Instantly Hal leaped to his feet, ignoring the burning pain and free flow of blood along his side. The snarling feline face was marred by a long cut, but once again the beast growled and crept forward. Halloran knew he could not stop it a second time.

Suddenly he saw one, then several heavy bolts appear in Ihe monster's flank. Crossbow quarrels! Some of Daggrande's men had seen them! The creature whirled and snapped at the missiles, so Halloran thrust at its other flank, driving his steel blade deep into its flesh. A band of swordsmen sprinted toward them, lumbering in the soft sand.

The monster uttered another horrible roar, directed up the beach. Halloran watched in astonishment as several of the running swordsmen stumbled and fell, apparently stunned by the roar. Before the others could close, the monster sprang back toward the shelter of the forest. Its short wings greatly speeded its flight, and in moments it had disappeared into the trees.

"Are – are you all right?" Hal asked, anxiously helping Martine to her feet. His voice sounded hollow in his skull, but it seemed that his hearing was gradually returning.

"Yes… but you're hurt." She looked at his chest with genuine concern. "You saved my life!"

Halloran felt a delayed reaction to the sudden deadly combat. His knees shook and his muscles felt drained. He did not resist as she lifted his arm over her shoulder and supported him, aided by several men who only now arrived on the scene.

"Get the Bishou!" she shouted, and one of the men turned to obey. Hal had visions of his last rites, his soul delivered to Helm on a silver platter.

They soon reached the main gathering, and the brown-robed Bishou Domincus came striding forward to greet them. From the glowering look on his features, Hal felt certain the cleric did indeed want to send his soul Helmward.

"Help him, Father! He saved my life! The creature… it was horrible! I don't know what it was!" Martine's words spilled forth in an excited jumble.

"'Hakuna', the chief called it." Hal blinked and saw Cordell standing beside the Bishou. The captain-general's face was slightly amused, not displeased. "That was well done. Captain!" Despite Hal's pain, the commander's words sent a thrill of pride to the core of his being. He smiled weakly as Martine helped him to lie upon the beach. The Bishou, still glaring, knell beside him.

"Helm deliver this warrior from his wounds." Domincus closed his eyes and chanted. "He fought bravely and truly in your name. Grant me the power to close his flesh, that he may strive further in your valorous cause!"

Halloran felt his pain flow from his body as if the dam restraining it had been breached. His arm, hanging limply before, suddenly became strong, and he struggled to rise.

"Rest here," said Martine quietly. "Don't get up yet." Her voice was so soothing, the sand and the sun so pleasant, that Hal had no difficulty obeying. She rested her hand upon his forehead, and it seemed as though cool water washed over him. In moments, he slept.

It was late afternoon before he was awakened by Daggrande. "Last boat to the Osprey. Unless you want to wait here and dance with that hakuna again tonight, that is."

Hal sprang to his feet, feeling remarkably spry. "Are we moving on?"

"Aye. The scout ships returned. This is an island, like I said. But now we hear tales of real mountains and a huge land that these folks get to by canoe. I think our next landfall will be the mainland."

"Splendid!"

"That's not all. We hear they have a real city there… and a pile of gold big enough to blind you in bright sunlight!"

Halloran saw several of the native girls being lifted into longboats, most of which had already been taken back to the ships. Some distance away, Martine and the Bishou were locked in a heated conversation, but he could not hear what they said. The daughter gestured angrily, and the father turned sourly away.

As Hal and Daggrande reached the Ospreys boat, Martine called to the cavalryman. He paused on the beach as Daggrande impatiently waited in the boat.

"I'm coming with you," said the woman. He saw a look of unfamiliar determination on her face.

"Of course." Halloran was delighted by the news, mostly. "But what about your father? Doesn't he want you aboard the Falcon?"

"Hmph!" She flounced past him and turned to look at the Bishou. He was aiding several native girls into another longboat. "Father seems to have been given a 'gift.'" Martine gestured at a dusky maiden. "A slave!"

Halloran looked in surprise, guessing that all twelve of the girls had been distributed among the other captains and influential officers of the fleet, as Martine continued. "I told him that he should set her free! Helm does not sanction slavery! But he made all sorts of stuttering noises – 'It would be an insult to her people,' and such!"

She cast an angry look back toward the cleric, and Halloran felt very glad that he was not the target of such scalding rage. Yet he didn't know what to say to her as she looked back at him, her eyes still flashing.

"I think he likes having a pretty young slave! And so I toid him I would not ride on the same ship with her," she snapped. "And here I am!"

"Won't you join us, then?" said Halloran weakly.

"Send for my luggage – tonight, please," Martine continued, scarcely missing a beat.

Halloran nodded, stunned by this abrupt assault and uneasy about its possible consequences.

A black cape rustled softly in the darkness. The sound was intentional; the Ancient One announced his arrival to his fellows. But even more than this, the silken whisper told the others that this one had made a decision, a decision for action.

"Kizzwryll!"

The whispered word, spoken by the Ancestor, called to life the Darkfyre. The black liquid roiled in its caldron, shedding a darkness across the gathering that washed the faces of each of those present with an inky illumination.

The Darkfyre settled within its kettle, and the Ancient Ones turned to regard Spirali, the one of their number who had just arrived.

"The cleric is incredibly weak, even for a human. We cannot trust him to fulfill the task." Spirali's voice, a low whisper, echoed hollowly in the vast cavern.

"tou speak the truth." The wizened Ancestor, concealed by his robes where all the others gathered with bared heads, nodded.

"There is now a thing I must do."

Several cloaks rustled, a mute agreement with Spirali's remark and a comment about its drastic nature.

"tou must not reveal yourself if it can be avoided. But if the humans fail, you must slay the girl." The Ancestor rasped the command gently, knowing that Spirali had implicitly understood the situation long before any of the rest of them had acknowledged the truth. Sometime our deliberateness hampers us, reflected the Ancestor. The humans move so much faster.

"I will enact the will of the council," said Spirali. With another rustle of his cape, he bowed deeply and then turned back to the darkness.

Erix could not see the cycles of the sun, so she had no accurate means of measuring the length of her imprisonment. She had received ten meals – each a miserable portion of cold mayz and water – and her best guess was that ten days had passed.

Other than the silent servers who brought her food, slipping it to her through a small hatch in the cell door, she had no contact with other humans. Around her yawned a seemingly vast realm of silence. A perennial chill made her suspect that she was held somewhere underground.

Not long after her tenth meal, Erix again heard sandaled footsteps outside her cell door. She sensed that only a few hours had passed since her daily sustenance, so she knew this was an unusual visit. Crouching against the wall opposite the door, she waited. The latch lifted, and a sudden wash of torchlight filled the room as the portal opened, revealing a pair of men in loincloths.