Light followed in the wake of folk tall and slender, who glided across the clearing and disappeared among the trees. She sat up with a start that set her head ringing.

“Easy, youngling,” a quiet voice said. A gentle but firm hand on her shoulder eased her back down. “There is nothing to harm you here. You’ve the good fortune of being found by friends in your time of need. You need not fear the Tree Kindred of the Elt Wood.”

As Karigan drifted back into sleep, she heard the eagle say, My Lord Drannonair of the Mountains calls me. I confess I’ve no wish to get mixed up in the affairs of earthbound creatures, and it was time I left.

The quiet-voiced one laughed, and it was a sound of joy. “But, Softfeather, you are always betraying yourself!”

Someone put a cool hand on Karigan’s burning forehead, and she fell into deep slumber. She dreamed of feasting, of fair folk amidst the moonstones singing and laughing, and dancing to music that could not be heard. The women, clad in long and simple dresses, spun and danced with fluid grace as if their movements were some flowing language. If so, what were they saying? The swaying, dipping, leaping figures were strong in her vision, but after a time, they faded into the moonstone light.

The singing continued for a time, and though Karigan didn’t know the language, it seemed she understood the words nonetheless:

By bright of light in Laurelyn’s step,

By the brilliant light of Moonman’s beam,

We leave the shadows of the night,

In the realm of poison dreams.

Our hearts will lift at the hour,

When the light conquers the dark,

And when poison from the heart is driven,

We dance in a glade in Laurelyn’s step.

The song faded, and the men entered the clearing and picked up on the rhythm of the unheard music where the women had left off. They danced for a short time, but could have as easily surpassed the Ages.

Karigan dimly perceived a change of light from dusk to dawn. Stars still dangled above as the sky transformed into the blue blush of day. The dance went on and the strains of a song she could not hear carried through her dreams. When the dance stopped and the women reentered the clearing, Karigan moved to join them, but the cool hand on her forehead cast her into a deeper sleep where dreams would not disturb her.

When she awakened again, stars still dotted the sky and moonstones shimmered in the woods as before, and the clearing was not so far removed from her dreams, except now it was empty of dancers. It was all she could do to open her eyes, so overcome with weakness was she.

“So you are with us again, youngling.”

Karigan recognized the voice, but the speaker wasn’t within her vision. When she struggled to her elbows, the clearing and stars spun.

“None of that,” the voice said. “You are too weak yet.”

Hands pressed her shoulders down. When the spinning ceased, a young man such as she had never seen before knelt beside her. At least, he was young in appearance, though the weight of years could be felt through his mild manner. Long hair shimmered silver in the starlight, though she could not be sure that silver was its true color. Wide bright eyes of pale gray set into a fine-boned face gazed down at her merrily. He was slender like a reed, but not bereft of heft and muscle.

“Who—” she croaked. Her mouth and throat were parched.

He lifted a skin of water to her lips and helped her drink. It was cold and clear as if it had been drawn from the root of all waters, from a mountain spring that flowed into a sunny glade where the trees around it grew taller than any she had ever seen.

“I am Somial,” the man said. “I am Somial of Eletia, or the Elt Wood as your folk would call it.”

Karigan choked on the water. Eletia! “Eletians are legend,” she whispered.

“If that is so,” he said with a smile, “I must then be a legend.”

“Estral always claimed there were still Eletians around, but I never believed her.”

“Your Estral, then, is most wise.”

“The Horse—” She tried to sit up again, but Somial pressed her firmly to the ground.

“He fares well,” he assured her. “We have been caring for him most diligently.”

Karigan struggled no more. She hadn’t the strength to. “A long night,” she murmured.

Somial arched his right brow. “Yes. This night and the last two.”

“I’ve been—?”

“Yes, messenger. Your fight only just began when you slew the creature of Kanmorhan Vane. Softfeather told us of your courage. Such courage is not often found among your folk, nor such resilience. The poison of the beast raged hot and thick through your veins.”

Karigan couldn’t get over the feeling he was secretly laughing at her, but his gaze and tone were sincere enough. “Softfeather? Who—?”

“The gray eagle. He, too, is a messenger of sorts among his folk.”

Karigan closed her eyes. The lights around her had begun to dim and flare, and dim again. How was it the Eletians had come to be here at this time? Were they just another fever dream?

“How did you find me?”

Somial said, “We are tiendan, hunters, or watchers for the king. We walk the lands, even outside our beloved Eletia. Long it has been since last we traveled Sacoridia’s fine northern forest. Our king and his son have sensed a great unease in the world, and the creature of Kanmorhan Vane only confirms some unrest of the dark powers. We would that we could have come to your aid sooner, but we only knew of you when we saw the light of the muna’riel. Curious that a mortal should possess one. We don’t know what to make of it.”