By the time Ahren's stomach had settled and his uncontrollable shaking had stopped, Falk had matter-of-factly wiped the bloodstains off himself and Selsena with one of the attacker's cloaks. He had also polished all the armouring so that there wasn't a speck of dirt on it, nor on Selsena's coat. Ahren surmised absently that it must have been Elfish craftsmanship and he envied his partners' spotless appearance. He himself stank of blood, vomit and the cold sweat of battle. He was on his hunkers in the middle of the road, his arms around his knees, unhappily rocking back and forth. Culhen sat down beside him, whimpered and licked his master's face. The apprentice couldn't help smiling at this, then buried his head in the wolf's pelt, took deep breaths and tried to stop himself from crying. Uldini looked down at the distraught young man and said, 'he's doing well. I've seen some run away at the first sign of battle and others frozen on the spot only to be hacked down without resistance. Once he's recovered from this, he'll have taken a terrible but vital step forward'.

Falk nodded. 'But we can make it a little easier for him, can't we?' Uldini understood what the Guardian was driving at and began to prepare a little spell as unobtrusively as possibly. Selsena, meanwhile, walked over towards Ahren and began filling his spirit with the peace and confidence he had felt once before, when he had torn Culhen from the claws of the Adversary. The young Forest Guardian lifted his head from his friend's pelt and Culhen placed his head on the apprentice's knee and looked at him with loyal, loving eyes. Selsena calmed Ahren's tumultuous feelings and suddenly a fresh breeze was gently touching his face. His nose was filled with the fresh smell of grass and he saw in amazement how all the blood stains vanished from his clothing until there wasn't a speck to be seen. Tears ran down his face as he absorbed the love and affection of the two animals and he revelled in the sensation of being clean. He looked at Uldini who dissipated the breeze and gave him a friendly nod. Then Ahren pulled himself together, gave Selsena a friendly smile and tickled Culhen behind the ears. Falk came over and gave him a searching look. 'Feeling better again?'

Ahren didn't trust his voice so he simply nodded weakly, glancing at the same time at the two bodies that had his arrows in them.

Falk looked in the same direction. 'It's only right that you feel terrible, a different reaction and I'd be worried', said his master in a serious voice.

Ahren looked up at him in puzzlement. He himself had seen his breakdown as weakness, and had been envious of the others and their hardness.

'There are people, dwarves and sometimes even elves, who see killing in a different way to you. Some snap, which is why we are all here for you'. Ahren had a lump in his throat, but really didn't want to start crying again. The thought of facing the horror he had just experienced without the support of his comrades was terrifying. He tickled Culhen again gratefully, who grumbled contentedly. His master continued. 'No matter how tragic this is, those who enjoy killing are much worse than the tortured souls that have been destroyed by the experience of war. Most succumb sooner or later to a killing frenzy. Usually they are remembered as heroes, so long as their desires serve the general good, and they almost always die young. Lured by the siren song of battle, they end up surrounded by the enemy and die in a final bloodbath of violence'.

The thought of actually enjoying killing struck Ahren as grotesque and regrettable, and he suddenly felt relieved at the sadness he was experiencing.

'But the worst reaction anyone can show is the complete absence of emotion. Those who experience no feeling as they stride through the battlefield bringing death and destruction to their enemy are generally the most terrible opponents. Their coldness grows to the point where they recognize neither friend nor foe, but, driven by their own motivations they will sacrifice a hundred good men and women to kill ten enemies if it serves their purpose'. There was a hardness in the corner of Falk's mouth and his tone suggested to Ahren that a memory was prompting these words. Falk cleared his throat and forced himself back to the present situation. He then finished with the following words: 'we all feel sadness when we kill, and that's how it should be. It's only this sadness that spurs us on to avoid battle if possible, or to finish it with a minimum number of casualties on either side. Uldini and I have learned how to deal with these feelings and know when to negotiate to prevent something worse. Come with me, all of you!'

The old man turned on his heels and strode towards the rock from where the ambush had been launched. Ahren had to step his way between the mutilated bodies of the brigands that Falk and Selsena had killed. He thought of the firm but friendly tone of his master and the generous spirit of the Titejunanwa and tried to reconcile them with what he was looking at, but it was beyond him. He walked more quickly and hoped that some day he would find the solution to his emotional dilemma.

Falk led them around the rock to another body. Ahren was stunned. He was looking into the lifeless eyes of the wandering preacher who had spoken to him at the trading post some weeks previously. His red robe exhibited a darker spot where Falk's sword had been driven through.

What was he doing here and how had he caught up with them? And why had his master killed a seemingly unarmed man? He was swamped with questions and he looked at his master uncertainly, who was now kneeling down beside the body. Uldini reached the spot too and hissed as he drew breath. Obviously Ahren had missed something that the wizard had spotted immediately. He followed the gaze of the youthful figure and saw something long and dark lying in the grass a few paces away. Full of curiosity he stepped closer and saw with horror that a thin tongue was lying in the grass. It was roughly two paces in length and ended in a moist, shiny spike. Ahren stepped back in horror and looked over at his master who pulled down the deceased priest's jaw, revealing the bloody area where his tongue had once been.

'High Fang', he said and gave Uldini a serious look. The wizard let forth a string of expletives and threw his arms in the air, at which point his crystal ball rose up and settled half a pace above his right shoulder. The wizard was so agitated that he seemed not to notice. 'You know what that means, old man. One High Fang means at least a hundred Low Fangs. The enemy wants to stop us at all costs and there's a horde of these wretches scurrying about somewhere. They're probably making the Green Sea nervous. It would take a whole clan to eliminate a horde, and you'll only find border guards here at this time of year. Which means they can strike at any time'. Yellow sparks crackled between the wizard's fingers.

Falk responded quietly. 'Relax, Uldini. If his horde were near him, he would never have been so desperate as to put a bunch of badly educated highway robbers onto us. He probably noticed us when he was on a spying mission and had to improvise. If we travel on quickly, we'll get to the elves safely'.

Ahren looked at the haggard face of the dead man and tried to remember what he looked like when he was alive.

'He looked so normal', he said quietly.

Uldini nodded. 'that's why we call him High Fang. That's how we classify the human servants of the enemy. Let's get out of here, I'll explain it to you on the way'.

Ahren looked tentatively over at the bodies but his master said, 'the feudal lord of this stretch of land will bury them. There's too much blood in the air for us three to put four bodies under the ground undisturbed. Even a normal beast of prey from the Green Sea could be dangerous for us'.

[ They gathered the horses together and rode away from the gruesome scene. Uldini distracted the young man from the terrible sights by explaining to him, as he had promised, the rankings of the adversary's servants ]

'If a human, dwarf or elf comes into direct contact with the willpower of the Betrayer, whether willingly or not, there are several results. Most of them die, pure and simple. Their spirit breaks, their heart stops beating. All elves and dwarves react in this way, and also the majority of humans. The humans who survive are forced into another form that seems totally arbitrary. They are human to a large degree, but there are two-headed variations, some with several arms, legs, with claws, fangs, feathers, whatever you can imagine. They almost always produce sharp teeth, which is why we call them Low Fangs. Their spirits suffer greatly under the implanting of HIS will and their intelligence is mostly limited. They gather together into hordes of one hundred up to one thousand individuals and they travel through the country looking for prey. Those of a high intelligence and an outstanding will withstand the pressure of transformation to some extent. Even if they are still under the control of HIM WHO FORCES, they maintain a large amount of their human form and an intact spirit in so far as that is possible, even if they all eventually succumb to some form of madness or passion. Their changes are mostly subtler, a third eye in the palm of their hand, or a hidden tongue of poison, as in our friend's case back there. We call these beings High Fangs. They are the ringleaders of the hordes - philosophers, spies or assassins. You're already well acquainted with the Dark Ones. Almost all of them fulfil special roles or are compliant stooges of the High Fangs. And above them all are the Transformers. They are the generals if you like. They obey only the Adversary'.

Ahren wondered at the wizard's words. 'What do you mean, 'willingly or not'?' he asked.

Uldini answered, 'the unwilling variation follows three different types. Firstly, chance. A few Borderlanders came under the wandering and dreaming will of the Betrayer. That could even happen outside the Border Lands at the beginning of the spell, but it was highly improbable and is impossible now because he is still sleeping too deeply. The same applies to the second variation. Someone had aroused HIS attention during the Dark Days and to such an extent that HE WHO FORCES went to the effort of searching after the troublemaker. Luckily, such a visitation can be easily avoided if one carries a sign of the THREE, usually as a pendant. Otherwise HE would have been able to destroy all the opposition in their sleep. The closer one is, the stronger the effect. That's why we have possibility number three, the most common one nowadays. It still regularly catches border guards who are careless and wander to within a length of the Pall Pillar, and then a medallion is of no use anymore. One of the reasons that the gods created the Paladins that time was their ability to withstand HIS willpower, even in direct contact'.

Uldini was now lost in his memories and stopped talking and so Falk took over the reins.

'The willing variation is very simple. You go to HIM and submit yourself to HIS will'.

Ahren was shocked. 'Who would do something like that', he asked, flabbergasted.

'You want power over other people, you see no point in your life, you are tired of taking independent decisions, you are running away from their consequences or you simply reject the THREE. Some of them only wanted to be on the side of the so-called victors. The lonely, the lost, the despised – they all ran to HIM and ended up as Low or High Fangs in HIS army. That's another reason. If you go to HIM of your own free will, then the transformation won't kill you. There was even the rumour that you could become a Transformer. People can be incredibly stupid'. Falk shook his head in disdain. The three rode along for a while in silence.

Then Uldini asked, 'The High Fang, what did he say to you that time at the trading post?'

Ahren thought hard. It had been weeks earlier and he hadn't attached much importance to it. Finally he said, 'something about me not needing to be lonely anymore. Something like that. Something about a shimmering path or an illuminating way, I think'.

Uldini and Falk were suddenly very uneasy and the magus asked carefully, 'was it the Illuminated Path, perhaps?'

Ahren thought for a moment, then nodded.

Falk looked grim and said, 'that was fast'.

The apprentice looked questioningly from one to the other and finally his master relented and offered an explanation.

'There was a cult in the Dark Days that taught the adoration of the Adversary. Their true god was buried under a heap of lies in order to lure the unhappy and weak. 'Never be lonely again, have no fear, abandon yourself to our community, be free of all doubts, all that rubbish. This all resulted in the poor souls freely putting themselves under HIS control. The name of this cult was 'the Illuminated Path''.

'It seems our enemy is organizing himself more quickly than expected', added Uldini.

'You think too vertically', said Falk in contradiction. 'Not everything is coming from HIM. I think the Transformers are preparing the ground for the harvest. Not that this possibility is much better'.

Uldini shrugged his shoulders. 'Whatever the case, I'm going to call on the Ancients to eradicate the cult in all the kingdoms before it can gain a foothold. Anyway, that will give them something meaningful to do'.

'Good idea', agreed Falk grimly.

They rode on in brooding silence and after a few lengths the rain started – thick heavy drops that soaked through to the skin within seconds.

Uldini looked up at the heavens and said, 'well, that figures'.

Ahren awoke, his breathing was fitful and his clothing stuck to his body under the blanket. Just as every night since the ambush he only slept a few hours before he was woken up by nightmares. Culhen was beside him as always, his warm pelt a rock withstanding his master's constant and alternate surges of fear and guilt. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw the faces of his enemies who had died at his hands. He was finding it impossible to shake off the memories no matter how hard he tried to justify his actions to himself.

At the start he had tried to calm his nerves by reaching the Void. But the ghosts of the dead were the new ghosts of the Void and so this refuge remained barred to him until he could find the opportunity to come to terms with his deeds. Logic told him that he had done the right thing, that he himself would have been killed had he not defended himself. But the very same logic told him that they had taken fourteen lives in order to save five. He was going around in circles and didn't know the way out.

Falk and Uldini were of no use whatsoever. His master would always say, 'the answers are already there, you just don't want to see them'. And Uldini spoke like an oracle. 'Each must find their own way to come to terms with it. Find the reason that justifies what you have done. Falk knows his and I have my own. Find yours and you shall find peace'.

This really didn't help the young man, but he struggled on, forced his way through the days as the ribbon of Evergreen grew bigger and bigger until they could recognize individual trees with the naked eye. According to Falk they would be there in two days and slowly the feelings of guilt gave way to curiosity and excitement. Only at night was it impossible to escape from his conscience in the nightmares that plagued him. Culhen would sense his disquiet and so lick his face and hit him playfully with his paws and within a few heartbeats they would be tussling for fun until Ahren would collapse, unable to breathe because he was laughing so much. Then he would stroke the fur of his friend and fall into a dreamless sleep.

The following days passed painfully slowly. The trees of Evergreen were growing into the skies before them but still they hadn't reached the tree border. He reckoned that most of the trees soared over fifty paces up into the heavens, and the green wall stretched unbroken from one end of the horizon to the other. He felt a sense of awe in the face of such an elemental force of nature. His master understood the expression on his apprentice's face, for he himself often wore it. He whispered to Ahren, 'wherever I go, Eathinian will always be my true home. It would take a person three years to cross it from east to west, and three months to travel from here to its northern end where the Icy Vasts await one. It would take you a whole lifetime to see all of Eathinian'. Ahren had never heard the old man gush like this, but there was always a painful undertone when he spoke of the forest of the elves. This part of their adventure was finally coming to a close and the following day they would enter at last into the safety of the Elfish forest in order to find the first of the three Einhans.


The green wall of trees soared ever higher as they traversed the final lengths to the Elfish forest. Shortly before that, they had passed by the Knight Marshes border station, a strangely humble stone building with an elderly man sitting snoring on a platform. Ahren had expected an imposing castle or some other symbol of power through which the kingdom would assert its border with the elves, but he was obviously mistaken. Falk had seen his puzzled look and explained the reason to him.

'There haven't been any border conflicts for centuries. The trees are a clear divide. The elves live within, the people outside. Everything has been peaceful since nobody tries to fell the trees anymore. A strong fortification would only increase tensions. And the more harmonious relations are, the more the trade road brings in. Money has always been a powerful motivation'.

The green giants were now soaring before the travellers into the sky and Ahren's first impression, that most of these trees had to be at least fifty paces tall, had proven itself to be true. Sweeping branches full of leaves created a green canopy above the forest floor. As he lowered his gaze to look ahead he saw that the trade path was snaking its way between the massive trunks of the enormous trees, and its appearance had altered markedly since they'd passed the border post. The massive stone slabs had made way to a curious green growth that made its way like velvet, smooth and shimmering.

They rode closer and Falk said, 'leave the talking to me'.

Ahren stretched his neck but could see nobody. There was no border post or guards, and while he was wondering what exactly Falk meant, two slim figures stepped out of the trees and onto the trade path from left and right and looked at them impassively. Ahren squinted his eyes in an effort to make out details, as these were the first elves he had ever seen in the flesh, but the distance was still too great.

Falk said quietly, 'we'll dismount here and lead the horses by their reins'.

Uldini grumbled but followed the others' example.

They slowly walked towards the two elves, who still hadn't moved a muscle. The whole situations seemed somewhat unreal to Ahren. They were still a hundred paces from the first trees but already they were stepping into the shade of the leafy canopy. Much to Ahren's surprise it had hardly darkened at all, but everything was lit up in a greenish lustre. He looked up and had to blink straight away. The leaves of the giant trees were strongly translucent and hardly stopped the sun at all. He was filled with a sense of security and peace, almost as if the canopy of leaves was keeping everything evil at bay and only the warmth and beauty of the world was allowed to pass through.

A light breeze ruffled the tree tops and the silent swoosh created a play of colours as shades of gold and green danced their way through the branches in ever changing variations as the sun found its way to the forest floor.

These sensual elements hit Ahren quite unexpectedly and tears of joy ran down his cheeks He felt safe for the first time since he had left Deepstone. Selsena emitted a storm of joy and happiness, which proved to the young man that he wasn't alone with his emotions. His master was walking before him but the young man could tell from his trembling shoulders that the old man was equally overcome.

He blinked away his tears and concentrated fully on the elves they were nearing. They were a dozen paces away and he could now make out all their features. Both were slim and tall with snow white hair that fell to their chests and down their backs in complicated plaits and coils. Their bodies were covered by unusual leather armour that Ahren had never come across before. The leather seemed to be made up of individually hardened leather pieces which were in a variety of curved shapes that made a complete, closed piece. Ahren could make out fine lines where the individual leather plates met up and he asked himself why anyone would dress themselves in armour like this with its dozens of weak points.

The guards were unarmed and looked at the travel party as they finally arrived with eyes that were calm yet penetrating. They didn't say a word to the arrivals and still hadn't moved, but still Ahren couldn't ignore them. The guards radiated a sort of quiet authority that warned everybody not to proceed without their permission. Falk cleared his throat after a few seconds of silence and said in a trembling voice, 'we wish to enter Eathinian in order to speak to Jelninolan'. He clearly wanted to say more but it seemed that the feelings that had surfaced on his return to the Elfish forest were overwhelming him. But there was something else. His shoulders were pulled in and he had sunk his head and was looking erratically from one guard to the other. His proud and unflinching master was coming across like a nervous and vulnerable Godsday student. This sight took Ahren aback, and he was even more dismayed when one of the guards said in a quiet but clear voice, 'we know who you are, Dorian Falkenstein. Your time under the Elfish trees was declared over. Turn around and return no more'. His master flinched at these words as if they had been accompanied by blows. Selsena gave a shrill neigh as a reaction to the emotional suffering her spiritual partner was enduring, and Ahren felt an anger building up inside him at the heartless way that these two elves had chastised the old man. Falk himself seemed to want to yield, and turned away, his face a picture of inner torment. Ahren was about to utter some scornful words when suddenly a crackling sound filled the air behind him. The apprentice spun around and saw Uldini. Ahren gasped and staggered backwards until he crashed into his horse, for he hardly recognized the wizard. He was floating a good one and a half paces above the ground and he was engulfed in an aura of flashes that was dancing over the ground and among the trees with a power that was almost tangible. His eyes were lit up in a painfully bright glow and when he spoke, his voice sounded like thunder, 'I am Uldini Getobo, beloved of the gods, supreme commander of the Ancients, weaver of the Bane Spell and protector of the Sunplains. I demand admission for me and my companions and an escort to Jelninolan. Now!'

The last word was accompanied by a tremendous blast that threw everyone off balance as it raced along the canopy of leaves and disappeared in the distance. The simultaneous whoosh of the leaves around them was deafening. Ahren had been in awe at the stillness of the guards, but the way the Arch Magus so easily made use of his absolute power was quite overwhelming. The elves were obviously of the same opinion for they turned without saying another word and led them into the Elfish forest. Ahren stared at the floating figure in front of him as if in a trance. The transformation of the childlike figure into this manifestation of light and willpower had stunned him so completely that he was rooted to the spot. Falk trotted in a daze behind the elves, still trapped in the painful suffering that the elves' rebuff had caused. Uldini floated forwards and whispered to Ahren as he passed him, 'now get a move on! You THREE, how I despise these sleights of hand'.

This comment was typical of the dry humour and Uldini's pragmatic nature that Ahren had got to know in the previous months and it broke the spell that the wizard's present appearance had on him. He was still in awe of the Arch Wizard's power play but he was no longer crippled with fear. He took his horse by the reins and hurried after the others. Uldini's aura hurt his eyes if he had looked at it for too long, so he concentrated on his surroundings instead.

The shimmering ribbon he had seen from the distance and on which he was now walking turned out to be a thick bed of moss that felt soft and feathery under his feet yet provided a secure footing. Ahren could see no kerbstone, but despite this the bed of moss was always three paces wide and led them into the wood, curving here and there around the giant trees. He looked around but neither boots nor hooves left their prints on the cultivated moss. Ahren didn't know of any plants that were so robust and his admiration for the elves increased. If the path leading them on was a minor miracle, then what wonders awaited them in the middle of the forest? He continued to study the scene around him and saw something moving in the branches high above him. A white-haired figure in leather armour and with a long bow in his hand was following them, hopping with fluid movements from branch to branch in the same way that Ahren used to jump from stone to stone as he crossed the little river at home. The grace and ease of movement almost distracted him from the danger the longbow above their heads presented. A quick look around revealed that at least six armed elves were keeping pace with them above and he was in no doubt that he hadn't spotted them all.

The apprentice wanted to talk with the others about them, but Falk was caught up in his own troubles and it would be impossible to have a quiet word with Uldini without going too near the lightning flashes that he was still emitting. The discharges seemed harmless enough as they were causing no damage to their surroundings, but the young man didn't want to risk his health on this assumption. So he said nothing, tried to ignore the armed escorts above them and concentrated instead on the elves who were leading them. High cheekbones and pointed chins gave their faces a somewhat triangular appearance. Their silver eyes twinkled forth from their finely drawn features. Their movements were supple and they almost came across as animals of prey that had been dressed in a human form. Now that they were moving, Ahren could see the functionality of their armouring. The variously shaped tiles of hardened leather floated on two levels, one over another and occasionally he could see leather strips, which connected the tiles, shining in the gaps between them. As he watched the elves move, he realized that this type of armouring offered total freedom of movement and the body was always protected by at least one layer of leather as the tiles harmoniously interacted with each other. Serpentine patterns were engraved on the individual tiles and so every movement of the elves presented a new combination of swirls and spirals that dazzled the eyes. He got a headache if he watched the patterns for any length of time.

Having satisfied his curiosity regarding his surroundings, Ahren glanced surreptitiously over at Falk. His master trotted, head hanging, behind the guards with Selsena close beside him. He seemed to have recovered some of his composure, but anguish could still be seen clearly on his face. The apprentice absently tickled Culhen behind the ears. The reformed Blood Wolf seemed to be in top form. Once they had entered the forest, he had been jumping with delight around the trees only to return every so often to be close to Ahren before running off again after a few heartbeats. The animal's joie de vivre was infectious and the peacefulness that Ahren had felt when they had all first entered the forest began to return.

The sun was a soft disc through the canopy of leaves and as the travel party moved silently on, it continued its upward journey in the sky. It was already almost midday when the scenery changed. Broad ribbons of woven cloth were stretched tautly under the tree tops between the branches and in this way created trails on which a few dozen elves went about their business. Ahren looked on in amazement as even elf children leapt fearlessly from material to material at heights of thirty paces in order to take shortcuts or to change their altitude. He could see little dwellings on almost every tree, made completely from the same woven material, slung artfully around the available branches. Intricate knots and designs transformed fabric into cheerful peaked roofs or round houses that resembled birds' nests, depending on the number and position of the supporting branches and the knots and folding techniques used.

Ahren took in the beauty of the Elfish settlement with wide-eyed astonishment. Not a single branch seemed to have been pruned, everything fitted harmoniously into the natural structures of the forest. The apprentice kept staring upwards and in the meantime more and more elves appeared, looking down on the new arrivals, mostly with curiosity, some grumpily. Only very few of the very young Elf children seemed afraid, all of the others reacted astonishingly calmly to the figure of Uldini, who was still spraying sparks around him as he floated.

Magic seemed to be nothing unusual here and soon Culhen was arousing more curiosity than the Arch Wizard. The elves, all of them white-haired and silver-eyed, were pointing down at Culhen and whispering excitedly to each other as the wolf rambled around the trees. Ahren gave a quiet whistle and Culhen trotted over to him before sitting beside him. The young man tickled Culhen's furry head in a deliberately exaggerated and intensive way to forestall any misunderstanding regarding his friend's nature and Culhen began to grumble with pleasure. Then he squatted down and let the wolf lick his face with his slobbery tongue. Giggling broke out from the surrounding treetops and the children hopped and climbed down the branches at lightning speed. Within ten heartbeats Culhen was surrounded by his new playfellows who were calling, teasing, feeding and romping with him. The young Blood Wolf was overjoyed and soon he was buried under a pile of giggling and laughing Elf children. Ahren felt a calloused hand on his shoulder as he watched the fun and games, and he heard the voice of his master. 'Very good work, boy. Elves are very closely connected to nature and her creatures. You have brought a Blood Wolf into their presence, but one who is a friend and has been wrested from the influence of the Adversary. That will bring us further than all the magic Uldini can invoke'.

Ahren looked at Falk, who smiled weakly. The pain was still visible in the old man's eyes, but his normal stoic composure had returned, and that was a step in the right direction.

One of the elf guards disappeared while the other one indicated with a hand gesture that they should wait. The apprentice compared their attitude with that of the other elves and he could hardly believe that their ice-cold escorts were also part of this community. All hostility had vanished from the faces of the inhabitants once Culhen had been accepted. Many greeted Ahren with a friendly nod or waved at him. Some performed a strange formal gesture in front of Falk which he reciprocated, beaming with joy. The tumult gradually died away, and those whose curiosity had been satisfied went off about their business. It was striking, however, that none of the adult elves came down to them.

When he mentioned this to Falk, the old man responded. 'The forest floor is not part of the settlement. It's as if we were outside the city walls. We are only inside once we have been invited up'.

'What sort of a gesture was it that the elves made to you?' asked Ahren, inquiring further. Now that his master was open to questions he wanted to make use of the opportunity while they were waiting.

'It's a welcome greeting. They're expressing their friendship in spite of the fact that I'm not supposed to be here'. Falk's voice wavered.

'Why did the guards turn you away? I thought you had already paid for your crime'. Ahren aimed for as gentle a tone as possible in order not to push his master too far.

But he responded in a surprisingly calm voice. 'It's nothing personal. Elfish laws permit visitors only a limited time under the trees of Eathinian. When this time has run out, you cannot return for a year. When I was serving my sentence in the forest, I exceeded the time span a hundredfold. So, when I left, I was told that I could only return after 237 years'. Ahren looked at him in amazement but Falk merely shrugged his shoulders. 'Elves have a different concept of time to humans'.

Before the apprentice could ask any more questions, the second guard was back, accompanied by an elf.

The female elves Ahren had seen in the trees may have resembled those in the stories – tall, slim, white-haired with finely drawn features – but the elf he was looking at now definitely stood out from the crowd.

The first thing that struck Ahren was her red hair, which framed a friendly face. Intense green eyes looked curiously up at him in a friendly manner. The elf was on the short side and rounder without being any less dainty. When she saw Falk she smiled and Ahren's heart missed a beat. The goodness and warmth of her smile overwhelmed him and within a heartbeat he knew that he would defend this elf with his life.

Dazzled by her radiance, he watched Falk kneel in front of her with a serious face and murmur something in Elfish. She merely smiled in return, patted him behind the ears and pulled him to his feet.

'Speak so that all of us can understand you. Where are your manners?' Then she gave his master a hearty embrace and said, 'I was never angry with your decision, only with the way you treated Selsena. She's on your side again so I bear no grudges'.

Ahren thought the little elf sounded like a mother but the tone of her voice and her self-confidence suggested that her short statement could also have been a knight's dictum. He realized that this thought may not have been so far off the mark when he saw that the two guards had relaxed at last and were now grinning at Falk. The elf let go of Falk, who quietly wiped a tear from his eye, and she turned to Uldini, kneeling before him and stretching her arms out.

'Aunt Jelninolan!' screamed Uldini and jumped at her like a little boy. Ahren looked on open-mouthed as the elf lifted up the Arch Wizard and spun him around like a little child while he giggled uncontrollably. Her radiance had just as powerful an effect on his companions as on himself. But who was this woman?

Falk turned to him and gave a hearty laugh when he saw the young man's face.

He said in a cheerful voice, 'Ahren, chosen to be the thirteenth Paladin, allow me to introduce you to the Arch Wizardess Jelnilolan, high priestess of HER WHO FEELS'. The elf gave a little curtsy that seemed more playful than formal and smiled at him. The full impact of her radiance overwhelmed him as her green eyes bore into his, and he felt the full extent of her goodness and friendliness.

A feeling of security began to spread within him as she spoke. 'The blessings of HER WHO FEELS be upon you always. May all creatures under HER control recognize your heart and behave accordingly'.

And she placed a soft hand on his cheek. Ahren closed his eyes and enjoyed the comfortable feeling, above all else of being protected, and a small part of his heart wondered if that was how it felt when you had a mother. As far as Ahren was concerned, he could have remained standing there for hours, but suddenly he felt a push between his legs and heard an excited whimper. Culhen had freed himself from the mass of elf children and now pushed Ahren roughly aside so that he could push himself forward on his stomach towards Jelninolan, whimpering and wagging his tail and looking for her hand with his head. The elf priestess looked thoughtfully for a moment at the Blood Wolf, then smiled again and repeated her words, while she placed a hand on Culhen's head, between his ears. The animal was now completely silent and at the end of the blessing he tilted his head and looked up at Jelninolan with curious eyes. Everything was still for two heartbeats. Only the gentle rustle of the trees could be heard. It was only now that Ahren noticed that all the elves were watching them spellbound, without making a sound. Then Culhen sat up on his hind legs, tilted back his head, and uttered a long howl that reverberated loudly through the forest. Ahren flinched, but he was the only one to do so. All the others smiled and ruffled his fur or patted his head. He jumped away and into a crowd of squealing elf children who welcomed him even more enthusiastically than they had the first time. It seemed his friend had passed some sort of test without even knowing about it.

The high priestess turned and waved at them to follow her. Ahren trotted after the others wearily. The roller coaster of emotions he had experienced in such a short time was taking their toll.

Culhen stayed behind and didn't react to his commands, but Falk simply said, 'Leave him be. It's better if the children keep him occupied than you have to control him. When animals receive the blessing of the goddess, they're full of beans for a few days'.

'It felt really lovely', whispered Ahren quietly as the latest experiences overwhelmed him again. Falk nodded and said, 'the blessing is reserved only for elves and a select few other creatures, or to be more precise, for highly valued animals and a handful of esteemed outsiders. It's only bestowed once, so treasure this in your memory'.

As they were speaking they went around a massive tree trunk and began climbing one of the cloth paths which resembled a ramp and rose gently into the branches. Ahren was surprised at how securely his feet held their grip and how little give there was in the cloth under their steps.

His mastered continued, 'you and Culhen are part of a community that is respected by all natural living beings. Every animal, every plant will recognize this blessing and as long as you remain in harmony with them, they will always consider themselves your allies'.

It all sounded very vague and Ahren was too exhausted to think about it so he just nodded.

Satisfied, Falk continued, 'one of the reasons we came here was so that you would receive this blessing. I actually thought Jelninolan would wait until the ritual itself, but elves are very spontaneous and sensitive to feelings by nature. It seems I drummed enough respect for nature into you to make them satisfied with what they saw in you'. He leaned forwards, 'and between you and me, rescuing Culhen from the claws of the Adversary has made you a lot of friends here in no time at all. I underestimated that reaction completely'.

They walked on in silence and finally reached the first level, which had a few dwellings. Ahren looked at one of them curiously from up close. Intertwined lengths of cloth were artfully arranged in patterns and shapes, creating here a wall, there a window, not to mention gables. He pressed his finger against one of the cloth walls but it only gave way half a finger length. He tried to follow the direction of one of the lengths of cloth, but failed. The patterns were so complex that his head hurt if he concentrated on them too much. His eyes began to water at the effort so he shook his head and gave up. Uldini popped up beside him and laughed.

'Leave it be. The human brain isn't cut out for this art. It took me three years before I understood the basics that time'.

Ahren remembered the emotional reaction when the Arch Magician greeted the elf.

'She's not really your aunt, is she?' he asked quietly.

Uldini laughed again. 'No, of course not. When I discovered the secret of eternal life, I was a nine year old slave boy in the clutches of a below average magician. I didn't know what sort of a formula I had deciphered and were it not for Jelninolan, I wouldn't have survived the following day. Had I told my owner, it would have been all up with me. But luckily all Arch Wizards can sense when a new member has joined their ranks. She was outside my sleeping place when day broke the following morning and she bought me. I spent the following decades here and received a proper education in the magic arts'. The little figure sighed. 'Those were happy times'.

The news that Jelninolan was older than Uldini didn't surprise Ahren. He had expected elves to be age-old and wise, and it was comforting to him that at least one of his assumptions had been proven correct. Falk and Jelninolan were whispering to each other like old friends.

Ahren racked his brains trying to remember, and then asked Uldini quietly, 'wasn't Falk afraid of meeting her?'

The Arch Wizard chuckled gleefully. 'Before Falk came to Eathinian that time, he had decided not to work with me again. Selsena didn't agree with his decision and was angry with him. It all became loud and horrible and finally she galloped off in a rage and Falk had to make his own way through the world. When in the end he was in a degenerate state and running riot around Eathinian, Jelninolan intervened. She wasn't happy at his behaviour and let him know that in no uncertain terms when he was doing his compulsory labour in the forest. Ever since his exile Falk has always feared another confrontation. Believe me, if he hadn't made it up to Selsena, the reunion would have been twice as loud and half as harmonious'. Uldini grimaced and placed a hand on Ahren's arm so that he stood still and looked the sorcerer in the eye.

'You've noticed this peaceful feeling when she looks at you, haven't you?'

The young man nodded and found himself smiling automatically at the memory. So everyone had the same feeling in her presence, he thought.

'And now imagine her angry and shouting at you'.

Ahren shrank back and looked doubtfully at the red-haired, roundish elf walking in front of them. Somehow he couldn't imagine this personification of peacefulness and goodness becoming enraged. But he wouldn't give her any reason to reprimand him, just to be on the safe side.

Falk and the high priestess had stopped outside a large, angular dwelling which could almost pass for a human tree house.

She turned around and said, 'this is one of our guest chambers. The first few days under the trees are always very disturbing for people. Rest yourselves and have something to eat. We'll talk again early tomorrow. In the meantime I'll speak to the forest and listen to what he has to say'. Then she turned on her heels and left without waiting for a response.

Ahren looked after her and Uldini chuckled quietly.

'Like a strange mixture of motherly sternness and kingly authority, don't you think? I've learnt to contradict her only when it's absolutely necessary'.

Falk mumbled something to himself and took a fresh fruit from the bowl that was standing there ready. Ahren took one too and looked around him.

The dwelling consisted of a large room that, with the help of loosely hanging lengths of material was divided into three sleeping areas and one main room. Plump cushions for sitting on were scattered around the floor and naturally grown branches which never seemed to get in the way served as storage places for bowls, jugs and glasses. The three ate in silence and found themselves being enveloped by the same peaceful mood that they had experienced when they first entered the elf forest. Nobody wanted much to talk, each person dwelling on their own thoughts. Falk seemed more relaxed than he had been in weeks and Uldini less serious. Ahren enjoyed the feeling of contentment and safety that radiated from everything around him. He closed his eyes, gave a contented sigh and fell asleep on the spot.


Ahren woke up, fresh as a daisy. He lay there with his eyes closed and enjoyed the peace of the moment. The greenish light of Eathinian warmed his face and the rustling of the trees soothed his spirit. The silence around him could only mean that the others had got up before him and the fact that Culhen hadn't licked his face suggested that his four-legged friend was playing with the tireless elf children. After a while his curiosity concerning the Elfish settlement won out over the peace of his sleeping space.

He opened his eyes and stretched himself and noticed that somebody, in all likelihood Falk, had carried him to one of the separate sleeping areas and peeled him out of his leather clothing. Ahren smiled in gratitude, rotated his shoulders and stretched his back in order to loosen himself.

He pulled the length of cloth aside and stepped into the main space. As he had suspected, none of the others were there. Fresh fruit was laid out in the bowl that they had already eaten out of the previous day, and Ahren dived right in. He almost emptied the bowl, and as he was eating he kept glancing outside curiously. It only dawned on him then that there were no doors to be seen. The entrance to their dwelling wasn't even hung with cloth and when he looked around he could see that the same was true for the other cloth constructions in the vicinity. He only saw a few elves and very few other new things. It seemed as though the guest quarters were chosen so that they were somewhat separate from the rest of the community. Ahren did have a fine view of the forest, but if he wanted to see anything else he had to crane his neck or leave the house.

Unsure of where to go, he first returned a little on the path they had come in on the previous day. He peered curiously into every cloth house he passed. Most of them were empty; now and then there would be an elf sitting in one, eating, who would give a friendly nod. He wondered where everyone was, but soon he realized that the settlement stretched out over several levels and there would certainly be something like a village square somewhere. He had seen the elf children climbing up and down the cloth paths the day before and these connected the various levels. Ahren was on the lowest level, exactly at the height where the foliage on the giant trees began. He looked down into the depths and he was only too happy that he had a head for heights for there were at least two dozen paces between himself and the forest floor. He could make out above him at least two further paths among the branches that led to different heights. After wandering around for a little he came to the cloth ramp that led downwards to the forest floor. He hadn't seen anybody below him as yet so he carried on walking in search of a path that led upwards. The cloth ribbon snaked its way between the tree trunks sometimes gently inclining or declining. Ahren could see that the wide cloth path that he was walking on was artfully wound around the branches at regular intervals as it led past them. He never had the feeling that he would lose his footing, and the path always gave him a feeling of stability. Whether that was down to the qualities of the unusual material or the almost magical knotting and wrapping techniques used by the elves, he could not tell. For a while he wandered aimlessly. Here and there the ribbons would intersect and now and then Ahren would take a turning in the hope that he would see a familiar face or find the path that led upwards. He called after Culhen a few times, but the Blood Wolf was undoubtedly enjoying himself with his new playmates and Ahren didn't begrudge him that pleasure. This was the first time since Deepstone that the animal found itself in a community that accepted him without question, and the young man was determined to allow his friend to enjoy this positive experience as much as possible.

He strolled on, taking in the idyllic peace and majestic beauty of the elf forest. The emotions that the enormous trees and the greenish light had stirred up in him the previous day had been tumultuous and overwhelming, but today they had a more subtle influence on him, like the steady sound of a noisy waterfall, just far enough away not to be a disturbance, but close enough to penetrate everything he was experiencing. The result was an inner calm and clarity, which lay over every thought that came to him.

At last he spotted a ramp among the branches that led upwards and into the distance. He smiled contentedly and walked purposefully towards it. As he approached it, he noticed a group of trees that were even taller than the ones whose branches he was walking among. There were at least two dozen of them, leafy giants soaring at least a hundred paces into the skies. Ahren could see a large platform, seemingly floating between their mighty stems, and buzzing with elves. The ramp he was on led upwards to the platform and Ahren quickened his steps. The nearer he approached, the smaller he felt in the presence of the gigantic trees. He concentrated on the platform ahead and noticed after a time that it was not floating but was attached through a series of ropes that were variously attached upwards and downwards to the surrounding enormous trees. There were well over two hundred elves scurrying around the platform going about their business, and most of them seemed to be artisans. This had to be the centre of the elf city.

Ahren rapidly ascended the ramp, and he noticed that the layer of material, out of which the platform was constructed, was the thickness of his forearm and the material was intertwined in complicated patterns. He reached the top of the ramp and stopped at the edge of the circular surface to get an overview of the scene playing out in front of him. There were elves everywhere, sitting or standing, performing the most varied of tasks, and strange sounds and smells permeated the air. There were some trades he recognized immediately: weavers, tailors, cooks and tanners. But he also saw trades that clearly involved magic. Two dozen paces away he saw a group of six elves who were working a lump of metal together. Where one human or dwarf would have used a hammer, an anvil and a roaring fire, here five of the elves sang to the lump of metal while the last she-elf formed the metal into a long blade with her hands, stroking the material again and again, warping it ever so slightly with each gentle stroke. Finally the blade was finished and the song faded to a whisper. Ahren unwittingly moved closer, still wanting to hear the sound of the elf voices. The woman blacksmith now ran her finger nail over the surface of the blade and scored patterns and signs on both sides of the metal before she paused and the whispering ceased. Ahren was sure the workers were finished when suddenly the five singers held hands and began to sing full-throatedly. The woman smith held the blade on her outstretched hands and slowly turned around in the middle of the circle, looking each singer in the eye for several heartbeats. A silver shimmer covered the blade for a moment, then the singing stopped and all six sank onto the floor and into a deep sleep, the blade still resting on the hands of the woman smith. This seemed most unusual to Ahren and he looked around to see if anyone had taken notice of this unusual scene. But with the exception of a few approving looks, nobody batted an eyelid.

Ahren shook his head and walked on. He saw at least seven further elf groups lying on the floor and sleeping. Quiet song seemed to accompany all of the more difficult actions that were being performed here. Not alone did he see blacksmiths, but also potters, carpenters and bowyers, surrounded by up to a dozen elves who were giving them magical support. Now the young man understood the elf tales the other peoples had related. Magic seemed to come so naturally to them that they used it to make even the easiest tasks simpler. But Ahren was actually quite thankful that his was the case. The thought of a blacksmith's fire on a platform made from cloth which was seventy paces in the air was quite terrifying to him. He strolled on, looking at all sorts of magical handcrafting until he finally saw familiar faces. Falk and Jelninolan were sitting together in the middle of the platform and deep in conversation. They would probably send him away but he wanted to say hello at least and ask what was going to happen next. As he neared them they looked up and their serious demeanours disappeared.

'Sit down, Ahren', said the elf priestess with a warm smile and Falk grunted in approval. Ahren did as he was told, all the while watching in fascination how an elf, three paces away, was manufacturing glass. He put his hands into a bowl of sand, while the other three elves overlayed a magic spell through their song. The first elf pulled out his hands, holding a lump of soft glass which he skillfully manipulated into a goblet. On the ground beside him were over two dozen other goblets, all exactly alike. Ahren pointed over at the trades-people and said in astonishment, 'nobody will believe the wonders I have seen since stepping on to this platform'.

Jelninolan chuckled and said, 'we must come across as very pretentious, showing off our magical abilities so intensely, and in public. If truth be told, there hasn't been an elf born yet that has had more than the most rudimentary skill in using a hammer'.

Ahren looked over at his master in puzzlement, who laughed loudly when he saw the young man's face.

'She isn't exaggerating. All elves are very talented in magic, but they are truly awful as classical hand-workers', he explained.

The priestess giggled again but then became serious. 'You have to understand we are a people guided completely by feelings. That's reflected in our magic and in all our dealings. If we feel the materials, we can create amazing things using our bare hands, but if we have to use a tool, we lose this direct connection and the results are…not very impressive. Magic is our tool. Our workers in magic always work in groups, as you can see'.

Ahren nodded towards the sleeping group. 'And what about them? I saw the same with the woman smith earlier. There are a lot of people sleeping, considering it's a workshop'.

There was a touch of disapproval in his voice.

The elf responded calmly. 'That's presumably why the rumour exists that we elves are lazy and lie around in the sun all day. Our magic is exhausting and we invest all our feelings into the things we create. It wouldn't work otherwise. It's energy-sapping and we get tired quickly. I think our average craftsperson works about two hours a day. But we create more in that time than others do in ten hours. So we're quite satisfied with that'.

Ahren looked thoughtfully over at the sleeping figures until he was brought back to the present by Falk's calloused hand as it slapped the back of his head.

'Don't think now that you can be lying around in the sun too. Make yourself useful instead and go find your wolf. Time is running out and we should head off this afternoon', grunted the old man.

'Head off? Where?' asked Ahren, disappointed. 'We came here to find an Einhan for you' replied his master, 'and to take an elf artifact with us that we will need for the ritual. Unfortunately it's not here, but deeper in the forest'. At this point Falk gave Jelninolan a poisonous look and she looked back at him scornfully.

'Don't look at me like that. It was the Voice of the forest that decided. You know full well I cannot go against the Voice'.

Falk harrumphed and looked away. It looked as though trouble was brewing between the two of them so Ahren stood up in order to look for Culhen. Then he paused for a moment and asked, 'who is going to be my Einhan?' Jelninloan smiled at him and said, 'I will be your advocate of course, And now go look for your wolf before he hides himself in the forest to escape from over-boisterous elf children. Take the ramp back there, after two hundred paces there's a descent to the ground. He should be around there somewhere'.

Proud that the elf priestess considered him worthy to become the thirteenth Paladin, Ahren turned around and followed the route indicated. Every so often he would stop and look in amazement at another wonder being created by the craft-elves. Now that Ahren knew the background, he found the process less mystical but all the more enterprising. The elves certainly knew how to compensate for their natural limitations through the use of magic. He was even more cheerful now he knew that Jelninolan would be accompanying them. Their task would certainly be made easier by the presence of another friendly soul to combine with Selsena's on their journey. He left the platform and soon found the ramp that led him downwards. Once he was on the forest floor he immediately looked for signs of the wolf and found them immediately. The young wolf's paw prints, which were now very big, could be seen everywhere. It seemed he had been playing with some of the children again. The challenge was to find the tracks that indicated where he was now among the prints left by the children jumping here and there, not to mention the ones that simply went around in circles. Ahren followed a track that went around a tree in an ever-increasing circle before it led into the forest. After some minutes he heard an excited whimpering and yowling. He knew the sound. His friend must have flushed out some game which had retreated to the safety of a tree. That always frustrated Culhen and then he would make this grumbly whimpering sound, as if he wanted the world to know the injustice of it all - that wolves couldn't climb trees - although the best food was to be found up there.

Ahren reached the Blood Wolf within a few heartbeats. Culhen glanced briefly over his shoulder before fixing all his attention on the tree again and continuing with his grumbling and whimpering. The young Forest Guardian looked up the tree to see if he could find the cause of his friend's discomfort. Several man-lengths above him he saw something move. There was something dark perched on one of the lower branches and it seemed to be doing something to the stem. Ahren couldn't make out its shape and he whispered absently to Culhen, 'what have you flushed out there, my friend?' He squinted his eyes in an attempt to make out some details.

Much to his surprise, the potential prey seemed to have heard his quiet words. It turned its long, narrow head towards him and glanced at him with its smouldering red eyes. It had a hooked, blackish-red beak which ended in a razor-sharp point. It gave a short warning chatter before turning back to its original position and Ahren again saw its amorphous, black outline, which he now identified as a dull, leathery back.

He slowly went down on one knee and put his arm around Culhen in order to quieten the wolf, all the while trying to breathe calmly.

It was a Swarm Claw. He would recognize them anywhere, ever since the night in the hostelry. What was a servant of the Betrayer doing in the elf forest? According to Falk, they didn't dare come here. But here was one, sitting up in that tree and ignoring him. Suddenly a terrible thought struck him. What if the bird wasn't alone?

He began to check the surrounding trees for more of them, all the while instinctively holding his breath. He was terrified at the thought that he may have wandered into the middle of a swarm of them and that dozens of sharp beaks could rip into his flesh. It would be a pretty unedifying end to his brief career as a Forest Guardian.

Luckily, the bird seemed to be on its own. Ahren gave a sigh of relief and slowly began to move backwards. But Culhen whimpered quietly and remained rooted to the spot. Ahren gave the wolf an agonized look and then looked back up at the black outline in the tree. Of course he should do something against the Dark One, but he had left his bow and armour at the lodgings. It had never crossed his mind that he would have to fight here in the elf forest. He only had his hunting knife. True to his word he had never left the house again without his short knife. He slept with it, ate with it, even went to the privy with it. The only problem was, if he wanted to take action he would have to tackle an enemy with his knife. An enemy who was a dozen paces up and who could fly. He needed a plan and he needed more information. He circled the tree as slowly and as quietly as possible until he was to the side of the Swarm Claw and able to make out what the animal was doing up there.

There was a knothole in a massive branch of the tree, and the beak was constantly disappearing inside, hacking away at something. The Swarm Claw was on the hunt. Ahren watched for a few heartbeats and considered the situation. He was confused. According to Vera's books and Falk's lessons, Swarm Claws caught their prey by swooping on them in an ambush. They would skewer the smaller victims in their sharp claws and carry them away. They would bore through the larger prey with their beaks, mainly attacking the eyes and throat. This hunting pattern was unusual, as were the facts that the animal was here and alone. Whatever was in this tree, it was irresistible to this monstrous bird.

Ahren bit his lips and considered his options. It would probably take too long for him to go and get his bow. The same applied to looking for help. Allowing the Dark One to escape was an option but the thought of appearing before his master without having done anything was unbearable to the young man. Anyway, the Swarm Claw had seen him and if he got away, then all the Dark Ones that were hunting him and his companions would know exactly where to find the travellers. The Swarm Claw had to die, preferably before it killed its prey. At the moment it was pre-occupied but once it had what it wanted it would doubtless take flight. Ahren drew his hunting knife and weighed it in his hand. Falk had practised knife-throwing with him, but only over very short distances if he couldn't use the bow, and always as a last resort.

'Throwing a knife is the same as disarming yourself', his master liked to say. It was highly unlikely that Ahren could fatally injure a Swarm Claw with a top-heavy hunting knife at a distance of twelve paces and in an upward direction. He would be more likely to hit it with a stone, but that would disturb rather than injure the Dark One. Maybe the bird would then attack him rather than flee. Both options were not particularly attractive to the young Forest Guardian. That left one other option – Ahren would have to climb up and take the animal by surprise. Not the best plan, but the only one. He couldn't climb up the trunk. The animal would see and hear him coming. It would have to be a neighbouring tree.

Ahren had a quick look around and found a suitable candidate. It was an older tree, its trunk nicely gnarled with plenty of grip, and one of its branches grew high enough for Ahren to be able to attack the bird from above with a leap. He quickly imagined all the things that could possibly go wrong in this enterprise, but a weak squeak from the knothole told him that time was running out. The Swarm Claw's prey was tiring. It was now or never.

A crouching run got him as far as the old tree and he climbed it quickly, always careful that the trunk would be between him and the other tree, where the Dark One was increasing its efforts to catch its prey. In little more than ten heartbeats he was at the same height as the Swarm Claw. He climbed a little further up the trunk and then began to move around it as quietly as possible. Finally he saw the branch he had selected when he was on the ground and stretched his whole body so that he could pull himself up to it in one fluid movement. Squatting and on his stomach he slowly began to push himself forwards into the leafy, younger part of the foliage that grew at the end of the branch, which would bring him to within two paces of the Dark One. The aromatic, slightly resinous smell of the leaves wafted into his nostrils and the comfortably gnarled, barky structure of the wood gave him a stable hold. The trees in this forest were perfect for climbing and Ahren understood once again the deep love his master felt for this place.

These thoughts dissipated as soon as the prey squeaked again and Ahren carefully stood up on the branch, now no thicker than his thigh. He could just make out the Swarm Claw's leathery skin through the leaves, about a man's length under him and one pace away. It had now stuck its head completely into the hole as it sought to finish the hunt. Without thinking of what he was going to do next, Ahren drew his hunting knife, prepared himself, and leaped, planning to land behind the Dark One on the branch, hold on to the branch with one hand and stab with the other.

But when he landed on the branch behind the Swarm Claw, he realized that he had jumped too far. He fell on his knees, slipped from the branch with hand outstretched and was in danger of falling. With the greatest of difficulty he managed to get into a squatting position on the shaking branch with the help of his free hand, and clasped the hunting knife with his other hand.

The bird had meanwhile used the time to pull its head out of the hole and turned with a light hop. It seemed to be mocking the young Forest Guardian as he tried desperately to find his balance. The Swarm Claw spread its leathery wings in a threatening manner and swung its razor-sharp beak with lightning quick movements back and forth. Any normal bird would have taken flight at this point but the Dark One was having none of it. Ahren squatted lower and eventually managed to regain his balance, when the Swarm Claw's beak lunged forward, almost catching his knee. He quickly brought his dagger between himself and his opponent. He forced himself to breathe deeply and fixed the bird with his watchful eyes, swinging the blade in easy circles here and there. For his own part, Ahren was being stared at by one fixed, red eye. The Swarm Claw had tilted its head to one side and was following the movements of the weapon.

And so these unequal opponents watched each other cagily, each ready to pounce on the other's mistake. The attack on his knee showed Ahren the evil intelligence of the beast. The beak didn't need to reach his face or his neck. It would be enough if he fell. Many people had fallen victim to the Dark Ones because they had only seen them as wild animals. But the will of the Betrayer, who had forced himself on them, meant they were not only larger and faster, but also cleverer and more brutal. And it was these differences that made these creatures so dangerous. Ahren had already experienced this during the fight with Culhen's mother, and also in the battle with the Fog Cats in Deepstone, but nowhere had he seen this so clearly and intensively as here, on this tree, in this duel of the eyes with a bird that would send him to his death if he made the smallest mistake.

Fifty heartbeats passed by and neither of them moved, only the arm with the knife weaved its defensive dance between them. The bird sat there as if frozen until Ahren had to shift his weight to relieve his protesting muscles. The blade swung to the side for a heartbeat as he turned his foot and suddenly the Swarm Claw was transformed into an explosive hail of beak thrusts. Ahren parried the attacks instinctively but had to endure two painful cuts to his left arm. Neither of them were particularly dangerous but they bled enough to make his knife hand slippery and they would weaken him if the duel dragged on.

The Swarm Claw was stock still again and looking at him with its smouldering eye, waiting for his next mistake. The young Forest Guardian feverishly considered his options, but he just couldn't think of a way out of this dilemma. The Dark One was just as fast as he was, its small size was an advantage on this narrow branch, and even its beak was slightly longer than his blade, so his longer reach wasn't an advantage. And he also had to protect his knees, which stuck out towards the bird because of the way he was squatting. The cuts in his forearm were burning, and so he was left with only one option. He would have to stab once with all his might, right into the Dark One's breast and hope that the Swarm Claw wouldn't injure him to the point where he'd fall from the tree.

Ahren gathered himself together and sank his doubts and fears into the Void, then tensed every muscle in his body as he prepared for the lunge. His opponent noticed the change and slowly began to spread its wings to go into attack mode. Ahren knew now that the element of surprise was gone so he prepared for the worst and threw himself forward on to the Swarm Claw and towards its terrifying beak.

The bird was about to react but suddenly there was a most terrifying, bloodcurdling howl from the foot of the tree that petrified any animal within a radius of five lengths. Ahren too would have flinched but for the fact that he was already in mid-flight, and so it was only the Swarm Claw that reacted, looking briefly to its side at the howling Culhen. It hesitated for less than half a heartbeat, but that was enough for Ahren's blade to land with a heavy thud and it bore into the monster's chest as far as the hilt. The beast swung its beak back but it was too late. Quick as a flash, Ahren let go of the grip and the bird fell from the tree, wildly hacking all around it and trying to hit out with its claws until it fell into Culhen's waiting fangs and was torn to shreds by the angry wolf. Ahren collapsed onto his stomach, his arms and legs dangling on either side of the branch as he slowly returned from the Void, breathing deeply and trying to calm his shaking body.

He looked gratefully down at Culhen who was busily tearing the Swarm Claw apart. He enjoyed the coolness of the branch on his cheek and the aromatic smells of the forest in his lungs. He silently thanked the THREE for the fact that he was still alive, then slowly picked himself up. Faint sounds and a tiny movement in the knothole reminded him that the Swarm Claw had been hunting something. It seems that its victim had survived. He pushed himself forward slowly. He had had enough confrontations with animals while balancing on a branch for one day. He turned his attention to the opening in the tree and he was struck by its frayed, irregular edging. He could see nicks everywhere and it took him a moment to understand what he was looking at. The Swarm Claw had widened the opening with its beak so it could push further inside. The actions of the monster were proving to be ever more peculiar and Ahren hoped that it hadn't been infected with a disease, now that a large part of it had ended up in Culhen's stomach.

He glanced down and saw that his friend was rolling around in the grass, trying to get the blood off before patiently starting to lick his fur clean. He then directed his attention back to the mistreated knothole and peeked carefully into it. Two curious eyes above a few shivering whiskers looked back at him. In front of him was a chipmunk with a nasty gash on one side of his fur.

An elf chipmunk, Ahren silently corrected himself. The fur was white, the stripes and eyes, silvery. SHE WHO FEELS had a weakness for this combination of colours, thought Ahren, amused. The little animal made angry noises at him and he placed his uninjured hand, which had no specks of blood, carefully into the hole so that it could become familiar with his smell. He wasn't sure how bad the injury was and there was no way he was going to leave the animal there to die after he had just risked his own life in his fight with the Swarm Claw.

He decided he would leave out the chipmunk when he reported back to Falk and concentrate instead on maintaining the secrecy of their whereabouts as his reason for killing the Dark One. That sounded much more heroic and there would be less likelihood of his master and Uldini collapsing into fits of laughter.

The chipmunk sniffed around at his hand, then jumped without hesitation onto his palm and curled up. Ahren raised his eyebrows in surprise.

'Are you somebody's pet?' he whispered quietly. He slowly drew his hand back and looked down at the tiny animal. It was difficult to examine him up here and it was hard enough to climb down with an injured arm, let alone holding a chipmunk as well. With soothing sounds he placed the animal in the inside of his jerkin and began his slow descent. His injured arm was painful and the blood made the tree slippery, and he couldn't lean against the tree-trunk for fear of squashing the chipmunk. It took him ten times longer than normal to get to the forest floor and by the time he got there he was bathed in sweat.

Culhen was waiting for him with his tail wagging, and began sniffing at his jerkin excitedly. Ahren couldn't help smiling and gently pushed his head away.

'Leave the tiny tot alone. He'll hardly want to see an over-enthusiastic Blood Wolf after being attacked by a Swarm Claw'.

Culhen sat down on his hind paws and gave the young Forest Guardian a reproachful look. Ahren became serious, went down on one knee and pressed his head into his friend's furry shoulder.

'Thank you for your help', he murmured. 'You saved my life today'.

Cuhlen turned his head and licked his master's face, then pressed his nose into Ahren's jerkin again. The young man shook his head and turned away, rolling back the torn sleeve on his injured forearm.

'Here, stop frightening our guest and make yourself useful'. Ahren held his cuts in front of the wolf, who sniffed at them for a moment before beginning to lick Ahren's forearm and hand clean. The animal's tongue burned like fire but Falk and he had made the amazing discovery in the previous few months that Culhen's saliva had a cleansing effect on cuts and abrasions. Blood Wolves had a reputation for recovering quickly from wounds but nobody had known how exactly they did it. His master was amazed to learn that there was something as profane as medicinal saliva. Culhen finished his work and began once again to sniff for the chipmunk. Now that his injured arm had been taken care of, Ahren reached carefully into his shirt and took out the shy animal, indicating to Culhen with his other arm that he should keep his distance. He held the chipmunk in front of his face and examined the cut he had noticed above in the animal's flank. There was one good thing about the Swarm Claws' razor-sharp beaks. The cuts were clean and the wound edges even. Normal claws would tear and fray the skin making treatment much more difficult and they would take longer to heal. A quick glance at his arms revealed that his wounds had already been transformed into fine, red lines, and a thin crust was beginning to grow on them. Culhen's saliva seemed to thicken the blood somehow, which enabled them to close up sooner. But that was as far as it went. Now the wounds had to continue to heal normally.

Ahren turned his attention back to the little animal in his hand. It was lying on its uninjured side and seemed to be very weak. All of its left side was soaked in blood. The cut was not deep but very long, from its hind leg up to its left ear. Ahren chewed the inside of his cheek uncertainly while he considered what to do next.

He then spoke in a determined and urgent voice.

'Culhen, listen to me now. You won't eat this little fellow, will you? I know he looks really tasty but it would be terrible to rescue him first only to gobble him up later, don't you agree? But you can sniff him and give him a good lick, what do you think?'

The Blood Wolf had tilted his head sideways and his eyes hadn't left the chipmunk while he licked his chops. The young Forest Guardian hoped that his friend would react at the very least to his stern tone of voice. He slowly put his protective arm to the side and held the injured animal in front of Culhen's mouth, still speaking to the Blood Wolf. If Culhen's saliva didn't seal the wound, then the little animal would die anyway, so it was worth the risk. Ahren had always asserted that the Blood Wolf understood more than simple commands even though Falk was sceptical. Now he'd find out if he had been right. The wolf sniffed at his potential prey and licked his chops again. Ahren spoke in a sterner voice and finally his friend's head shot forward and sank over the helpless animal. The pink tongue, just as big as the rodent, licked the stripy body a couple of times and then Culhen sat back on his hind legs and looked up at Ahren with his head tilted.

'Good wolf!' cried Ahren and tickled his friend euphorically behind the ears, while still looking at the little patient. The animal was either sleeping or had fainted in panic, but the cut looked good and the blood was already coagulating. He would have to nurse his patient back to health for one or two days perhaps, but then he would be able to let him loose in the wild again with a good conscience. Ahren stood upright, stroked Culhen's head again and headed back along the path towards the village.

The walk back was exactly as he imagined his entire stay in a protected elf forest would be. The singing of birds and the fluttering of leaves filled the air, a multitude of smells enlivened his steps and the soft forest floor turned the walk into a most enjoyable perambulation. The peace which he had felt inside him on their arrival was back again and Ahren noticed that he had taken the longer walk through the forest, which led to the ramp bringing them to the guest quarters. He wanted to get changed anyway before meeting up with Falk and his little stripy friend urgently needed something to eat in order to regain its strength. He came to their dwelling with the sun well past its zenith and he knew that Falk would be getting impatient. He quickly put on a new jerkin as well as his leather armour and also took his bow, swearing to himself never again to leave the weapon out of sight, just because he thought he was in a safe place. His encounter with the Swarm Claw would have been over in two heartbeats if he had had his bow with him.

He opened his rucksack with a shake of his head and set about making a little nest out of his ripped shirt, which he put on top of his other things. He carefully laid the sleeping chipmunk inside and closed the rucksack again but without pulling the straps so that enough light and air could get in. As long as Ahren walked at a leisurely pace and didn't start to run with the rucksack, the little fellow would be warm and comfortable inside, and once he was strong enough he could dart off whenever he felt like it. Ahren went over to the fruit bowl and scrabbled around until he found some nuts that had gathered at the bottom of the bowl. He laid them beside the chipmunk's nose, carefully closed the rucksack again, put it on his shoulders and went out into the sunshine. Pleased with himself, he hummed a tune and tickled Culhen's fur absently and wondered to himself where they would be going next. The guest lodgings had been emptied of everything except for his own belongings which meant that the others had collected their things already. So Falk wasn't reckoning that they would be returning there again. Now that he knew the way it wasn't long before he was back on the central platform, where new groups of elves were now practising their trades. Ahren could see many of the morning's trade people slumbering peacefully on the floor. A vase was being created in a very impressive way beside where he was standing and he wanted to watch the whole creative process when he heard a sharp harrumph behind him. He spun around and there was Falk, his hands in fists on his hips and a face like thunder on him. There was no doubting his disapproval.

'Finished dawdling?'

His master was really angry and Ahren decided to play his trump card there and then.

'Culhen flushed out a Swarm Claw and I had to kill it before it could lead the other ones to us', he answered quickly.

Falk narrowed his eyes, his anger vanished and immediately he was in a state of high alert.

'We'd better discuss this in peace and quiet', he said and with a hand gesture indicated to his apprentice to follow him. The old man led Ahren silently to look for a free place. They walked through groups of craftspeople who were working at their trades without seeming to follow any recognizable technique. Finally Ahren saw the rest of his companions standing at the other end of the platform and looking at them expectantly. Ahren corrected himself, all of them except for Selsena. The Titejunanwa was visiting her herd as long as they were in the forest, and maintained constant telepathic communication with Falk.

Falk indicated to the group that they should follow him and so they silently descended the ramp and went a little further into the forest, the others continually throwing questioning looks at him and Ahren.

Finally it was all too much for Uldini who stopped in his tracks. 'Alright you secret-monger, what's happened?'

Falk stopped too and turned around to the group. 'Perhaps Ahren should first explain calmly what he's experienced', he said thoughtfully and looked at the young man hopefully.

Ahren quickly recounted his encounter with the Swarm Claw and how he had slain it with his hunting knife while balanced on a branch and how Culhen had helped him.

After he had finished, Jelninolan gave him a supportive and congratulatory smile while Uldini patted Culhen's back and murmured, 'well done, my boy'.

Falk stared at his apprentice for a few heartbeats and then responded. 'You have a tendency to master a situation in the riskiest manner one can possibly imagine. We'll talk about that later. However, your decision not to let the Swarm Claw escape was correct. In fact, a whole swarm of the beasts came into the elf forest last night. The elves plucked them all from the sky, or so they thought. One of them must have given them the slip. I just don't understand why a whole swarm of Swarm Claws was sacrificed in order to determine our location. An attack in the elf forest is bound to fail. We're too well protected'.

'You forget that HE is in a deep sleep. HIS orders were probably quite imprecise', interjected Uldini.

Falk nodded hesitantly. Even if he wasn't quite convinced, he let it go at that. 'Be that as it may, we have to collect Tanentan, and then we need to move on'.

'Who's that?' asked Ahren curiously. At last he was going to find out more about their next step.

'Not who, but what', answered Jelninolan. 'It's an artefact of our goddess. In your language the name, roughly translated, means 'the soundless lute'. Our legends have it that SHE WHO FEELS taught the first elves with the help of Tanentan how they could live in unison with the world'.

Uldini joined in. 'The lute can manipulate feelings. I have a less romantic theory that the first elves were brought under control that way, until they had learned how to master their strong emotions. But the result is the same either way'.

Jelninolan gave Uldini a withering look, but the master magician rose in the young Forest Guardian's estimation, for he hadn't flinched when she had looked at him. Nevertheless, the little figure became silent and winked at Ahren instead.

'The problem is', continued Falk, 'that Tanentan was brought, by command of the Voice of the Forest, to a safe place, which happens to be the Weeping Valley'.

Uldini groaned and rolled his eyes which made him look for all the world like a nine year old boy. He saw the questioning look on Ahren's face and explained, 'the Weeping Valley is the place where HE WHO FORCES first brought an animal under his control and corrupted it. Where the first Dark One was created'.

'The goddess was beside herself with rage and sorrow', continued Jelninolan. 'In spite of her deep sleep she furnished Eathinian with the protection that it has enjoyed to this day and ordered the elves to protect every animal living in the forest. The valley has lain shrouded in a light mist since that day and nobody is allowed to enter it. Unless the Voice of the Forest has given permission'.

Ahren was shaken by the story. Of course it was clear to him that sometime there must have been the first Dark One, but the fact that the location was known made it somehow more real and more tangible. His encounter with the Swarm Claw and its cunning evil, which was hidden beneath its animal instincts, was still very much present. The thought that all these Dark Ones had once been normal animals that had been violently changed filled him with a cold rage and a deeper determination to fulfil his task.

Falk had turned again and marched on and nobody felt up to talking for a while. The sun had travelled a considerable distance before Ahren's curiosity got the better of him. 'Who is this Voice of the Forest and why can't we simply ask for permission to enter the valley?' he asked.

Jelninolan gave a quick laugh and answered him in a warm-hearted tone. 'The Voice of the Forest is the mouthpiece of the goddess. HER wishes and feelings are passed on to us that way. She is the highest judge and at the same time the spiritual leader of all the elves. No important decisions are taken without her advice. Only rarely has it been elves, mostly they are animals, once it was even an old tree. Now it's a stag. The voice comes and goes as it pleases. No-one knows where it is at the moment'.

Falk added in a grumpy voice, 'you see we have a choice between wandering aimlessly through an enormous forest in search of a particular stag or trying our luck with the Warden of the Weeping Valley. Seeing as time is not on our side, we've decided on the Warden'.

'A warden?' asked Ahren nervously. He didn't like the direction this conversation was taking one little bit.

'The Weeping Valley is one of the forbidden places for the elves', answered Uldini while Falk and Jelninolan exchanged exasperated looks. 'These places are always protected by a warden, normally an animal, that's under the special protection of the goddess', he explained.

Ahren was silent as he digested the information, none of which made much sense. 'Why exactly do need this lute at all?' he asked in a slightly annoyed voice.

Jelninolan looked at him in astonishment. 'You don't know anything about the ritual?'

There was such surprise in her voice that Ahren immediately defended himself. 'I know that we have to go to a certain place as quickly as possible and we have to have a certain somebody with us. Oh, and since this morning, I've known that we need certain things as well'. Somehow his defence had turned into a complaint but that didn't bother him. Falk's habit of keeping everything secret until the last minute was hard to put up with especially when, like Ahren, you were the centre of everything that was going on.

His master was about to respond vehemently but when he saw how stunned the elf priestess really was, he held back. 'It was just for his own protection', he finally mumbled and walked ahead briskly to create some distance between himself and the group.

The elf walked beside Ahren and put an arm on his shoulder.

'You poor fellow. Falk is so used to carrying so many secrets around with him, that he keeps everything to himself. I'll try to explain it to you'.

She looked at him from the side.

'You know that you were chosen?'

Ahren nodded. 'At the ceremony in the temple, which all the villagers considered an unimportant ritual'.

Jelninolan nodded. 'We thought that ritual out ourselves in order to find the missing Paladin. Imagine the Pall Pillar is gradually dissolving and no-one knows where the thirteenth Paladin is. We would have had to comb the world looking for you and in the meantime HE would be getting mightier and mightier. The Spring Ceremony was supposed to come across as irrelevant. Otherwise the Dark Ones would have been on your tracks even more quickly'.

Ahren shuddered briefly at the thought.

'In those days, the newborn of a Paladin would be touched with a godstone. It would then, through this so-called focus stone, begin to absorb the strength of the departing Paladin. The child would experience as happy a childhood as possible in order to preserve and nourish the goodness within. With the onset of adulthood came the Naming. This is the ritual that we now want to perform. The candidate had to present an advocate from the world of people, dwarves and elves. This was necessary as only humans could be formed into a Paladin. The natures of dwarves and elves don't allow for such a drastic transformation. And so a right to be heard was woven into the Naming ritual. No elf and dwarf advocate meant no Naming'.

Ahren nodded. 'The Einhan. Falk told me about it. And why are the objects needed?'

The priestess responded. 'In order that you couldn't just invite any old elf or dwarf to take part in the Naming ceremony, they had to present themselves with a holy artefact of their people to prove that they were worthy of being an Einhan'.

'Anyway it's much easier to channel the blessings of the gods onto the chosen one if strong magical foci of the respective deities are present', interjected Uldini with a dry smile.

Jelninolan spun around. 'Do you have to rubbish the romance and splendour for everybody?' she asked angrily.

Uldini raised his hands and gave a look of perfect innocence. 'Not at all, my dear auntie. I just wanted to make clear that some of the ritual comes from a certain necessity. Otherwise the next thing he would have asked would be if it were possible to leave out some of the formalities in view of the circumstances'.

Ahren held himself back from laughing. That question really had gone through his head and he winked at Uldini behind the elf's back. She had calmed down in the meantime and continued with her explanation.

'Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, the Naming. Uldini and his magic wand will be responsible for the human part, Tanentan and I will represent the elves. Regarding the dwarves though, that has me stumped. Dwarves are incapable of using magic, at least not in the proper meaning of the word. So I don't know any Arch Wizard I could contact. And I can only describe the diplomatic relations between the elves and dwarves as indifferent coexistence, to put it kindly'. She looked over at Uldini with a questioning look.

He shook his head. 'I'm the Supreme Head of the council of seven. You know that they like wizards even less than elves. If I could do anything, I could try perhaps as an emissary of the emperor to obtain an audience with the King of Thousand Halls. But whether he'd listen to us…' Uldini trailed off, leaving the unfinished sentence hanging in the air and the two looked at each other in bafflement.

Suddenly Ahren burst out laughing. He hadn't laughed so heartily in a long time. He held his stomach and laughed until tears were streaming down his face. Culhen jumped around him excitedly with his tail wagging and seemed to be taking part in his friend's enjoyment, while the Arch Wizard and the elf priestess looked at each other dumbfounded.

'Maybe it was too much for him in one go', murmured Uldini and tapped his head knowingly, but Ahren waved dismissively.

Gasping for breath and trying to control his laughing, he managed to respond. 'You are a mighty wizard and an elf high priestess, both of you are ageless and on the council of the seven. But you're still as much in the dark as I am when it comes to Falk's plans. An old Forest Guardian is dictating to you how things are going to proceed and is leading you by the nose, just like he's doing to his young apprentice'.

His two companions looked so surprised and helpless when he said this that he broke into another bout of laughter. It could of course be true that all the events were too much for him and that was why he was reacting hysterically, but by the THREE, it was good to know that even these mighty figures had their limits and could be kept in check by a grumpy, uncommunicative man.

Jelninolan smiled good-naturedly at Ahren and her face indicated that she understood the irony, but Uldini refused to let the matter rest. 'Falk!' he thundered in a magically enhanced voice, and with lightning speed he flew up to the Forest Guardian, who had been tramping ahead of them all this time.

Ahren managed to regain some control of his laughter and watched amused as Uldini gave his master an earful. He responded calmly with a short answer and then turned and continued walking. Uldini floated for a moment and stared at the Forest Guardian's back. Then yellow sparks started flying in all directions from it, blowing up dust from the forest floor. The wizard meanwhile returned to the others, all the while cursing to himself. As soon as a curse was uttered, a particularly bright flash would discharge on the ground. By the time he reached them, the flashes had disappeared but Uldini's eyes were still smouldering like yellow fire.

'What did he say? asked the elf.

'That we'd find out soon enough', said Uldini through gritted teeth.

Ahren was about to burst out laughing again when he saw Uldini's face. He knew, chosen one or not, that if he didn't pull himself together, he would spend that evening as a toad. So he bit his tongue and walked quickly ahead of them so that they would only see his shaking shoulders as he tried to suppress his laughter.