Now, the wood flowed like a living thing. Wherever her fingers touched, branches flowed into each other like tributaries to the same stream. Bark mingled and reformed as a single whole. Fibers of cedar and pine twisted around each other, forming a new wood stronger than either of the first. New wood found its way into her hands, ferried by one or another of her friends, and she added it to the shape. Layer by layer, she thickened and reinforced the disk, building it into the shape of her song.

  As the last piece melted into the whole, Chentelle let her music fade. It was smaller than the platform at Tel Adartak-Skysoar, but it would do. She felt a pleasant weariness and the warmth of exertion. But the latter disappeared almost immediately under the cold wind. She glanced around her. It was dark already! But how? Time sometimes drifted when she used the Gift, but building the disk couldn’t have taken so long. Then she understood. They were at the foot of the ridge, covered by its long shadow. Deneob was not four hours past midday, but it was hidden behind the monumental cliff.

  A’stoc reached down and lifted a chunk of wood that she had discarded as too brittle. He held the branch in an open palm and chanted an incantation. The wood floated slowly into the air and turned a stately pirouette.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said. She so rarely saw him use magic that was not destructive.

  He smiled broadly. “Yes, it is one of the more graceful spells. Of course, the platform will be somewhat heavier. Are you finished with it?”

  “Almost,” she said. “I just need some more branches to make the guardrail.”

  He flipped his wrist and the floating wood dropped to the ground. “Forget the rail; there isn’t time. I need to integrate the wood. If the flow of magic is not perfectly modulated, the platform will tilt and sway during flight.”

  A’stoc set aside the Thunderwood Staff and dropped to his hands and knees by the platform. He crawled slowly over every part of the disk, whispering a spell to the wood. Then he crawled over it again, retracing his route exactly. This time, his right hand hovered just above the surface. Radiant magic flowed from his fingertips, seeping into the platform. Wherever it touched, the wood sparkled and then settled into a glossy sheen.

  His spell complete, the wizard climbed to his feet. His knees trembled and the blood rushed from his face. He staggered sideways, unable to keep his balance.

  “A’stoc!” Chentelle jumped to her feet and grabbed the wizard around the waist, trying to steady him. The instant they touched, his weakness and fatigue hit her like an electric shock. She understood immediately. Days of exertion, hiking through mountains, battling Ill-creatures, and the wizard had never slept, never rested. But always, he carried the Thunderwood, drew upon its power. Now, he had had to use his own strength, and he had precious little left.

  She guided him to a clear area next to the High Bishop’s stretcher and helped him to lie down. “You’re exhausted. You have to rest.”

  “No,” he rasped. “There is no time. Bring me the Thunderwood Staff.”

  “No!” Chentelle turned desperately to the High Bishop. “Father Marcus, please, he has to sleep.”

  The priest’s eyes grew distant, and he seemed to stare through them. “It’s so close, Chentelle. I can feel it. It—pulls at me. Only a few leagues more, just beyond the Barrier Ridge.”

  “Father Marcus!” Chentelle waved a hand in front of his eyes, and they came suddenly into focus. She pointed to the wizard. “Look at him. Now, look at the cliff. Do you really want him to try the ascent?”

  “Eh?” Father Marcus looked momentarily confused. “Of course not, Chentelle. We have learned already that undue haste can be our enemy. Let him rest. We will continue when he is able.”

  “Thank you, Father.” She turned back to A’stoc. “Did you hear that?”

  But the wizard was already asleep.

  Chentelle turned back to the platform. There was not enough wood left to make a guardrail, and she didn’t want to upset the balance. But they should at least have something to hang on to. She grabbed a few of the remaining branches and molded them into curved handles. She couldn’t blend them with the wood of the platform—A’stoc’s spell would not permit it—but she could push the ends through the disk. The fibers penetrated without joining and stuck fast when she released the touch of her rillandef.

  Father Marcus called to her when she was finished. “Beautiful work, Chentelle, as we have all come to expect. Tell me, do we have enough wood left to fashion a pair of crutches?”

  She started to protest, but the ache in his eyes stopped her. He needed at least the option of moving about on his own. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  There were a few good branches left, and an assortment of scraps. She measured these against the priest’s body and decided that they would suffice. The crutches she made were crude and indelicate, but Father Marcus thanked her exorbitantly when she handed them to him.

  The night grew quickly colder and darker, punctuated occasionally by strange growls and high-pitched calls. A’stoc slept through it all, but tension sat heavily on the rest of them. The platform sat tantalizingly in their midst, already laden with the company’s packs and supplies. They understood the need to wait, but they felt the need to leave.

  Chentelle shivered. “Can we build a fire? Anything that can sense magic already knows where we are.”

  Dacius shook his head. The blank mask of his helm seemed suddenly strange and menacing.

  “Not all Ill-creatures have that sense,” Thildemar explained. “We don’t want to give them another means of detecting us.”

  Chentelle nodded. She had known what the answer would be before she asked. She just wanted to do something. This silent waiting was terrible.

  Suddenly, Dacius’ head snapped toward the south. He froze, searching the darkness. “WAKE THE WIZARD.”

  “What is it?” Chentelle asked. Her eyes followed the path of his attention, but the night revealed nothing to her elven eyes.

  “NOW.”

  She shook the wizard gently. “A’stoc, wake up.”

  His eyes fluttered briefly, but they did not open.

  Then she saw it. A faint blue nimbus was barely visible around the human’s armor. “Wake up!” She grabbed A’stoc’s shoulders and shook him firmly. “Ill-creatures!”

  His eyes snapped open. “What is it? Where?”

  Dacius pointed. “TENEBRITES. I COUNT AT LEAST TWO SCORE, TRAVELING UNDER THE SHADOW OF THE CLIFF.”

  “Are there demonspawn among them?” the wizard asked.

  “I SEE NONE. WHY?”

  “With demonspawn I would be forced to spend my strength in battle,” A’stoc said. “Without them, we can escape on the platform.”

  They scrambled to the disk, squeezing together near its center. A’stoc raised the Thunderwood Staff and set it gently against the wood. The end of the Staff merged with the disk, and a gentle green glow poured from the wood. The wizard started to chant.

  Nothing happened.

  A’stoc chanted louder. Green flames roared around the disk. The platform bucked and started to rise. The wood trembled slightly under their feet, then shook violently. The wizard cut off his spell and yanked the Thunderwood free from the disk.

  The platform dropped, plummeting two or three cubits and slamming against the ground. The companions staggered wildly, struggling to stay upright.

  “WHAT HAPPENED?”

  “It was too much power,” A’stoc said. “The binding spell could not contain it. I will have to begin again.”

  “THERE’S NO TIME.”

  Chentelle looked to the south. A wave of chitinous black scurried toward them on segmented legs.

  Dacius jumped off the platform. His armor glowed vibrantly, and the twin suns of House Gemine were ablaze on his shield. “GERRUTH, DRUP, USE YOUR BOWS. EVERYONE ELSE FORM A SKIRMISH LINE. A’STOC, GET THIS THING AIRBORNE.”

  The human lord centered himself between the Barrier Ridge and a large boulder. Thildemar stood at his left, and Leth held his right. “SULMAR, BE ON GUARD FOR A FLANKING ACTION THROUGH THE ROCKS.”

  Chentelle nodded, and her liegeman hopped down from the platform, adding his sword to the defense.

  “FIRE!”

  Two shafts flew through the air, then two more, then two more. The archers were a blur of motion: draw, fit, pull, sight, release—draw, fit, pull, sight, release. A score of arrows shot through the air in less than a minute, sparking more than a dozen explosions of blue flame.

  The Tenebrites charged forward, their lines fragmented but undeterred. One of the shadow knights reared up on four legs, a bloodred ring glowing in one hand. The Ill-creature’s arm shot forward, and the crimson circle flew through the air with an eerie whine. It sailed past Drup’s shoulder and blasted a deep hole in the side of the cliff.

  Several more Tenebrites paused, reared, and threw.

  Dacius took three of the rings on his shield. The magic drained from the circles and they crumbled into gray dust. Power crackled around the Legionnaire’s sword, leaving a glowing trail in the air.

  Two more disks ripped gouges in the Barrier Ridge, barely missing the dodging archers, and another embedded itself in the boulder less than a hand’s span from Thildemar’s head. The last was headed directly toward A’stoc’s chest before Sulmar’s blade deflected it into the ground.

  The wizard never even noticed the danger. His eyes were closed in concentration as he slowly channeled Earthpower into the platform.

  Then the lines crashed together.

  Dacius jumped forward, swinging his sword in a vicious cut toward a Tenebrite’s chest. The shadow knight parried, and power exploded around the clashing steel. The Ill-creature’s sword shattered, filling the air with glowing red shrapnel. Dacius’ blade dulled to its original glow, but the force of his cut carried it halfway through the Tenebrite’s abdomen. The Tenebrite flashed into ash.

  The Legionnaire pivoted and directed his return stroke at the attacker to his right. Again, the Tenebrite parried, but this time its sword held. The red blade pulsed greedily, sucking power from the vorpal steel.

  Leth darted forward, taking advantage of the Ill-creature’s distraction. He severed two of the beast’s legs with a sweeping slash, then impaled the Ill-creature as it fell.

  Thildemar blocked the charge of a third shadow knight, vorpal sword in one hand, wooden battle stave in the other. He feinted with the sword, then jumped back, dodging the counterstroke. The battle stave lashed out, striking the trailing edge of the Ill-creature’s blade and driving it out of position. Thildemar lunged into the opening, dispatching the shadow knight with a long thrust.

  But new Tenebrites surged forward to replace the fallen. By sheer mass, they began to drive the Legionnaires backward.

  Gerruth and Drup tossed their bows onto the platform and drew their swords.

  The rear rank of Tenebrites divided and broke for the flanks. Three of them circled around the left, weaving through the cluster of boulders. The other four scurried up the face of the cliff, arcing above the line of defenders and dropping down again behind the platform.

  Drup and Gerruth raced back to meet the new threat. They managed to catch one Tenebrite as it was still in the air, skewering it with a double attack.

  But the other Ill-creatures had time to set themselves. Two of them engaged the Legionnaires, while the third broke off to attack the platform.

  Chentelle sang out with her Gift, projecting a pure note of peace and harmony. Neither the shadow knights nor the Legionnaires were able to attack while her note held.

  The nearest Tenebrite raised its rear limbs. The legs flashed together, creating an earsplitting whine that shattered the peace of her song.

  Drup dived to his right and rolled smoothly into a crouch. In the same motion, his vorpal blade sliced through the Tenebrite’s exposed thorax. The shadow knight burst into flame, its legs falling silent forever.

  But Drup had exposed his flank. One of the other Tenebrites kicked out with a clawed foot, knocking him to the ground. It raised its sword, preparing to finish the young Legionnaire.

  Chentelle sang out again.

  The four combatants faced off in a precarious equilibrium. No one could attack while Chentelle used her Gift, and the Tenebrites couldn’t disrupt her song without exposing themselves to the Legionnaires.

  Then four new attackers came scuttling down the cliff. One of them stopped in the distance and countered her spell with his shriek. The others charged forward unimpeded.

  The platform shot suddenly into the air. Chentelle stumbled, caught by surprise. She grabbed one of the handles, barely avoiding sliding off the edge. By the time she regained her footing, they were hovering thirty cubits above the ground.

  The Tenebrites flicked their swords angrily through the air beneath the platform. One of them raised a glowing ring and hurled it at the platform. The projectile slammed into the wood in an explosion of sparks, but it did no damage. The Earthpower flowing through the wood was proof against it.

  Sulmar jumped from one of the boulders, attacking one of the Ill-creatures from the rear. Five piles of ash smoldered in the rocks behind him, and he quickly added a sixth.

  The other two spread out, trying to flank him. Then the last Tenebrite joined them, no longer needing to counter Chentelle’s song.

  Sulmar dodged and weaved through his attackers, keeping them off balance with lightning counters and uncanny reflexes. But the open ground worked against him. Without the shelter of the rocks, he was unable to control the Tenebrites’ positions. They harassed his flanks, threatening to surround him, and he was forced farther and farther away from the Legionnaires.

  Everywhere, the story was the same. The defenders were being slowly cut off from their fellows. The Legionnaires fought valiantly, but every clash of steel leeched power from their weapons. Only Dacius’ sword still blazed at full strength, replenished from the magic absorbed by his shield. Slowly, inexorably, the tide of the battle was turning.

  “GO. TAKE THE HIGH BISHOP TO SAFETY. SAVE THE QUEST. WE WILL HOLD THEM AS LONG AS WE ARE ABLE.”

  “No!” Chentelle turned to the wizard. “A’stoc, don’t you dare.”

  She had to do something, but what? Her eyes roamed around the platform and came to rest on Drup’s bow. But what good was it? Even if she could draw it, she didn’t have any arrows. “A’stoc, can you move us laterally?”

  The wizard nodded without breaking his chant.

  “Good, move off ten cubits north and then take us back down to the ground.”

  The platform drifted slowly sideways, then dropped rapidly.

  They hit the ground near Drup. The Legionnaire was locked in a duel with a shadow knight, and his vorpal blade was nearly extinguished. His flicked toward the platform, the Tenebrite stood between them.

  Chentelle waved frantically and started to sing.

  The Tenebrite reacted quickly, backing away to counter her spell. But that gave Drup the opening he needed.

  The Legionnaire dived for the safety of the platform.

  “Go,” Chentelle shouted.

  The platform soared twenty cubits into the air.

  Chentelle helped Drup to his feet and thrust the bow into his hands. “Hurry.”

  The Legionnaire needed no prodding. He grabbed for his quiver and counted seven shafts remaining. He nocked one, and chose his target carefully.

  A shadow knight burst into flame seconds before it could launch an attack at Gerruth’s rear. Two more died as they circled around Thildemar’s flank. One of Sulmar’s attackers vanished, as did three members of the pack that had surrounded Dacius and Leth.

  “RALLY TO THE PLATFORM! FOR LEGION! FOR HONOR! FOR CREATION!”

  Dacius drove into the ring of attackers, hacking furiously with his sword. He opened a wedge through the Tenebrites’ lines and charged through it, Leth following close on his heels. They battled their way to Thildemar’s side, then joined up with Gerruth as well. They formed a new line, a defensive arc anchored against the Barrier Ridge.

  Sulmar had managed to dispatch his remaining attackers. He was no longer being threatened, but he was caught on the far side of the field, isolated from the other defenders.

  A’stoc guided the platform over to the Legionnaires’ position and brought it low to the ground.

  “GO!”

  Gerruth and Thildemar broke formation simultaneously, diving for the platform.

  Dacius jumped to his left, driving his sword into Thildemar’s foe as it lunged after the elf. The human’s own opponent scored a clean cut across his ribs, but A’kalendane’s armor turned the blow easily.

  Leth covered his brother’s retreat in similar fashion, though he neither dispatched the Tenebrite nor received a wound in return.

  But now the two Legionnaires were alone against over a dozen attackers, and they had no hope of holding the line.

  “GO!”

  Leth jumped for the platform.

  Again, Dacius slid to his side, blocking the blows of the elf’s attackers. Again, he left himself open to attack from his own foe.

  But the Tenebrite shifted its attack as well. Instead of capitalizing on Dacius’ exposed flank, it lunged forward, driving its blade into Leth’s back. The sword pierced the elf completely, erupting through the front of his chest.

  The Legionnaire’s body dangled in the air for a moment, suspended from the glowing metal. Then it fell to the ground.

  “Noooo!” Gerruth jumped from the disk. His sword flashed in a wide arc, decapitating the Tenebrite. He landed in a crouch and charged toward the mass of Tenebrites.

  The shadow knights retreated, luring him farther away from the platform.

  Dacius lashed out with a foot, tripping Gerruth. As the Legionnaire fell, Dacius dropped to a crouch and drove his shield into the base of the elf’s neck. Then, he stooped and picked up the unconscious Legionnaire. A vicious cut slammed into the human’s helmet driving him to his knees, but he regained his feet quickly. Shielding Gerruth’s body with his own he ran for the platform.

  A shadow knight moved to cut them off, and Chentelle sang out again. Her Gift was quickly nullified, but the slight delay was enough for Dacius to reach the platform.