“Fool!” Winnowill screamed as her sharp nails dug deeper into Swift’s shoulders. Waves upon waves of black sendings coursed through the Wolfrider’s veins. Still, moment by moment, the cold brightmetal edge of New Moon pressed more intently against Winnowill’s throat. “How much can you bear?!”
Swift only glared down at the Glider, her lips pulled back in a feral snarl, her blue eyes glowing with lupine intensity. Winnowill saw the Wolf that was Swift’s soul lunge at her. It had her in its jaws and would not let go. Winnowill melted against the stone floor, her strength slowly failing her even as she poured all her soul’s malice into her black sending.
“No, Swift!” Rayek cried as he caught Swift’s shoulders. “The pain is blinding you.”
Swift didn’t hear her lifemate, didn’t feel his touch. She was lost in the wolfsong and the bloodlust of the hunt. She saw only her enemy – the black, icy soul that was Winnowill – Winnowill who had dared to threaten her cubs!
“Swift!” Rayek shouted as Winnowill thrashed on the ground, trying to avoid the sharp blade. “Remember who you are! Remember what you believe in.”
Swift snarled at Winnowill.
**Tam! Remember!**
Slowly, Swift recalled. No elf must die. Even if she is my enemy.
She withdrew the blade from Winnowill’s throat, and Winnowill’s hands left her shoulders. Swift got to her feet and sheathed her blade. The choice between the wolf and the elf, the wisdom of Joyleaf and the bloodlust of Bearclaw. Once again, she pulled herself out of the rage she had inherited from her sire. But she felt no triumph.
Her head was spinning from Winnowill’s sendings as Rayek helped her limp away.
“You are wise, dark brother!” Winnowill called as she got to her knees. “You have just saved your dog’s life.”
Rayek turned on her. “Don’t deceive yourself, snake. I saved you! And I’m not even certain why. But mark this, Winnowill. You may be able to twist and bend your own flimsy people like playthings, but you can never defeat our spirit!”
Just then the abrasive hum of Petalwing’s “song” filled the Egg Chamber, and the bug flew down to fly between the lifemates. “Breedeeetdeee-deee! Softpretty highthings miss Petalwing?”
“Not again,” Rayek moaned.
“You!” Winnowill screamed, lunging at the bug. Petalwing replied with a spit of wrapstuff in Winnowill’s face. In a heartbeat, she was covered with half-spun webs.
“You’re finished now, Preserver!” Tyldak cried as he swooped into the Egg Chamber, his arms outstretched as his wings beat the air furiously.
**Tyldak! Where have you been?!** Winnowill’s mind screamed. **Catch it – Catch it you fool! It escapes again!**
But Petalwing flew into one of the many ornamental holes and tunnels that honeycombed the walls of the Egg Chamber. Tyldak’s hands caught him a second before he would have crashed headfirst into the wall.
“Flyhighthing too big for hole!” Petalwing tittered. “Go squash all flat! Hee hee!”
Swearing profusely in oaths the two lifemates didn’t recognize, Tyldak flew off, hoping to intercept Petalwing at the tunnel’s exit point. When Swift turned away from the excitement, she found Winnowill was gone. The Black Snake had slunk off into the darkness during the momentary distraction. The Egg Chamber was silent again.
Swift’s head still spun from the pain, and she sagged against Rayek. He held her up, his strong lean arms about her. “Can you forgive me, my love?” he whispered.
“For what?” Swift gasped.
“For hiding... what I suspected... what I feared.”
“That I will die one day?”
“I never knew with certainty... not until now. But... I feared. And deep in my heart, I was so glad when you said our cubs do not have Wolfriders’ soulnames. Because somehow... I knew that to be a Wolfrider was to be... mortal.”
“I know why you hid the truth,” Swift said. “Bearclaw always said a Wolfrider’s life was short. Joyleaf’s death convinced me of that truth. But when I met Savah... I dreamed of living forever.” She laid her cheek against Rayek’s shoulder. “But I’m awake now. And the truth is good.”
She felt Rayek’s tears on her cheek as he hugged her tighter. “Your father was wrong! He and his madness – they are what are short-lived. You will live long, my love, and all the questions,” he smiled wryly, “all those foolish, worthless questions you have dared to ask will be answered.”
All the tensions fled from her muscles, and Swift melted against him in relief. “So... my mountain lion believes in the quest at last.”
“You and your quests!” Rayek laughed bittersweetly. His voice was close to breaking as he pressed his lips to her forehead. “Yes, Swift. I believe in it – I believe in you! And come what may–”
“We’ll be together,” Swift whispered.
She drew back and looked up at her lifemate. Strange, in the eerie light of the Egg Chamber, her skin seemed paler, tighter over her cheekbones.
As Rayek stared in horror, Swift seemed to shrivel up before his eyes. Her skin grew dry and lifeless like an old corn husk, and countless wrinkles began to furrow across her face. Her lips lost all color and pulled back from uneven, yellow teeth. Her hair fell limp and white across her withered, bony shoulders. Her bosom sagged and shrank under her vest, and her limbs shrivelled to skin and bones. The bright blue of her eyes clouded and turned gray.
“Together...” the living corpse gasped as her skin flaked away and the lines of her skull grew sharp through the withered mask of her face.
Rayek sat up in bed with a cry. He struggled for breath as the sweat clung to his bronzed skin in a deathly chill.
Swift was awake and sitting up in a heartbeat. “Rayek, Rayek what is it? Shh, shh, what is it? What’s wrong?”
Rayek looked about, half-senseless, before his gaze fell on Swift. “Tam...?”
He caught her up in his arms. “Ohh... I had a nightmare – such a horrible vision. We were back in Blue Mountain. And you... you were dying in front of me, withering away as your mortal blood devoured you from the inside out.”
Swift stroked his shoulders gently. “Shh... it’s all a dream. My wolfblood’s all gone. I am immortal now, just like you.”
“I know... I know..” Rayek breathed. “Agh – my head. It’s pounding like a human’s wardrum. Thunder and skyfire...”
“Shall I call for Rain?”
“No, no, just hold me, Swift.” He buried his face in her hair, and smiled to find it as soft and feathery as ever. “That’s all the healing I need.”
Swift drew him back into the furs. The cold season had come to the rainforest, and she drew one of the furs up over his back to ward off the night chill. For a time they lay silently, listening to the soft beating of their hearts. At length Rayek released a long cathartic sigh.
“I don’t know what spawned such a nightmare,” Rayek whispered. “I haven’t spared a thought for Blue Mountain for years.” He shifted against Swift, placing his ear against her breastbone to better hear her heartbeat. **It was so real... a perfect memory... until the end. It’s that Winnowill – it’s these trees!**
Swift smiled wryly as she glanced up at walls of their tree-shaped den. Redlance no longer spent more than a moon or two in the Great Holt anymore – he and several of the elders were now living in the north at Thorny Mountain. But the massive banyan trees he had once shaped continued to lovingly grow into an ever-expanding Great Holt.
**Don’t you blame the trees – you’ve been living in the trees for a hundred years without a fuss.**
**Mm... perhaps...**
Swift gradually felt the tension ease from Rayek’s shoulders. She continued to stroke his hair soothingly as he drifted back to sleep. Only then did Swift begin to wonder just what had prompted such a dream. Rayek so seldom had nightmares. His dreams were deep and sound.
**I haven’t felt this... disordered since the Cry from Beyond...** Rayek sent.
Swift’s eyes snapped open, but she forced her muscles not to tense and betray her worry.
“Oh, Vaya...” Shenshen murmured. “Your little Cheipar is...”
Vaya shook her head. “I know. He’s a terror.”
The autumn floods had begun to recede as spring came to the rain forest, and the retreating waters left countless puddles of watery mud. The two-year-old cub sat just in front of his father, slapping his hands into the mud and splashing it everywhere. The cub was covered from head to toe in a drying crust of mud, and he seemed to want everyone else to be equally messy.
“Poke it!” Cheipar exclaimed, splashing more mud into the air.
Skot laughed. “That’s my boy.”
Shenshen scooted back on the moss-covered rock, just out of reach. “Ohh, he’s impossible! And I thought Yun’s childhood was just a fluke.”
“No, all Go-Backs are this wild,” Vaya smiled sardonically.
“Poke it!” Cheipar cried again. He scooped up a handful of runny mud and dropped the mess on Skot’s bare knee. Skot picked him up and sat him on his lap. Cheipar looked up at Skot with huge blue eyes – eyes he could only have inherited from Pike, despite his strong resemblance to Skot. Strange, how the cub could look as if he carried the blood of both his fathers. But of course that was impossible...
And yet...
A splash in the deeper floodwaters down the hill startled the two women. But Vaya caught sight of a large silver-blue tail and smiled. It was only Wavecatcher, Yun’s shapechanged lifemate. Originally one of the island elves who lived near to Savin’s pirate-tribe, the elf had long ago left the sea for the pools and tributaries of the Green River. Of all those living in and around the Grandfather Tree, Wavecatcher adored the flooding season most of all. He was hardly seen without his tail during the day, and only shaped it back into legs come nightfall when he joined Yun into their little beaver lodge built just above the highest flood line.
“Rotten fish guts!” Cheipar slapped his hands on his thighs for emphasis, then crawled back off Skot’s leg into the mud puddle.
“You are getting such a bath,” Vaya shook her head. “Both of you.”
“No!” Cheipar whined. “Dung dung dung! No bath!”
“Yeah, no baths!” Skot chimed.
“I don’t know how you and Pike put up with those two,” Shenshen said.
Vaya smiled. “I just have to deal with Cheipar. I let Pike deal with the big lump. Ah, it’s times like these I’m glad I have my own room to go hide in at the end of the day.”
Skot stuck his tongue out her. “You’re just sour ’cause Pike and me are lifemates and you’re not – nyahh!”
“Nyahhh!” Cheipar added.
“Frankly, I don’t see any of myself in this little lump of bear fat,” Vaya cocked her head to the side. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say Pike and Skot grew this fawn in the garden together.”
“Mmm, and if I hadn’t been there myself, I might agree,” Shenshen laughed.
“You were there?” Skot asked. “Hunh. Now I know we had a lot of a dreamberries that night, but I could swear it was just the three of us–”
“I mean the birth, rock-head!” Shenshen swatted at him. Skot lunged forward, caught her wrist, and pulled her into the mud puddle to Cheipar’s cackling approval. He slung the sun maiden into his lap and gave her a muddy kiss on the cheek. “Hah. From now on you’re our new favourite female lovemate!”
“Ohh, I think I’ll decline that honour,” Shenshen extricated herself from the embrace. “I’m not too certain that I want to take credit for the next little monster you breed.”
“Poke it!” Cheipar shouted.
“Yeah, you defend your papa,” Skot said.
Just then a certain auburn-haired elf appeared over the crest of the hill, and Cheipar pulled himself form the mud and started bouncing on his feet. “Papa Pike! Papa Pike!”
“Fickle,” Skot muttered.
“Aww, the babies are pwaying in the mud,” Pike drawled as he sat down between Vaya and Shenshen. “Amazing how fatherhood brings out the infant in him.”
Skot seized Pike’s wrist and dragged him into the mud puddle. Unlike Shenshen, however, Pike did not resist in the slightest.
Suntop stared into the Scroll of Colors, watching the hues change in cryptic patterns. At his side Timmain sat on the floor, staring through the dazzling patterns of light. Suntop didn’t know what exactly Timmain understood in wolf form, or even if her wolf eyes could identify the images in the Scroll.
Where once he had struggled to raise the Scroll and discern the shapes in its light, now reading the Scroll came as effortlessly as breathing. Though the Wolfriders did not believe in keeping time, the pirates and the Go-Backs kept track of the seasons by notches in trees, and by the calendar Vaya and Savin began, Suntop knew it was exactly a hundred and thirty-seven years since they had started the Great Holt. That meant it was a hundred and forty-five years since they had discovered the Palace.
Some days it felt only yesterday. Other days it seems like thousands upon thousands of years. Perhaps in the end there was no difference between either feeling. Hadn’t Venka once said that there was no difference between immortality and the Now of Wolf-thought?
So many changes had taken place in those hundred and thirty-seven years. First Strongbow, Moonshade and others had asked to leave the Great Holt and rebuild Thorny Mountain Holt. “Now, you’re our chief and our blood kin and I will double-knot the first tongue that wags against you,” One-Eye had begun when the elders requested counsel with Swift. “And under your rule we’ve had a stretch of peace like none we old growlers can recall... but...”
Clearbrook spoke up. “This world... this rain forest with its floods and its endless heat... it’s not for us.”
**Aye,** Strongbow sent. **Maybe the young ones can adapt, but to us elders it’s… as wrong as Sorrow’s End.**
“We miss the white-colds and the new greens, and all the wonder of the true forests,” Moonshade said. “Swift, you must know we would never act without your will... but we were wondering... would it be possible... now that we have the Palace... for the elders to return to Thorny Mountain?”
Of course Suntop’s mother had agreed. And Strongbow, Moonshade, One-Eye, Clearbrook, Redlance and Nightfall had left for the northern forests. Soon Woodlock and Rainsong joined them, eager to recapture their Wolfrider heritage. And whenever the white-colds grew too intense, or the small tribe of eight seemed too lonely, Suntop or Skywise or Rayek gladly flew the Palace north to bring them back to the Great Holt.
“Send for me, Strongbow,” Suntop said when they first parted. “I’ll hear you.”
He could hear anyone who sent for him now, anyone whose voice he knew. No longer did the Sun Folk need the Little Palace to amplify their sendings to the New Land. Suntop had become the conduit through which all elves could be linked. Any elf anywhere on the face of the World of Two Moons had only to cry out into the astral plane for help and Suntop would sense it.
“You see, Mother,” he said to Swift years before when she brooded over the loss of the elders. “It doesn’t matter how our tribe scatters. Because the Great Holt is the hub of the wheel that connects all our kin. Thorny Mountain, the Go-Backs and their lodge, Sorrow’s End, the pirates on their islands, they are all spokes in a great wheel, forever spinning in an endless circle. And the Palace and the Grandfather Tree are the hub.”
“No, Suntop. You are the hub.”
Suntop smiled at the memory. He was the vine, the clear stream, the hub of the Great Sky Wheel, the living lodestone of his people. His head spun from the metaphors heaped upon him. And yet he could not claim he was not delighted by the powers and responsibilities invested in him.
Pirates from the Islands came and went, trading with the Wolfriders then returning to the seas. Wolfriders returned to Sorrow’s End for sojourns, then came home to roost. A few decades earlier Wing had Recognized the sun maiden Behtia and fathered little Ember. Then some old friends from the Frozen Mountains, Skot’s brother Kirjan and Vaya’s brother Teir, arrived in the New Land, after making several-years’ journey over the islands of the Northern Passage. Teir and Ember soon became lovemates and founded their own miniature tribe, the Wild Hunt. During the dull summer months when food was plentiful and there was ample free time, some of the younger elves joined Teir and Ember on little seasonal quests across the New land.
Suntop felt a pair of arms wind about his shoulders. **Mm... Malin...** Quicksilver sent drowsily as she pressed up against his back. Suntop smiled and leaned back into the embrace, even as he kept his eyes glued to the Scroll. Where another magic-user might falter in concentration in the sudden presence of his lifemate, Suntop’s concentration always seemed to be only increased when Quicksilver joined him at the Scroll.
**Hello, Khai,** he sent back.
A hundred and thirty-seven years since the Great Holt was founded... then it had been a hundred and twenty-four years since he and Quicksilver had discovered each others’ soulnames in a sudden awareness that rivalled the powers of Recognition.
**What are you looking for?** she asked.
**The Firstcomers... I want to try and pinpoint the moment when they first appeared in the sky.**
Quicksilver laid her cheek against his shoulder and watched, her closeness willing him the extra strength he needed to pluck that elusive moment in time. As they watched, the colors in the Scroll resolved into images of chaos and death. The little trolls that had lived as the Firstcomers’ pets rebelled, breaking the navigators’ concentration and causing the Palace to crash. The cocooned cone-headed High Ones were ripped out of wrapstuff and slaughtered. The Palace disappeared in a burst of light as it was hurled back in time.
Suntop closed his eyes, and his lips began to move as he whispered words that called across the vast gulf of time. Quicksilver leaned closer to hear. On the floor, Timmain whined anxiously.
“In those days.... in those days we were barely aground, as we called it. We changed our shape as often as we changed our minds. And we were far more concerned with function – with purpose – than form.”
Now Suntop seemed to be losing focus. The strain in his face told Quicksilver that he had only the most tenuous hold on the moment. The Scroll was clouding over again into hazy light.
“Linked minds... the guiders... a circle...” Suntop whispered.
**Concentrate, Malin... you can do it.**
“It took nine of us to create the circle…” he resumed. The Scroll began to resolve itself. Now Suntop spoke with greater clarity in his voice. “Kalil was motion, propelling us through space.” A dark-haired male elf appeared in the Scroll. “Kaslen was our ship, protecting us through space.” Now a female with auburn hair and copper eyes took Kalil’s place. “Adya was our eyes, choosing where we would go.” A blond male, young, oddly reminiscent of Suntop. “Sefra was our time keeper, knowing when we should go.” A silver-haired female. “Aerth was our ears, knowing why we should go. Deir was our balance, giving order to all our choices. Haken was our passion, driving us forward. Gibra was caution, holding us back. We moulded our very flesh to serve each purpose. And as with a long-discarded garment, it was sometimes hard to recall which shape we had worn, eons before. We were prepared to change shape… as fit our journeys. But we were not prepared for this. Searing, wrenching, uncontrollable pain. We all felt it. And perhaps we needed to, for we had forgotten that we could die. I am Timmain, and it was my purpose to remember… everything.”
Quicksilver drew in a sharp breath. She glanced down at the wolf at her side.
Timmain was shaking her head, as if trying to shake a sneeze.
“It was my purpose... to remember...” Suntop continued, lost in the trance. “Haken was our passion, driving us forward. Haken... our passion... driving us forward... forward... off course... into chaos... and blood.”
**Suntop?** Quicksilver frowned at the disorder that had taken over the Scroll.
Timmain began to whine and whinge. She turned away and raced into the corner of the Scroll Chamber, her tail tucked between her legs.
“Haken was our passion... was our passion... the Circle of Nine... Timmain, Kaslen, Kalil, Adya, Sefra, Aerth... Deir... Gibra... Haken – Haken! Haken! Haken was our – is our – chaos – blood!”
As Quicksilver watched, a tall, dark-haired elf appeared in the Scroll. He turned around slowly, glared out of the Scroll, then screamed in agony as some unseen force tore his left arm away, spraying dark blood everywhere.
“I push… you pull,” Suntop continued. “You push – I pull!” Pain was written across his features. “Another dance! I pull! I pull, I bite! Blood! I could not pardon him – no, no – no pardon for causing pain to escape pain..”
Again Haken appeared in the Scroll, and again Quicksilver watched as his arm was torn away. “Causing pain to escape pain!” Suntop gasped. “The wolves left calm, content, whole. They had already forgotten. But I cannot. My name is Timmain, and it was my purpose to remember everything. Everything! Haken! Blood! Suffering – songs of birth and death. Suffering! Haken! Pain! Blood! The song – blood! But I remember! The circle is broken!”
**SUNTOP!** Quicksilver sent, and her psychic shout snapped Suntop out of his trance. The blond elf swooned, and she caught him before he couldfall. “Suntop... lifemate, are you all right?”
“I’m... I’m fine, Khai,” he whispered. “I –”
A horror-struck moan filled the Scroll Chamber. The young lifemates turned.
A long-limbed elf lay on the floor, shivering in terror. She drew her legs up to her chest in a fetal position and clutched her long silver hair about her naked body.
“Timmain?” Suntop asked.
Timmain looked up. Terror flashed in her golden eyes. “Haken...” she whispered.
“What’s wrong?”
“He’s not here... he’s not here.”
“Who?” Quicksilver asked.
“Haken! He’s not here. The others are. I hear them all. But I never heard his voice. I didn’t think on it – I imagined he didn’t want to me to hear... but I look and I look and he’s not here! He’s... elsewhere.”
“What are you saying?”
“The circle is broken! Nine there were and now only eight! And I remember! Blood! Pain! But he is not here!”
Suntop bit his lip. “Great Sun! Haken is still alive, isn’t he, Timmain?”
The High One nodded. She pulled herself against the wall, then sunk into a defensive slouch and buried her face against her knees.
Swift, Rayek, Skywise, Savin and Venka rushed to join Suntop and Quicksilver in the Palace. Timmain had not moved from her position against the wall, and continued to hide under her long curtain of hair.
“Haken was one of the Circle of Nine,” she whispered hoarsely. “When we crashed on this world... we nine were separated from the others in the Palace. Adya was killed – the first one to die by human hands. We had no way of knowing if anyone survived beyond us. And so we turned to each other to survive in this... unknown world. But Haken sought a path apart from the circle. I tried to show the others the beauty of this world, the song of life and love. But Haken could not hear the music. He heard only the discordant notes of pain... and anger... and fear. I pitied Haken - feeling so much, so intensely. But I could not pardon him causing pain to escape pain. I could not.
“Haken broke from us. He returned to the Palace and reclaimed it through blood and death. His fear drove him to believe in nothing but the power of his own will, and the need to enforce it. He thought to take us away, but I could see that his way would not save us – only turn us into creatures of fear and hatred. And so the other Firstcomers and I... we withdrew into the forest. But once more we returned to the Palace. I tried once more... how I tried to make him see the beauty in the songs of this world. But... he refused. He attacked us with his black sendings. He was so twisted by hate and fear now that he thought only of exerting his will upon us!”
Timmain began to rock back and forth. “I had no choice. I could not let him remain in the Palace. I struck. I crippled him – I drove him from the Palace. But at what cost? What cost? The wolves – they left calm, content, whole. They had already forgotten. But I remember!”
“You...” Quicksilver breathed. “You were what tore his arm off.”
Timmain nodded weakly.
Rayek scowled. “He only wished to return to the stars. He only wished the best for all of you. If you had listened to him–”
“Rayek, shh,” Swift hissed. “If she had listened to him we wouldn’t be here.”
“You don’t know that.”
Timmain was still shaking. “Haken fled the Palace. And my heart shattered that day. He fled to the west, towards the horizon. We never saw him again. The humans he had brutalized into his servants drove us from the Palace anew, but we did not stay to fight. I had learned another way. And so I led the Firstcomers into the forest, and we learned the song of this world. We learned to recover the senses, the pains, and the delights of the flesh. We gathered all the lost Firstcomers together – all those we could find. Our tribe grew. Something that gradually developed into Recognition visited us. I shared such a bond with Aerth, but I could not be his mate. I belonged to this world, to the howls of the wolfpack. I returned often, shed my wolf’s skin, and rejoined my elfin tribe. But my thoughts turned back to Haken. All our thoughts did. Finally Gibra left us, taking her infant son Vol with her. She wanted to find him, to show him the beauty and wonder in new life. We never saw her again.”
“Vol? Not Lord Voll of Blue Mountain?”
“I do not know.”
**Voll?** Suntop called to the Palace walls. **Lord Voll, can you hear me? Remember me – the sweet little child of Blue Mountain? Are you awake? I need to speak to you. Were you the son of Gibra the Firstcomer? Can you tell us if she found Haken?**
Suntop was silent for a long moment. At length he opened his eyes.
“Suntop?” Quicksilver asked. “Did you find him?”
He nodded. “Voll... can hardly remember his childhood... or either of his parents. He says that his mother had golden hair and that he remembers learning to walk not on green grass but on stone.” He turned to the Scroll of Colors and it sprang to life with an image of Haken, not tall and proud as before, but scowling in the shadows, clutching a heavy black fur to the mangled stump that remained of his arm. As the elves watched, Haken’s face grew rounder and fairer. His golden eyes turned dark gray, and his features grew feminine. The black fur grew into a long dress that concealed long, elegant limbs.
“Winnowill...” Rayek breathed. “Of course. She gave me a vision of what I could become as a High One... if I abandoned Swift and joined with her instead. In it I looked rather like Haken.”
Swift shuddered. “So Haken was her father.”
Suntop searched the Scroll desperately. “I can’t see him anymore. I’ve lost him.”
“But surely we should be able to see him in the Scroll,” Venka said.
“Nothing escapes the Scroll of Colors,” Skywise said. “Right, Timmain?”
Timmain shook her head desperately. “I don’t know, I don’t know.”
Suntop let the Scroll halves settled back in their rests. He looked up at the Palace ceiling. **Winnowill... Winnowill do you hear me? I need your help. Can you speak to me? I must know – where is your father?**
No answer came.
**Answer, Winnowill. It’s important. Where is Haken?**
At length Suntop heard a sleepy voice in his mind. **He went away... into the rocks... he could not stay... Mother went away, and then so did Father... and I was alone among many. He went... deep into the earth... deeper than I ever dared follow. That’s all I remember... can I go back to sleep, now, Suntop?**
Suntop sighed. “Her spirit is too drowsy... she wants only the oblivion of dreams. Like Voll she cannot see through the fog of memories.”
Skywise tapped his chin thoughtfully. “So the Scroll can’t find Haken after he sired the Black Snake. And the elves who knew him can’t remember that far back, and even Timmain doesn’t have the sight to see him. So... what are we supposed to do next? Suntop?”
Suntop shook his head. “I need to sit down and think.”
“This is all over my head,” Savin sighed.
“Mine too,” her daughter agreed. “Agh... why don’t we just go to Blue Mountain – or what’s left of it?”
Suntop and Skywise exchanged glances. And they both slowly smiled.
“Hah, that’s my little girl!” Skywise grinned, turning to Quicksilver. “Cut right to the heart of the matter. Yes, Blue Mountain. Everyone seems to agree that’s where Haken was last spotted.”
“Indeed,” Venka nodded. “As I see it, there are two possibilities. Either Haken died and his spirit went into the rocks as Savah’s Yurek did... which is why his spirit is not here. Or... or he is still alive, and he is living deep in the caverns under the rubble of Blue Mountain.”
Quicksilver smiled. “So either way...”
“We go to Blue Mountain,” Suntop said. “Yes... maybe there I could... see...”
“Son?” Swift asked. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Mother. Only... my head... oh, I feel like I’m in a fog.”
“Haken,” Timmain spoke from the floor. “He clouds us all. His way was of misdirection... overpowering... chaos... passion found in darker things.”
Swift glanced at Rayek. **That’s all we need: our High One a few nuts shy of a full pouch.**
**At least now I know where my nightmares come from. We have to solve this mystery, Tam. Or we might lose our bridge to the High One. And if Haken is alive... think of it, love. Another Firstcomer alive!**
**Winnowill’s father. Don’t forget that.**
**Winnowill was not evil... only unwell. It was a great shame she had to die before she could be made well again. But perhaps we might be able to draw Haken back from the poison of Blue Mountain without taking his life.**
**Perhaps. Certainly if there is a chance.... We can never have too many teachers here in the Palace.**
Suntop watched his parents’ eyes as they locksent their conversation. “So we go to Blue Mountain,” he repeated. “But who will you take with you, Mother?”
Swift turned back to her son. “Not I, Suntop. This is your quest.”
Suntop swallowed hard. He had not been expecting that.
The entire tribe assembled at the Gathering Place, the largest of the wooden platforms shaped around the Grandfather Tree, linking it to the other massive banyan trees nearby. There were twenty-six elves together at the Great Holt this wet season – including baby Cheipar and now shape-changed Timmain – but the number would probably shrink come the summer when the more adventurous set out on their own quests throughout the rain forests and the northern plains.
“I... I’m going to lead a team to Blue Mountain and uncover this mystery,” Suntop said, trying to make his soft voice sound authoritative. “Will you all join me if I call you?”
All the elves nodded without hesitation. “Of course, cub,” Rain said.
“You’re our Palacemaster,” Newstar said.
“We never would have our Great Holt without you,” Shenshen agreed.
Suntop smiled nervously. “Then I’ve chosen my team for this quest. I choose... Venka: for her many gifts of sending and sight. And I choose Quicksilver, for her sharp mind...” and he blushed, “and for the way she can keep my silly head out of the clouds better than anyone.”
Venka and Quicksilver moved to his side in support.
“I choose Tyldak,” he continued, “for his birthright as a Glider of Blue Mountain. And I choose Ekuar, for his rock-shaping skills, and his wisdom as firstborn of the High Ones. Pike,” he turned to the howlkeeper. “You have a gift we often overlook.”
Pike frowned. “Me? You’re dreaming, cub. What do I have?”
“Your memory. You are by far the sharpest us the Wolfriders at calling up the past, even without your trusty dreamberries. And you were there at Blue Mountain when Venka and I were little cubs. We were too terrified to remember the underground twists and turns. But I know you do. Will you come with us?”
Pike grinned and hurried to take his place next to Suntop.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Skot stood. “You aren’t taking Pike and leaving me behind, cloud-head! We haven’t parted ways once since the Palace War and we aren’t starting now. Squirrel-cheeks needs someone to watch his back when he’s lost in that muck of memories, and so do you.”
“Yes,” Vaya rose and handed little Cheipar to Shenshen. “And Skot needs someone to keep his head with his body. The three of us have always stuck together, in the furs and out. You take Pike, you’d better take us too. And by the Great Ice Wall, you’re not leaving us out of a quest.”
Suntop laughed helplessly. “Go-Backs! But what about Cheipar?”
“Shenshen can tend him, right Shen?”
The maiden shrugged. “Do I have a choice?” And she smiled down at the grinning toddler. “Do you want to tree with your Aunt Shenshen for a while, little monster?”
“Poke it!” Cheipar laughed.
“You have to teach him more words,” Swift muttered softly.
“That’s eight,” Vaya said. “Eight’s a lucky number.”
“Yes,” Suntop nodded. “But we’re not complete.” He turned to Timmain, who sat near the edge of the platform, still cowering in her recovered elfin form. “Timmain? You I need most of all on this quest. And I know you need to see this through, no matter how you might want to lose yourself in the wolfsong. Will you come with us, High One, as an elf?”
Timmain hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, child. I will come.”
“Nine,” Suntop whispered. “The Circle is complete.”
A renewed light appeared in Timmain’s lupine eyes. “Yes. We are whole again.”
Ekuar walked over to Timmain and offered her his three-fingered hand. She took it and got to her feet.
Suntop turned to Skywise. “Will you help me fly the Palace to Blue Mountain, Skywise? I think I need another guider in the Palace, especially if I awaken something in the ground.”
Skywise nodded. “Of course.”
Rayek scowled. **It should be me. Suntop has never faced something like this alone.**
**Which is why he needs to now,** Swift said. **Neither of us are going with him, as agreed. This is his quest, not ours.**
**You and your quests,** Rayek brooded. **He’s just a cub. He’s never done this before.**
**Every leader is untried at the beginning. Besides, you would never object to Venka going.**
**But Suntop’s not Venka!**
“It’s still cold at Blue Mountain,” Suntop said. He glanced down at his scanty paneled loincloth, then at Venka and Quicksilver’s short leather tunics. “We’ll need something heavier than this.”
Moonsbreath stood. “I’ve kept all the serviceable old furs and leathers in Ekuar’s caves underneath the Palace. And Newstar and I have a good cache of fresh furs hidden away as well. Come, granddaughter, let’s stitch together some cold-weather clothes for our seekers.”
“Venka,” Zhantee took her hand. “Are you sure I cannot come too? You might need a shielder where you are going.”
“Sweet lifemate,” she touched his cheek. “We will be fine. Stay here and take care of the others. The tribe needs your talents, especially as the flood waters draw back and all the waterlogged trees from winter are liable to come tumbling down.”
“I don’t like the idea of lifemates parting ways, even for a little while,” Dewshine said to Tyldak. “It goes against the Way.”
**Fear not, Lree. Blue Mountain holds no danger for me. We will return before the catfish spawn.**
Dewshine hugged him tightly. “I wish I was as fearless as you. I hate that mountain, and all the rubble that remains. The Black Snake’s poison has outlived her death.”
Within two days, Moonsbreath and Newstar, assisted by Teru and Kimo, had sewn fresh winter coats for the journey. The questing elves assumed the old leathers they had last worn in cold times – in Suntop’s case many years earlier, and readied themselves for the journey.
“I fear we’re a little low on good cold weather furs,” Moonsbreath said as she presented her work.
“I’m not surprised,” Suntop said. “We’ve grown a little soft down here in the rain forest. I think we’ll stop off at Thorny Mountain on the way to Blue Mountain and borrow a few of their furs.”
“Good-bye, little ankle-biter,” Vaya cooed to Cheipar. “You take care of your Aunt Shenshen, all right?”
“Dung!” Cheipar shot back cheerfully. “Come back soon Mama.”
“Mm, I will.” She kissed the crown of his head and passed him to Pike. Pike and Skot said good-bye to their son, then handed him over to Shenshen, who bundled him up in his favourite leather blanket. Cheipar soon slipped out of her grasp, however, and toddled over to Yun.
“Like sticks to like,” Vaya laughed. “He can scent a fellow Go-Back.”
Yun scooped Cheipar up, then glanced at her blond lifemate. “Shall we practice for when we have fawns of our own, Wavecatcher?” she teased.
Wavecatcher grinned and ruffled Cheipar’s dark brown hair. “I don’t know, we might just make him take to the water so well he won’t want the floods to recede.”
“Where is Zhantee?” Suntop asked.
Venka sighed sadly. “He didn’t want to see me off. We’ve already said our goodbyes.”
“Mm, as have Dewshine and I,” Tyldak nodded as he fidgeted with his new leathers. Years of wearing nothing but tattered trousers had made him chafe at the confines of a shirt laced about his wings. “Strange. I would almost think they were are plotting something.”
“Fare well, my cubs,” Swift hugged her twins. “And don’t hesitate to return for reinforcements should you need them... in body or in spirit.”
“I won’t, Mother. Father,” Suntop turned to hug Rayek. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll keep my head.”
**I don’t doubt it. But I’ll always worry, Suntop,** Rayek sent as he held his son close.
At length the nine elves turned from their kin and entered the Palace. Skywise bid goodbye to his lifemate and followed, ready to assist in navigating the way to Blue Mountain.
The fourteen elves left remaining watched as the Palace cast off its disguise of trees and moss-covered rocks. For an instant it gleamed its pure crystalline shape. And then it winked away, leaving only the bare hilltop.
The Palace winked back to life atop the cold rocky outcrop where it had first landed a hundred and forty-two years earlier. Suntop clutched his white fox fur about his shoulders as he stepped out onto the rocks. He knew that Strongbow had surely sensed the Palace touch home, but nevertheless, he tipped his head back and howled a greeting.
Within moments the howl was returned by a chorus of wolves and elves. Soon tiny figures appeared at the base of the mountain, then rushed up the rocks towards the Palace.
**By Bearclaw’s beard!**Strongbow’s sharp sending pierced their minds. **My eyes see with joy!**
A half-dozen gray wolves streaked ahead of the archer and his kin to welcome the newcomers. “Hah, hello there!” Suntop laughed as one large wolf licked his cold-burned face. “You must be from Teir’s pack.”
“Uncle Pike!” a feminine voice called.
“Hah, there’s Ember!” Pike grinned. He raced down the rocks as a lithe huntress with red hair came into view. Great-uncle and great-niece met half-way down the incline, and Ember threw herself into Pike’s waiting arms.
“So the Wild Hunt in wintering in the north this year?” Pike laughed as he spun Ember around.
“Teir’s wolves grew such thick coats this death-sleep it seemed cruel to take them south and let them sweat in the rain forest. So we decided to come to Thorny Mountain and visit with Grandmother.”
“How is my sister Rainsong?”
“Wonderful, Pike. She’s even helping Teir and me–” and then Ember’s voice dropped away.
“Helping?”
Ember lowered her turquoise eyes. **It’s a secret for now... but since you’re close kin... Teir and I are trying to force Recognition. I know it’s not the Wolfrider way, and I want it to happen naturally... but Rainsong said she could increase our odds of Recognizing without actually forcing it in one shot.**
Pike grinned. **That’s wonderful, cub.**
**Don’t tell anyone, not even Skot and Vaya. They can’t keep secrets to save their lives.**
**I know. Don’t worry.**
Strongbow reached them, not even winded from this sprint up the hill in the winter cold. Face-fur was slowly developing on his chin, and in a few more years it would surely be a proud, pointed beard. One-Eye was several paces behind him. He too had a first dusting of face-fur under his cheekbones.
“You really look like elders now,” Suntop grinned.
One-Eye rubbed at his elongated sideburns. “Hmm. Clearbrook’s not sure she likes it. She says I have an eight of turns to get it in shape, and if she doesn’t like the way it looks she’ll have Rainsong magic the fur right off my skin and keep any from ever growing back.”
Strongbow rolled his eyes good-naturedly. He would never let his lifemate dictate to him – especially not about something as solemn as this. Suntop imagined Strongbow itched to lecture Clearbrook that she ought to be thankful she and her lifemate lived long enough to see his face-fur develop.
**Come back to the Holt.** Strongbow sent. **We must welcome you properly.**
“We can only stay one night,” Suntop said. “We must leave tomorrow. I fear for Timmain if we do not solve this mystery soon.”
“Timmain...” Strongbow whispered hoarsely as the High One emerged from the Palace, heavily bundled in furs. A tear glinted in his left eye. How many years since the Palace War, and their first glimpse of her in elf form? Too many for an elder like him.
Thorny Mountain was currently at eleven members: Redlance, Nightfall, Strongbow, Moonshade, One-Eye, Clearbrook, Woodlock, Rainsong, and the Wild Hunt, currently numbering only three in Teir, Ember, and Skot’s brother Kirjan. It was a small tribe, but big enough to be self-sufficient. And though their winter storeholes were nearly empty, they nevertheless managed a fine feast for the visitors. After one night of howls, the questing elves bid farewell to their kin at Thorny Mountain and returned to the Palace.
**Send if you need us,** Strongbow sent to Suntop. **I have not forgotten the touch of that Black Snake, and I have no doubt that her curse still hangs over the mountain.**
“Be safe,” Kirjan handed his brother Skot a new shoulder-cape of fox fur. “Don’t get your head bashed in, hey?”
Suntop closed the door to the Palace and padded back to the Scroll Chamber. He yawned, still a little sleepy from the good meat. “Skywise? Skywise, are you here?”
He heard a little noise, like the padding of a wolf cub’s paws.
“Skywise? Where are you?”
Again the noise came, and this time with a muffled murmur. A female’s voice.
Intrigued, Suntop sprinted down the corridor. “Skywise?” He rounded the corner and found Skywise leading two prisoners down the hall by the ears. In his left hand he pinched Dewshine’s earlobe tightly, and in his right he held Zhantee captive.
“Dewshine? Zhantee? What are you doing here?”
“Stowing away!” Skywise laughed wryly. “I caught them raiding our food stores this morning. The little hairballs – they were going to hide away all the way to Blue Mountain!”
“We have the right,” Dewshine snapped, twisting free. “We follow our lifemates.”
“Stars in the sky!” Skywise released Zhantee. “Don’t tell me anyone else is hiding away in here.”
“No,” Dewshine said, a little sullenly. “Just us.”
**Venka, Tyldak!** Suntop called, and he couldn’t keep the mirth out of his sending. **We have something that belongs to you two.**
**You are incorrigible, Lree,** Tyldak sent fondly as Dewshine wound the soft leather thongs around the fur bracers wrapped about her wrists. Dewshine only smiled.
“You are staying here in the Palace with Skywise,” Venka told Zhantee. “We’ll send for you if we need you, but no more sneaking along behind us, agreed?”
“Agreed,” Zhantee said sheepishly.
Venka glanced back at her twin brother. Suntop and Skywise stood in the center of the Scroll Chamber, their eyes closed and arms outstretched as their guided the Palace through space. The two Palacemasters needed only to imagine the rubble that was Blue Mountain, and the Palace appeared in the sky over the Death Water River. Venka felt the floor sway slightly under her feet, and the Palace settled down with a subtle lurch.
“We’re down,” Dewshine said.
Suddenly the Palace lurched again, violently this time. “Whoa!” Suntop cried, and he held his arms out. The Palace stabilized gently. “Whew. I forgot we’re not landing on even ground. Don’t worry,” Suntop added when Dewshine and Venka remained on guard. “I’ve set down ‘roots.’ We’re in place now.”
Venka nodded, her concern banished by her brother’s assurances. “I’ll find Timmain.”
The High One was where Venka had last left her, wrapped in a patchwork of rabbit furs in Suntop and Quicksilver’s bedroom. “Timmain,” Venka called softly. “We have arrived.”
Timmain slowly rose. Her robe was loosely sewn about her body and fell in soft folds as she straightened. “I am ready,” she swallowed.
Skywise, Dewshine and Zhantee lingered in the doorway as the nine stepped out onto the broken rocks. “Stars in the sky...” Quicksilver breathed. “Is this all that remains of a great mountain?” She reached for Suntop’s hand.
The landscape was littered with blue-gray and black rocks, many twisted into strange curls and organic loops. Several pockets of stagnant water were scattered in the low-lying areas. A cold wind blew over the broken ground.
“Phew...” Quicksilver wrinkled her nose. “The land stinks with evil.”
“Winnowill’s evil,” Suntop whispered.
“Strange... how her spirit can be so gentle and innocent now...”
“Death can sometimes gentle an elf’s spirit. But it could just as easily have unleashed her black soul on all of us. Had we had our way, we would have healed her – or kept her carefully bound in wrapstuff forever. But when the mountain fell... Mother had the choice to saving Winnowill’s cocoon or saving your father. The choice wasn’t hard – even with the risk of Winnowill infecting the world forever.”
Venka closed her eyes. “I sense a presence here.”
“Yes...” Tyldak nodded. “Someone... familiar.”
“Haken?”
“No... I never knew Haken. Look!” Tyldak pointed to the sky. A tiny dot circled overhead against the gray sky.
“A bird?” Pike asked, shading his eyes with his hand.
“A Glider.” Tyldak closed his eyes and sent. The dot hovered in the sky a moment, then dropped towards them. The dot grew in the sky, gradually changing into a long-limbed elf.
Skywise inched out from the doorway. “Aroree?”
The Glider descended to circle above. **Do my eyes deceive me? After all these years... Skywise, my little friend, is that you? And Tyldak? By the Egg, you have returned at last.**
Aroree touched down on the ground. She was clad in a variant of the feathered leathers she had worn as one of the Chosen Eight. Her blond hair was no longer bound back in a tight bun, but was chopped short above her shoulders, and blew in feathery strands about her face. Tears gleamed in her eyes. “Why... Suntop? Little one... is that you? And Venka? Why you’re all grown up. And you...” she turned to Quicksilver. “Ohh... surely you can be none but Skywise’s child. Are you little Yun? I met you once as an infant.”
The silver-haired elf smiled. “My name is Quicksilver. Yun is my elder sister by three years. Father has told us all about you.”
“We lost track of you, Aroree,” Skywise said. “After the collapse of Blue Mountain and the Great Egg, we thought you had disappeared for good.”
She smiled sadly. “I flew away... far away from any elves. I couldn’t face anyone... not after I saw my kin buried under stone. I flew into the east, for days upon days. It was only later, when the loneliness ate at my hollow heart, that I turned Littletrill around. I searched for you, little love, and all the Wolfriders. But you were no longer camped in the Forbidden Grove. And I despaired. I thought I was all alone.”
“But you stayed here.”
“Yes. And I found I was not alone. I – oh!” she cried as she caught sight of Timmain, gingerly tiptoeing closer. “You are older than I... older than the mountain... are you a High One?”
Timmain only stared back at her.
“This is Timmain,” Suntop prompted. “She is the mother of the Wolfriders. You met her once when she was a wolf, remember? She needs your help, Aroree. We come here looking for a... an agemate of hers. Another Firstcomer. His name was – is – Haken, and he’s Winnowill’s father. We think he founded Blue Mountain. Do you know of him?”
Aroree shook her head. “But I know who can help you. Follow me.”
“I’ll stay with the Palace,” Skywise said. “We don’t dare leave it unattended. But perhaps later, Aroree... we can talk. Until then, my daughter can tell you all that’s happened.”
Aroree nodded.
Skywise, Dewshine and Zhantee turned back into the Palace, and the door sealed up behind them. Instantly the Palace took on the shape of an immense rocky outcropping, seamlessly blending in with the surroundings.
Aroree led the way, and Tyldak beat his wings to fly alongside her while the others followed on foot. Timmain picked her way over the rocks carefully, as if concentrating all her attentions on not cutting her bare feet.
“Timmain... are you well?” Venka asked.
“Broken... all broken... how strange... I cannot hear the voices... only echoes... forgotten echoes.”
**I fear for her, brother,** Venka sent. **Her wits are slipping more every day as she withdraws within herself. If we are not careful, she may disappear into the wolfsong, and then we may never recover her.**
**She has become a wolf before without losing herself.**
**This time is different. Now she seeks to escape her own memories.**
Suntop nodded gravely. As always, Venka was right. He took Quicksilver’s hand and squeezed it for comfort.
“Can you keep up, Ekuar?” Pike asked. “The pace isn’t too hard, is it?”
“I’m fine, young Pike,” Ekuar strode along the ground, bracing his steps with his walking stick. He reached up to adjust his fluffy hat over his bald head. “This cold air is invigorating... reminds me of the days with the Go-Backs.”
“Where are you taking us, Aroree?” Tyldak asked as he glided on the cold wind alongside the former member of the Chosen Eight. “Who lives here with you?”
Aroree only flew ahead, over a rise in the rubble of twisted rock. A large flat slab of rock loomed just over the hillcrest, and atop it sat a large rock hut, flat-roofed and carved with intricate symbols. And on a flat rock next to the hut sat a lanky elf with long golden hair. And floating just above his outstretched hand was a small egg of intricately shaped rock.
“Egg!” Tyldak cried.
Elfquest copyright 2014 Warp Graphics, Inc. Elfquest, its logos, characters, situations, all related indicia, and their distinctive likenesses are trademarks of Warp Graphics, Inc. All rights reserved. Some dialogue taken from Elfquest comics. All such dialogue copyright 2014 Warp Graphics, Inc. All rights reserved. Alternaverse characters and insanity copyright 2014 Jane Senese and Erin Roberts.