The vines rustled and parted as Guss and Beckla caught up with Artek. Both gaped in shock when they saw Solthar dangling from the tree.

"He was right," Beckla said. The Hunt did find him in the end."

Something in the leaf litter caught Artek's eye. He bent down and picked it up. It was a small square of grimy silk. He swore under his breath.

This is Corin’s handkerchief," he said grimly. He looked up at the suspended body of the madman. The hunters Solthar talked about must have come upon Conn. The old man must have actually tried to help him."

"I don't think it worked," Muragh said.

Artek dug in the pocket of his breeches and pulled out a small blue stone-the heart jewel he had used to find the lost lord in the lair of the Outcasts. Blue light pulsed rapidly in the center of the crystal. Corin was still alive, but he was terrified.

"Come on!" Artek growled. "We have to find Corin."

Artek dashed through the forest again, running in the direction in which the gem's light was strongest. As he ran, he tried to recall what Solthar had said about these strange Hunters. Their god is a beast, and a master of beasts. And beasts we are to him. His eyes. Too bright, his eyes. They burn as he crushes them in his jaws." Artek was filled with a deep sense of foreboding. He tightened his grip on the jewel. Instinct burned in his brain, urging him to hurry.

Without warning, the trees gave way to grass. Artek stumbled to a halt, chest heaving. He blinked and realized that once again he stood on the edge of the large clearing by the lake. In the distance lay the walled temple, its crimson dome gleaming like blood. A moment later, Beckla and Guss crashed out of the underbrush to stand beside him. As one, they stared in horror at the scene before them.

Far across the green field, a gangly form ran desperately while three crimson-cloaked men on dark horses rode swiftly behind. It was Corin. The lord stumbled and fell sprawling on the grass. The horses leapt over him, then circled around as their riders laughed. Corin lurched to his feet and stumbled on. The hunters blew their horns and spurred their mounts after him. The bastards, Artek thought with a snarl. They were toying with the nobleman.

Artek lunged into a run, racing across the field. He was far too slow. He was less than halfway there when the hunters tired of their game. One scooped up Corin, flinging the lord over his saddle, and the three riders rode through the archway in the temple's wall, disappearing inside. There was a distant but audible boom! as an iron door shut, sealing the opening. Artek stumbled and fell to the ground, utterly exhausted.

Corin was alive, but Artek had lost him.

It was going to be just another job.

Artek had pulled off dozens of capers like it-more than he could count. This would not be the easiest stronghold he had ever broken into, but he did not think it would be the hardest. There was only one difference. It was not gold he planned to steal, nor jewels, nor pearls. This time he was going to steal a nobleman.

"We're going with you," Beckla said grimly, crossing her arms over her flowing shirt and gray vest.

Behind her, in the thicket in which they had hidden themselves, Guss nodded solemnly. Muragh bounced up and down in the gargoyle's clawed hands to signal his agreement.

"It's my fault he was captured," Artek growled. "Don't you see? It's because of my blasted orcish side that he's in trouble. So it's up to my other side to get him out." He turned his back on the others, not wanting them to see the pain that twisted his face. Why did he always have to war against himself like this? Even as he posed the question, he knew the answer. When he suppressed the orcish part of him, he became an overly idealistic fool, someone who stupidly trusted that others would believe his innocence without proof of his guilt. Yet when he allowed the ore in him to reign free, he was brutish and violent- a cretin who drove a young man to danger with his insensitive words. Fool or brute, he could be one or the other. But he could never be whole.

Damn you, Artek, he cursed inwardly Damn you, Arturg, and Arthaug before you. Yes, damn us all to the Abyss. The whole wretched family. I am what you made me, and I hate you for it.

"I know this seems horribly rude," Guss said in a serious but polite tone, "but you'll have to stop us from coming with you."

Artek let out an animalistic snarl. He did not have time for this! Hadn't they heard the ominous words of the madman? He glanced at the heart jewel; blue light still pulsed rapidly in the center, but that could change at any second.

"Suit yourself," Artek growled finally. "But don't get in my way. The dark gods know I can't say what will happen if you do." Artek then began to move through the trees, keeping to the shadowed edge of the clearing as he circled around the temple. Beckla and Guss followed quickly after him.

Finally, they readied the shore of the lake. Here the trees drew near to the temple-no more than thirty paces of grass lay between woods and walls. The gate was on the far side of the compound, and there were no watchtowers on this side. It seemed the priests were confident within their walled stronghold and that was well. Confidence led to conceit, which in turn led to carelessness.

Artek squatted, leather creaking, and considered the best way to gain entrance to the temple.

"I could fly over the walls," Guss suggested, sensing his train of thought.

Artek let out a derisive snort. "And why not carry a gong with you so you can announce to all the priests that you're dropping in?"

Guss's wings drooped and his toothy smile turned to a look of chagrin.

"What about you, wizard?" Artek whispered acidly. "Do you know any spells that can whisk us inside the temple?"

She fixed him with a sharp look. "I can cast a spell of teleportation. But you know as well as I that only a great mage could transport the three of us. Given my level of ability, I could probably teleport a dead vole into the temple. Would that be a help?"

That last question hardly needed the caustic irony she lavished upon it. Artek grunted. He had thought as much.

The temple stood directly on the edge of the lake, and water lapped against the rear wall of the compound. Artek made a decision. Without warning the others of his intention, he moved swiftly through the trees to the shore and dove into the icy lake. With swift, strong strokes he swam underwater until surfacing before the pinkish stone wall. Moments later, Beckla and Guss rose from the lake beside him. Both gasped for breath, though Muragh seemed unfazed. Of course, the skull was used to long submersion. Not needing to breathe helped, too.

Gritting his teeth, Artek began pulling himself up the wall. Guss gripped Beckla, who in turn held on to Muragh. Wings straining, the gargoyle rose into the air, keeping pace with Artek until they reached the top together. Clutching the edge of the wall, the four cautiously peered into the temple compound below.

Below them was a series of low buildings constructed of the same rose-colored stone as the walls. The buildings were arranged symmetrically around a circular structure that dominated the center of the compound-the high crimson dome they had glimpsed earlier, supported by fluted stone columns. Evidently it was the main temple. Artek could see between the columns into the dusky interior of the temple, but glimpsed only dark figures moving around a flickering red glow. Whether it was shadows or smoke, the inner temple was filled with a gloom that even his eyes could not penetrate. Thief s instinct told him they would find Corin there.

They froze at the sound of voices below.

"With the new sacrifice, М'kаr's count in the Hunt now rises to seventeen," said a deep voice.