Andris recognized the bitterness in her voice and heard the insanity. Neither changed his chosen path. "You will resolve the question for them if you stay here much longer. You are weak, Kiva. You cannot survive alone."

Her chin lifted. "I have allies."

"You had better find them, and soon."

She was about to respond when they caught the distant sound of underbrush rustling and a faint, grating snuffle. A boar, Andris noted grimly. In her hunger, Kiva had apparently forgotten that the scent of truffles might lure one of the dangerous beasts.

Kiva's eyes darted toward the sound, then to the ghostly sword on the jordain's hip. "I can help you," Andris said softly as he eased his weapon free. "With the boar and with other things."

The elf managed a scornful little laugh. "At what price?"

"Tell me how the Cabal can be destroyed."

This Kiva had clearly not expected. She regarded the jordain with curiosity. "Only idiots and elves believe in the Cabal. You spoke truth when you claimed elf blood?"

Andris noted that she spoke only of race, not of kinship. "Did I speak truth? Lady, I am a jordain," he said, self-mockery sharp in his eyes.

She let this pass. For the first time she looked at him, and there was something approaching kinship in her amber eyes. "You saw the captured elves of Kilmaruu, you read Akhlaur's journal," she said in a soft but steely voice. "You know who we are and what we must do. So be it."

Andris met the elf woman's eyes and saw there a destiny that encompassed them both. He responded with a grim nod.

There was no time for anything more. The underbrush exploded into a sudden fury of sound and motion. Andris whirled to face the charging beast-an enormous black sow, her belly swinging slack from a recent litter and her red eyes gleaming with desperate knowledge of her piglets' hunger. He judged the creature as nearly half the mass of a war-horse, with thrice the fight and fury.

Kiva touched Andris on the back, just below the shoulder blades. "Here," she said tersely. "Strike hard."

He acknowledged this with a curt nod and then pushed her aside, holding his ground as the wild pig charged in, its snout tucked like a charging bull. At the last moment Andris sidestepped, spun, and drove the sword home.

The blade sank into the hump of fat that was the wild pig's most vulnerable spot. Andris felt the sword grate against ribs before it was wrenched from his grasp. Even so, the great sow took several more steps before she stumbled and went down.

"Careful," the elf cautioned as Andris closed in. "The sow could still gut you with a nod of her head."

The wounded pig managed to get her feet beneath her and a tree at her back. At bay, she swung her massive head as if daring Andris to attack. The jordain stood his ground, battle-poised but patient.

It was not the sow's nature to wait tamely for death. She let out a searing bellow and burst into a charge, heading not for Andris but for the weaponless Kiva.

Andris shouted a warning and sprinted directly through the beast's path, slashing at the pig's sloped forehead. Blood poured freely. Blinded, the creature veered wildly aside.

Andris leaped onto the bristly back and groped for the hilt of the embedded sword, but the pig whirled and bucked, its tusks slashing the air. With each movement the upright sword swayed and danced like a palm tree in a monsoon gale. Andris was battered by the flailing movements of his own sword. Try as he might, he could not get a grip on it without slicing his hand on the blade or losing his hold on the pig.

As the sow frantically pitched and spun, the forest colors blurred into a whirling green haze. Andris was dimly aware of Kiva's shouts, barely audible above the creature's furious squeals and roars, and the thunderous pounding of his own heart. He sensed a dark streak sweeping in at him, felt a bruising blow glance off his shoulder and thud heavily into the sow's ribs.

The wild pig stopped to consider this new threat. Andris focused his spinning vision on the elf woman, who stood with her feet planted wide and a stout length of deadwood in her hands.

"The sword!" she shrieked as she hauled back the club for another swing.

Andris seized the hilt. Before he could thrust it down for the killing blow, the sow took off toward Kiva in another running charge. The jordain jolted back, certain he would lose his seat and yank the sword free.

He might have done just that, had Kiva been less agile. The elf dived aside, rolling quickly and coming to her feet. From the corner of his eye, Andris saw Kiva throw herself into a spin, bringing the club up and around as she came.

The stout stick caught him across the flat of his back, slamming him forward. Pain radiated through his limbs like molten fire, but he pushed it aside and used the momentum to help him thrust the sword deep between the sow's ribs. Still holding the hilt, he threw himself from his perch, wrenching the sword to one side as he fell. He let go and rolled away from the wounded beast. Coming up in a battle crouch, he pulled his jordaini daggers and waited.

Blood poured from the pig's snout and dripped from its tusks, but it took a few staggering steps toward Andris. It closed in, nearly to arm's length, before its legs finally buckled and gave out. The stubborn beast fell, twitched, and went still.

Andris released his breath on a long, ragged sigh of relief. He cast a wry look at Kiva. Her angular, elven face was drawn and ashen, almost gray beneath its coppery tone. He bit back the sarcastic «thanks» that danced ready on his tongue and set to work butchering. Kiva managed to light a fire. By unspoken agreement, they worked together and with great haste. Night was falling, and scavengers would soon come prowling. They quickly seared and ate several small chunks of meat.

When their hurried meal was over, the elf gestured toward a nearby mazganut tree. Andris helped her climb into its branches. He leaned against the stout trunk, winced with pain, and shifted around until he found a position that didn't hurt his bruised shoulders too badly. They settled down in relative safely to await the dawn.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unanswered questions. Kiva spoke abruptly. "This is no paladin's quest you undertake. Have you the stomach for it? For me?"

She reached out and touched his throbbing shoulder. "This journey started painfully. Most likely, matters will not improve. I won't mouth regrets I don't feel, and I'll do whatever it takes to avenge the wrongs done to your people and mine. Knowing this, will you follow me still?"

Andris answered as honestly as he could. "I can't pretend to understand all that you have done, but I believe we share a common goal."

"And that will content you, jordain?"

He hadn't expected anything more. Aloud he said, "Where do we start?"

Kiva's smile was suddenly feline. "We meet some of those allies I promised you. I admire your confidence, Andris, but did you really think that we two could take on the whole of Halruaa?"

Andris awoke while the sun still slept. He watched as light slowly filtered through the layers of forest canopy and lit the quiet, ravaged face of the elf woman beside him.

Kiva was in reverie, the uniquely elven state of wakeful dreaming, more restful than sleep. Her feline eyes were open, fixed upon some distant, pleasant sight. A small, innocent smile curved her lips. She looked very young, and not at all like the coldly determined magehound who had shattered his life. For a moment Andris wondered how far back Kiva had to go to find this person, these memories.

Then, suddenly, she was awake, and her eyes were as cold as a hunting cat's. Andris glanced aside, but not before she took note of his scrutiny.