Once on the opposite ledge of the chasm, Vheod stood. Without his torch, he could see only a short distance ahead of him, so he drew his sword to use to feel ahead in the dark. He didn't care for the bright light of day, but the utter finality of darkness was worse, and more limiting, though he could see a little. He preferred the light of an overcast day, or twilight- those were similar to the lighting conditions on the layer of the Abyss in which he'd grown up.

Where had he gotten a torch from anyway? Had Melann given it to him? Vheod seemed to remember vaguely there being a few torches mixed in with the siblings' other equipment on the horses. In any event, he moved forward into the darkness.

Since he couldn't see, after two dozen steps or so, he allowed himself the dangerous luxury of calling out again. The danger, of course, came from the fact than everything that might be down here would hear "him-even something that meant him only harm. "Melann?"

Vheod continued walking until his sword bumped into a wall. He followed it along, occasionally grasping the roots that reached out from the wall. He yanked them away from where they hung for no good reason other than to mark his path-a path he probably couldn't see to follow in any event. Vheod considered attempting to make another torch, since he carried flint and tinder with him in his pocket, but he didn't think he could make the moist roots burn well. As he grasped a root projecting out of the earthen wall, it suddenly grabbed back. Vheod looked down at his arm and saw with faint vision a root about half an inch in diameter wrap around his arm. He tried to jerk it away, but the root held fast. He raised his sword, still tugging to free his arm. When he couldn't pull away, he tried to get as much of the root exposed between him and the wall as possible. Having done that as best he could, he hacked at it with his blade. It took two strikes to cut through the root, but when he'd succeeded, the severed part fell away, limp and lifeless.

"Hello?" A voice cried from within the sea of darkness. "Is anyone there?"

Vheod recognized Melann's voice and stumbled toward it in the darkness, moving away from the wall to keep out of the reach of any more strange, grasping tendrils. "Melann! It's me, Vheod." "Vheod, I'm here!"

"Wait," he said in the direction of her voice. She sounded close. Vheod knelt down, setting his sword at his side. He took the flint from his pocket and tried to get a light, even a tiny spark that might set fire to one of the root tendrils he'd torn. After a few moments, he managed to get a spark to light the end of one of them. It wouldn't burn long, but it provided a tiny jewel of light for now.

Vheod saw Melann just a few feet away, up against the wall, held fast by a number of roots that had entangled themselves around her wrists and ankles, as though she was shackled. In fact, the roots that held her resembled conventional manacles too much to be coincidence. Someone was holding her here.

"Melann," he asked her, still a little worried to get too close to the obviously dangerous wall, "is there anyone near?"

"No," she replied, "I don't think so." Her voice was hoarse and dry. Sympathy welled inside him, and he longed to go to her, to free her.

"Who put you here?" Vheod nervously looked around, though he could see very little in the oppressive darkness. His tiny light was already dying.

"I don't know." Her voice seemed a little frantic. "I remember a woman with dark hair. I remember moving against my will, as if I was dragged, then I just remember being here. What happened? How did we get here? Where are we? The last thing I fully remember was riding through the woods "with you." "How long have you been here?" he asked her. "Not long, I… I don't think…"

Perhaps their minds had been affected by the same thing, but she was abducted somehow, and he "wasn't. Still there was much left that needed to be explained. The light winked out. She gasped. Vheod stepped forward and grasped Melann's hand. He was close enough now to see her "without a light. He could see her smile and visibly relax in the darkness when he touched her. He pulled her hand away from the wall as much, as he could and chopped at the root that held her. He could see more roots uncoiling from the wall. "Keep prilling as far from the wall as possible. I'm going to cut these bonds, and when I do, pull that part of you away." He didn't tell her why. He couldn't afford to have her worrying about advancing roots that she couldn't see anyway.

Melann did as Vheod told her, and he managed to cut away the roots and avoid being grasped himself. She thrust herself completely away from the wall just as more roots reached for her. He guided her away from the edge of the cavern. The roots on the floor where they knelt to catch their breath didn't react the way those along the wall had. Apparently the animate roots had been enchanted. Whoever lived in this tree fortress obviously used the lower level for prison or dungeon.

Melann didn't speak for a few moments, and Vheod realized she was praying. When she finished, she raised her cupped hands above her, and they filled with magical light that illuminated the area around them much more brightly than Vheod's pitiful little flame.

When his eyes adjusted to the new light, he looked at Melann carefully. Moist dirt was caked all over her clothes, face, and hair.

"Are you all right? Are you hurt?" "Other than some chaffed wrists," she said with raised brows, "I think I'm fine. You look as though you've been fighting."

"Do you remember anything, Melann?" He helped her to her feet, so that both of them were standing in the chill chamber. The air was still, but the water moving in the underground stream echoed in the distance. "Do you remember arriving at this… giant tree filled with ravens? Do you remember a thorny dog, or lighting a torch and exploring the inside?"

"The inside of a tree?" Melann asked, looking around.

"Yes," Vheod answered, nodding slightly. "We are below it now-in the roots."

"What you're saying seems to strike a familiar chord within me, like you're describing a distant dream. The events sound familiar, but I don't really remember them."

She brushed dirt away from her face and hair, then patted the soil from her clothes as well. She'd left her traveling cloak on her horse-as she'd done most of the time during the day. She wore only her light leather jerkin and gray cloth trousers, both torn and dirty.

"The same is true with me, I'm afraid. I've only been able to piece together what I've told you through interpolation. The last thing I clearly remember is riding through the woods with you."

"You said something about the tree being filled with ravens." It was a statement, not a question. She stopped brushing the dirt away and stared into Vheod's dark eyes. "Does that mean this is the lair of the Ravenwitch?"

"I think so," Vheod replied.

"Do you know where Whitlock is?"

"No, but I think I've got a good idea where to start looking."

Melann nodded, her eyes once again wide with optimism. "Well then, let's go."