“I will speak with my brother alone. Take these other two out.”

The guards silently complied, leading the reluctant Elven brothers from the room. The tall Prince waited until they had left, then turned questioningly to the scarlet-robed figure still at his side.

“I thought that perhaps you might have need of me…?” The lean, calculating face stared steadily at the impassive Balinor.

“Leave us, Stenmin. I will speak with my brother alone.”

His tone of voice bordered on anger, and the mystic nodded obediently, quickly backing out of the cell. The heavy door closed with an ominous thud, leaving the two brothers alone in a silence broken only by the hissing of the torch flame as it consumed the dry wood and flashed into gleaming sparks. Balinor did not move, but stood waiting expectantly, his eyes trying to probe his brother’s young face, trying to reach the old feelings of love and friendship they had shared as children. But they were missing, or at least carefully submerged in some dark corner of the heart, and in their place was a strange, restless anger that seemed to rise as much from dissatisfaction with the situation as from dislike of the captive brother. An instant later the fury and the contempt were gone, replaced by a calm detachment that Balinor found both irrational and false, as if Palance were playing a role without any real understanding of the character.

“Why did you come back, Balinor?” The words came out slowly, sadly. “Why did you do it?”

The tall borderman did not reply, unable to comprehend this sudden change of mood. Before, his brother had been willing to have him torn to pieces in order to learn the whereabouts of the beautiful Shirl Ravenlock, yet now he seemed to have completely dismissed the matter from his mind.

“No matter, no matter I suppose.” The reply came before Balinor had recovered from his astonishment at the abrupt change. “You could have stayed away after… after all the… after your treachery. I hoped you would, you know, because we were so close as children and you are, after all, my only brother. I will be King of Callahorn… I should have been firstborn anyway…”

He trailed off into a whisper, his mind suddenly lost in some unspoken thought. He had gone mad, Balinor thought in desperation, and could no longer be reached!

“Palance, listen to me-just listen to me. I have done nothing to you or to Shirl. I’ve been in Paranor since I left here weeks before, and I returned only to warn our people that the Skull King has assembled an army of such awesome proportions that it will sweep through the entire Southland unchallenged unless we stop it here! For the sake of all these people, please listen to me…”

His brother’s voice pierced the air in shrill command. “I will hear no more of this foolish talk of invasion! My scouts have checked the country’s borders and report no enemy armies anywhere. Besides, no enemy would dare to attack Callahorn-to attack me… Our people are safe here. What do I care for the rest of the Southland? What do I owe them? They have always left us to fight alone, to guard these borderlands alone. I owe them nothing!”