Since leaving the gully, they had seen no goblins – or any other living thing. Possibly the kender, going off alone as he had, had led the main forces away. If so, Wingover thought, then the gods help the little creature. He would never stand a chance out there alone.

Two miles of travel brought them to a descending slope with forest beyond, and beyond that the sound of a torrent raging. The valley's stream would be out of its banks by now, a rushing beast that no one could cross.

While Chane rested, with the attentive Jilian chattering at his side,

Wingover scouted. When he returned, he had news. Upstream a half-mile was a well-worn path going east. If there was a bridge, it should be there.

"And if the alert went out, that's where the goblins on the other side will be waiting," the wizard pointed out. Chane got to his feet. "We'll weld that joint when we find it," he said gruffly.

Wingover shrugged. 'Then lead on, Grallen-kin," he said.

Again, then, they were on the move. The path Wingover had found veered eastward, downslope and into forest, beyond which the torrent raged. The little stream that Camber Meld had called Respite River was, in normal conditions, a tame and pretty brook. Now, though, it was rushing, whitecapped black water nearly a hundred yards across – but spanned yet by a raised footbridge wide enough to allow carts to pass from one side to the other.

Beyond the stream was rainy darkness.

"I'll go first." Chane took a deep breath, drawing himself up. "I'm the only one who might get a look at the other side before he's spotted."

Without waiting for argument, the dwarf trotted down the streaming bank, waded through knee-deep water to the bridge's ramp, and disappeared in pouring darkness. He was back a short time later, appearing out of the darkness like a black-furred shadow with a glinting hammer in its hand.

"The bridge is sound," he told them. "There have been goblins on the path beyond, but they aren't there now. I took a good look around. Maybe the rain drove them to shelter."

"I've heard that goblins have no love of clean water," Wingover noted.

With Chane leading, pale but clear-eyed, they started across. The bridge shivered with the force of the torrent below it, and creaked and groaned when the horse was led onto it, but it seemed secure. The searchers were halfway across when they noticed that the wind had died and the pouring rain was letting up. The storm was dissolving as quickly as it had begun, and through clouds above, the visible moons could be seen in crescent.

"Our shine is outlasting our shield," Wingover growled, not looking at the wizard. In a way, he felt the blame had to be shared. The mage had at least tried to give them cover.

Jilian stopped and raised a hand, pointing upstream.

"Look," she said.

Far up the stream, a greenness glowed – a widening point of light that sparkled the torrent's surface and glimmered along both banks. Even as they watched, the green glow grew, coming toward them rapidly.

"The kender?" Chane wondered.

"Oh, rust," Jilian said. "I hope it isn't the poor little thing's corpse."

"He's still shining," Wingover reassured her.

As Wingover made that hopeful statement, the approaching green light winked out and there was only darkness on the stream. Jilian gasped. And gasped again as her own rosy glow dimmed and failed.

"We're losing our glow," Jilian said.

Wingover's gold radiance held for a moment more, then blinked off abruptly. Now they were only huddled shadows on a dark bridge, highlighted by a glowing horse and a radiant red wizard. The horse's light dimmed, lingered for a moment, and was gone.

The dark torrent raged beneath the footbridge, and now there were specks of light upstream. A blaze of torches was coming along the bank, on the side they had left. Wingover pointed. "They were following the kender."

"I think it would be a good idea if you doused yourself," Jilian

Firestoke told Glenshadow. Still the wizard shone with a bright ruby glow.

"Come on," Chane urged. "Let's get across. They're coming."

"How about somebody giving me a hand?" The voice that came from below the bridge was highpitched and excited. Chane and Wingover hurried to the edge and peered down into dark, rushing water. They quickly stepped across to the other side. Just below, barely visible, Chestal Thicketsway clung to a hoopak jammed between bridge pilings.

"Give us some light here," Wingover ordered, pulling Glenshadow to the edge of the bridge. Ruby glow lit rushing dark waters and the childlike face, grinning up at them. Chane Feldstone started to crouch above the kender, then winced as his wounded arm took his weight.

"Get back," Wingover snapped, pushing the dwarf aside. "I'll get him."

Kneeling, clinging to a bridge support, the man reached down and lifted the drenched kender, hoopak and all, to set him on his feet on the structure. The others stared at Chess. His hair falling around him, the kender looked like nothing more than a dark mushroom with a forked stick.

He pulled back long, soggy hair, shook it aside, and grinned at them.

"Hello," he said cheerfully, water cascading from him. "Did you know there are just a heck of a lot of goblins out there I I'm glad we stopped shining." He looked at the wizard critically. "If you intend to go on doing that, maybe you should go somewhere else."

After watching the torches come closer for a moment, Chane and his allies could see goblins… and creatures that were taller. Dragging the glowing wizard with them, trying to keep him shielded behind the horse, the searchers scurried for the far end of the bridge and the darkness beyond. When they were clear, Wingover waved the rest ahead, except for

Glenshadow. "Your phosphors gave me an idea," he told the wizard. "I think it's time to try it." Wingover dug into one of his packs and brought out a pair of hand-length cylinders that glowed silvery in the faint, murky moonlight. "Phosphor flares," he explained. "I got them from a Qualinesti traveler, Garon Wendesthalas." He dug deeper into the pack. "I still can't find my oil striker. Can you light these with that phosphor thing?"

"I can try. What do I light?"

"This thing here, on each one. It's a fuse." Wingover hurried to the foot of the bridge and placed a flare on each side, at the main supports.

"Hurry," he said.

The wizard knelt at first one and then the other of the flares, preparing the wicks. His glow was dimming slightly, and he squinted in the gloom.

"Will this help?" It was Chess, coming back to see what they were doing.

The kender held a small metal object, which he manipulated with his thumb.

A merry little fire appeared above his hand. But the wizard set the flares then. Harsh, bright sparks spewed forth, and Wingover said. "All right, get back!"

They retreated a dozen paces, then several more as bronze bolts sang past them from beyond the stream. Suddenly the flares erupted in furious blinding brilliance, beyond which a flood of armed goblins were running up the far ramp, onto the bridge.

Another bronze dart flew past, and Wingover snapped, "Put out that light." Then he turned to the kender as the little flame went out. "Where did you get that?"

Chess shrugged. "I don't know. Found it somewhere. What is it?"

"It's my oil striker!" Wingover growled.

"Is that what it is? Why do I have it, then?"

"I don't know why you have it. Give it back!"

Chess handed the thing over. "You must have dropped it along the way.

Lucky I found it for you. Looks a lot handier than flint and steel."

"It is flint and steel. With a wick. And oil. I -" Wingover stopped and stared. The flares on the bridge had done their job. The bridge blazed merrily now, a wall of fire from edge to edge, barring passage from the other side. A few wooden planks were even falling away to hiss in the dark waters below. But on the other side, a person had pushed through the clamoring crowd of goblins – a taller person, wearing gleaming black, ornamented armor and a horned helmet with a beaten mask. As Wingover, and now the others, stared across the fire, the person removed the mask. The wilderness man caught his breath. For the first time, he saw the face of