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The nearest turned to him, the wind blowing off the tattered cowl, and the belkagen saw that it was Erun. The boy the belkagen had watched take his first steps under the autumn boughs-No! the belkagen reminded himself. That is not Erun, but the thing that killed him!-snarled and raised a rapier, its silver steel glistening with fell magic.

The sorcerer flinched as the globe of light enveloping the old elf hit him, but he held his ground. Too weak to control his flight, the belkagen could not avoid the blade. His eyes went wide the instant before the point shattered his cracked ribs and tore through his heart and lungs.

The belkagen's light went out, but he was smiling as the darkness closed in.

* * * * *

Amira saw the belkagen impaled upon that monster's sword, and she screamed, rage and sorrow cracking her voice. She hurled spells at her foes, magic flying from her staff and hands, but they bounced or shattered off the sorcerers' shields.

Erun flung the body of the belkagen off his blade and turned. He looked up at Amira and began an incantation, his free hand weaving an arcane pattern that cut the air and left a blue light in its wake. Amira could feel the air crackling with gathering power-

Then the wolf struck, a white mass of snarling fur and fangs that hit the sorcerer in the back, throwing him off balance.

More annoyed than hurt, Erun whirled, swinging his blade. The wolf dodged and backed off, favoring one leg, and in that moment Amira knew the wolf was Lendri.

She renewed her attack, loosing spell after spell, but every one broke on the sorcerers' shields.

"Enough of this!" the sorcerer that had been Erun roared. He raised his arms, the golden aura that still flickered round Amira glittering off his blade. "Uthrekh rakhshan thra!"

In the time it took Amira to draw a breath, the air round the island froze, going from mist to ice. Amira felt the moisture on her eyes freezing, and her inner ears began to pop and crack. Dizziness and nausea gripped her.

With what she felt sure would be her last breath she raised the staff the belkagen had named Karakhnir and shouted, "Amalad saisen!"

Heat. She felt it rising from the earth and flowing through her. It flared from the staff, struggling to push back the unearthly cold. The ice-for it was truly ice, hard and biting, not snow-falling from the sky struck the wave of heat and steamed, but Amira could feel the cold pressing down upon her, almost like the weight of the sky itself, and she fell to her knees.

* * * * *

The cold hit Jalan, stealing all breath from his body. The air bit through his clothes, and he could feel his skin contracting, ice forming over his body, then he heard his mother shout words he didn't recognize, and the cold retreated… a little.

Jalan took a shuddering breath, then he saw his mother fall. He screamed.

The blood-covered man grabbed him and pulled him under the lowest bough of the great tree. Jalan struggled-he had no idea who this blood-covered man who fell from the sky could be-but his mother had spoken to him as if she knew him.

"Jalan!"

He looked up at the man.

"Jalan, you must trust me! There's still time to save your mother."

Jalan swallowed and said, "What do you want me to do?"

The big man bent and picked up a knife that had fallen on the ground. It was sharp only on one edge and nearly as long as the man's forearm. The man grabbed Jalan's wrist and brought the knife close.

Panic seized Jalan and he struggled, trying to get away, but the man's grip was too strong. Jalan punched and kicked.

"Jalan!" said the man. "Jalan, stop it! You must trust me!"

All the memories and horrors of the past days hit him-the sorcerer's blade drawing blood in the darkness, then coming at him, invading his mind-and he screamed and kicked all the harder.

But through his panic and the memories came a voice that he recognized at once, saying, Surrender, Jalan. Trust him. Trust me.

It was Vyaidelon.

Panting, his eyes still wide