The foreboding forest greeted them, as Fawnlum led them out of town two weeks later.  They walked along the southwest edge of Windsaeve, trying to avoid any fights at the moment.

“Fawnlum, I know what you’re thinking,” Sienna quietly whispered.  “You should reconsider.”

It had taken more time, but Baneck had produced what she needed.  Resourceful man that he was, he had brought the things with him that had allowed him to create the frost-steel back home.  She smiled, as she thought of how he carried the secret scale-flakes in hidden pockets in his belt-pouches.  He valued the substance more than gold.

They had tested the new craft in the Nacklegems’ shop, with brilliant results.

Morgy had taken herself, Torsar and Baneck back to the Coast.  Fawnlum had been awed when the dragon opened the magical door with her gate-device, and wished so much to see it again.

“You’ve already brought the enemy to you,” Sienna continued.  “Your crusade does not need this.”

“The battle needs allies,” Fawnlum said in return.

The glances from Fawnlum’s other human comrades echoed Sienna’s misgivings.  None of them thought this was wise, except Honee, who recognized the potential for some very lively things to happen.

They made good time, avoiding any tri-cleorps encounters, and quickly trekked through the northern region of the forest.

Honee looked with concern at Caitlyn, for the younger scout’s brooding air.  Fawnlum just kept on.

“Do you feel it?” Fawnlum asked Sienna.

“Yes,” the guardian-trooper replied.  “My spirit does not feel so heavy.  Baneck’s Mark shows its worth.”

“Oi.  Why do we have to go all the way up ‘ere to find an ally?” Guilwar spouted.  “We’ve adequate at the fort.”

“These allies have their own way of fighting,” Fawnlum called back.  “Trust me.”

“Aye, trust her,” Honee said.

Guilwar gave a start at the young woman suddenly walking beside him.

“Pfft!  Don’t do that, girl!  It’s bad for the heart!”

“Sorry,” she said, with a smile and no remorse; before slipping back into the trees, leaving the dwarves looking over their shoulders.

“But the fight is still at the fort,” Banacheck said, unimpressed.  “An’ a proper one it is, too.  An’ a proper bit o’patience we’ve shown ye, an’ yer promises!”

“Take heart, noble Banacheck,” Fawnlum said.

“We know!  Yer still the perfect bait, Missy.  I’m willin’ t’see what use yer ‘new allies’ can be.”

 

Coming to their first stop, helping the dwarves into their original nest with a charm of levitation by Nepta, and the air-walking guidance of Honee, they stayed hidden, as they kept going east.

<*>                                                          <*>                                                      <*>

When they reached the territory of their third nest, Fawnlum started calling out Bik’nar’s name.

“Eh, Missy?  What are we lookin’ fer here?”

 

Banacheck’s grumble carried, as bass sounds were wont to do, through the darkness, to the ears that had heard every footfall for the past 20 minutes.

Iljareve was the first to speak.  “Looks like she’s coming to call, bringing those surly dwarves from Hammermound, no less.  You have to hand it to the youngest race.  I can’t tell if this is optimism, or foolishness.”

Shahrv’j the blade-master joined in.  “But what magic is this she’s bringing with her?  I’ve never felt the like.”

Bik’nar gave the inevitable response.  “We’ll know if we answer.”

“Do you dare show us to the dwarves?” Iljareve hissed.  “See how they look around.  They don’t know there are uzruul 50 paces from them.”

“Part of that mysterious power radiates from that fancy sword strapped to Fawnlum’s back.  But that’s not the only source.”

Dilerr’n, Bik’nar’s priestess-soldier, offered her opinion, epitomizing the unavoidable truth.  “If they see us, they’ll surely tell of us.  People will look with greater fear to the forest.  If we dare to lend a hand in the future, we’ll be attacked.  Are you this determined to let the girl have her moment?”

Leruna and Ariea, a blade-fighter and a wizard, stayed back further, looking between Bik’nar, and the coming party.

“It’s for our principles,” Bik’nar said, with every eye upon her, “that we act for the goodly doctrine of the Goddess, not what others think of us.  As Selnr’i looks, she sees life that needs defending.  Fawnlum named us comrades.  Friends, even.  Let’s see how she convinces the dwarves to do the same.”

“You’re as hopeful as that lumbering human,” Iljareve whispered harshly.  “When the dwarf axes come flying at us, don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

 

Fawnlum called out again.

“Bah, Missy.  Ain’t nothin’ ‘ere,” Banacheck grated.

Fawnlum did not answer him.  With the enchanted headband, she and Bik’nar could see each other clearly.  Bik’nar was not amused; but Fawnlum defied all constraints, and smiled, undeterred.

Gritcomb was the first to halt and point into the gloom.

The dark-skinned, pale-haired elves stepped into the torchlight, Bik’nar walking up to Fawnlum and asking, “Yes, Fawnlum?  What can I do for you?”

Fawnlum quickly stepped beside her, and presented to her the dwarves.

“Banacheck, these are the new allies, to help beat the tri-cleorps and their masters.”

Banacheck’s face was frozen in shock, but his eyes were hard.  His voice broke with alarm.  His fellows gathered round him.

“Elves?!  Ye’re daft, ye big twit of a female!  These be uzruul!  Ye’re in league with the most bloodied of monsters of all the realms!  How could ye?!”

“I don’t care what other uzruul do.  These uzruul are good.  I’ve seen them fighting the tri-cleorps.”

“It means nothing, Missy!  The deepway elves are masters of trickery as well as murder.  They’d kill their own mothers on a whim!”

He was in his battle-stance, eyes darting left and right.

Fawnlum saw Bik’nar’s passive acceptance of the judgment of a stranger, watching Banacheck acutely, but without upset.

Now Fawnlum could see, it had not been control of her emotions that allowed Bik’nar to stay so calm.  It was acceptance, or simply numbness, of the hostility that would always be there.  And despite any deed or act, she expected to be rejected.

And knowing what would happen, she still let Fawnlum expose her.

The dwarves were backing off, torches raised high.

But Fawnlum said, “It was their black arrows that cut the tri-cleorps down.”

“All part of her plan, Missy.  The three-eye’d fools mean nothin’ to’em.  Ye’ve been deceived.”

He was covering the rear as his party, with accusatory glares, crept further away.

“Are you so desperate to judge all uzruul, you ignore the truth before your eyes?!”

Bik’nar spoke up, catching everyone’s attention amid the outbursts, although her voice was as calm as a poet’s.  “There’s some distrust that does not move aside for optimism, human.  Sometimes, the power of the legend is too great, for personal deeds to overcome.”

“She’s speakin’ true!”  Banacheck snapped, halting to reproach her.  “Ye haven’t lived in this land with all the other peoples.  Ye’ve no idea o’ the centuries of wickedness!  The blood on their hands!”

“I don’t care what has happened for centuries!  These women choose to fight for good no matter what their race has done!”

“You underestimate the evil of our kind, Lichner.”

Fawnlum turned her attention back to Bik’nar.

“Remember when I told you, the cautious ones were the smart ones?  The individual can’t remake the name of the race,” she said, waving a hand at the dwarves, “when the race is uzruul.”

Her calmness became Fawnlum’s silent condemnation.  She knew Fawnlum trusted her, and she appreciated this most noble of intentions.  She had just given up on trying to convince the world.

“An’ there ye have it!”

Banacheck started to stalk off again, shoulders hunched forward.

“You told me yourself, Banacheck!” Fawnlum snapped, with a wide step in pursuit.  “The darkness will bring rivers of blood, and nothing will stop it!”

“Stubborn fool,” Sienna muttered, as she buried her forehead in her palm.

Fawnlum glared at him, as her heavy strides brought her before him, as a living wall.

“Have a care, Missy!” he grumbled, keeping his axe at the ready.  “Dwarf women fight as readily as the men.  Ye’ll get no quarter from me.”

“Then your people can be even prouder!” she snapped, bending down so their foreheads were nearly touching.  “But pride won’t beat this darkness – – unity will!  Unity,” she said, as she plunged her hand into her hip-pouch, “and this!”

She held up a disc, roughly six inches in diameter, whose silvery surface reflected the dancing lights of the torches.

“Ylrann!”

At the command, beams of white moonlight suddenly lanced down upon them, radiating from some unseen point up above, illuminating her and Banacheck as brilliant lone figures in a sea of blackness.

The 10-foot radius of light gave Banacheck a start.  He squinted up above, as if trying to find the source; then he looked at his hands and weapon, and finally upon the ground at his feet, as if he had not seen his sharp and visible shadow in a long, long time.

Before the angry dwarf could speak again, Fawnlum turned, holding the disc, and stalked back to Bik’nar.  The moonlight followed her, and enveloped both females.

She gave the disc to the dark-skinned elf, who accepted it without question, but also looked up at the moonlight.

The follower of Selnr’i gently felt the rune-carved surface with her fingertips.

“Here!”  Fawnlum took Bik’nar’s free hand, and laid five more discs upon it.  “One for you and each of your sisters.”

She looked back at Banacheck.

“Light to cut through the darkness born of evil.  Light of a goodly goddess, whose servants have stood as true as anyone!”

She did not wait for someone else to make a move, but took one of the discs from the stack, and handed it to Iljareve.

The uzruul did not hesitate, but repeated the word Fawnlum had used.

“Ylrann.”

The light joined the rays shining on Bik’nar.  The forest around them became brighter.  She turned her hand over in the light, letting it highlight the smooth surface of her fine black skin.  “It’s truly the light of Selnr’i.”

Fawnlum watched the dwarves talking quietly around their torchlight, as the discs were passed out, and the light grew as each was activated in turn.

Her hopefulness was interrupted, when Bik’nar raised one hand above her head, and started speaking a strange series of words in a slow, measured manner.

The dwarves’ eyes grew wider.

Bluntwerk whispered over Banacheck’s shoulder, “Fight?  Or go?”

Before Banacheck could answer, Firgristle evenly spoke up.  “The bright moon would be no boon for any uzruul we know.”

Fawnlum heard the whisper; it was one of the few times she had heard the stoic dwarf speak.  She did not turn back to regard the dwarves, though, as the other uzruul followed Bik’nar’s lead.  It became a quiet chant, and Fawnlum realized it was a melody.

Within seconds, each of them was gently singing, and taking slow, rocking steps into a widening circle in the small clearing.  Where a tree or shroom appeared to block their path, they gracefully circumnavigated it.

The strange words continued, and the volume rose, each uzruul’s hands held high, with controlled and deliberate steps in sync with their voices.

And then, each cone of light expanded, casting brightness on more of their surroundings.  The elves quickened their step, taking over more ground around them.

The glow expanded again, more strongly, casting shadows past Fawnlum, with an energy that made her skin tingle.  And with the light, she felt a profound relief, as if the dread of the surrounding darkness was pushed away from her.

Fascinated, as the minutes passed, she noticed the uzruul voices becoming stronger, as the elves glided unceasing in their dancing ring, repeating verse after verse.  And then, as if in a spectral scene from a dream, they were joined.

Tufts of light started drifting through the air above the dancers, following the circular path.

The wisps became larger and more substantial, like small curls of rolling cloud, and grew in number.

Caitlyn walked between the elves, and sat down in the center of their circle.  With her eyes closed, she sat with legs folded, and head held back.

The elves reached a crescendo, and suddenly swept their hands upward.  One of the larger glowing motes broke free.  Its cloud-like form coalesced, and a giant, spectral owl took shape.

As if on cue, for the uzruul resumed their dance and lyric, the other wisps transformed to reveal deer, wolves, an eagle, and other noble beasts too numerous for Fawnlum to count at once.

The menagerie ran and flew, as the elves’ dance became faster again, and their voices rose with a hauntingly beautiful strength.

Halrick leaned down to Lucas.  “Remember when Fawnlum said she would avenge the spirits of the forest?”

“Yes.”

“There they are.”

Honee grasped Bluntwerk’s shoulder and jumped up and down, giggling with excitement.

The specters ran and flew above the uzruul, surging and bounding with alternating waves of light trailing from their bodies.

Then some of them split off, and came to fly in a tighter orbit above Caitlyn.

The giant owl let out a keen, to which the other animals cried in unison.

Sienna clapped Fawnlum on the shoulder, at the gathering of spirits – – the true life and keepers of the land.

“They’re acting in defiance of the despoiling of their home,” Fawnlum said.

“Who’s that?” Lucas asked, pointing.

Fawnlum stared, as a ghostly male elf, dressed in simple woodsman’s clothes, walked upon the ground into the circle.  His form was pale and translucent, but as luminous as the animals above him.  He stopped before Caitlyn, as she sat in the immersion of her syiajryn reverie.

From beside Lucas, Gritcomb answered, “The spirit of the land is as close to elves as part of themselves.  That one’s spirit became tied to this forest when he passed from the living world.”

Suddenly the elves came to a halt, with heads bowed and bodies frozen.  Fawnlum had to fight the urge to reach out and touch one of the apparitions, as all the animals broke free of the light and rushed past her.  She watched them disappear back into the darkness.  All except for one – – the elf-ghost who still stood, looking down at Caitlyn.

“Is he not able to pass into the realm of his ancestors?” Fawnlum whispered to no one in particular.

All around, the light quickly faded; but a slight glow still clung to the silvery hair of each uzruul.  The one spirit – the ghostly elf – looked at the living spectators.  Fawnlum looked at him closely, wondering what could have taken his life.  Then he looked down at the ground, forlorn, and turned, walking back into the darkness of the trees.

Within two steps, he disappeared from sight, and the torches’ flames danced in the empty darkness.

Fawnlum took another disc from a smaller belt-pouch, and summoned its light.

“Lady Lichner,” Bik’nar said, walking up to her.  “We thank you.  We will carry on the fight, and use what you have given us in the name of justice, and our Goddess, whose favor smiles on you.”

Fawnlum bowed in reply.

“You certainly are full of surprises, human.  I have many questions about this….”

“It’s a gift.  Use it well.”

To Banacheck, Fawnlum turned, her smile simple, but her resolve solid. “Only the pure of heart could call out to the spirits of the land.  You ask me if these are my allies, and I say yes.  What say you?”

Banacheck did not hesitate, but stepped right up to Fawnlum, and gave a deep bow to Bik’nar.

“Who can call light to cut through even this darkness?  Too great a task even for Castletree and their clerics.  Such that it made even the eternal elves draw back in its shadow.  No agent of evil could stand in such a light!”

He then said to Fawnlum, “Ye’ve drawn this blade from yer forge of friendship, Missy.”  Then he looked up at Bik’nar again, easily looking her in the eye.  “Ye won’t wield it alone.”

“And ye’re no longer of the deepway, Bik’nar, follower of Selnr’i,” he declared, with a great puffing out of his chest.  “But a Shadadin.”

Fawnlum glanced down at Guilwar.

“It means ‘blade of light’,” the dwarf told her quietly.  “A weapon that cuts through darkness to slay evil things.”

“And we’ll be beside ye,” Banacheck continued, “to slay any o’the dogs that dare raise their mangy ‘eads.  May the servants of darkness tremble.”  He gave a slight, final bow with a bob of his head and flowing black beard, then shielded his eyes with his free hand.  “And by Gammva’s tresses, put some clothes on!”

Fawnlum had been curious why each uzruul had become naked during the dance, freeing themselves of all articles of clothing in their act of worship.  She had simply thought it to be part of a custom.

Now they had been re-donning their cast-off garb, except for Bik’nar, standing in her natural form until all was said.

Fawnlum noticed a grumbled voice over her shoulder, and barely made it out as Lucas whispered, “You’re a cruel person, Sienna,” as the big girl had her arm around his head, and her hand clamped over his eyes.

“I’m keeping you from obsessing over something you’ll never have.  You’ll thank me when you’re older.”

“I’ll curse you then, too.”

“Fawnlum.”  Bik’nar’s voice brought her head back around.  The uzruul priestess, putting her tunic back in place, was holding up her disc.  “Again.  Thank you.”

She just smiled and gave a nod.

She could hear the grunt behind her as Lucas wrestled himself free.

“Oi, Missy, got any more o’those?”

Fawnlum balanced her disc on her finger, like a large gold-piece.  “Sorry.  This is the one I carry.”

She then passed it to the black-bearded dwarf, whereupon he and Gritcomb took a closer look at the runes on its surface, in the radiant but gentle light.

“More o’that new metal.  What yer man was makin’, eh?”

The uzruul took their gifts, and started to walk off, past Caitlyn, who had not moved.

Fawnlum walked up to her and bent down, following her gaze at the path the spectral elf had taken, looking after something only syiajryn eyes could see.

“Tell him to rest.  We’re going to fix this.”

 

They made their way back to the south, travelling the long way, and avoiding any battles.

“We won’t dally in town except to get some more things for the fort,” she said.

“Good plan!” Banacheck said.

The dwarves took up a marching battle hymn, declaring their weapons to the world, and telling their enemies to dig themselves a grave.

Fawnlum found herself at the back of the line beside Caitlyn, walking with head hanging low.

“We committed a sin when I deafened my ears the Spirits’ pain,” she quietly said up at her, tears rimming her eyes.  “In doing so, I turned a blind eye to their plight, and failed to help them.”

“I thought more of fighting,” Fawnlum said, “than who we were fighting for.  Even if someone who defeats a red dragon doesn’t have all the answers, can you still follow me?”

“Always,” Caitlyn said without hesitation.

“Then call out to the Spirits.  Call with all your strength.  Bring them to our fort.”