"The sending of her scouts this far to the south is a sign that the Dark Queen grows desperate. For too long her armies have been held in bloody stalemate on the Plain of Solamnia, at the brink of the Kharolis Mountains, and perhaps she begins to fear that victory may yet elude her. She must strike at the forces of Paladine in Palanthas, and until she breaches that range she cannot bring her army to bear."

"I have heard of these mountains-but they are terribly far away, beyond the broad plain of Vingaard," Ash said skeptically. "What importance can those battles have to these southern forests?"

"There has come a warrior, a knight called Huma. It is said that through him the forces of Paladine may yet find a way to defeat Takhisis, and to reclaim the plains they call Solamnia. The Queen of Darkness must have heard these tales as well-and she is frightened. Since her armies are held at bay, she no doubt seeks another way to strike at the knights in Palanthas."

"But surely she will not find such a route through these southern forests? Only Silvanesti lies beyond."

"Perhaps it is not attack, but defense, that is now on her mind," Lectral suggested.

"Defense from what? We Kagonesti? Or does she fear that the arrogant House Elves of Silvanesti will take notice of her war and march forth to do battle?" The scorn in Ashtaway's voice clearly showed his own estimation of that likelihood.

"1 doubt she fears the elves. Surely Takhisis knows that if she leaves them alone they will not interfere with her plans for the human realms. Still, as her armies and arms are depleted, she must take steps to guard her base of power and supply in Sanction."

"I have seen Sanction from the mountain heights. It is a smoky, miserable place-why must she guard it so carefully?"

The silver dragon was silent for several minutes, gathering his thoughts. Ash waited patiently until his companion once again spoke.

"For two reasons. Sanction holds the great forges where all of the dark army's steel is smelted, and is the place where weapons that carry the war forward are forged. Her losses have been heavy, and it is known that her slaves are driven hard to hammer new steel, to forge weapons to replace those broken and abandoned on the fields. Sanction is where all this labor occurs. Great mounds of coal are stored there, as well as fields of iron and nickel from which that steel is forged. If she were to lose Sanction, her armies would be left without the lifeline of their power-the materials that allow her to wage this war.

"And second, the city is the site of countless huge storage barns-the food that will keep her army in the field through the upcoming year. Were those to be destroyed, much of the evil strength would be dispersed by the need to forage."

"Cannot the knights attack the city and destroy these forges?" Ashtaway wondered.

"I am certain that they would like to, but the city is guarded by walls and armies against attack from the west. Any attacking force would have to penetrate many barriers in the face of much resistance. Though they might desire to do so, I doubt that even the bravest warriors could succeed."

"What does this have to do with dragons flying over the forest?"

"Just this, I suspect: As I stated, Sanction is secure against attack from the west. But as her situation grows more perilous, perhaps Takhisis worries about attack from some other quarter. True, Sanction is guarded by mountains to the north, east, and south, but the Dark Queen is fearful, and no doubt seeks to reassure herself that these avenues, too, are protected."

"This knight called Huma must be a great man," Ashtaway suggested, "for his presence to cause the Queen of Darkness such concern."

"I am told that he is," Lectral agreed. "And, no doubt, if there was any way through the mountains, the knights would make every effort to strike at Sanction. I suspect her fears on that score are groundless, but she will nevertheless make effort to patrol these forests, just to make sure."

"I wonder what it is that brought the knights into the woodland. The force was too small for a battle such as you describe. This is far from their domain, as well," the elven warrior mused.

Lectral shrugged a great shoulder. "Humans think that all Krynn is their domain-but who can guess why they ride where they will?"

"My fellow warriors have slain many humans. When they fight us, they seem crude and vicious, not at all courageous. Though I admit that these knights were different-"

"Isn't this enough talk of war?" Hammana interrupted. She looked at Ashtaway pointedly. "Can you find some food?"

"Perhaps you might look along the valley below here, just to the north of my cave," Lectral suggested. "I caught the scent of deer only yesterday. It may be that you will find food for your village-and, perhaps, a haunch that you could spare for your silver friend."

"I go there immediately," Ash declared, rising to his feet with dignity. "And if I meet with fortune, know that I will soon return."

"Splendid," Lectral said, pleasantly blinking his large yellow eyes, allowing Hammana to massage a blend of herbs into a raw patch between his nostrils. "I shall take a nap while you hunt, and dream of awakening to the smell of venison."

With a deep, reverent bow, Ashtaway stepped to the mouth of the cave. By the time he started down the trail, the crippled dragon had already drifted off to sleep. Hammana, however, looked after him-and in her eyes he saw the glow of pride… or something more.

True to Lectral’s word, Ash found deer in the marshy dale. The warrior stalked during a long, moonless night, bringing down two plump does with a single arrow apiece. In the dawnlit hours he left one whole carcass before the cave in repayment for Lectral's suggestion. Hammana announced that she would stay with the dragon for a few days, and Ash promised to carry word of her decision to her father, Wallaki.

Pledging to return soon, Ashtaway hoisted the other deer to his back and started toward the village. The gutted doe was heavy, but the weight felt good on the wild elf's shoulders-and even under the load he maintained a steady, loping jog along the forest floor. The village beside the Bluelake was close, barely a dozen miles away, and he looked forward to returning there by midafternoon. His arrival, he knew, would be greeted with great happiness among all the villagers-it had been many months since a Kagonesti warrior had returned to the village with such a prize.

Ashtaway's supple moccasins glided softly across the carpet of pine needles, moss, and soft loam. He drew his breaths in long, rhythmic inhalation-once for each four steps-and then exhaled in the same measured pattern. Sweat slicked his bronzed, tattooed skin, but the cool wind of his movement evaporated it quickly, bringing welcome relief from the oppressive summer heat.

He ran with trancelike concentration on his silent, measured progress, yet at the same time his mind remained alert to the forest all around. He listened for the cry of the hawk, or the cawing of angry crows-for any of the usual sounds of woodland life. As he drew nearer the Bluelake, with the morning's mist burned away by the climbing sun, he grew mildly concerned by the extent of the silence around him.

One possibility, he knew, was that the creatures sensed him, and in their fear they held close to their dens and nests. But Ashtaway knew a great deal about the sensory capabilities of his fellow forest-dwellers, and he felt fairly sure that most of them were not aware of his stealthy passage. After all, he ran facing into the little breeze there was, ensuring that his scent did not precede him. Too, his footsteps were as silent as a stalking cat's, such that even animals who might be cowering nearby would not hear him go past.