Foxfire led the way steadily westward, to a grove perhaps a half-day's walk toward the east from the trading settlement known as Mosstone. In times past-in happier, safer times-the elves of the Elmanesse tribe had traded with the humans who lived in this forest-side town. Then came the brutal reign of the Tethyrs, the family of human royals who seemed determined to drive the elves from the land. The Elmanesse had withdrawn into the forest shadows and proclaimed their own government via the Elven Council. For many years, all who ventured into the forests had lived and died by the judgments handed down by this council. But in these troubled times, even the wise, collective voice of the council had faltered and fallen silent. The elven alliance had splintered, and each clan had gone its own way. In particular the Suldusk tribe, always chary of alliance with their Elmanesse brothers and sisters, had all but disappeared into the deep shadows of the southeastern forest. No one knew for certain how many elves remained in the ancient wood.

Even so, a settlement of elves remained in the Council Glade, and the elders who lived there were still the best source of news and information in the forest. Foxfire hoped to find answers that would make sense of what was happening to his people.

Elves had lived in the Forest of Tethir from time beyond memory-and elven memories were long, indeed. But for the first time hi his nine decades of life, Foxfire feared that the days of his people in this land might be numbered. Too many changes had come upon the elves, too quickly for them to assimilate or adjust. It was Foxfire's nature to find the good in every situation and to expect that success would be his in all things. It was his gift to inspire those around him with the same confidence. Yet even he could not disregard the fears that a new shadow had fallen upon Tethir. Recent events suggested that the Time of Tyranny might soon return.

Nor were the elves helping themselves. Foxfire could not dismiss from his mind the insinuations placed there by the human, Bunlap. Was it possible that some clans really were attacking farms and caravans? And if this were so, what further trouble might this bring to the tribes of Tethir?

"Not far now," commented Korrigash, a dark-haired hunter-warrior who was Foxfire's closest friend. The taciturn elf seldom spoke, and the fact that he did so now was a sure measure of the gravity of their quest.

Though Korrigash was nearly as dour as a dwarf, there was no one under the stars whom Foxfire loved better or trusted more. The two were friendly rivals and had been since long ago when, as toddlers, they'd pelted each other with whatever weapons they could muster, whether pebbles found on the forest floor or the moss that lined their nappies. These days their rivalry took the form of contests of arms or archery, or the good-natured competition fin1 an eh7 maid's smile. But when they were on patrol or doing battle, Korrigash fell naturally into place at Foxfire's back, instinctively deferring to the flame-haired warrior. Likewise, Foxfire had learned to hear the unspoken thoughts that lay beneath his friend's few words.

"Council Glade is beyond those cedars." Foxfire pointed with his bow to a thick stand of conifers. The elders will know whether there is any truth to the human's tales."

Korrigash merely sniffed, but his brother, a stripling youth known as Tamsin, had no shortage of opinions on the matter.

"How can there be truth, where there is no honor?" he blurted out. "Humans have no knowledge of either! And if perchance the People have been pushing back the invaders, what of it? If I had my way, every human who stepped beneath the trees of Tethir would be greeted with a bolt through the heart, and may the silver shadows gnaw upon their bones!"

"Spoken with typical restraint," Foxfire told Him lightly, but instinctively he lifted one hand and formed the traditional elven sign for peace. One never knew when the silver shadows might be watching. Only a very rash elf would speak lightly of these mysterious beings or risk incurring their rare but deadly ire.

The Elmanesse and the Suldusk were not the only elves in the forest. There were, among these trees, People even more fey and secretive. The lythari, shapeshifting creatures who were more wolf than elfj had been living in Tethir when Foxfire's ancestors still walked beneath the trees of Cormanthor. Although it had been centuries since anyone in the Talltrees tribe had seen a lythari in elven form, from time to time they caught a glimpse of silvery fur or heard the lytharis* haunting songs soaring upward in search of the unseen moon.

"You are among friends, Tamsin, but I would take care before casting those seeds to the wind." continued Foxfire. Think what might occur if such words took root, and the People came to regard all humans as enemies!"

The young elf shrugged and turned aside, but not before Foxfire noted the smoldering flame in his eyes. Suddenly he understood the true nature of his friend's brother. What Foxfire had taken to be yet one more outburst from the impulsive youth was something much more deadly: hatred, blind and unreasoning and implacable.

For a moment the elven leader was stunned by the sheer force of Tamsin's emotion. Foxfire did not like to think what might result should the hearts of too many of the People's young follow that narrow path.

"Less talk, more walking," Korrigash suggested grimly. "Night's not long to come."

The words were not meant as a distraction, but as a simple statement of fact. Although the three elves could see as well in darkness as in daylight, there was a certain practical need to reach Council Glade before nightfall. The forest was full of dangerous creatures: ogres, giant spiders, wolves, stirges, wyverns, and even a dragon or two. Many of these grew hungry with the coming of darkness, and there was every possibility that the elves, themselves hunters, might become prey.”

"By the stars and the spirits," Tamsin swore in a choked voice. The young elf kicked into a run, dashing through the ferns and vines without regard for silence and without thought for the trail his passing left.

Foxfire's reprimand died unspoken. A dagger gleamed in Tamsin's hand. The youth often sensed dangers that older and wiser elves missed, and though he was impulsive, he did not enter battle lightly. Foxfire and Korrigash exchanged a quick, dismayed glance and drew their own weapons.

The elves ran lightly through the crushed foliage, pausing at the torn curtain of vines that had veiled Council Glade from their sight. Before them stood Tamsin, his copper-hued face strangely ashen, and beyond him lay a scene of utter devastation.

What had once been a lush forest glade now resembled the remnants of a careless merchant's campfire. A large circle of ground was black and barren, tittered with piles of charred sticks. The swinging bridges- walkways that had linked the trees and the homes and chambers hidden among them-now hung against the blackened trees. The elven homes were gone, as were the inhabitants. Foxfire's throat tightened as he noted blackened bones lying among the remains of trees.

The home of the Elven Council had been utterly destroyed, and with it the best hope of unity among the beleaguered People.

A tight touch on his shoulder tore Foxfire from his grim thoughts. He turned to face the hunter, who handed him a blackened arrow shaft.

Took it from between two naked ribs. Look at the mark," Korrigash advised him.

The elf glanced at the shaft. The mark on it was familiar: three curved tines, combining to make a stylized foxfire, the bright flower from which he had taken his name. The arrow was unmistakably his, yet how had he lost it? He hadn't missed a chosen target since boyhood!

He lifted incredulous eyes to his friend's face. "But how?"