Loluren was tired and weak. The elves had traveled for quite some time, and the well-trained male soldiers did not slow for the women. After Loluren's short rein as the leader of the Southern Elven Tribes of the Forest of Mist, the men were reluctant to provide any comfort to the women. Not many of the women blamed Loluren; they instead blamed the stupidity of the males. Those same women, Loluren included, were now nervous as to their destination. The united Southern Elven Tribes were soon to meet General Hurlaran, Destroyer of Korrann, Victor of Elves, and Slayer of Barbarians.

Hurlaran was the general who had destroyed the Korrannier Empire's original capital city. The empire was relatively young, and Hurlaran had destroyed the original capital a few hundred years previous. He had killed the "barbaric humans," and had proven the power of the elves. A true patriarch and warrior, Hurlaran would not tolerate female dissent, or peaceful negotiations. If there was an argument, it would have to be dealt with his way.

The forest had been unkind to them, and, several times on their way, they had become lost. Whispers rang throughout the elven peoples. Whispers of the broken promise to the forest and the druids. Whispers of fated death. Whispers of doom. Hunting was scarce, and only enough food was found for small portions. The warriors had received more food than the women and children, and the women and children were the ones least adept at traveling.

Loluren knew that her people - Kenha's people at the moment, and Hurlaran's people in the near future - would die if the situation did not change. She wanted to live, just like every other elf, but feared for her life now. The ancient elven woman, Marizna, had not spoken to her since the day the old elf brought Loluren down from the tree after the massacre of the druids at the cave. Marizna kept close by Kenha, advising and planting ideas.

Some of those ideas, were, no doubt, selfish vendettas, but Loluren had no power to say so. A few women had been beaten by their husbands when they spoke privately to them about Kenha, Marizna, or Hurlaran. Loluren had no husband or family. She was Mistress of the Hearth, in command of cooking. What she was supposed to cook was beyond her. The hunters brought very little food and any berries or roots found along the way were dried and dead for the most part. The forest was working against them.

The day wore on, but whispers soon blanketed the moving elves once again. A sentry sent by Hurlaran had met with Kenha - and Marizna. They had reached the land of the Northern Elves. As far as Loluren knew, the northern elves were separated into tribes, as the south had been. The tribes may have united to survive if the forest turned against them also. How bad was the situation between the forest and the elves? Would Marizna's treachery doom all elves in Mistwood? If the forest only punished Loluren's people - her fellow southern elves - then maybe the union of the north and south would bring the forest's wrath on the northern elves. The forest suddenly felt dark and crude.

It had always been a place of refuge and safety. Now the forest was desolate and gloomy.

The elves of the Northern and Southern Mistwood had been united for only two days. After the first two days, the first disaster occurred.

Kenha had taken up position of General of the Southern Elves, while General Hurlaran assigned another elf - General Furllan - to be the General of the Northern Elves. Hurlaran himself, with Marizna now at his side, was the Elven Warlord of the Elves of the Forest of Mist. The Southern elves were camped near Hurlaran's village. Hurlaran himself had not shown himself to the Southern Elves. He had shown himself to none of Southern Elves but Marizna. The ancient had already attached herself to Hurlaran, and Loluren did not doubt she had used magic.

It was on the second day after the Southern Elves camped outside of Hurlaran's village that disaster reached Loluren. She had been cooking roots, berry, and meat with the other women. The Northern Elves had not yet been struck with the forest's coldness, but Loluren still felt insecure. She had been speaking with Gemmi when Asrej bustled into the open cook-area.

"Loluren!" the elf called, rushing up to her. "Bimili has been taken by Hurlaran's guards under account of treason!"

Loluren whipped her head to the elven woman and put down the wooden board she had been using to chop roots. Bimili was a common soldier among Kenha's ranks. Loluren had heard of no conspiracies, and she had been keeping an ear out for any such plot. "What has happened to him?"

"He has blamed Cerline!"

Loluren gasped. Cerline was a personal friend of Loluren, and, when Loluren had gone to the ancient cache with the druids, she had left Cerline to rule. Marizna knew that Cerline had been left to rule, and had told Loluren that she had spoken to her. Marizna was no doubt behind these accusations. Marizna had promised her that all would be well. Loluren was now afraid that the elf woman had lied. She had come after Loluren for interfering with her plans.

"What do we do?" Asrej asked franticly. "What if Cerline blames you? Or us?"

"She would not," Loluren said uneasily. She hoped her friend would not betray her. If Marizna was the source of this new debacle, Loluren was not sure of anything. "We must go on as we have been. Give the soldiers no reason to take us."

"What of Cerline and Bimili?" Asrej asked earnestly.

"At the moment, we can do nothing. We will think of something. We must think of something, or we are all dead." The forest, once her protective home and refuge, was now a dark, restrictive prison.

The mist ebbed and flowed around the abandoned elven village. Wispy tendrils caressed ancient trees, and clouds of the sentient fog smothered once-vibrant greenery. Eldest Kaleph had set his people to rest in the village. They had traveled on and on when the fog would allow them passage. The mist had already taken a handful of elves. The forest had become unsafe, but Kaleph would not leave his home, and he would not disobey his master.

The magic staves would no longer hold back the mist, and Kaleph's followers were herded by the mist when it decided to move. Kaleph had not been able to make a safe passage for himself. At irregular intervals, a path between two walls of mist would form, and the elves would quickly rush through before it closed. They were afraid, and Kaleph feared some would revolt against him. He could only promise them that he knew the forest would not betray them.

His bones were weak from the tendays of travel, but he had forced himself and his people forward. Now that they had found another elven village, they took refuge. The villages appeared to be safe havens from the mist, but whatever it was they kept the mist away was a mystery to Kaleph. The Eldest now sat alone in an elven hut, contemplating. It was then he heard the whisper.

"My servant," the disembodied whisper hissed, "come."

Kaleph raised his head, knowing that his Master called him. The door had mysteriously become open, and Kaleph carefully stepped outside. The mist had entered the village, and there was a path leading from the hut. Kaleph followed the path set by his master. As he walked forward, the space behind him filled with fog, and the space ahead of him opened. He breathed carefully, not wishing to disturb the mists. He had not spoken to his Master for a very long time, and hoped he had not lost favor.

The Eldest suddenly lost his footing, and rolled down a hill. His robes tore, and rocks scraped against his aged skin. He arose slowly once he stopped rolling, and, rubbing his elbows, found he was surrounded by his Master's mist. Then the mist began to take shape before him. Either due to the shadows or shape of the mist, Kaleph saw a human-like form hovering before him. Without thought, Kaleph fell to his knees and prostrated himself.

"I await my Master's orders, my Lord."

"You allowed you people to leave, servant," the disembodied whisper stated. Although the voice was quiet, it held a menace that Kaleph could not explain. Nonetheless, he could feel it.

"The other elders overruled me, my Lord. I brought back any who I could."

"Incompetent mortal," it chided. "You have hindered my plans. However, I will continue to keep you and your followers safe. You are to travel east to the Ioun Mountains. There, at the base of the peaks, you will mine for what your world calls . . . ioun stones."

"We do not know how to mine, Master. Those talents lie with dwarves." Kaleph remained prostrated and only glanced occasionally at his master's visage.

"Do you then believe dwarves are more worthy of my attention, Kaleph? You will learn to mine, or the mist will feast on elf-flesh." Kaleph lowered his head in shame. "Do you understand me, mortal servant?"

"Yes, Master." Kaleph recalled the girl planeswalker the messenger had come across whole tendays ago. He decided to redeem himself by asking his master's current well being. "Has the girl threatened you, my Lord?"

"No. You need not worry yourself in my well being. Only in yours. You will stockpile these stones for me, and await my coming."

"Will I hear from you again before then, my Lord?" There was no response, and Kaleph lifted his head. The mist was gone, and the small patch of forest that had housed Kaleph's Master's presence was bathed in light from a hole in the canopy above. The hill was visible, and the mist was nowhere in sight. Had his master called off the mists to allow them safe passage? How long would this boon last?

Kaleph did not know, but did not plan to test his Master's patience. He made for the hill to return to his people, and give them orders.

Efraim relaxed in his cushioned chair, his feet propped up on a wooden stool. In his hands he held a green amulet that he had found in Kelsan. As far as he or Izmiele could tell, it was not an ioun stone, but instead some enchanted emerald or precious stone of some sort. The day had been hot and dry. The storm season in the Sands was coming to an end, and winter would soon cover the northern empires of Kila and Balavar. His men had almost finished with this season's harvest, and the food was being stored in huge barns protected by magic.

The amulet was cool, and Efraim welcomed the respite from the heat. A glass of water remained cold on a table next to him with the help of Izmiele's magic. The amulet was from Kelsan, but Efraim was glad he was away from that place. One of his wizards had died there when Zazdor commanded them to go. A mysterious sickness had overcome her, and she fell into seizures and died. There was evil magic in Kelsan, but Efraim felt none of that in the amulet.

Zazdor had forced them to bring three statues of himself to the carts, but Efraim suspected they were only illusions to hide what they really were. Zazdor was planning something, but Efraim did not let it bother him. His crazed master was since gone, and Efraim was safe for a time. Using magic, Efraim had levitated the statues to the carts, along with a few other trinkets. Zazdor had a crystal sword, made of one piece of crystal, at his waist, and Efraim felt energies from the artifact. Zazdor had been raving about "Shift Five" when Efraim and the other wizards met up with him, though Efraim couldn't make out if he was angry or pleased.

Before they had reached Aidom on the return trip, Zazdor had left. With a wave of his hand, the artifacts he retrieved had disappeared, no doubt teleported to Kledion, and Zazdor simply walked away. He insisted that Efraim return to his farm, and when Efraim looked back, Zazdor was gone. He could not fool himself in saying he was sorry that the wizard left. There was no doubt now in his mind that his master was insane. Whatever kept him away was a good thing.

Izmiele had not been pleased when she learned that one of the farm's wizard's had died. They had brought her body back and buried it, but it was one less person to help share the work. No work had been done for a day as the others mourned her passing. Efraim had kept to himself and rested. Now, too, he rested. The day was coming to an end, but the heat still lingered.

His heavy eyelids, closed, but he forced them open again. He was tired, and thought of the farmland and Gowwilan plains. Efraim was a wizard of white and green mana, representing life and beauty. He allowed his eyes to close again, and he imaged Gowwilan lands, mostly those farthest away from Kelsan's deadly taint. He imaged deer and rabbits. Birds and bears. He had seen a bear occasionally - huge, shaggy beasts with brown fur and stout muzzles. It had lumbered on harmlessly. Efraim respected nature, and from that respect he pulled forth his mana.

Izmiele, who had been in the kitchen, shrieked, and Efraim's eyes burst open. He did not see the room around him, however. A brown beast stood on the rug in front of his chair. He gripped the chair's arms, and found that the Kelsanite amulet was glowing. Had he summoned the bear? He did not remember summoning mana. The bear looked inquisitively at him, and Efraim was thoughtless. Fear struck his body, and he could do nothing. He would have spoken something - anything - had he words to use.

He took a quick breath - which required all of his strength - and he accidentally dropped the amulet. As soon as the stone left his touch, the bear shimmered like one of Zazdor's illusions, and disappeared. His other hand felt the small table besides him for the glass of cool water. He quickly downed the rest of it.

"What did you do?" Izmiele demanded, slowly entering the room from the adjoined kitchen.

"I . . . I don't know," the master wizard replied. "It was the amulet. I was drifting off to sleep, and . . ." Efraim tried to recall his thoughts. "I tried to calm myself by thinking of the land, and I imaged the wildlife. I thought of a bear I saw, and . . ."

"You summoned one?" Izmiele's question bordered on an exclamation.

"It would appear so. But . . . I do not summon illusions. That requires magic and trickery of the mind. I deal in natural things."

"Then you created a bear? Wizards do not create life! Zazdor can summon illusions, but that is all they are - illusions, affected by magic! I tried to cast a spell at it - nothing happened. It was real Efraim!"

"Then how did I . . . unsummon it?"

"I do not know. Let the amulet lay where it is, and rest. I will go fix you something to eat."

With that, Izmiele was gone back into the kitchen, and Efraim rested his head back on the chair's cushion. He had really summoned a bear of flesh and bone? There was no record among the humans of one summoning a real animal. The amulet was mysterious and powerful. He would have to study it, and, most importantly, not let Zazdor discover it. Or anyone else.

Loluren sat against a tree with Gemmi. Twelve elves had been executed for treason in the past five days. Hurlaran was not patient. Loluren did not doubt Marizna's involvement, but so far, no more elves had been blamed. All those in custody had been killed. The elves who had been executed were both from Southern and Northern Mistwood.

Perhaps this was the only trial that the United Elves of Mistwood would encounter. Loluren knew that her hope would not see truth as long as Marizna remained an advisor to Hurlaran. Loluren had silently been recruiting others in protest, but they had not yet moved. They would not, for some time. The situation was too tense. Cerline and Bimili had been the first to die. Cerline had been a personal friend.

None of the elves knew Hurlaran's plans except the generals and wizards. Loluren had no contact with any of them, nor was she likely to be able to. She would build resistance quietly and patiently. If any other outbreak of terror would occur, Loluren would be ready to take action. The elves of Southern Mistwood had always been hostile to other races. Now the elves were hostile even toward one another. Who was to be blamed for this? Achmagg and his assault against the druids? The mystic hydra that had decimated Achmagg's camp? The druids, remaining always quite and hidden? Loluren herself for taking command of the remaining elves? Marizna?

Loluren did not know the future, and, at the moment, did not think she would like to. The Forest of Mist's ominous state shrouded the future of the elves in uncertainty.