When no answer came, they drew their swords. Galaeron's first instinct was to look for shadators-as though he could actually see one-and illithids and beholders or any of the other deadly creatures of wickedness he was beginning to associate with Melegaunt and their phaerimm enemies. Vala's reaction was more direct and to the point. She grabbed Galaeron and started forward into the forest.
"Vala! Are you…" Galaeron made it only that far before he realized she was doing exactly the right thing. "All right, I'm coming!"
A cold afternoon wind began to whip his hair about his ears, then he found himself standing ankle deep in cold Nightal snow, staring at the winter skeletons of a thick forest of oak, walnut, and shadowtop. Melegaunt was no more than three paces ahead, surrounded by a semicircle of eight trees, all still holding their leaves. The largest of the trees, a twenty-foot oak, was blocking their path, shaking a gnarled branch at Melegaunt and rumbling at him in a voice as deep as thunder. "Through my wood, Melegaunt Tanthul, you do not go!"
"But it is the shortest path, Great Fuorn," Melegaunt protested, "and the only one I know." "Matters not," said the tree.
Now that he had recovered from his astonishment, Galaeron could make out the twisted bark faces of the eight trees. They had knotholes for eyes, jagged hollows for mouths, crooked limb stubs for noses. Their lips and brows were formed of gathered bark, their cheeks by lumpy burls. Galaeron's mother had once introduced him to a treant in the High Forest, and he recognized these plants as creatures of the same kind.
"Your magic is a thing cold and dark," said Fuorn, "and this wood it shall not enter."
"If my magic feels strange to you, it is because you have never seen its like or power before." Melegaunt pointed east toward Anauroch. "1 employ it in a good cause, against the wicked creatures that turned the old forests into barren sand."
Fuorn looked east. "Yes, I recall the magicgrubs." His crown of scarlet leaves swayed back and forth in a sort of nod. "Little larger than men, but with a bite like dragons. We have seen a pair sniffing around our forest, peering into the shadows beneath our branches."
Melegaunt's shoulders squared. "The very ones. The phaerimm. I have come to undo what they have done."
Again, Fuorn seemed to nod. "Then well I wish you-but not here. I will have no battles in my forest."
"1 thank you for the warning, tree," said Melegaunt. "You have my promise that no harm will come to your forest."
The wizard lowered his arm and cupped his hand beneath his sleeve, and Galaeron knew something terrible was about to happen. He clipped Vala's heel with the arch of his foot and knocked her to the ground with a sweep of his arm, then slipped forward and used the same technique to knock the wizard off his feet.
Melegaunt bellowed and started to raise the suspicious hand, but stopped when Galaeron's foot pinned his arm to his chest.
"No, my human friend," said Galaeron, "not even for Evereska."
Though he still held his sword, Galaeron was careful to hold the blade away from Melegaunt-and not only because he knew it would never pierce the wizard's magic. Vala had already leaped to her feet and was stepping toward him, dark-sword ready to strike.
"Have you lost your mind, elf?" Though there was a hint of grief in her expression, the set of her jaw and the hardness in her eyes left no doubt of her intentions. "You know I'm sworn to defend him."
"A little late for that, my dear," chuckled Melegaunt, "but no harm done."
The wizard motioned her to stand down, then brought his hand out of his sleeve and displayed a large black kernel.
To help the treants protect their wood in the battles to come." Melegaunt handed it to Galaeron, then his voice grew pained. "You couldn't have thought I meant to attack them."
"I didn't know what to think." Noting that the treants were watching them with expressions ranging from bewilderment to suspicion, Galaeron sheathed his sword and examined the seed. It was about the size of an acorn, but as shiny as coal and full of swirling darkness. "I apologize. What is this?"
"Shadowstorm seed." Melegaunt heaved himself up and faced Fuorn. "Hurl it down, and any being not rooted to the ground will be swept into the shadowdeep. There will be wind and lightning, but any battle likely to be waged near your forest would be stopped at once-or at least moved to where it could do no harm." Fuorn considered this, then asked, "And rain?"
"If you throw it into the air," said Melegaunt "But do so only in great desperation. The deluge it brings will quench even the fiercest fire, but the waters will be black and cold- tar colder than any ice storm."
This drew a leafy shudder from the treants, for only burning was considered a more awful death than being split down the trunk by the weight of an ice-crusted crown. Fuorn lowered a twisted bough, and Galaeron laid the seed in the cusp of his woody palm.
"With your gift, I will be very careful." Fuorn tucked the kernel into a fold of bark. "And in return give you the favor of a warning word. Of late, the northern shadows have often taken the shape of great wings and long tails."
"Shadow dragons," surmised Melegaunt. "Shimmer-gloom?"
Fuorn's leafy crown quivered in a contrary sign. "It is sung on the winds that the longbeard Battlehammer slew the great wyrm when he reclaimed Mithral Hall, but it may be that Shimmergloom's seeds have begun to sprout and show themselves. You would do well to walk the shadow way carefully after you round the forest."
"Round the forest?" echoed Melegaunt "You still refuse us?"
"We thank you for the shadowstorm seed," said Fuorn, "but what did you risk in its giving?"
Without waiting for an answer, Fuorn stepped back among his fellows. He stretched upright and stood motionless, not so much staring at the travelers as waiting for them to make their decision. Not wishing Melegaunt to come to the wrong one, Galaeron reached for his arm-and felt Vala's strong grasp on his own. "You surprise me once," she said.
"Don't be ridiculous," Galaeron said. "I mean him no harm." "Good." She smiled artificially. "I'd miss you."
Melegaunt spun away from the treants and started eastward along the edge of the forest. Vala motioned Galaeron ahead of her, then slipped in behind him, and they both had to scurry to keep pace with the wizard's long strides.
Galaeron was not sure when Vala finally sheathed her sword, but it was in its scabbard when they reached the Lonely Moor just before dusk. Galaeron and Vala took a minute to bask in the sun's fading radiance, then set up camp and cooked a meal of marsh voles over a black-flamed fire Melegaunt had struck. Despite the glyphs and wards the wizard set around the perimeter of the camp, they divided the watch into three shifts and settled in for a wet night.
As it turned out, Galaeron could have taken all three watches himself. Whether it was because of Vala's distrust or worry for his father and Takari back in Evereska, he was never able to slip into the Reverie. He spent the whole night huddled in his cloak, staring at the stars and wrestling with feelings of guilt so vague and ambiguous he could only guess at their source. Of course, he was troubled by the part he had played in releasing the phaerimm, but his regret over that was real and tangible, an emotion so manifest he could almost touch it. The thing bothering him was much more subtle, a queasy hollowness that smacked of disloyalty and betrayal, though he was left to wonder just who he had betrayed. Had he been wrong to distrust Melegaunt? Or to accept so easily the wizard's explanation for the casual betrayal of Imesfor? Whatever the answer, Galaeron feared he would not enjoy a revitalizing Reverie until he had it.
Dawn found them all cold and awake, ready to warm themselves with a brisk prebreakfast march. Before departing, Melegaunt insisted on kneeling between Galaeron and Vala, holding his hands in their shadows, peering first into one, then the other, from the moment the sun broke the horizon until the moment the bottom edge no longer touched it. Only then did he rise.