har-Tor. These buildings have just grown up outside."

Tekmos, the arcanth of a village south of Korion-Diochis turned to Garanth. "Are you saying Har-Tor is in the mountain?"

Garanth smiled. "Har-Tor is the mountain."

"I couldn't live in a hole in the ground," Anankaes' deep voice rumbled. Anankaes was the arcanth of another southern village. Both Anankaes and Tekmos were of the Dinu tribe which were said to be cousins of the Pelahin.

"Come and let me see if I can change your mind." Garanth took them on a tour of the giant halls of Har-Tor. At one point Anankaes even seemed to forget they were underground when he asked how they protected their food stores from the elements. At the end of the tour, Garanth took them to the council chambers where he introduced the arcanths to the elders of Har-Tor.

They had barely exchanged names when Karux strode into the chambers. "Good. You're all here. I have something to show you and then we can begin our discussions." With a gesture, he directed them to follow him from the council chambers to another room in which an enormous table had been set up and covered in sand. The arcanths gathered around the table with curious expressions.

"This is the exact representation of all the lands between Har-Tor in the north," Karux pointed at a mound among a series of mounds at one end of the table. "Nur in the south-west," here Karux pointed to another spot at the end of a range of mounds between two winding tracks that had been scratched into the sand. "And Korion-Krius in the south." Karux said this last with a nod to Anankaes.

"I suppose that is Archetor?" Tekmos pointed to an enormous mound occupying much of the table to the east.

"Yes."

Labrose asked, "How can you be certain this is correct?"

"I have seen it," Eiraena said from a back corner of the room, where she sat, staring at the arcanths from under lowered brows.

Garanth was surprised to see her there as she disliked meeting new people.

Labrose, who had started to say something to Karux, stopped with a nervous glance at Eiraena.

Karux pointed at the table. "This circle marks the area that has fallen under Amantis' curse. It stretches from Korion-Iscuron in the north to Korion-Amelein in the southeast." He gave Labrose a nod of acknowledgement, but Labrose just grimaced and glared at the circle threatening his village. "All the koria in that area have either joined Nur's collective or been destroyed."

"And no one has found a way to stop the curse?" Tekmos asked.

Karux hesitated long enough to cast a quick glance at Eiraena. "No. Not yet. We are working on that, but we face a more immediate threat right now."

"Nur," Z'taes offered.

"Exactly," Karux said. "Not much grows within the borders of the blighted lands and nearly all that does is taken by Nur's spears. They need to add the harvests of the surrounding green lands to their stores, but the curse has now spread to fields under our protection. Twice they have attacked Kerwyn's Hill and would have taken it but for young Garanth's intervention."

The arcanths cast appreciative looks Garanth's way. Macander had been quick to praise him for the village's salvation and Macander's reputation as a warrior carried a lot of weight.

"What about the east?" Anankaes asked. "Surely Nur's eyes will turn in that direction?"

"Yes," Karux agreed. "They almost certainly will. Yet we know nothing of those people or their ways. They may willingly join the Collective or resist. It may buy us some time, but sooner or later—a year or two at the most—Nur will have to look in this direction for food. Then Nur will be bringing their spears to your lands to take your harvests."

"You are saying we have no choice but to fight," Anankaes said.

"Yes. Our only choice is how we shall spend our time preparing for it."

Z'taes smacked a fist into his palm. "We need to train more men to fight."

"But how many men?" Tekmos asked.

"Judging by the size of the tireav Nur last brought to Kerwyn's Hill," Karux paused to count the figures in his head, "we will need at least one thousand spears."

"A thousand?" Tekmos exclaimed.

"That's not possible!" Labrose said.

"We may need more." Karux added.

"But how shall we get them?" Anankaes asked.

"We will need to recruit," Karux said. "And that's where you come in. You'll need to speak with the other arcanths in the koria of the south. We can offer them my craft to grow crops and help with the gob-bocari and other pests.

"But one thousand men!"

"Between all of us, we have nearly half that now," Karux offered.

Garanth cleared his throat. He had been standing in the back, arms folded, listening to the exchange. "We'll need to recall the reavers fighting in the north."

"Of course," Karux said.

"The dwerka won't like it," Garanth added.

Karux shrugged. "They can always come down here and help us fight."

Garanth frowned at his flippant remark. This was going to cause problems, but Karux seemed too irritated to care.

"We can do this," Z'taes assured the rest.

"If we want to keep our own lands and food, we'll have to," Tekmos said. "It's not like we have any choice."

<====|==|====>

Most of the arcanths left before winter set in. Z'taes chose to stay and see the New Year from the comfort of Har-Tor. Since spear training ground to a halt during the winter, Garanth found himself at a loss for how to spend his time. He would sometimes practice the spear with a handful of reavers in one of the larger halls, or practice his sword weapon alone, but more and more he found himself seeking out Corha's companionship.

"Why don't you go ahead and marry her," Harkin suggested catching Garanth lurking outside the suite of rooms Karux's students used. "Eighteen isn't too old to marry...quite."

"Ai! I'm eighteen."

Harkin laughed and slapped him on the back as he walked away. "Yes, well, it's different with men."

Garanth poked his nose inside and saw Corha crouched down instructing three young students drawing the shapes of the elements in their sand trays. It was too easy to picture her as a mother teaching her own children. Garanth felt a strange stab of longing and wondered if such a vision were in his future. The sword at his hip suddenly felt heavy and he adjusted the strap on which it hung.

Corha looked up and smiled.

"You have a gift with children," Garanth said, feeling a matching warmth as the color rose in her cheeks.

"Thank you," Corha said. "We're just reviewing our lessons."

Garanth walked over and thought it strange to see how he towered over them. He felt a little dizzy as if he should be the one sitting at the sand tray. "So these are the ones who will lift the curse and save us?"

"Perhaps. Who can say?"

One of the young students, a boy, pointed at his sand tray. "This is neter-cori."

"Yes, I can see that," Garanth said.

"Can you see the schemas?" a young girl asked.

Garanth hesitated and glanced at Corha. "I have seen them, though perhaps not well."

Corha's eyebrow arched. "Oh?" She rose and drew out a faintly glowing stone from somewhere in her clothes. "Do you know what this is?"

"Phosite, right?"

"Yes. Do you know why it glows?"

"No."

"She held it up, blinked slowly, and the stone flared with light."

"What was that?" Garanth asked.

Corha smiled and held it out to him. "The stone takes the potential from the air, those unformed shapes he named for himself—"

"Karis?"

"Yes."

"He didn't name that after himself. He named it after my mother, Charissa."

"Oh. Well, the stone takes that potential from the air and turns it into light. If you can see the karis, you can attract it and make the glow brighter."

Garanth turned it over in his hand.

"Try it."

Garanth shifted his awareness to the world of shapes. He was a little out of practice, but after a moment of concentration, he was able to see the fundamental elements of reality. As he focused his attention on them, they scattered as if he were drawing his finger through a three-dimensional sand tray. He spiraled his focus around the stone, forcing the karis to move toward it and the phosite gem brightened.

"Very good! I didn't know you had learned to do that," Corha said.

"I'm not very good." Garanth blinked his way back to the world of light and shadows. "Please don't tell Karux."

Corha gave him a crooked smile. "I might be persuadable."

An awkward moment of silence followed. "Well... I... um, the Festival of the Long Night will be soon. Would you like to go to it with me?"

"Sure." She took his arm. "But we don't have to wait until then."

With a quick glance over her shoulder at her students she said, "Review her lessons. Dra Karux will be here soon to test you." She led Garanth out into the halls of Har-Tor where they spent the evening walking and talking. Corha spoke about the village in which she had grown up and Garanth talked about his life following Karux around, though it was little different than what Corha had experienced as Karux's apprentice. They wandered down into the lower levels where the dwerka lived and came upon a cavern whose walls and ceiling glowed with natural phosite gems. Giant mushrooms, carefully tended by the dwerka, grew under the strange colored lights. There Corha kissed him.

Garanth's heart pounded harder than it had in any battle. A similar feeling of unreality came over him and he realized two things right away. He realized, to his surprise, that he enjoyed battle. He also realized that he liked this much better.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," Corha said once they stopped to breath.

"You should have said something," Garanth said. "We could have been doing this all along."