Ashtaway nodded thoughtfully, curious that his uncle chose to explain this philosophy to him.

The two Kagonesti continued in silence, remaining alert for pursuit. Once they heard the hoot of an owl and looked up to see a tattooed warrior waving them on. A few minutes later, they joined the rest of the tribe in the shadowed depths of the vallenwood grove. A pool of still water reflected the darkening sky, and Ash's heart broke at the sight of the many frightened faces peering out from behind the mighty trunks.

The elves would not risk many fires tonight, but they felt secure for the moment from bakali pursuit. A dozen warriors stood duty in the woods, posted in pairs and observing from the treetops fully a mile away from this secret grotto.

The rest of the tribe, save for the nine warriors who had fallen during the battle, now awaited the communal decision as to their next course of action.

Ashtaway quickly sought out Wallaki, Hammana's father. The old shaman, a respected figure in the tribe, had been given a straw mat underneath a lush vallenwood, where he would be as comfortable as possible. Resting a small gourd over a patch of glowing coals, Wallaki mixed some kind of medicinal brew with herbs and water. The shaman raised his darkly tattooed face hopefully as Ash approached, though his eyes seemed to search beyond the warrior's shoulder.

"I-I had hoped…" The shaman's voice choked, and Ash was grateful that he could ease his fears.

"Hammana is safe, not near the village," Ash said, explaining the summons that had drawn the two of them into the foothills. "Now she remains with Lectral, healing his wounds, which are many and deep."

"Hammana tends a silver dragon?" The shaman nodded without surprise, studying the strong-smelling brew that bubbled over his fire. "That is a wondrous thing for anyone, and the highest honor of all to a Kagonesti healer! But are you sure she is safe?"

"Safer than beside the Bluelake," Ash said wryly. "But,:n truth, Lectral is a fine dragon, and grateful for her attentions. And though he cannot fly, he can certainly protect her from any other threats that might lurk in the woods."

That is very well, then," Wallaki agreed, before turning back to his potion and beginning a mystical chant.

Ashtaway joined the warriors who gathered around the Pathfinder and his spiral Ram's Horn. Iydaway played the instrument slowly, mournfully, the music cushioning and echoing the grieving of the tribe for its lost warriors. He ceased playing long enough to recount the story of Ashtaway's attack, and other warriors-who had seen parts of the battle from distant treetops-chimed in with further praise. Ash sat tall and proud, deeply wanned by the praise of his comrades. Warrican's father recounted a list of the dead, and after each name, the warriors chanted a pledge, promising that the deaths would be avenged.

Finally the Pathfinder lowered his horn. The other braves waited expectantly until he spoke. "Our homes are destroyed, and the hated enemy camps in the ruins of our lodges. Some of us have died, but many more still live. Now we must decide what to do."

"Let us return to the lake shore during the night. We'll kill the lizardmen and reclaim our village!" spat a young warrior, Ampruss, whose father had been one of the first warriors to fall.

"Already the bakali have given me cause to grieve," argued Maggera, newly widowed mother of Ampruss. "Let us escape with those lives we have saved."

"Perhaps we can muster other tribes to aid our attack," suggested an older warrior. "The Whitetail village is but two days away, the Silvertrouts barely another day beyond. Shall we get them to help?"

"It would take too long," Ash suggested. "These bakali came to raid our village. I don't think they want to live there."

"We should attack quickly! The lake shore has been our home for a full century," stated Faltath, a veteran warrior and lifelong friend of Ashtaway. "Are we such cowards as to be driven away by a single attack?"

"It is not a matter of cowardice, but perhaps destiny," Iydaway demurred. All the other arguments ceased as the Kagonesti waited for the honored Pathfinder to continue.

"We know that war has blackened the northern plains and extended far into the mountains and forest lands as well. The dragons of the Dark Queen fly ever farther, it seems, always seeking to extend the range of her deadly servants.

"Now we can go back to the village and kill many bakali," Iydaway continued, the firm resolve in his voice indicating that he, personally, would derive great satisfaction from this bloodletting. Then his tone took on a sadder, more wistful sound. "But I fear we may not be so lucky when the lizardmen come again. If Ashtaway had not been returning from his hunt, we would be weeping for many more of our people tonight."

"The bakali never came before! Why do you say that they will come again?" persisted Faltath, who had earlier counseled attack. He was a huge elf, nearly as big as a human, and had been Ashtaway's main rival in the arts of the hunt and battle during his early years. Though they had become different as they matured, Ash still admired Faltath's strength and his determination when faced with a course of action. The big warrior's face was obscured by spiraling whorls of black ink, so that his eyes flashed from the middle of an apparently spinning vortex. Now they glowed with anger, an accusation against any brave unwilling to join his proposed attack.

"Because that is the way of wars," Iydaway responded, "of all great wars, at least. And the war that plagues Ansa- lon now is such a war. This I know. It is a great monster whose reach has been sweeping ever closer, until today we were grazed by a single talon on the far fringes of its great body, well removed from its dark and bloody heart.

"Yet the talon has learned that it can reach us, and when next it strikes it will be with the full force of a paw, or a mighty leg. The next time perhaps the bakali will have time to surround us, or they may come with ogres, even dragons. Then the killing will fall upon us."

"Dragons do not care about the forest floor," argued Faltath, his fist clenching around the heavy hilt of his longsword.

"This is not true, not anymore," Ashtaway declared. He told of the battle between the twin red dragons and the armored knights. His wonder at the knightly courage choked his voice, and for the first time he profoundly regretted his silence, knowing that he should have warned the humans of the impending attack. Understanding that the other braves regarded the presence of the knights to be as great a threat as the red dragons, he tried to reach them with his eyes, to show them that, somehow, these humans were different from the land-stealing men who had been the lifelong enemies of the tribe.

As he spoke, his listeners remained silent. "Not only were human riders patrolling this part of the forest, but the dragons who flew overhead were also searching the ground. If they had spotted the village, it is foolish to think that they would not attack, simply because they haven't done so before."

"But the lizardmen must be taught a lesson, just as we would slay the humans if we found them near the village!" Faltath argued furiously. "We know that Ashtaway fought and killed many bakali, while the rest of us fled! How can we let them think we run with our women and children at the first sight of an enemy, not daring to exact revenge?"

"We cannot let them think this," Iydaway declared bluntly, momentarily silencing the belligerent warrior. Faltath eyed the Pathfinder carefully, waiting to hear his next suggestion.

"The lizardmen must be punished for their attack. But we, the Kagonesti of the Bluelake, must also find a new home. It is clear that the war will no longer leave us in peace-and it is equally clear that, though this is not our struggle, it has the power to sweep us into its grip and destroy us."