Galaeron longed to move faster, to insist that Melegaunt use his magic to speed them along-even to journey into the Shadow Fringe again-but he knew better than to suggest such a thing. After the battle at Thousand Faces, the phaerimm would be scouring the area for any hint of spell use, and even Melegaunt's strange magic would leave subtle incongruities in the world that would attract the attention of a careful searcher. Better to avoid magic altogether and let the blizzard conceal them.
The trip through the valley proved more trying. They were about halfway across when the blizzard blew itself out, catching them in the open a mile short of the river. Without a steady wind to fill their tracks, a party of bugbears soon spotted their trail and began to pursue. Instead of using magic to eliminate the threat, the companions rushed to the river and crossed the ice. When the bugbears followed, Aris hurled a few boulders into their midst, shattering the ice and plunging the entire band into the cold waters.
The companions were not so lucky the next afternoon, when two gray circles appeared just above the horizon. At first, the companions pretended not to notice their pursuers, hoping the pair would be foolish enough to catch up and attack. When the eye tyrants refused to take the bait, Melegaunt turned to cast a spell. The beholders vanished from sight. Perhaps a half-hour later, Galaeron glimpsed one creature still trailing them. The other was nowhere to be seen. "He's gone for help," Vala surmised. Galaeron nodded. "With luck, it will only be beholders."
"Only beholders?" Malik gasped. "You are as mad as a cuckold in his harem!"
"Beholders would be better than phaerimm," said Melegaunt. "Unless you intend to make our fight your own, now would be a good time to part ways."
"So you can send your foes after me?" Malik's dark eyes shined with indignation. "I am hardly the fool I look, old man." Melegaunt shrugged. "You were warned."
The wizard pulled a scrap of shadow silk from his cloak and traced a shadowy maze on the snow When he finished, he and Galaeron cast flying spells on everyone in the group- including Malik's astonished horse-and the companions streaked off toward the High Forest. The beholder avoided Melegaunt's shadow maze by circling wide, then became an ominous presence that appeared on the horizon now and again to remind them of their approaching danger.
Finally, they reached the High Forest and slipped into the woods. The beholder stopped behind a hill and hovered there with one eyestalk peering over the summit. Several of the other stalks flitted in and out of view, looking in all directions in search of help.
"Now we have them," said Melegaunt. He pulled a piece of shadow silk from his cloak and tore off a strand, then strung it between two trees. "We're almost to Karse." "Karse?" gasped Malik. "Why are we going there?"
"We are not." Melegaunt handed Galaeron a second piece of shadow silk and motioned for him to begin stringing strands. "Once we have finished here, it will be safe to part ways. I'm sure you're as eager to be about your business as we are ours."
"I have no business." Malik paused as though that was all he meant to say, then slowly cocked his head to one side and added, "Except you."
"Us?" Melegaunt continued to string shadow strands between trees. "And what would your business be with us?" Malik paled and said, "Nothing… except-"
The rest of the explanation was lost to a tremendous crashing from the forest behind them. Galaeron spun around to see an enormous oak stomping up, its branches waving madly and a huge trunk cavity twisted in an angry snarl.
"No!" the tree boomed. It swept a branch down past Galaeron's head at the strands he had been stringing between tree trunks. The limb passed through the shadowy fibers without effect. A fierce shudder ran through the oak's crown of golden leaves, and it shook a bough in Galaeron's face. "Not in my wood!"
"We mean no harm to the f-forest," Galaeron stammered. Now that he had recovered from his surprise, he recognized the oak as the oldest treant he had ever seen, with a long beard of green moss and a trunk easily a dozen feet around-Realizing the creature would view Aris's wooden club with a dim eye, Galaeron motioned the giant to keep watch at the edge of the forest, then turned back to the treant. "We must take measures to protect ourselves. We're being pursued by beholders."
"By one beholder. Eyes 1 have." To prove it, the treant blinked a pair of knotholes more than fifteen feet up his trunk. "And your welfare is no concern of mine. There is a wrongness to your magic, and in my wood I will not have it."
"It is, indeed, magic of a different sort," said Melegaunt, "but that does not make it wrong."
"That makes it wrong for the High Forest." The treant tried again to drag down the shadow web, then turned to Galaeron when he failed. 'Take this down."
Galaeron began to gather the shadow silk into a ball, drawing a disapproving scowl from Melegaunt. "What are you doing?"
"This is Turlang's home," said Galaeron, guessing at the treant's identity. Only Turlang, the renowned ruler of the High Forest, could be so huge and old. "We must respect his wishes."
Melegaunt rolled his eyes. "You do know that means they'll catch us?" He glanced at Turlang, then added, "And there would be a battle."
"Fuorn's whispers spoke of your gift to the Forest Forgotten, Duskbeard, so one threat I will forgive." The treant creaked down to peer into Melegaunt's eyes. "His whispers also spoke of the trouble that hunts you, and I will have no magicgrubs in my forest."
"Then you would do well to help us." Melegaunt waved his hand at Galaeron and the others. "We have all sworn to return the phaerimm to their prison, and the help we need lies inside your forest, in the temple of Karse."
Turlang drew himself to his full height. "What help can you need from Wulgreth? That you count a lich your friend only proves the evil I taste in your air."
A chill ran down Galaeron's spine. "Lich?" he echoed, finally understanding the reason Melegaunt had been so secretive about the help they were seeking. "What other lies have you been telling us?"
Melegaunt wagged a finger at Galaeron. "Be careful of that shadow, my friend." Looking back to Turlang, the wizard said, "Wulgreth is no friend of mine, but every treasure has its guardian, and I do mean to deal with him-though not in the way you believe."
Turlang fell silent and motionless, presumably weighing Melegaunt's words against the evil "taste" of their party. As suspicious as Galaeron was of Melegaunt, he feared the malevolence the treant sensed lay in his own dark spirit. Try as he might, the elf could not help attributing the most selfish motives to every action. Melegaunt hoped to strike a bargain with an evil lich. Malik wanted to steal the secret of shadow magic. Turlang refused to help them because he feared the wrath of the phaerimm. Galaeron was losing the fight against his shadow
He stepped forward and placed himself squarely in front of the treant. "The Turlang my mother speaks of would never turn away a tree-friend."
"Nor would the one standing before you," said the treant. "Were he certain they were tree-friends."
"Then you will not turn us away." When Galaeron waved a hand at his companions, he found only Melegaunt, Vala, and, still standing watch at the edge of the forest, Aris. Malik and his horse were nowhere to be seen, apparently having decided to accept Melegaunt's advice and depart. "On my life, I promise no one here will harm the High Forest, nor allow any harm to come to it through anything he does or does not do."