Cormik and Kellen climbed into the basket next, the crime lord somewhat reassured after the favorable performance with the horses. Before joining them, Morhion turned to bid Isela farewell.

That was when the baying started.

It echoed through the forest, distant at first, yet rapidly drawing nearer. This was not the baying of mundane hounds. It was an eerie noise; the snarls and barking sounded strangely like voices speaking in an unknown evil language.

Bloodthirsty cries pierced the foggy air. These came from above, and the companions recognized the source instantly: the bellowing of the winged shadowsteeds conjured by the shadevari. In moments the baying and bellowing grew frighteningly near. Morhion thought he saw shadowy shapes moving swiftly toward them through the ruins of the city.

"Yes, these hounds are creatures of shadow," Isela hissed, as if reading his thoughts. She shoved him into the basket with Cormik and Kellen. "You must go. Now."

"What of yourself?" Morhion demanded.

"I am staying."

Morhion stared at her. "But the beasts—they'll be here in moments."

"I know, you fool," she snapped. Then her dark eyes softened a fraction. "You must guard the child wizard Now go." She tugged the smaller vine twice. In response to the signal, Mari and Jewel began hauling on the cord. The basket swung out over the river.

The baying of the shadowhounds shattered the air. "Isela!" Morhion shouted, but the witch was already lost in the mist of the far bank. He thought he saw a dozen dark forms slinking through the swirling fog, but he could not be certain. Abruptly the basket came to rest on the western bank of the river. Jewel and Mari helped Cormik and Kellen out, but Morhion gripped the vine. "I'm going back," he said hoarsely.

Before the others could protest, the cord suddenly went slack. The main vine crashed down into the turbulent surface of the river and was swept away. Isela had severed the cords. There was no going back. The snarling of the shadowhounds rose to a frenzied pitch. Across the river, brilliant green light flickered in the mist, and howls of pain mingled with the snarls. Somewhere in the fog overhead the shadowsteeds shrieked again. "Come on," Mari said, tugging at Morhion's hand. "But Isela…" he protested.

"I know," she replied angrily. "She is sacrificing herself so that we can escape. Will you have that sacrifice be for nothing?"

It was like a cold slap. Morhion, of all people, understood sacrifice. "You are right," he said coolly. They mounted their horses and soon left behind the eerie baying and flashes of light.

*****

Late the next day, they stumbled out of the northern of the Reaching Woods and once again found themselves traveling west on the Dusk Road. This time it was Jewel who spotted the sign of Caledan's passing. Near the road, a dead tree had been twisted into an agonized shape that looked uncannily like a dying man raising his arms toward the sky. The crimson light of sunset dripped down the tree's bark like blood. "He has been this way," Mari said, visibly shaken. "But how long ago?" Cormik wondered. No one could answer his question. They rode on, glancing frequently at the sky above, searching for signs of the shadevari. While they did not know who had summoned the ancient creatures of evil, or why, by now it was clear that the shadevari were tracking Caledan, just as the companions were. To their relief, the winged shadowsteeds did not appear. Two days later, they halted at a fork in the road. Here the Dusk Road continued on west, while a lesser-used track branched off to the north, winding its way into the rocky Trielta Hills. There seemed no way of knowing for certain which direction Caledan had gone.

"Nothing," Cormik said darkly, scrambling out of the hedgerow he had been searching. "I can't see any signs that Caledan came this way at all."

Jewel appraised the rotund crime lord critically. "Lei me guess—it's all the rage in the royal court of Cormyr to wear a bird's nest on one's head, and as usual you're just a pawn of fashion?"

Cormik hastily snatched at the abandoned nest that had gotten tangled in his dark hair. He glowered at her "You're evil, aren't you?"

Her only answer was a disturbingly sweet smile.

Mari sighed in frustration. "I suppose well just have to make our best guess as to which way Caledan went."

"I have an idea."

The others turned to Kellen in surprise. He had not spoken much since the ruined city. Whether or not Kellen was in truth the one foretold in Isela's prophecy, some thing strange had happened to him in Talis. What had been going on in his mind since, Morhion could only guess.

Jewel knelt, regarding Kellen with curious eyes. "What did you have in mind, love?"

"I'll show you," he said mysteriously.

From the leather pouch at his belt, Kellen drew out the polished bone flute his father had made for him. Sitting cross-legged at the fork in the road, he began to play a stirring air, almost like a marching song. Morhion felt a prickling on the back of his neck. Then the magic began. Dark shapes coalesced on the surface of the dirt road and slipped silently past Kellen to either side. More and more of the dark blobs drifted down the road, most turning left at the fork, a few turning right, before continuing on.

Cormik let out a booming laugh. "Clever lad!" he said, slapping his stubby hands together. "We can't know way Caledan took, but you'll show us the way his shadow went."

"And it's safe to assume that the rest of him went along," Jewel said brightly.

Kellen smiled as he continued to play the flute. The shapes moving on the ground were the shadows cast by travelers who had passed this way recently. Raptly the companions watched the shadows go by: the silhouette of a peasant man bent under a load of firewood, a trio of mounted soldiers, a farmer's ox-drawn wagon, and a nobleman's coach-and-six. At last the silhouette of a lone rider came into view. All of them recognized the horse's graceful head and the rider's wolfish profile.

Propelled by the magic of Kellen's song, the shadows of Caledan and his horse, Mista, approached the fork in the road, hesitated a moment, then took the left-hand track. Caledan had continued west, down the Dusk Road. Kellen lowered his flute. As the haunting music faded so did the silent procession of shadows. He looked tired but pleased.

"That's a fine trick, lad," Cormik said, impressed. Morhion approached the boy. Kellen's shadow magic was powerful indeed. He wondered what other unknown abilities the boy possessed. "I did not know that you could summon shadows of the past, Kellen." Kellen shrugged, putting away his bone flute. "I didn't either, until I tried."

They mounted their horses and cantered down the swath of the Dusk Road. The full moon was rising they made camp in a copse of beech trees. This time, Jewel made certain there were no caves in the vicinity. While Kellen piped a gentle tune on his flute, Cormik and Mari fashioned what supper they could from dried meat and such wild roots, mushrooms, and herbs as they could find.

From his saddlebag, Morhion pulled out the two gifts the witch Isela had given him. The book, which was certainly ancient, was written in the dead language Talfir, which meant Morhion would have to spend long hours of translation to understand its contents. He was eager to begin; he knew enough Talfir to read the book's title. It was K'sai'eb'mal, or in the common tongue, On the Nature of Shadows. Morhion carefully set down the tome and picked up the ring, a simple silver band set with a large stone the purple hue of a twilight sky.

"I've never seen a gem like that," Jewel said, sitting down next to the mage. She winked at him slyly. "And you might consider me an expert on the topic."

"I think it is forged of magic," Morhion said. "But as to its precise nature, I cannot guess."