"This is Aeron Morieth, the last of a long line of rebels who have plagued this land for years," Phoros snarled. "I thought I'd seen the last of him on my gallows, but it seems he's used his sorcerer's tricks to cheat death."

"A sorcerer?" Villon flicked his gaze at Aeron and back to Raedel. "The spell he just spoke was nothing more than an apprentice's trick, one of the simplest of enchantments."

"That does not mean that I am not capable of more powerful spells, Lord Villon," Aeron said. "It simply means that I do not kill lightly."

"I see," said the nobleman. He straightened up and fixed his eyes on Aeron. A mocking smile settled over his face. "Well, you seem to have us in your power for the moment. Perhaps you should speak your piece."

"You have hunted in this place long enough," Aeron said. "Move your camp at least ten miles tomorrow, and reduce your take to no more than one bear, two boars, or five stags in a day. Your slaughter's done harm enough, and I will intervene if I must." He paused and then added, "You should see the sense in moderation. If you kill everything in the forest this season, what will you hunt next year?"

Phoros spluttered in rage. "By what right do you tell me how I may hunt in my own forest?"

"The Maerchwood belongs to no man, commoner or king," Aeron answered. "I am the Storm Walker. It is my task to preserve this forest against any who would do it harm-brigands, settlers, loggers, or hunters. You would raise your hand to defend the lives and the homes of the people of Maerchlin. I will do the same for the Maerchwood."

"Are you calling yourself the lord of the forest?" Raedel demanded. "King Aeron, whom we shall all fear and obey?"

Aeron took a half step forward, angered by the lord's mocking manner. Why did I even bother trying to reason with Raedel? he thought. He's still the same boorish robber lord he always was, nothing but a thug whose father seized these lands at the head of a war band. He started to consider the spells at his disposal, seeking an enchantment that might erase Raedel's confident swagger and, perhaps, finally teach the count to respect him.

Or to fear him.

While the nobles watched scornfully, waiting for his answer, Aeron frowned and lowered his staff. I won't make myself any better a man by proving to these wolves what I already know, he thought. I'll do what I have to do in order to make them understand my point, and no more. I don't care if he hates me, fears me, or thinks I'm Assuran descended from the higher planes. I only want him to stay his hand against the Maerchwood. Choosing his words carefully, Aeron forced himself to ignore Raedel's provocation and continued. "I require no man's fealty. I won't bar anyone from entering the wood or tell him what to do while he's here. But I will be watching, and when someone harms the Maerchwood, I will act."

"And what is your definition of harm?" asked Villon. "It hardly seems fair to hold us to your standard without telling us what it is."

"I ask you not take more game than you can eat. You may cut one acre in twenty within five miles of the forest's edge, and you can take dead or dying trees anywhere you find them. If someone wishes to settle more of the forest, don't clear more than one mile in ten of woodland."

"I refuse to listen to this rubbish!" Phoros said. He advanced on Aeron, drawing his blade. "You cheated me once, Morieth, but this time I'll make sure you are dead."

Aeron stared him in the eye, raising one hand. "Is this what you want, Raedel?"

Phoros halted in midstride, caution momentarily gaining the upper hand over anger. He'd seen what Aeron was capable of and remembered the last time Aeron had put a spell on him. "Strike me down with your sorcery and you won't live a week," he said.

"Then agree to abide by my conditions. Honor my requests within the bounds of the Maerchwood. In turn, I will render you the honor that you deserve as the lord of Maerchlin when I pass through your lands."

"Don't even set foot outside your forest," Raedel growled. "In my land, you're marked for death."

Aeron shrugged. "So be it."

The count of Villon stood slowly. "What if we refuse to heed your warning? I've only seen you work two minor magics. Why should I fear your wrath?" He gestured oddly with his hand, and Aeron suddenly felt the ripple in the Weave as the count wove a spell. From his fingertips, a brilliant arc of light snapped forward, striking Aeron full in the chest with a thunderous crack! "I, too, know something of the wizard's art," Villon gloated.

Aeron staggered back two steps in blank surprise before he managed to blink the glare from his eyes. Unconsciously, he clasped his chest, and he slowly smiled as he realized he was unhurt. In his hand, Fineghal's staff hummed brightly with the power of the trapped lightning; Aeron silently thanked the elven mage for the day he'd enchanted the staff. Count Villon's face fell open in shock as he realized his spell had failed.

Aeron regained his composure first. "It's not for nothing that I call myself the Storm Walker," he said. He gestured and worked a powerful spell, one of the most formidable he knew, that immobilized Raedel, Villon, and the other remaining noblemen. Clasped in an invisible grip of iron, they watched him with terror in their eyes. "I will return tomorrow. I expect your camp to be gone. I have the means to compel you if you do not care to listen to reason. Now I bid you good night. You should regain the ability to move in an hour or two."

Mustering all the dignity he could, Aeron turned his back on Raedel and strode to the door. Over his shoulder, he added, "Remember, I had you all in my power and chose not to harm any of you. Don't make me regret that decision." With that, he sketched a shallow bow and left.

* * * * *

The following day Aeron took the shape of a small falcon and soared over the campsite, expecting the noblemen to resist his directions. To his surprise, the camp was gone. He easily found their trail and followed it north. They'd left the forest by the most direct route possible. He arrowed out over the terraced hills and green fields of Maerchlin, reveling in the rush of the wind past his face and the intoxicating freedom of flight, and even circled the gray towers of Castle Raedel three times before heading back to the forest. None of Phoros's guests remained.

Aeron returned to the small campsite he'd made for himself, resumed his own shape, and greeted Baillegh with a good scratch behind the ears. "I suppose Lord Raedel's guests didn't care for my hospitality," he said. He exulted in the first successful defense of his domain.

Baillegh turned a heavy, measuring gaze on him, as if the hound were asking if he'd really done the right thing. "Of course I did," Aeron answered. "I protected the forest without harming even a single soul." But a small, dark seed of doubt grew in his heart. But for the lightning ward Fineghal had placed in the staff, Aeron would have been killed by Villon's spell, and if the count had happened to strike with other deadly spells, Aeron would have been defeated in his first confrontation. And he'd enjoyed the sensation of bending others to his will with the strength of his magic, and that disturbed him greatly.

I used my power to defend the Maerchwood, a noble purpose, so my shielding against the corruption of shadow magic held that time. But what happens if I lash out in anger or work a spell for a less altruistic purpose? he wondered. The taint of the shadow in his magic might have already twisted his judgment, giving him pleasure in the fear of others. "Perhaps I shouldn't be so quick to compel their cooperation," he said after a time.

Baillegh barked once in affirmation. Aeron looked up, frowning. "Did Fineghal leave you in my care, or the other way around?" he asked. The hound poked her nose into his stomach and bounded away down the path, yipping impatiently. Aeron sighed and followed.