They had barely moved beyond the outer pickets when they heard the cries of alarm from the center of the caravan camp. Iydahoe imagined the human's fury. A grim smile tightened his face as he pictured the discovery of the headless wizard.
"Humans can't see in the dark like we can. Let's run for it!" he whispered to his companions, who voiced quiet agreement.
They dropped to the forest floor thirty paces beyond the outer guard posts and trotted through the darkness. Relying on their elven eyesight, they avoided the deadfalls, underbrush, and moss-covered rocks that occasionally blocked their path. Furthermore, Iydahoe led them on a roundabout, rough trail in an effort to discourage and mislead any potential pursuers.
As they jogged, Iydahoe was as impressed with Vanisia's endurance as he had been with her stealth. Never complaining, she held the same pace as the two wild elves, though the warrior suspected that her ornate sandals must be causing her no small amount of pain.
Finally, several miles from the Istarian camp, the dust of invisibility began to wear off. In a matter of moments, all three of them could clearly be seen-and since they were well beyond the nearest humans, Iydahoe found their reappearance to be something of a relief. No pursuit was audible, so the warrior allowed a brief rest. Vanisia collapsed to the ground while Bakall, his head held low, muttered something about making a circuit around the place to make sure they weren't observed. Iydahoe sensed that the young warrior was embarrassed by the lack of willpower he had displayed atop the bluff, and didn't want to discuss the matter. Knowing that solitary meditation might be the best cure for Bakall's guilt, Iydahoe agreed.
For a short time, he sat in silence with the elfmaid, but curiosity finally compelled him to speak.
"Why did you stop the wizard from burning me? You spoke of going to Istar, of singing the Evening Prayers. Why did you turn away from that?"
He was afraid that she would be terribly upset, but when she spoke, her voice was strong, her words clear. "Istar is meaningless now-or at least, it will be in a matter of days."
Iydahoe remained silent, waiting for her to continue.
"Loralan has preached this prophecy for many decades, more than a century. I have heard about the spi- raling descent of Istar's rulers. The current Kingpriest is the worst, and it was only with reluctance that Loralan consented to allow our chorale to make the journey this year. Then, from things he said in the wagon, to Wellerane-" Here her voice cracked for the first time. "-I believe the end is near."
"The end? Of what?"
"Of Istar-and, perhaps, of Krynn. The wrath of the gods will strike our world, and the legions of Istar will perish. If that happens, and I cannot be with my father, I did not want to be among the humans of that wretched procession."
"In the forest we live with little, by House Elf standards," Iydahoe pointed out.
She smiled slightly. "Little? There are those in Silvanesti who have nothing amid the splendor and plenty."
"Spoken like a Kagonesti," the warrior admitted, impressed.
"I've treasured the solitude of the wild places since I was a little girl," Vanisia said. "I chose the fields of Misha- kal's flowers over the greatest crystal citadels of our elven architects. Often I slept outside, on the banks of the Thon- Thalas, just to hear the music of the river in the dawn."
"We have no architects in the forest," Iydahoe replied, "but I, too, know the song of flowing water." In his heart, he wondered if she would be able to survive-and enjoy a life-in the mud-and-deer-hide lodges of the Kagonesti. Surprising himself with his vehemence, he desperately hoped that she would. Only then did he wonder if there could possibly be any substance to her fears. There couldn't. She was frightened by the strange disappearance of her father. Surely that was all.
"I-I thank you for taking me away."
"You took yourself away," Iydahoe said with a shrug that was an attempt to conceal his pleasure at her companionship. All this talk of gods' wrath unsettled him, but he could not bring himself to believe that the end of the world was a real possibility. Still, he pressed her on the point. "What words did this cleric say to you, to your father, to make you believe the future is so dire?"
"He has talked of the growing arrogance of the King- priest, of that man's belief that someday he will be able to command the gods themselves. When he tries, the gods will punish him-and all of Ansalon as well."
"How will they mete out this punishment?"
"Loralan did not know. But he said that the true clerics might be summoned away beforehand, and that many days-twelve or thirteen, I think he said-of terror would befall the land. And that none of the warnings could cause the Kingpriest to turn from his disastrous path."
"The priest did say something about that, about the road to Istar taking more than thirteen days," Iydahoe remembered, still unwilling to accept the veracity of her fears.
Vanisia only nodded.
"And you believe that the first of these predictions has come to pass, that the priests have been summoned away?" Iydahoe did not place a great deal of faith in prophecies, but the young elfmaid's words disturbed him nonetheless.
"Loralan came to get my father, just as he is taking the other clerics-the true speakers of the gods who live across Ansalon. I suspect they are all gone now."
"Clerics and wizards of the House Elves may come and go as they wish," Iydahoe replied skeptically, "but other priests still dwell among the peoples of the world. My father, Hawkan, is a shaman who knows the ways of the gods-and he awaits us in our village. We will see him by the end of the day."
"I hope you're right," said Vanisia, and he knew that she meant it.
Yet Iydahoe was disquieted by her conviction, sensing that she would be honestly surprised to find the wild elf shaman in the camp.
"Why do you think the clerics were taken from the world?" he asked, grappling with the mystery.
"I can't say for sure. Perhaps because we have allowed the arrogance of the Kingpriest to grow too strong. Neither elves nor men have been able to prevent his mad condemnation of everything he dislikes. He brands a thing, or a people, as evil-then he has it killed. Dwarves, ogres, even elves have felt this hatred."
"Then why did Silvanesti make a road to his citadel?"
"For more than a century we had shunned Istar, banished all trade and commerce with that realm. But some of our priests-notably Loralan-convinced our rulers that we must try to communicate with the Kingpriest. He felt that only thus could they even have a chance to change his disastrous path."
"We have no need for such superstitions in the wild. You will find that life is simpler in the forest." In Iydahoe's own mind he began to wonder if, too, it might not become more peaceful. How many more humans would he have to kill before the four tribes were avenged? For the first time, he realized that he had embarked on a hopeless task-and he gave real thought to laying aside his quest for vengeance.
"I think this is more than superstition, though I pray that I might be wrong."
They rested uneasily for a few hours, then rose to take the trail in a peculiarly dim and misty dawn. The light seeping through the trees seemed pale, sickly, as though a greenish filter had been laid across the sun. It was not until midmorning, when they emerged from the trees onto a low promontory with a view of hills, valleys, and sky, that Iydahoe understood why.