“The mountains we are about to cross into are the Wolfsktaag, a no-man’s-land for both Dwarf and Gnome,” Hendel explained quietly. “We chose this way because there was less chance of meeting up with a Gnome hunting patrol, something that would certainly result in a pitched battle. The Wolfsktaag Mountains are said to be inhabited by creatures from another world-a good joke, isn’t it?”

“Get to the point,” Allanon broke in.

“The point is,” Hendel continued, seemingly oblivious of the dark historian, “we were spotted about fifteen minutes back by one or possibly two Gnome scouts. There may be more around, we can’t be certain-the highlander says he saw signs of a large party. In any event, the scouts will report us and bring back help in a hurry, so we’ll have to move fast.”

“Worse than that!” declared Menion quickly. “Those signs said there are Gnomes ahead of us somewhere-through those trees or in them.”

“Maybe so, maybe not, highlander,” Hendel cut back in sharply. “These trees run like this for almost a mile and the cliffs continue on both sides, but narrow sharply beyond the forest to form the Pass of Noose, the entrance to the Wolfsktaag. That is the way we have to go. To try any other route would cost us two more days, and we would be risking an almost certain run-in with Gnomes.”

“Enough debate,” Allanon said fiercely. “Let’s move out quickly. Once we reach the other side of the pass, we’ll be in the mountains. The Gnomes will not follow us there.”

“Encouraging, I’m sure,” muttered Flick under his breath.

The company moved into the thickly clustered trees of the pine forest, following one another in single file, weaving among the rough, disjointed trunks. Dead needles lay in heaps over the whole of the earthen forest floor, creating a soft matting on which the passing of feet made no sound. The white-bark trees rose tall and lean, touching near their skeletal tops like some intricate spider web, lacing the blueness of the clear sky in fascinating designs. The party wound steadily forward through the maze of trunks and limbs behind Hendel, who chose their route quickly and without hesitation. They had not gone more than several hundred yards when Durin brought them up sharply and motioned for silence, looking questioningly about, apparently searching the air for something.

“Smoke!” he exclaimed suddenly. “They’ve set fire to the forest!”

“I don’t smell any smoke,” declared Menion, sniffing the air tentatively.

“You don’t have the sharpened senses of an Elf either,” Allanon. stated flatly. He turned to Durin. “Can you tell where they’ve fired it?”

“I smell smoke, too,” declared Shea absently, amazed that his own senses were as sharp as those of the Elves.

Durin cast about for a minute, trying to catch the scent of smoke from one particular direction.

“Can’t tell, but it appears that they’ve fired it in more than one place. If they have, the forest will go up in a matter of minutes!”