Sorela’s company was now less than a third the size it had been when they set out. She was beginning to have doubts about going into a place the Hansa called the Deep.

Lord Jalen may not even be in the Blackwood, she thought. But I muist be diligent.

It was her duty to serve to the best of her abilities, and if she were to find the boy, more war and loss of life could be avoided. As a mage of the Hall, she had to continue on.

Quietly, Leisa had taken her aside, face acusing Sorela of madness, though she protested meekly. Sorela could not turn back, and told the girl as much. Brassen was the only man to object openly, grumbling almost every step of the way. The only reason he did not leave was because he would have been alone in the forest.

“But the plan was to head back when Lord Birtran and his men left,” Jasen said. When no one said anything he turned to Leisa. “Wasn’t it?”

Leisa drew a deep breath, shook her head solemnly.

Naikal had given Sorela a map that would supposedly lead them into the Deep and to the Saval lair. She unfolded the smooth leather scroll, painted in varying colors of white, black, blue and red. It looked more like a piece of art than a map.

Using that gesture she had when they first met, Naikal told them to stay quiet. “If they cannot here you, they will not find you,” she had said, and with a nod and a shove of leather bags filled with food, water and furs, she had sent them on.

Ever since being captured by Lord Birtran and narrowly escaping his camp, Leisa seemed somewhat—for lack of a better word—craven. Sorela had been surprised the girl did not object to carrying on more strongly. She did not want to push on to Fellwind, and now they were in a part of the Blackwood called the Deep...

Leisa was clearly trying not to betray her emotions, but Sorela could plainly see the girl was terrified. Was she too afraid to speak?

Sorela understood. She too was afraid, but fear would not stop her. Perhaps the girl simply was not worthy of the Hall.

This quest is not over yet, she told herself, reserving judgment for later.

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They pressed on.

Sorela could not see how they could possibly be as quiet as the Hansa. Small creatures skittered atop the hills surrounding them. They yelped and cried, growling before scurrying for cover. She had not caught a single glimpse of them yet, but they were there. Watching.

Was their company passing through their territory, or were the creatures following them? Something skittered atop them now, inside the canopy of the Blackwoods. Had a man been dropped from above the forest, she doubted he would fall to the ground for the tangle above was thick enough to block out all light.

It would not be difficult for someone or something to stalk them here. Probably only scavengers, waiting for some larger creature to kill and take its fill. Then they could descend and feast on whatever remained. The thought sent a shiver down her back.

A wisp of mist curled up her calves. She glanced about, making sure no one saw her. This place was not cold—at least not now. A physical reaction of fear was unavoidable. It did not help that the Blackwood had an aura about it—an evil one.

This place was not natural.

They made camp at the base of on of the blackwoods with roots protruding from the moist ground as tall as a man’s shoulders. It would give ample cover from anything passing by.

Without starting a fire, they passed about food and furs taken from their stock of supplies. Sorela studied her map, chewing vigorously on a tough piece of meat that the Hansa had dried.

The others quietly spoke to one another as Falan moved beside her. “Something is following us.” He said the words quietly so the others would not hear. “I pack.”

Sorela lowered the map. “I suspected as much.” If she had knew those creatures were following, then surely a Serafe would know long before her. “Perhaps they are only scavengers waiting for a carcus.”

Falan shook his head. “They are more than that—I have seen them. They skulk about, coalescing in number and wear war gear.” He glanced at the map, then continued. “They are feeling--thinking creatures, lady mage, and they are following us.”

Sorela felt another chill, despite the small beads of sweat glistening on her forehead. She did not know how long it had been since she was this uncomfortable. She looked the man in the eys. “How many?”

Falan shrugged. “Five, maybe ten. I am only concerned their numbers might turn into thirty or forty. They seem to be preparing for a raid. We should keep a watch at all times.”

Sorela agreed wholeheartedly, though kept a cool tone when she said, “I agree. See to it.”

Falan nodded, but did not turn from her.

“What is it?” She could see the concern on his face.

“Should we not leave this place?”

She glanced to the others. They weren’t paying attention. Laisa was unfurling her fur while Brassen looked up into the trees. The men-at-arms were whispering amongst each other, and Gorkis was gnawing on some meat like the barbarian he was while Jallen and Serin were about something else concerning the stable boy’s weapon—or what was passing for a weapon.

Sorela looked Falan in the eyes. “No.”