Winter's icy grip weakened at last, more than three weeks after the vernal equinox. Snow still fell, but often it turned in mid-storm to a cold rain, and ground that had been deep with white powder was now slick with gray slush. The change came as a mixed blessing to Elbryan and his forest band. While their lives certainly became more comfortable, their nights no longer spent so closely huddled to a fire that their eyebrows singed, winter's relaxed grip offered the invading monsters even more mobility. Now goblin, powrie, and fomorian giant patrols struck deep into the forest, and though these scouts were often discovered and destroyed by Elbryan's people, the danger to the group increased daily.

Pony still had not returned from the south. After three weeks, though, Paulson and his two trapper companions had come back with a fairly thorough description of the monstrous army's movements. It was as they had feared the monsters using the occupied towns as base and supply camps while they sent their dark tendrils further south, first in probes, but soon, so Paulson believed, in great numbers.

"They'll strike Landsdown within a week, unless we get hit with another storm," Paulson explained grimly.

"The season's past," Avelyn remarked. "There will be no more storms severe enough to slow our enemies."

Elbryan agreed; Belli'mar and the other elves -- who remained far in the shadows about the human camps, hidden from all save the ranger and the centaur had told him as much.

"Then Landsdown's to fall," said Paulson.

"We must get word to them," Avelyn offered, looking at the ranger, who in turn looked at Paulson.

"We already felled some farmers," Paulson explained, "and yer girl's been through with the same news."

Elbryan perked his ears up considerably at that bit of news.

"But will they listen?" Avelyn wanted to know.

"Who's to make them?" asked Paulson.

Elbryan closed his eyes and considered that. Indeed, the men and women of the frontier towns north of Palmaris could be a stubborn lot! The ranger decided then that it was time to put Belli'mar's troop to good use. The mobile elves could get to Landsdown ahead of the monsters, and if the sight of an elf didn't shake some sense into thick heads, then let the folk of Landsdown get what they deserved!

"I will see to Landsdown," the ranger promised, and he moved on to other matters. "What of our own folk?"

"We've got a hundred not taking well to the life," said Bradwarden. "Tough enough folic, but we've asked too much o' them."

"Is there any place we might take them?" the ranger asked.

The three trappers were at a loss; Brother Avelyn could think of no sanctuary closer than St. Precious in Palmaris, but how they could ever get a hundred people that far south without alerting the monsters was beyond the monk. Bradwarden's expression told the ranger that the centaur was thinking along the same lines as he, that the elves and the sanctuary of their hidden home might prove valuable here. But Elbryan, who had lived long in Andur'Blough Inninness, didn't think it likely that so many humans, however desperate their situation might be, would be invited in. Belli'mar Juraviel, easily the friendliest of the elven band, and the one most acquainted with humans, had even refused to be seen among the encampments, explaining that his presence would probably only frighten those too foolish to know friend from foe.

"Then we must make a place for them," the ranger decided, "and keep them away from our enemies until such time as we may usher them far to the south, behind the militia lines of Honce-the-Bear's Kingsmen." He looked at Paulson, Cric, and Chipmunk. "See to it," he bade them, and they nodded.

Good solders, Elbryan mused.

The next week moved along uneventfully. Elbryan, Bradwarden, and Avelyn came upon a group of a dozen goblins chopping firewood, and summarily destroyed them. When a fomorian came rushing to the goblins' rescue, Bradwarden tripped the giant, and the first thing it saw when it looked up -- and the last thing it ever saw -- was the fierce ranger glaring down at it, powerful Tempest sweeping down.

Elbryan had little contact with the elves that week. He had met with Juraviel soon after his fireside discussion with his more conventional commanders, and the elf had reluctantly agreed to send a handful of his fellows south to warn Landsdown.

"I fear that we are being dragged into the middle of a fight that is meant for humans," Juraviel had groaned, to which" Elbryan only lightly responded, "Of your own accord."

At the end of the week, Juraviel and Tuntun came to the ranger with welcome news indeed. "The folk of Landsdown are on the road south ahead of the advancing monsters," Juraviel explained. "Every one."

"And they are being met and ushered more swiftly by soldiers of your king," added Tuntun.

"My thanks to you and yours," the ranger said solemnly with a low bow.

"Not to us" -- Tuntun laughed -- "for the folk were on the road before we ever arrived."

Elbryan's expression turned quizzical.

"Your thanks to her," explained Juraviel, and on cue, Pony stepped out of the shadows of a thick spruce.

Elbryan rushed to her, embracing her in a huge hug. It took him some time to realize that the elves had announced her, and thus, that the elves had met her! He looked from Pony back to Juraviel and Tuntun.

"You had already told her of us," Juraviel said dryly.

"But I believe our appearance shocked her anyway," added Tuntun, again, in better spirits than was normal for the surly elf.

"I was still in Landsdown, the last one there, when they came upon me," Pony explained.

Elbryan looked her over carefully, satisfied that she, was not injured, only muddy and weary from so long a ride.

"All the way to Palmaris," she answered his unspoken question. "No horse will ever match the run of Symphony! He took me all the way to Palmaris without complaint, and all the way back at equal speed. The kingdom is alerted now, the soldiers are on the road, and our enemies will win no more victories by surprise."

Elbryan lifted his hand to brush back a stray lock of the woman's thick, dirty hair. He turned his fingers gently to flick a speck of mud from her cheek, though his gaze never left her shining blue eyes. How much he loved her, admired her, respected her! He wanted to crush her to him, to make love to her forever, and to protect her -- and that was his dilemma, for if he tried to protect this marvelous woman, Jilseponie Ault, then he would surely be stealing the very essence of her, the will and the strength that he so loved.

"All the world should thank you," he whispered. He turned to make a remark to the elves, but the pair, so wise in the ways of all the world, were long gone, granting the lovers their privacy.

"They knew we were out here, in great numbers, and now they wonder why the signs have lessened," Elbryan explained to Avelyn, the ranger astride his horse, beside the standing man just inside the cover of thick trees lining a bowl- shaped field. A blanket of slushy snow still covered the field, shining blue- white in the pale light of a bright half moon. Diagonally, across the field to the northwest, moving through the stark lines of thinner trees, came three forms, obviously goblin scouts.

"Perhaps they will believe that we have all departed," Avelyn offered hopefully. Indeed, more than two thirds of the human group had gone further to the east, leaving less than forty warriors at Elbryan's disposal, not counting the secretive elves, whose number even the ranger didn't know.

"That would be their mistake," the ranger answered grimly.

The tone of his voice made Avelyn glance his way, and the monk was glad to see that Tempest was still sheathed at the side of the saddle Belster O'Comely had commissioned for Elbryan before the coming of the monsters, and that Hawkwing was likewise in place, on a holder that looped the bow about a quiver of arrows.

But then, to Avelyn's surprise, Elbryan stepped Symphony out of the shadows onto the mild southern slope of the bowl-shaped vale, out of cover.

Across the way, perhaps a hundred yards, the goblins stopped and stared, then scrambled among the trees, fitting arrows to bowstrings.

"Elbryan!" Avelyn whispered harshly. "Come back!"

The ranger sat quietly, cutting a regal figure, his bow and sword at rest.

Three arrows went up into the night sky, errant shots that landed far short or far wide of the ranger.

"They do riot even believe that we can see them," Elbryan said quietly, obviously amused.

Avelyn scrambled out to Elbryan's side, putting Symphony between him and the goblins. "Better that we had not seen them," the monk huffed, "or better still that they had not seen us!"

"Calm, my friend," the ranger replied as another arrow thudded into the snowy ground, barely twenty feet away. Brave Symphony held perfectly steady; Elbryan wished that his human friend had as much faith.

Avelyn peeked under Symphony's head, to see that the goblins had gone to the bottom of the field's slope, still under the respectable cover of the stark deciduous trees.

"Three shots at a time, and they're likely to get lucky," Avelyn remarked. The monk looked up to see Elbryan slowly bringing Hawkwing to bear, then, with hardly a movement;. letting fly an arrow.

Avelyn looked back in time to see a goblin catch it in his chest. He couldn't see the arrow, of course, just the sudden jerk of the dark silhouette, followed-by a backward drop to the ground. The other two scrambled in sudden retreat, slipping as they tried to get back up the slope.

Elbryan held his pose, his bowstring fully drawn and perfectly steady.

"Get them quick," Avelyn prodded.

"It must be sure," Elbryan answered. "There can be no miss." He waited as the goblin pair weaved, then at last found his opening and let fly, the arrow cutting a straight, swift line to take a second goblin in the side of the head. The one remaining howled and scrambled, fell to its belly, and slid halfway back to the bottom.

"Oh, get him!" cheered Avelyn. "Ho, ho, what!"

But Elbryan had put up his bow, sitting calmly on Symphony, his' head tilted back, his eyes closed, as if he were simply enjoying the breeze of the moonlit night.

"What?" Avelyn asked, the monk watching the goblin running off once again to the top of the ridge and then beyond, lost from view. "Ho, ho, what?"

Elbryan slowly opened his eyes and looked down at the man. "It is all about reputation," the ranger explained, and he turned Symphony and started walking back to the trees.

"Reputation?" Avelyn echoed. "You let the last one get away! It will surely report that we have not left, that we, that you, at least, remain. . ." The monk's voice trailed off and a smile spread across his round face. Of course, the terrified goblin would return, blabbering its report. Of course, the goblin would tell them that the mysterious ranger on his mighty stallion remained, would tell them that death waited for them in the forest.

"Ho, ho, what!" Avelyn bellowed in sincere admiration. "Let them know of Elbryan, then!"

"No," the ranger corrected. "Let them know of Nightbird. Let them know and let them be afraid."

Avelyn nodded as he watched the ranger and his mount melt away into the forest night. Indeed, he thought, and well they should be afraid!

Elbryan did his sword-dance, as he had done so many times in Andur'Blough Inninness. Tempest weaved its wondrous lines about him slowly-turning, stooping, and rising in perfect balance. One foot followed the other and then took up the lead: step, step, thrust, and retreat.

All flowed slowly, beautifully. He was the embodiment of the warrior, this muscular naked man, the height of harmony, one with his weapon.

From the trees behind Elbryan, Pony and Avelyn watched awestruck. They had come upon the scene quite accidentally, and the monk, seeing Elbryan first and seeing that he was quite naked, had tried to turn Pony down a different path. But she, too, had spotted the man, and no amount of coercing from Avelyn would deflect her.

In watching Elbryan, his graceful moves, his trancelike intensity, Pony came to know so much more of him, to see him as clearly as if she were lying in his arms, sharing his heights of passion and joy.

This was different but no less intense, she realized. Like their coupling, this was a joining of body and spirit, a physical meditation somehow above the norm of human experience, somehow sacred.

Avelyn had seen this type of practice before -- it was not so different from the physical training the monks received at St.-Mere-Abelle -- but he had never seen a dance as graceful as Elbryan's, as perfectly harmonious.

And Tempest, seeming no more than an extension of the ranger, only added to that beauty, the light sword swishing about, leaving a glowing trail of bluish-white.

"We should be away," the monk whispered to Pony as Elbryan came to one long pause in his routine.

Pony didn't disagree; perhaps they were indeed peeping at something which was Elbryan's alone. But as the ranger started his movements again, as Tempest came up and about, perfectly level and parallel with his broad shoulders, she found that she could not turn away.

Nor could Avelyn.

Elbryan finished soon after and slumped to the grass; Pony and Avelyn stole away.

When Pony met Elbryan more than an hour later, she had to work hard to hide her feelings of guilt, her feelings that she had somehow violated him. Finally, it was too much.

"I saw you this morning," she admitted.

Elbryan raised an eyebrow.

"At your exercise," Pony admitted. "I -- I did not mean..." She stopped, stammering, and lowered her gaze.

"And were you alone?" said Elbryan.

Something in his tone brought Pony's gaze up to meet his, and in the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth, the woman found the truth revealed.

"You already knew!" she accused.

Elbryan brought a hand to his chest, as if wounded.

"You knew!" Pony said again, and she slapped her hand against his shoulder.

"But I did not know if you would tell me," the ranger said evenly, and Pony backed away.

"We came upon you by accident," the woman explained. Pony glared at him.

"Yes, you and Avelyn," Elbryan revealed.

After a long pause, Pony asked bluntly, "Are you angry?"

Elbryan smiled warmly. "There is nothing I wish to hold secret from you." "But I remained," she went on, "I watched you until the end of your dance."

"I would have been disappointed if the sight of me so could not hold you in place," Elbryan said playfully, and all tension was abruptly gone.

Pony wrapped the man in a hug then, and gave him a deep kiss. "Will you teach it to me?" she asked. "The dance, I mean."

Elbryan looked hard into her face. "It was a gift to me from the Touel'alfar," he explained. "A gift that I will, in turn, offer to you, but only with the blessings of the elves."

Pony was honored, and she moved to kiss Elbryan again, but a rustle at the side caught her attention.

Paulson moved out of the brush. "The caravan must've traveled half the night," he said, referring to a goblin supply train they had been watching, coming from the north. "We hit it today, or it makes Weedy Meadow."

"Are they still along the river?" asked Elbryan.

The big man nodded.

Elbryan looked at Pony, who understood her role; and without further bidding, she ran off to find Avelyn and gather together those warriors who had been put under her charge.

Elbryan closed his eyes and sent his thoughts into the forest, to Symphony -- the stallion grazing, as always these days, not so far away.

"Let us be off," the ranger then said to Paulson, "to prepare the battlefield as best suits us."

There was no high ground in the path of the caravan, except those hills surrounding Weedy Meadow, and that locale would be too close to the occupied village. Elbryan and his forces had to go out further to the north, had to intercept and destroy the caravan before any aid could come from the monsters already encamped in the area.

But there was no high ground, just thick woodlands, giving way to the brown and gray stones that lined the riverbank. At least the river would form a barrier to their enemies, the ranger thought, preventing an easy escape.

"Two groups coming," Bradwarden explained, catching up to Elbryan and the others as they determined their attack routes. "Small one in front, goblins mostly, but with a giant helping, cutting the trees and clearing the way."

"For wagons?" Elbryan asked, and he hoped that he was right.

"War engines," the centaur explained. "Two big contraptions, catapults, all set on wheels and pulled by three giants each."

"Too many," muttered Paulson, standing at Elbryan's side.

The ranger looked at the man, no coward certainly, and wasn't sure that he could disagree. Seven giants -- at least -- and a host of powries and goblins might indeed be more than the ranger and his band could handle.

"Well, we can hit at them anyway," Paulson offered a moment later. "But we best be ready to run off if the tide turns against us."

Elbryan looked at Bradwarden. "What of scouts?" he asked.

"Oh, they've plenty o' goblin rats running about the trees," the centaur replied, smiling widely as he lifted a twig to pick his teeth. "Two less, now," he said mischievously.

The ranger made a subtle movement, one that only Bradwarden caught, putting his finger up beside his ear, indicating a pointy ear, thus an elf.

The centaur nodded; the elves were in the area, and Elbryan was confident that he and his band would not have to worry much about any goblin scouts.

Pony came riding in then on a roan mare, one of several wild horses that would allow themselves to be ridden. Brother Avelyn came huffing and puffing behind her, the monk trotting along without complaint.

"The most important task before us is the destruction of the war engines," Elbryan decided. "For surely they will be put to deadly use against the towns to the south, even against the high walls of Palmaris."

The ranger paused for a while and considered all that he had heard. "How many in the front group?" he asked the centaur.

"Ah, a motley bunch," Bradwarden replied sourly, as if even speaking of the creatures left a foul taste in his mouth. "A dozen, I'd say, hacking at the trees, tearing at them, while the giant clears what's fallen. Ugly wretches. I'll kill the lot of them, if ye want."

Elbryan almost believed that the centaur would do just that. "Can you handle a giant?" he asked.

Bradwarden snorted as if the very question were insulting.

The ranger turned to Pony. "Take ten and the centaur," he explained. "You must destroy that front group and quickly. The rest will come in with me to cut off the main caravan, right in between the groups."

"Facing six giants?" Paulson asked skeptically.

"Drawing their attention," the ranger explained, "long enough for Avelyn to burn the powrie catapults. After that, we can scatter as we must, but my hope is that many monsters will be dead in the wreckage."

"But they have scouts," Paulson argued. "They might be knowing we're about afore e'er we get near them."

"The scouts are all dead," Elbryan said firmly. Paulson, and many others, looked at him hard.

"Yer elfin friends?" the big man asked. "I'm not sure I'm liking that."

"Tell me that after the battle," Elbryan replied wryly, then to Pony he shouted, "Be off!"

Paulson sighed, accepting the ranger's word for it. He was surprised when Pony tapped him on the shoulder, indicating that she wanted him and Cric and Chipmunk to work with her group up front.

"We will come straight in. at them along the riverbank," Pony explained to Elbryan as she and the others moved away.

"And we hit from the side, through the trees," the ranger replied. He nodded at his beloved. He could feel that tingling excitement, prebattle, and he knew Pony felt it, too. Indeed, there was danger for him and for Pony, but this was their life, this was their destiny, and for all the' horror and all the fear, it was exciting.

Elbryan had to grit his teeth and let the front group of monsters move past his position, though with every hack of a goblin axe against one of the beautiful trees, the ranger wanted to rush out and cut the creature down.

The goblins and their giant escort moved along slowly but steadily, and soon after, Elbryan and his companions heard the rumble of the war engines, the grunts of the towing giants.

"Hold until they are right upon us," the ranger instructed, "then let fly your arrows and loose your spears. Aim for the giants only," the ranger quickly added. "They are the most dangerous. If we can bring a couple of them down with the first volley, our enemies will be at a sore disadvantage."

"And if we don't?" surly Tol Yuganick grumbled. "Are we to run in front of six giants to be squashed?"

"We hit at them as hard as we safely can," the ranger replied evenly, trying to keep his continuing frustration with the disagreeable man out of his voice, "and then, when we must, we flee. A single caravan is not worth risking many casualties."

"Easy for you," Tol snapped back, "up on that fast horse of yours. The rest of us are running, and I'm not thinking that many can outrun the likes of a giant!"

Elbryan glared at the man, wishing that Pony had taken him with her group, or even that Tol had been sent off to the east with the other refugees. Tol was a fierce fighter, but the amount of discord he caused made him a detraction, not an asset.

"Wait until they close," the ranger said again, addressing the whole group. "They think that they have scouts in place, and will be caught unawares. Concentrate your missiles on the giants pulling the front catapult. Let us see what remains after the first volley."

He turned to Avelyn then. "How many will you need with you?"

The monk shook his head. "None," he replied. "Just keep their attention ahead of them, and I will get in behind! Stay back from the catapults, I warn you. I am feeling quite powerful this day!"

With that, the monk scrambled off into the brush, and Elbryan nearly laughed aloud watching him go, watching the light step that had come over Brother Avelyn Desbris. The monk had found peace within himself, ironically, in the midst of a war, a battle that Avelyn knew justified the actions that had weighed so heavily on him these last years.

Elbryan turned his attention back to the scene before him, ten yards of trees, followed by a few yards of cleared brush, a dozen feet of river stones, and then the river itself, waters rushing fast with the beginning of the spring melt. He heard the rumble of the war engines above that watery voice and discerned, by the alternating sounds, both sharp and muffled, that the caravan was moving right along the edge of the riverbank.

The ranger motioned to his companions, who started slinking from tree to tree, setting up their shots. Elbryan held his place, behind the tangled branches of two close hemlocks. He glanced about for the elves, and hoped that they were nearby. None in all the world could better concentrate their shots, and even a giant, the ranger knew from personal experience, could be brought down by the small arrows.

Up in front, one of the women signaled that the caravan was nearly upon them.

Elbryan fitted an arrow to Hawkwing and eyed his course. He contacted Symphony telepathically, and the horse nickered softly.

The first of the giants came into sight, bending low, pulling hard, a heavy harness strapped across its torso. Two others were close behind, in similar posture. "'

Elbryan felt the anxious gazes of his companions upon him, waiting for him to start it all. He was somewhat concerned that no sounds of battle came to him from further south, from the lead group, but he and his companions were committed, he knew, and would have to trust that Pony would not let the goblins and giant get behind them, cutting off any quick retreat.

The ranger let fly his first arrow even as he kicked his heels against Symphony's ribs and the horse leaped forward.

The lead giant grunted, more in surprise than in pain, when the bolt dove into tiffs shoulder, and then all the air about the monster and its two companions erupted as a dozen arrows and nearly that many spears came slicing in.

Elbryan fired again and again, scoring a hit each time as Symphony guided him to the open ground before the caravan. By the time he got there, the lead giant was down and dead, the other two were scrambling to get out of their encumbering harnesses, while a score of powries and twice that number of goblins were hooting and rushing about, grabbing for weapons or diving for cover.

Out came several of Elbryan's companions, right behind him, and all of them, and the ranger too, breathed a sigh of relief to finally hear the sound of battle behind them.

One of the powries stood tall on the first catapult, barking out commands.

The ranger's next shot laid the dwarf low.

Pony charged in hard, running her horse right across the lead line of goblins, her sword slashing hard across the face of one, then darting out to stick a second in the throat. This was the easy part, she knew, for she and her companions had caught the monsters by surprise, and diminutive goblins couldn't take a solid hit. Before the woman had even swung her sword, half the small creatures lay dead or squirming in agony on the ground.

But then there was the not so little matter of a fomorian giant.

Pony tugged hard on her mare's mane, turning the horse when she saw the behemoth moving to intercept. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the galloping charge of Bradwarden, the centaur singing at the top of his considerable voice, waving a huge cudgel as easily as if it were a tiny baton.

The giant braced as the centaur came in, but Bradwarden skidded short and leaped about, putting his tall closest to the monster. Thinking that the centaur had changed his mind and was trying to flee, the giant lunged for that tail, but Bradwarden's haunches came up high, the centaur kicking out with both his hind legs, hard hooves perfectly aligned with the stooping monster's ugly face.

The giant staggered backward, its legs buckling under it.

Singing wildly, the centaur charged in, bashing the monster about the head with his heavy club.

Then Pony rushed by, her sword slashing a line across the side of the giant's neck.

"Hey, but ye're stealing me fun!" the centaur protested, leaping about again and snapping off a second mighty double kick, this one connecting on the giant's massive chest and throwing the monster flat to the ground.

Bradwarden smiled, seeing Pony run down another goblin, seeing all the wretched creatures falling fast before the deadly group. And seeing, most of all, the giant, dazed and helpless, up on its elbows, its head lolling about.

Perfect height for an underhand swing.

The second giant went down before it ever got out of the harness. The third did get out, but Elbryan put an arrow into its eye, and half a dozen other arrows hit it in the neck and face.

It, too, slumped to the ground.

Of mote concern, though, were the powries, taking up their weapons, and the giants from the second catapult, out of their harnesses and with hardly a scratch on them.

"Hurry, Avelyn," Elbryan muttered under his breath. "Do not delay."

"Here comes Jilly! Flying fast!" one man cried, and Elbryan was truly glad for the timing and for the much-needed boost to his group's tentative morale. The monstrous troop in the south had been overrun, so it seemed.

"Concentrate your shots on the giants!" the ranger bellowed, and then under his voice, he repeated, "Hurry, Avelyn."

* * * Bradwarden galloped off to catch the woman and her fast-flying roan, but the centaur skidded to a stop, seeing Chipmunk teasing free a pair of daggers from a dead goblin, but with tears streaming down his face.

"It's Cric!" the man wailed. "Oh, my Cric!"

Bradwarden followed his gaze to a tumble of a pair of goblins and, unmistakably, a bald-headed human lying among them.

"He's dead!" the small nervous man declared.

"Where is yer third?" the centaur asked. "The big one?"

"Paulson's running up ahead," Chipmunk explained. "Says he'll kill every goblin, every powrie, every giant."

"Get on me back, man, and hurry!" the centaur ordered, and Chipmunk did just that. On they charged, Bradwarden singing a rousing song and Chipmunk forcing away his tears, locking them behind a wall of sheer anger.

Avelyn crouched behind a tree, barely ten feet from the side of the trailing catapult. The monk's frustration mounted, for though two of the giants had run off toward the fighting up front, the third had remained defensively in place, with a host of powries staying up on the catapult, some of them with crossbows.

Avelyn would have to get closer, he knew, for his fireball to have any real effect, but if he went out in the open, he figured that he would be grabbed or shot down before he ever loosed the magical blast.

The monk understood the situation up front, understood that Elbryan could not buy him very much more time without endangering many lives. He called up his serpentine shield and, purely on instinct, he rushed out of the brush and dove to the ground, rolling right under the catapult.

He heard the. powries crying out, knew that he hadn't much time, and tried to focus on the ruby, on its mounting energy.

Then the giant was kneeling beside the catapult, its face down to the ground, its long arm reaching under for poor Avelyn.

He had to roll away, but then, stopped suddenly as a small crossbow bolt skipped off the ground right beside him. He glanced back to see a pair of powries crawling under the war engine, coming for him with prodding spears.

Avelyn closed his eyes and prayed with all his heart. He felt the tingling power of the ruby, as if it were begging for release; he imagined the sudden stabbing pain when the powries drew near.

Avelyn's eyes popped open, the man staring into the ugly face of the giant.

"Ho, ho, what!" the monk howled in glee, and boom! a ball of flame engulfed the catapult, incinerated the powries crawling in behind the monk, and blinded the giant in front of him. The great wooden structure went up like a huge candle; those unsuspecting powries standing atop it cried out and dove for the ground, rolling to extinguish the flames. One unfortunate dwarf dove right in the path of the howling giant. The fire on that particular dwarf was indeed extinguished as a huge booted foot crushed the diminutive creature flat. The burning giant continued on with hardly a thought for the dwarf, running blindly, swatting futilely at the flames. It slammed into a young tree, snapping branches and stumbling, but held its balance -- stupidly, for the ground offered its only chance of smothering the flames -- and ran on.

Avelyn clutched the serpentine tightly as burning chips of wood sizzled down around him. The gem wouldn't protect him from smoke, he knew, and so he realized he had to get out from under the burning war engine. He started to work himself to one side, but then a wheel succumbed to the flames and the gigantic catapult creaked and rocked to the side, pinning the monk.

"Oh, help me," Avelyn breathed, trying to squeeze back the other way. "Ho, ho, what?"

Avelyn's blast did much to even the odds, leaving only two giants and a score of powries against Elbryan's thirty. The ranger could not accept such an even fight, though, for if he lost a fifth of his force, it would be too many for the gains of this one encounter. He started to call for a retreat, holding Pony back as she galloped up beside him on her strong roan, but then Bradwarden came by, singing again, a rowdy tune, with a growling Chipmunk on his back, daggers in hand.

"Halt!" Elbryan called to the centaur, but even as he spoke there came a sudden humming sound, a noise the ranger recognized as the thrumming of many delicate but deadly elvish bows.

Several powries tumbled from the lead catapult.

Bradwarden bore down on the closest giant, Chipmunk leading the way with a hurled dagger, then a second, third, and fourth in rapid succession, all aimed perfectly for the behemoth's face, all hitting the mark and digging in deeply with the strength of the man's rage driving them.

The giant howled in agony and clutched at its torn face with both hands, and Bradwarden hit it in full stride, bowling it to the ground.

Elbryan could not halt the flow of his furious forces then, certainly not wild-eyed Paulson, who dodged the thrust of a powrie spear, lifted the dwarf into the air, and tossed it a dozen feet, to crack its head against a tree trunk.

The remaining giant ran away into the woods; those powries out of the immediate rush scattered, wanting no more of this wild band.

"Take apart the second catapult!" Elbryan commanded his forces. "Feed its logs to Avelyn's fire."

"Where is Avelyn?" Pony asked as her roan trotted past Symphony.

"In the forest with the elves, likely," said Elbryan. "Perhaps in pursuit of the giant."

As if on cue, the burning catapult creaked again and slanted over farther. Elbryan stared at it, sensed something amiss.

"No," the ranger murmured, slipping down from his horse. He started walking toward the burning thing, then began running, scrambling to the ground as close as he could get to the catapult's highest edge. Elbryan peered through the thick smoke. There were two bodies near him, and he was relieved to recognize them as powries.

"But what were the powries doing under the catapult?" the ranger asked with sudden horror.

"Bring a beam!" he shouted, standing tall and hopping excitedly. "A lever! And quickly!"

"Avelyn," Pony breathed, catching on to the source of her lover's distress.

Most of the fighting was finished -- several men and the centaur had already begun taking apart the intact catapult. Bradwarden, working at the catapult's long arm and great counterweight, heard the ranger's desperate call.

Chipmunk popped out the last fastening peg, and, with the strength of a giant, the centaur lifted free the huge beam. Men scrambled to help him, but even with all of the hands, the best they could do was drag the beam to Elbryan and the burning catapult.

"Ropes to the other side," Elbryan commanded, as he and several others began setting one end of the long pole under the highest side of the burning catapult. "It must be pulled right over, and swiftly!"

They tugged, they lifted with all their strength. Pony got Symphony and her roan around the back, ropes looped about the war engine and tied to the tugging horses. Finally, with one great heave, the group uprighted the catapult, which fell over with a tremendous groan of protest and a huge shower of orange- yellow sparks.

There lay Avelyn, motionless and soot covered.

Elbryan rushed to him, as did all the others, Pony pushing her way through to be beside this man she had come to love as a brother.

"He does not breathe!" Elbryan cried, pushing hard on the man's chest, trying to force the air into him.

Pony took a different tack, going for the monk's pouch, fumbling with the stones until she at last brought forth the hematite. She had no idea how to proceed -- Avelyn had not formally trained her with this most dangerous of stones -- but she knew that she must try. She sent her thoughts into the stone, remembered that Avelyn had done as much for her, and indeed, for Elbryan.

She prayed to God, she begged for help, and then, though she did not believe that she had accessed the stone's power in the least, she felt a soothing hand above her own, and looked down to see the monk staring up at her, smiling faintly.

"Hot one," Avelyn said between coughs that brought forth black spittle. "Ho, ho, what!"

"'The design was impressive," Elbryan admitted to Belli'mar Juraviel and Tuntun, the elves sitting with the ranger at Avelyn's bedside much later that night.

Avelyn opened a sleepy eye to regard his newest companions. He had known the elves were about, of course -- everyone in the camp did -- but he had never actually seen one of the Touel'alfar before. He stayed quiet and closed his eyes once more, not wanting to scare the sprites away.

Too late; Elbryan had noticed the movement.

"I fear that your prophecies of doom hold much truth," the ranger said, shaking Avelyn a bit to show that he was speaking to him.

Avelyn opened one eye, locked stares not with Elbryan but with the elven pair.

"I give you Belli'mar Juraviel and Tuntun," the ranger said politely, "two of my tutors, two of my dearest friends."

Avelyn opened wide his eyes. "Well met, what," he said boisterously, though he wound up coughing again, not yet ready for such exertion.

"And to you, good friar," said Juraviel. "Your power with the stones is encouraging."

"And great will that power need to be," added Tuntun. "For a darkness has come to the world."

Avelyn knew that all too well, had known it since the days immediately after his departure from St.-Mere-Abelle -- had known it, in retrospect, since his journey to Pimaninicuit. He closed his eyes again and lay still, too weary to speak of such things.

"We know beyond doubt that these monsters are not simple raiders but a cohesive and organized force," Elbryan stated.

"They are guided," Tuntun agreed, "and held together."

"We need to speak of this another time," said Juraviel, indicating the monk, who seemed as if he had drifted off to sleep once more. "For now, we have the immediate battles before us."

Both elves nodded and slipped quietly out of the tent, past the sleeping soldiers and the alert guards without a whisper, seeming to all about as no more than windblown leaves or the shadow of a bird.

Elbryan sat with Avelyn for the rest of the night, but the monk did not stir. He was deep in thought, in sleep at times, recalling all that he had heard of the darkness that was on the land, of the demon dactyl and the blackness within men's hearts.

"Our master will not be pleased," Gothra the goblin whined, the one-handed creature hopping frantically about the small room.

Ulg Tik'narn regarded his fellow general sourly. The powrie had little love of goblins and found Gothra a pitiful whining creature. The powrie could not deny Gothra's statement, though, and gave the goblin more credit than he gave Maiyer Dek, for the giant was perfectly oblivious of their increasingly desperate situation. The villages had been captured, that was true, but too few humans had been killed, and this mysterious Nightbird and his friends were wreaking havoc on every supply group that came down from the north, something the merciless dactyl had certainly noticed -- the arrival of the spirit who called himself Brother Justice confirmed that fact.

And Ulg Tik'narn knew that he, most of all, would be blamed for the interfering humans. But the powrie was not without allies of its own, and was not without a plan.