Two figures strode across the swamp water surface, confident in the spells that allowed them to traverse the murky water as easily as a northman might cross a winter-frozen pond. Despite their reliance upon magic, both these travelers looked utterly at home in this wild place.

Kiva's coppery skin and jade-green hair proclaimed her a native of the jungles. The colors of her beauty blended with the lush foliage, and her movements held the subtlety of shifting shadows. The human's scaled, faintly green skin, the gills on his neck, and the webbing between his fingers suggested a creature well suited to places where air and water mingled.

The amphibious wizard halted, leaning on his staff as he rested. For several moments the only sounds were the voices of the surrounding swamp, the faint crackle of energy that surrounded the wizard's staff-a living but stiff-frozen eel, hard as mithral-and Akhlaur's labored breathing.

"The air is thin. Two hundred years in magic-rich water cannot be countered in mere days," he snapped at his companion, as if she had chided him for some weakness.

Kiva lifted her hands in a defensive gesture. "This jungle has always been difficult for humans. Surely you remember the last time you were here."

Akhlaur's thin lips curled in a sneer. "Not so difficult. The natives died as easily as those in any other place."

The wild elf bit back her outrage and kept her face calm. "When you are ready, we should move on."

They pressed deeper into the Kilmaruu Swamp, the site of Kiva's first great victory. Twilight gloom settled over the swamp as they neared a swift-running river bordered by deep gorges and spanned by the remains of a bridge fashioned from a single, enormous log.

Akhlaur regarded the skeleton of the three-horned creature sprawled across the blackened wood. His face took on a dreamy expression, as if he were lost in fond memory.

"Monsters from Chult-I'd almost forgotten that spell! Bringing them here was difficult but worthwhile. The wild elves had never seen such creatures before. Quite amusing."

"No doubt," Kiva said flatly. She pointed toward the opposite bank. "That way."

The necromancer eyed the apparently impenetrable forest wall. "It did not look so when last I came through. There were terraced gardens amid the trees."

"Two hundred years," the elf reminded him. "The jungle covers all and forgets nothing."

He sent her a sharp glance. "That sounds suspiciously like a warning, little Kiva."

"A proverb," she said mildly, "of a sort often spoken by the jordaini. During your exile, these sayings have infested the Halruaa language like gnats upon overripe fruit."

"So much for my gift to Halruaa," Akhlaur observed. "It is said that no good deed goes unpunished!"

Several responses came to Kiva's mind, all of which were almost guaranteed to kindle the necromancer's rage. She acknowledged his ironic proverb with a nod, then led the way across the log bridge. They crawled through the rib cage of Akhlaur's creature and passed into the forest. The wizard followed her down long-forgotten elven paths that no human, magically gifted or not, could ever see.

Night fell, and the path traced a steeply sloping hill. They skirted several ravines and pits-all that remained of the elves outer defenses. Finally they stood within the crumbling walls of the ancient elven city.

Moonlight filled the courtyard, lingering on the blackened, vine-covered ruins.

Akhlaur looked about in dismay. "What happened here? Pillage I could understand, had it been widely known that elves lived in this part of Halruaa! But this was a hidden city. Certainly a few learned wizards suspected its existence, but sages and looters seldom drink from the same bottle."

"Not looters, Lord Akhlaur, but time. Time and Halruaa herself conspired in this destruction."

"I am not one for riddles," he warned.

She took a moment to choose her words. "The destruction of Halruaa's elves could not have been accomplished by one wizard, not even one as powerful as you. During your rise to power, all of Halruaa looked the other way and pretended not to know."

The necromancer looked at her as if she'd stated that most of the trees were green. "You are just now discovering the nature of humankind? Even those who consider themselves virtuous see only what they wish to see. Especially those who consider themselves virtuous! After all, illusions, once created, must be maintained."

"Yes, my lord," she agreed, though his observation made little sense to her.

A strange silence hung over the city as they worked their way over piles of crystalline rubble toward the treasure Akhlaur had left here.

Kiva stopped at the door of the elven temple, staring in revulsion at the scene before her. What had once been a place of great beauty and serenity now resembled an abandoned charnel house.

Bones lay in tall heaps. Long, delicate elf bones were tumbled together with the thick, yellowed remnants of humans, swamp goblins, even such creatures as birds and crocodiles. Many of the bones had been blackened and broken, probably by the explosion the clever jordain Andris used to break the charge of the undead creatures. Kiva wondered how long it had taken for the shattered, scattered remains to gather themselves and return to this place.

She glanced at Akhlaur. He nodded, and she stepped over the threshold.

The intrusion triggered defensive wards. Shudders ran through the piles of bone. With a horrible clatter, the undead guardians rose.

Elven bones skittered across the floor, cast aside as the other creatures took shape. Kiva's eyes narrowed, as if to hold back the gleam of triumph they held. The elves whose bones these were had passed far beyond Akhlaur's power.

The others, however, had not. A skeleton of gray stone, the unmistakably squat and sturdy frame of a long-dead dwarf, lofted a giant's thighbone like a club and stalked forward. The floor around the undead dwarf writhed as hoards of giant snakes and crocodilian skeletons undulated forward, their naked fangs grinning wickedly. Other skeletons marshaled behind this undead vanguard, some of them entire, some partial creatures that limped or hobbled or crawled toward the intruders.

The necromancer chanted softly, gesturing toward the advancing army, directing them to go here and there, as if he were a master of dance. The advancing wall of undead creatures parted, moving to face each other in two long lines.

A sharp crack rang through the temple as every bipedal creature snapped off one of its arms and held it aloft with the other, forming an arch to honor and welcome their master.

Akhlaur swept through the grisly arch to the temple's most sacred and powerful place. The elf followed, suppressing her disgust with great difficulty.

So much magic, and for what? Would humans never learn that just because a thing could be done, it did not follow that it should be? For all their complacency, their careful laws and customs, Halruaans had not fallen far from the tree of their Netheril ancestors.

Akhlaur stopped abruptly. For a long moment he gazed in consternation at the empty altar.

This was the most dangerous moment. All Kiva's wiles would be tested here.

The necromancer turned furious eyes upon her. "Where is the globe?"

Kiva just shook her head, as if she were too stunned to speak. "Stolen," she marveled at last "It must have been stolen."

"What wizard could get near this place?"

She suppressed a sneer. Of course Akhlaur would assume that only a Halruaan wizard would be capable of such a feat! "None, my lord," she said hastily. "I heard rumors, though..."

"Speak!"

"There were tales of an army of magic-dead fighters. Jordaini, mostly."

An expression of extreme distaste twisted the wizard's face. "Again, these jerdayeen," he scoffed, using the old Netheril word for court fool. "Not one of my more successful experiments."