The man had the keen look of one come freshly from battle. His eyes glittered and his raiment was travel-stained and worn. And there was an acuteness about him that was alarming.

Belloc sighed. "How many have you lost?"

The man's jaw muscles bunched. "The elves were twenty. My men here are all that remain of thirty-six. Now, the elves are nine, and we are seven."

The old wizard's knuckles whitened on his staff. "Your name is Erin, is it not?"

"It is."

"Then, Erin of Brand," said the wizard, formally, "I must tell you that neither I nor any of my household have seen anything out of the ordinary, but we have definitely sensed the presence of something very dangerous, and I can tell that you and those that remain of your companies know more about the nature of that presence than I. Will you not tell me what you have seen?"

Holding the wizard's gaze, the man replied, "I, too, have seen nothing, but that nothingness has murdered twenty-nine of my men. I was hoping that the renowned Belloc could put a name to that nothingness."

Anest and Belloc exchanged a look. Stepping forward into the unsteady yellow-black hues of the lantern-light, Anest spoke.




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