Druz's ears burned in embarrassment and anger, but it was hard to be rancorous with someone who had just saved her life.

"I know," Haarn agreed. "Other business brought us together, business that I had no say in."

"You always have a say in the things you do, Haarn," the elf said. "I've always taught you that."

Blood tracked Haarn's face. He squatted and checked on Broadfoot then glanced over his shoulder as he tended the bear.

"If I could have gotten rid of her," he said, "I would have."

He rummaged on the ground and found a hunk of green and white moss. Praying over it, he closed his hands, hiding the moss from view, then opened them again to reveal that the moss had become more vibrant and healthy. Working quickly, he packed the moss into the bear's wounds.

"I didn't give him a choice," Druz said, giving in to the anger that overrode her fear.

The elf shot her a look and said, "If he'd chosen to leave you, woman, you wouldn't be here."

The elf squatted and ran his fingers through the gray-white ash. He felt the consistency, smelled it, then put a pinch of the ash on his tongue. His face turned lemony tight and he spat the ash out.

"Dead things," muttered the elf.

Finished with the bear, Haarn pushed himself erect again and said, "The skeleton remains free."

"Which way?" the elf asked.

He stood with easy grace and Haarn pointed.

"How did you come to follow it?"

"The business I had with the woman put me close to where it dug up itself from the ground," Haarn said.

The elf frowned at the pile of gray-white powder and asked, "The skeleton had the power to create this shambler?"

"Yes."

"You've fought skeletons before?"

"Of course I have," Haarn said. "I faced my first skeletons with you."

"So you did. Have you ever seen one then or since that can handle magic like this?"

Haarn shook his head and started forward in the direction the skeleton had taken. Broadfoot lifted his big head and whined a little. The bear put his front paws out and tried to rise but couldn't get up the strength.

"There's a jewel in its chest," Haarn said as he pushed himself into a jog, slogging through the water. The elf followed.

"What kind of jewel?"

"I don't know," Haarn admitted. "I didn't get a good look at it, but I know it created that false shambler."

"That creature was very strong," the elf said. "If it had been any more powerful, I might not have been able to destroy it."

Staggering forward, Druz felt her body screaming as she took up their rapid pace. They plunged seemingly without effort through the uneven land and brush that constantly threw Druz's own gait off and slapped at her eyes. She didn't know what reserves Haarn must have been drawing from after the frantic pace they'd been traveling at since morning and the beating he'd taken from the shambler.

Just as black spots started swimming in Druz's vision and her breathing was beginning to burn the back of her throat, she saw the druids-the elf was surely another druid-slip through the wall of brush and scraggly trees. The land sloped down and water that had been lazy and stagnant on the marsh gathered speed as it tumbled down the long, steep descent ahead.

Gazing at the broken ground, shading her eyes with one hand, Druz saw where several streams had formed and bled off into a small river that roiled between two irregular banks. Nearly a quarter-mile away, the skeleton kept up its steady pace. It pumped its arms, running hard and throwing out clods of mud from its skeletal feet.

"There," Haarn said, pointing.

The elf glanced at him and asked, "Can you shift?"

"Not now," Haarn said.

Nodding, the elf lifted his arms.

"The skeleton is very powerful," Haarn warned.

He turned and jogged along the edge of the steep dropoff, looking down.

"So am I," the elf said.

He held his hands straight up, and as she watched, Druz saw the elf shrink and sprout feathers at the same time. In seconds, he was a great horned owl, almost identical to the one she'd seen Haarn turn into.

The owl took to the skies, leaning forward and falling over the edge. Spreading his wings, the great bird caught the wind and leveled off in a steep glide that took him straight toward the skeleton.

Haarn found a less steep section of the incline and started down. Druz followed him, nearly falling half a dozen times in the first three steps.

"You know this elf?" she asked, watching the owl bear down on his quarry.

"Ettrian," Haarn said.

He released his hold on the incline and slid twenty feet down. A cascade of falling mud and rock followed after him, breaking like a wave over his head and shoulders.

Druz sheathed her long sword and removed the scabbard and belt from her waist. She gripped the weapon in both hands as she stepped off the incline and slid after Haarn. The passage was rough and bruising, but she caught herself at the end of it, not surprised that the druid was already in motion. As they slid down the next section, Druz saw the great horned owl fold his wings and drop.

When Ettrian reached the ground, he stood on human legs again.

"He…" Druz hesitated. "He walked out of a tree."

Haarn slid again, making his way to the level land. "I haven't yet learned that spell," he replied.

Ettrian reached into his cloak and drew out a quarterstaff as he faced the skeleton. Druz had heard of magical cloaks with pockets like bags of holding, though she'd never seen one before.

She gathered herself at the end of the final slide, drew her long sword from its scabbard, and kept the scabbard in her left hand. She ran, pushing herself to match Haarn's pace.

Seeing the elf druid square off against the skeleton, Druz worried that they might arrive too late to aid Ettrian against the skeleton. She pushed herself harder, feeling muddy clumps in her hair bang against her head and shoulders, feeling the burn through her fatigued muscles, hearing the rasp of her own breath as she tried in vain to fill her lungs again. If they arrived in time, what was there to say that the skeleton wouldn't summon yet another shambler to act as its guardian?

The skeleton lashed out at Ettrian. Using the quarterstaff, the druid knocked the blows aside and returned a few of his own, succeeding in driving the skeleton back. A familiar, somber look played on the druid's face, and Druz recognized it as a look Haarn often wore.

Whirling, Ettrian dodged a blow meant to take off his head, took a quick step to the side, then rammed the quarter-staff between the skeleton's ribs and twisted violently. Bone snapped off, and the sound reached Druz's ears over the slapping noise of Haarn's feet and hers meeting the muddy ground.

When Ettrian stepped away, tearing free several of the skeleton's ribs, Druz saw the crimson flash of the ruby falling from the thing's rib cage. The elf increased the level and speed of his attacks, aiming his quarterstaff at the skeleton's head.

Druz didn't know if smashing the skeleton's skull would stop it.

Kneeling, the skeleton grabbed a fistful of mud and slung it toward the druid's face. Ettrian dodged and darted for the gem lying in the mud. Before he could reach it, the jewel blazed with unholy crimson light and a bolt of power crackled through the air. When the bolt touched Ettrian, the force lifted him from his feet and threw him backward more than two dozen paces.

"No!" The word ripped from Haarn's lips in full-throated agony.

Stumbling, obviously wracked with debilitations of its own, the skeleton reached down and picked up the jewel.

Ettrian used his quarter-staff to push himself up. His hide armor had protected him from part of the magic attack, but it was charred and torn, showing raw, red meat underneath. Spotting the horrendous burns covering the druid's flesh, Druz didn't understand how he was still conscious, much less able to move.