For a big creature the Boki moved with shocking stealth. She did her best to mimic his silent passage through the wood but wondered at the value of doing so, attired as she was in white that stood out like a beacon in the night. They had to circle wide twice more around skirmishing. Luck favored them, though, and they moved away from the fighting until it was only a distant murmur behind them.

Who was out here, sneaking around in small, thief-like groups, and why? Did Anton know the lair of the Sleeping King was close by? Had he sent his men out looking for it? Leland had said Anton believed the Boki to be guarding a great treasure trove. Was that what his men searched for?

If so, that meant the main battle behind her had been nothing more than a ruse! Leland had died for nothing more than a distraction- Fury erupted in her heart. The governor had murdered Sir Leland as surely as if he'd wielded the sword that killed Hyland himself. It was wrong. How were the people supposed to live under a ruler who valued life so little? She was White Heart now, her prime tenet of existence to defend life. And Anton Constantine was anathema to everything she stood for.

Her thoughts flashed back to Moto and Mag and Arv and the kindari villagers who lived on the fringes of society rather than accept the yoke of Koth. Freedom indeed. A most worthy goal. She did not know what she could do to support their fight, but she would find a way. Someday. Somehow.

They topped a ridge and her Boki guide stopped abruptly, enough so that she ran into his back. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"Shhh." The Boki clicked his tongue in a rapid pattern several times and then fell silent. He repeated the insectoid sounds once more. In a moment the clicking sound came back, but in a slightly different pattern.

Her escort moved forward confidently. Raina frowned. A sophisticated signaling system for supposedly stupid beasts. She was rapidly coming to the conclusion that these Boki had been vastly underestimated by the Empire. All her life, she'd heard nothing to contradict the idea that greenskins in general were intellectually inferior to the humanoid races. But clearly, it was not so.

They stepped into a small clearing and she spotted Thar'Ok. Or at least she thought it was Thar'Ok, the most senior of the Boki shamans.

He spoke roughly, "We wait for worst fight go by. Rest. Be some time."

She swore under her breath and stared at the party of orcs standing silently around her. She started, though, when Thar'Ok abruptly started mumbling into thin air. The other orcs moved aside a little and the shaman knelt. What on Urth? For all the world, it looked like he was starting a field resurrection.

Sure enough, in a few minutes the body of an orc had formed at Thar'Ok's feet and become solid. In a few more minutes the resurrected orc took a gasping breath and lurched upright.

Huh. She'd never thought to ask how greenskin races healed their dead. Could they speak with spirits as well- -She jumped to her feet and asked Thar'Ok urgently, "Can you speak to the dead?"

The thorn blinked at her in surprise. "Big magic. But yes."

"I need to speak to a dead pinkskin spirit. He died well. But he refused to resurrect for me. I'm completely out of magical energy. I used it all healing your warriors and mine. I must speak with this spirit. Convince him to come back."

"Whoo be he?"

"Landsgrave Leland Hyland."

"Him big figh-tuh."

"With big honor," Raina added. "Like you. Please. If you wish me and my friend to wake the Sleeping King, you will do this for me. We're not going anywhere for a while. You said so yourself."

Thar'Ok frowned and reached out to poke her tabard gently. "Bal.Tha.Zar."

She nodded and waited, holding her breath.

"I do. For Bal. Tha. Zar."

She sagged in relief.

"Three ask. Only." He held up three thick fingers to illustrate his meaning. She nodded impatiently, understanding. A spell to speak with a spirit only allowed the caster to ask three questions, no more. No conversation. Just the questions. And, of course, the spirit was not required to answer honestly. Although she doubted that would be an issue with Leland. He was honest to his core.

While Thar'Ok muttered to himself and commenced gathering magic, she thought frantically, preparing the questions she would have the thorn ask Leland. How to convince him to come back to this world when she knew for certain he did not wish to do so?

The orc cast the magic, and Raina looked around expectantly. Where was Leland's spirit? As a spirit caster, she ought to be able to sense its presence.

"Is he here?" she asked urgently. "Did his spirit come to you?"

"Ahh. There he be," Thar'Ok sighed.

Raina looked around again. She didn't see him. Was Leland hiding himself from her? It would be like him. Could spirits do that?

"Ask," the thorn grunted.

Raina spoke carefully. "Sir Leland, were you ordered not to resurrect?"

Thankfully, the thorn didn't seem to have to relay the question to the spirit, for in a moment he shook his head in the negative. Thar'Ok muttered, "He say no. Ask two."

She took a deep breath. And now for the key question. "Does Sir Leland know where a man named Kerryl Moonrunner took his son, Kendrick, after Moonrunner kidnapped him?"

Thar'Ok frowned. "Spirit very ... move much. Talk to self. Mad. Scared, maybe."

Excellent. "And my question? Does he answer it?"

A pause. "He not know. Ask three."

She thought fast. If Leland didn't know before he died that Kendrick had been kidnapped, then that meant he had received no ransom demand. Either Moonrunner had killed Kendrick, in which case the youth had likely already resurrected, or the fellow still held Kendrick alive. But why? For what purpose?

She asked her third question. "Does Sir Leland understand that he must resurrect if he is to help us find his son and save Kendrick from whatever Moonrunner has planned for him?"

Thar'Ok looked off into space for a long time. Long enough that Raina began to get very nervous. If only she could see Sir Leland! "Is he still there?" she whispered. "Does he answer?"

At long last, the thorn murmured, "Aye. He unner-stan."

She fell to her knees, emotionally emptied. She'd done her best. Now she could only hope and pray his spirit chose to make the long journey back to the land of the living.

"We go now," Thar'Ok rumbled above her.

Would this nightmare never end? She gathered herself to rise and a rough green hand appeared before her face. Grateful, she took the thorn's hand and let him help her up. Kindness from an orc. How much more upside down would her world turn before this was all said and done?

The cadre of orcs fanned out in front of and behind her, and they moved out cautiously into the dark.

It wasn't long before her escort led her into another small clearing much like the last one. Except this clearing held familiar faces. Rosana rushed forward to wrap her in a sobbing embrace. Raina was too drained to respond in kind, but she did hug the gypsy back weakly. She looked up over Rosana's shoulder and spied Eben, his eyes bleak.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured, brokenhearted. "I did my best. But it wasn't enough-"

Cicero cut her off. "We all saw what you did out there on the field. No apologies required."

Sha'Li added pragmatically, "Weak was his spirit. Eager to die." She added somewhat less sarcastically than usual, "In peace could he die knowing that his madness we carry on."

"It is not madness-" Will started hotly.

"I spoke to his spirit-" Raina started at the same time.

"Hush, both you," Thar'Ok said forcefully. "Anton near."

Raina started in alarm, and Will whispered, "How near?"

She breathed to him, "On our way here, we heard several groups of his men creeping around in the dark."

Thar'Ok grunted, "We go. Hurry."

They moved off to the north into terrain that commenced rising and falling in ever steeper slopes. A big orc warrior moved up beside her to guide her. Will startled her by falling in beside her escort and striking up a whispered conversation. "So, Ki'Rig Agar. You have helped me yet again. Am I to be in your debt forever, Boki?"

The orc grunted, "Wake king. We even. But still finish fight someday."

Will grinned. "Deal."

The pair of elves crouched side by side, dark cloaks obscuring their forms until they were part of the night, shadow without form or substance. Aurelius looked over at his old friend and wondered if Selea was experiencing the same dej vu that he was.

"And now we are two," he murmured.

Selea nodded slowly. "I will miss Leland if he chooses not to resurrect. He had the best heart of us all."

"Aye," Aurelius answered reflectively, "he did at that. Humans are possessed of a unique generosity of spirit."

"Perhaps it comes from having to live and die so quickly."

"Mmm," Aurelius replied. "It would be a great tragedy if he does not live to see his dream to fruition."

He felt, rather than saw, Selea's shrug under his black cloak. "He knew his dream was in motion. DeVir's boy has taken up the gauntlet. And Leland found the girl and put her into the perfect position to influence events in the years to come."

"He always did have a knack for that sort of thing."

The two elves fell silent for a time. Aurelius could not fathom what Selea contemplated, but his mind was full of the possibilities of the girl-the first arch-mage to emerge in generations, trained in politics and diplomacy, and operating within the special immunity of the White Heart colors. Yes indeed, Leland did have a gift for stirring the pot.

And in the meantime, Tiberius hadn't done a bad job, either, of setting massive events into motion with his son. It was hard to imagine that the boy might soon succeed where they had all failed. Perhaps the hand of fate was guiding the younger De'Vir, after all.

A handful of youths, hailing from all corners of the realm, perfectly prepared to fulfill great destinies, brought together in a single place and time to pursue a common goal. What were the odds? How could the greater beings not be pulling at least a little at the strings of this night's events?

It did give an old elf pause to wonder where he fit into the grand scheme of it all. He murmured to his companion, "What is Anton thinking? Running his mercenaries around out here like this is madness. The Boki will hunt down Anton's men and crush them like so many helpless rabbits."

"As long as one of his men succeeds, the others are expendable. Anton only needs a single person to bring him the location of that which he seeks."

"It's cursed frustrating knowing we're so close to it-again-yet we have no idea where it is."

"Patience, Aurelius. We will find it."

"How?"

"Anton's got the wrong of it. He should not be following his men. He should be following those who know where the treasure lies. Those who will rush to guard it from his men."

"The Boki?"

"Aye."

Aurelius chuckled under his breath. "Of course. Let the orcs lead us to the hiding place."

"In spite of your noisy conversation, old friend, I hear several groups of orcs moving generally in a northward direction. Unfortunately, Anton's forces appear to be moving that way as well. Let us do the same."

"Once more, then, we shall all gather to confront the fates: Anton, the Boki, and us, the ever intrepid fools."

"History does like to repeat itself."

"Let us hope for a better outcome this time."

Selea retorted grimly, "I place little faith in hope!"

"Perhaps. But what else do we have? A handful of children, totally untried, in whose hands rests the fate of us all?"

Selea shook his head gloomily. "We are doomed."

CHAPTER.

28.

Thar'Ok led the way deep into the heart of the forest. Will noticed Ki'Rig Agar surreptitiously holding up a hand by his ear yet again in what Will thought might be some sign to ward off evil. The whites of the Boki's eyes gleamed in the dark and he was acting positively jumpy. All the Boki were acting that way.

Will chastised himself. What had he expected? That the Sleeping King would be laid out in a pleasant grove they could stroll into and merely give his shoulder a shake? Of course the place would be protected in some way. Defended by something or someone dangerous. But it was not reassuring knowing that the king's guards scared the green off of ferocious Boki warriors.

They joined a larger group of Boki warriors in the bottom of a tiny vale bounded on each side by a rocky slope. Giant trees ringed the little bowl, and even in the scant starlight they looked strange and twisted. Thorns as long as Will's forearms pointed downward at close intervals along the trunk. Its bark was cracked and thick, a dark, bloodred color. The branches high overhead were gnarled and massive, and nestled among the leaves were more of those vicious-looking thorns. A lone squirrel was visible a dozen arm lengths up the tree, notable for how it was impaled upon a thorn, dead. Bloodthorn trees.

The orcs already in the grove bristled with weapons and looked as nervous as his escort. Will was relieved to spot Balthazar among them. If Will and his friends were slaughtered out of hand for being here, at least they might stand a chance of getting life spells.

Ki'Rig Agar, still beside him, pointed across the vale. "Ovuh they-uhh."

Will squinted, trying to make out exactly what it was the Boki was pointing at. He saw only boulders scattered like trash all over the steep slope at the base of the biggest tree of all.

"Ahh," Cicero sighed. "Clever."

Thar'Ok grunted something low and Ki'Rig Agar spoke up more loudly. "Willcobb go. Fine' king. Now."