"Wait, now—" she called. "Let me lead, where I can guard you." But at her call Macenion stumbled on even faster. He reached the horses, and clung to Windfoot's saddle as he clapped Star on the rump. Paks lengthened her stride, angry now, and muttering curses at cowardly elves. The quality of light altered, as if to match her mood, rippling across the stones. Paks was too angry to be frightened, but she moved faster. For an instant Macenion turned a white face back toward her; she saw his eyes widen. Then he screamed and flailed forward. Paks did not look back; she broke into a run as Macenion and the animals took off up the trail. She felt a building menace behind her, rising swiftly to a peak that demanded action.

As they passed the last pair of stones, the light seemed to fail for an instant, as if someone had filled the valley with thick blue smoke. Then a blaze of white light, brighter than sunlight, flashed over them. Paks saw her shadow, black as night, thrown far ahead on the trail. A powerful blow in the back sent her sprawling face-down on the trail; she had no time to see what had happened to Macenion or the horses. Choking dust rose in clouds, and heavy thunder rumbled through her body. Then it was gone, and silence returned. From very far away, she heard the scream of a hawk.

When Paks caught her breath and managed to rise to her feet, she saw nothing behind or before her on the trail. Afternoon shadows had begun to stripe the narrow valley; shadows of the stones latticed the trail itself. Ahead, upslope, the trail was scuffed and torn where Macenion and the horses had fled. Paks scowled at the place the trail disappeared behind a fold of mountain. Alone, in unknown wilderness, without supplies or her pony. . . . She looked back at the valley and shook her head. She knew without thinking about it that she had no escape that way. And perhaps she could catch up to Macenion—he had been limping, she remembered.

In fact, by the time she reached the turn that left the valley safely behind, she could hear him, coaxing the horses to come. When she trudged around the last rocks, she saw him, limping heavily, trying to grab Windfoot's rein. The horse edged sideways, nervous, keeping just out of reach. Paks eyed the situation for a moment before speaking.

"Would you like some help, Macenion?"

He whipped around, nearly falling, his mouth open. Then he glared at her. "You fool!" he said. Paks had not expected that; she felt her ears burning. He went on. "What did I tell you—and you had to keep waving that sword!"

"You told me there wasn't any danger," snapped Paks, furious.

"There wasn't, until you drew your sword," he said. "If you had only—"

"What did you think I'd do, when you let out a yell?"