She glanced at her son. "We can try. But I'd suggest you have your archers take aim at them. That may be our best hope."

Jenoe nodded once. He turned to one of his soldiers and ordered the man to hurry back and bring the bowmen forward.

A moment later, though, matters turned far, far worse. The large pack of wolves that attacked the Fal'Borna Weaver had moved on, leaving little more than a bloody carcass where the man had been. They made their way through the settlement, snarling at any movement, snapping their jaws. Several broke off in pairs and threesomes to pursue stray warriors. But the bulk of the pack seemed headed for the horse paddock.

Before they reached it, two large groups of Fal'Borna children, who apparently had been hiding in shelters near the far end of the sept, burst into the open. There were at least thirty of them in all. Several of them looked nearly old enough to be warriors, but most were far younger. As soon as they appeared, the wolves turned and started after them.

"Gods!" Jenoe whispered. "They'll be slaughtered!"

"We have to do something, Father," Tirnya said, finally finding her voice. He nodded. "To the wolves!" he shouted, raising his sword and breaking into a run. "Kill the wolves!"

The rest of the army raised their blades as well and followed. But Tirnya knew that they wouldn't get there nearly in time. The wolves closed in on the children even faster than they had on the fleeing warriors. She saw the great animals drag down several of the young Fal'Borna. They didn't even bother hunting in teams; the children were easy prey. She heard snarls and the horrible shrieks of the children. She felt her stomach heave and clamped her teeth shut to keep from being ill.

Along with her father and the other captains, she was among the first to wade through the frigid waters of the stream and enter the settlement. Tirnya could see the beasts clearly now. Many of them had blood on their snouts; others were feeding on the bodies of children, and still others were closing in on those children who had escaped their first attack. The Eandi army was still too far from them to help, and the archers couldn't aim a salvo at the wolves without killing the young Fal'Borna as well. Jenoe shouted at the wolves and waved his arms over his head, trying to draw the beasts' attention, but most of the animals barely took notice. A few broke off and turned to face the advancing soldiers, but the others remained intent on the children.

"Ideas?" Jenoe asked, slowing to a walk and then stopping.

No one spoke. Tirnya didn't know what to suggest. She stopped beside Jenoe, knowing that he couldn't fight the wolves alone. The other captains halted as well. Eight of the great animals stood before them. It almost seemed that they'd been chosen to fight the soldiers and thus give their brethren time to hunt the children.

The creatures started forward slowly, growling, their ears laid back, their teeth bared. Tirnya and her father crouched low and readied their blades. Other captains and soldiers on either side of them did the same.

Tirnya heard a cry go up behind her. Glancing back quickly she saw something soaring toward them. She squinted. Whatever it was looked like a series of small, thin clouds. It took her a moment to realize that they resembled the odd, sparkling powder sent forth by the Mettai when they cast their spell against the Fal'Borna. Was this more magic? She wasn't sure whether to rejoice or shudder. She watched it pass overhead and then rain down upon the wolves and children at the far end of the settlement.

But she had no time to see what this newest spell had done.

As if responding to some silent signal, all eight wolves suddenly charged the soldiers. Tirnya had never seen a normal wolf in the wild, though she'd once seen a captive one that came to Qalsyn with a traveling festival. But that animal had been timid and gentle. These magical creatures were something else entirely. Not only were they large and unnaturally swift, they were also canny. They didn't fight like wild dogs; they fought like warriors.

The one in front of Tirnya and Jenoe broke off its charge at the last moment, darted to the side so that it had a clearer path to Tirnya, and then sprang at her. She tried to stab the creature with her sword, but it managed to evade her thrust with a twist of its body. Its snapping jaws just narrowly missed her shoulder. The animal landed behind her, turned with blurring speed, and attacked again, this time leaping for her neck. Tirnya slashed at it with her blade and was certain that she drew blood. But the wolf crashed into her, knocking her to the ground. She landed on her back, losing her grip on her weapon.

The wolf struggled to get to its feet again, its claws scraping her chest and neck. An instant later its face was just next to hers, its hot breath stinking of blood. Tirnya gagged.

She heard her father shout something, and then felt the full weight of the beast sag onto her body. Its blood, slick and warm, soaked into her coat of mail. She tried to push the beast off of her, but couldn't. After a moment, though, it rolled away.

Her father stood over her, his sword stained red, his chest rising and falling.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

Tirnya nodded, and struggled to her feet. She bent to retrieve her sword, and as soon as she straightened again, she swayed. Her father put out a hand to steady her. Looking at the carnage around her, she saw that the other seven wolves were also dead. Five men, including one of her father's captains, had been wounded.

Her father, though, had his head turned away from the wolves and injured men. Following the direction of his gaze, Tirnya saw that he was looking toward the Fal'Borna children. She'd forgotten momentarily, but it all came back to her now, and she hurried toward them. After only a few steps, she halted. From what she could see, all of the children appeared to be dead, as did all the wolves.

Tears streamed down her face and once more she feared that she'd be ill. "What did you do?" she screamed, turning to look for the Mettai. "What did you do to them?"

Fayonne was just emerging from the stream, her son and the other Mettai with her.

"We put them to sleep," she answered, striding purposefully in Tirnya's direction. "It was all we could think to do."

"To sleep?" Tirnya turned again and looked a second time at the children and magical beasts. She took a tentative step forward, and then another. Clearly many of the children were dead. Some had been mauled so violently that it was hard to say where one body's blood ended and the next began. There were at least a dozen like this. But beyond them, scattered among the prone bodies of perhaps twenty wolves, were many more young Fal'Borna. All of them appeared whole and unhurt, save for the fact that they were unconscious.

"They put them to sleep," she whispered. She faced Fayonne again. "How long?"

The eldest had stopped next to Jenoe. She shook her head. "I don't know. Not long. Especially for the wolves. They're bigger; the magic will have less effect on them."

Right. Tirnya still held her sword in her hand, and now she walked to the first of the sleeping wolves. Once more she was amazed by how large the creatures were. This wolf's paws were as large as her hand; its jaws appeared capable of biting through the limbs of an oak. In other ways, though-the glossy black fur, the peaceful rise and fall of its flanks with each breath-the animal looked for the moment like any domesticated dog. That is, except for the smear of blood on its muzzle.

Tirnya raised her blade and plunged it into the creature's chest. The wolf spasmed, rolled onto its back, its paws clawing at the air. She pulled the sword out and stabbed the wolf a second time, and then a third. She drew back the weapon for a fourth thrust, but the animal was dead.