"One more time, bow," Daile whispered. Another blazing arrow plunged into the shadow monster. With a cry, the creature released Gamaliel and backed away, clawing at the arrow sunk into its eyeless face. Slowly, it lowered to the ground. The scarlet flames dimmed and vanished. Daile found that she could see the creature now, a motionless pool of shadow on the ground.
Daile was about to call out to Gamaliel when the carpet lurched violently.
The ranger swore. She hadn't been paying attention! There was a loud noise as the carpet snagged a tree branch, then Daile felt herself falling. Fortunately, a thick bed of pine needles cushioned her impact. Gamaliel helped her to her feet, and as he did so, she realized he had metamorphosed into his human shape. He regarded her curiously. Scorch marks covered his arms where the magical flame from her arrows had burned him.
"Gamaliel, your wounds-"
He waved her words aside. "It is nothing," he said gruffly. "Your arrows saved us. Come, we must see to Evaine."
The sorceress was already awake, though it was clear she was weak and dizzy. Whatever the creature was, it had obviously drained her with its deadly touch.
"I don't know how or why you found us, Daile," she said with a faint smile. "But your timing is impeccable."
Stiffly, she knelt to examine the pile of dark tatters, all that remained of the creature. "I've heard of beings that feed upon their victims' dreams." Evaine sighed wearily. "This explains why I've felt so hollow and dispirited these last days."
"And I never suspected anything," Gamaliel said quietly. There was anger in his voice, as well as anguish.
"Don't you dare be so foolish as to blame yourself, Gam," Evaine said sternly. "There was no way you could have known." She turned her gaze toward the ranger. "You picked a good night to find us, Daile. For six nights I've been growing weaker and weaker. Tonight would have been the seventh. After tonight, I might have become one of those creatures myself."
Daile stared in horror at the sorceress. There was nothing she could say. Evaine reached out and gripped her hand.
"Thank you," the sorceress said.
They spent the remainder of the night close to the fire, each telling what had befallen them since they had parted company at Evaine's dwelling. The sorceress brewed a pot of herbal tea that would help restore her strength and offered a cup to the ranger. Daile sipped the fragrant liquid, gathering her thoughts. She told the tale of their journey to the ruins of the red tower, describing how Kern had fought the osyluth and gained the Hammer of Tyr. She dreaded having to tell the story of her father's death once again, of having to relive that terrible moment Evaine had been one of Ren's best friends; she deserved to know. Her brown eyes distant, Daile began to describe Ren's fatal battle with the knight-fiend. When she finished, she was surprised to realize that, somehow, it hadn't been quite as painful reliving the memory this time.
"I will miss him," Evaine said with a deep sigh. "But Faerun is a better place because of Ren o' the Blade, and a brighter place. His life had meaning, great meaning. It was all he would have wished. Don't ever forget that, Daile."
Daile knew that she would not.
Evaine was told all about the young archer's adventures, including the tale of Sirana's treachery and how the wild mage was in truth a half-fiend, the daughter of the Red Wizard Marcus.
"She's in league with the pool of twilight, Evaine. That's what the others were coming to warn you about."
The sky had steadily brightened as they spoke, and now the ruddy orb of the sun lifted itself above the snowcapped heights. As the first rays filtered their way into the clearing, the remains of the dreamstalker began to smoke and bubble, evaporating before their eyes. In moments, there was no trace of the shadow creature left.
They broke camp in the morning light. Evaine was still weak, her cheeks hollow and sunken, but now that the nightly attacks had ended, she thought she would quickly regain strength.
The first thing to do was to locate Kern and the others. How to go about it was a dilemma. It was possible that Evaine could cast one of her search spells, but that would have to be a last resort. The sorceress needed to save her spell components-and her energy-to find the pool of twilight.
"I could have used the magic carpet to scout the area," Daile said, "but…"
She didn't need to say the obvious. The tattered remains of the carpet were tangled in the branches of a nearby tree twenty feet above the ground. The magic carpet would fly no more.
Gamaliel turned to Daile. "Perhaps there is another way you might scout above the trees." There was a peculiar intensity in the barbarian's green-gold eyes.
"How?" Daile asked wryly. "Am I supposed to flap my arms and fly into the air?"
"Perhaps I mean just that, ranger."
Daile frowned. What was Gamaliel talking about?
"Gamaliel," Evaine said seriously. "Are you certain this is wise?"
The barbarian shrugged. "She must discover the gift someday, Evaine. Why not now, when it can be of use?"
Evaine looked skeptical, but did not disagree.
Daile regarded them both in bewilderment. "What are you talking about?"
Gamaliel reached out and took her hand. "Come. I'll show you."
He led her into the woods. Daile wondered why Evaine did not follow. Perhaps the sorceress needed to rest, she thought.
Gamaliel stopped when they reached the edge of a steep precipice. Rugged, pristine wilderness stretched as far as Daile could see, forested ridges gilded by the morning light. The sight tugged at her heart. It was a feeling she had experienced before, hunting with her father or stalking orcs in the Valley of the Falls, a desire to make herself one with the forest, the mountains, and the sky.
"It is the wild gift," Gamaliel stated in answer to her thoughts.
"I don't understand," Daile said, shaking her head.
"I have sensed it in you," the barbarian explained in his rich voice. "You move through the forest as if it is your home. You do not try to master it. Rather, you become part of it, sensing its sights and scents as if it is second nature for you." He laid both his strong hands on her shoulders. "The wild gift runs in your blood, Daile. Do you choose to accept it?"
The barbarian's words sent a strange thrill through her. She wasn't at all certain what Gamaliel was talking about, but somehow she knew he spoke the truth. The wind blew his golden hair from his square, chiseled face.
"Yes," she whispered before she really knew what she was saying. The wilderness did call to her.
Gamaliel nodded, a pleased look in his eyes.
"Close your eyes," he said, leading her closer to the edge of the cliff. "I will help you."
She did as he instructed.
"Can you hear the wind?" he murmured softly.
"Yes," she whispered. She could hear the voice of the morning breeze, singing through the ghost-pale aspen frees.
"Listen to its music," Gamaliel instructed. "Let it blow over you, and through you. Now breathe. Breathe deeply. What do you smell?"
"The forest," Daile answered. Though her eyes were shut, she felt acutely aware of everything around her. "I can smell the sun warming the granite of the cliff. There's a wolverine's den nearby, and a group of white-tail deer even closer. And I smell snowcress growing beside a frozen spring not far behind us."
Gamaliel nodded in satisfaction. "Good, Daile. Now, let yourself be part of all that you sense. Let the wind lift you from your body. Let it shape you into something new. Something wondrous."