them to greater speed, his voice harsh and coarse.

Martine thrust a hand under the arm of the fallen gnome. "Help me, Vil!" The big man grabbed the other arm, and the pair heaved the gnome upright. The bearded warrior choked off a scream as the protruding arrow twisted in his shoulder. The two humans dragged the gnome across the last few yards. Vil's shield arm, held high as a screen to protect them from the gnoll archer, jumped when a deadly shaft pierced its wooden face and jutted out the back side.

The door gaped just wide enough for the trio to tumble through, slipping as they hit the polished wooden floor. Craning her head around, Martine saw a line of perhaps twenty gnolls already spread along the edge of the woods. The sudden thunk of arrows against the wooden gates testified to the presence of more than one archer.

Martine tugged her ice-encrusted mittens free with her teeth while a throng of Vani threw their shoulders against the doors. The sight of the gate shuddering shut and their chances slipping away caused the gnolls to charge with savage abandon. The doors met just as the first of the huge beasts thudded against the heavy wood. A frustrated chorus of animal howls rose from beyond the gate, and then the pressure grew, while inside the Vani grunted and heaved against the surge.

Slowly the Vani gave ground to the greater strength of the gnolls outside.

"Look out!" Vil shouted as metal scraped against wood and a sword thrust through -the gap. The former paladin sprang to the portal and hurled his mass against the parting gates. "Martine-the bar! Help them!" he shouted, rolling his head in the direction of a trio of old Vani who were struggling to raise a heavy wooden crossbeam over their heads and slam it home to lock the gate. The Harper sized up the situation quickly and bent to the task. With a heave, she got a shoulder under the bar. Small Vani hands groped behind her, scraping the beam over her injured shoulder till it felt like gravelly fire. With a laud bang, the bolt dropped into the metal brackets.

The door shook and shuddered at the gnolls' assaults but held firm. Everyone inside seemed to wilt with relief. Beside Martine, Vil sagged back against the gate in his wet clothes, his beard streaming with melting ice and perspiration. Her own her black hair was soaked with sweat. Her hands shook when she tried to steady them, and her breath came in uneven pants. At her back, the gates continued to shake as the gnolls futilely tried to batter them down.

Throughout the hall, the Vani, numb with relief, made their way through the tangle of discarded skis and swords to collapse in the quiet, dark corners of the hall. Sumalo hunched over the injured, his hands bloody from healing the worst of the wounded. A pair of spinsters in black dresses dictated the work of a team of womenfolk, who scurried after Sumalo with buckets of steaming water and linen bandages. Hot water and blood slopped across the shining floor, running in pink streams through the cracks between the boards.

"Vil," Martine said urgently, "we can't afford to rest yet." Refusing to surrender to exhaustion, the Harper got her wobbly legs under her and strode among the spent gnomes, shaking them to action "Get up! Come on, don't just lie there! You're not safe yet. Pick up your weapons." Grumbling, the gnomes rose and tottered about, gathering their gear. Vil heaved to his feet and put those who were able to the task of bracing the door. Runners went in search of beams, hammers, and pegs to reinforce it.

"Where's your damned wizard friend, woman?" Jouka shouted as he pulled at Martine's sleeve. "He killed my brother!"

Infuriated by the gnome's tone, Martine wrenched herself free from his grasp, almost impaling her arm on the

gnome's spiked breastplate. "Let go of me! I haven't seen Jazrac, and he didn't kill your brother!"

"Fiend's fires he didn't," Jouka swore, his prominent nose flaming red, his eyes wild with passion. "Turi's not back yet. Nobody even saw him make it to the woods. Your friend should have warned us Vreesar was coming. He was in the rear."

"I haven't seen him, you-you stupid little midget!" the Harper exploded. The fear and exhaustion of the day stoked her irritation with the gnome into fury until she had to lash out.

"Martine, Jouka! Now is not the time for this!" Vil thundered as he pushed himself between the two. "Master Jouka, direct your people. They'll listen to you better than they will to me." Separated from the Harper by the former paladin, the gnome growled angrily and bustled off.

"As for you, Martine, back off," Vil said, grabbing her shoulders and steering her toward the inner doors. She quivered fiercely against his grasp. 'Turi's still out there. Jouka cares a lot for him."

"Damn him!" the woman spat out, still not completely under control. "I mean, damn it all. He's right. Where was Jazrac when we needed him?" The question hung without an answer.

"You need rest," Vil said. "Things seem under control here. Go get some sleep. I'll alert you if anything happens." "I'll stay here."

"Go!" This time Vil's words were not a suggestion. "Staying here will only provoke Jouka. Give him time to cool down. Get out of his sight."

"What about Jazrac?"

"If you mean looking for him, forget it. We can't risk losing anyone else. He's on his own, just like Turi." Vil didn't wait for her to agree but walked the woman a short way down the hall, heading in the direction of their room.

Eventually Martine found herself standing alone outside the small guest room. Although it wasn't her choice, sleep was a good idea right now. Opening the door, she ducked her head and stepped over the threshold. Inside, the magical tapers-had been covered and only the faintest light leaked through the hoods.

"Hello, Martine," said Jazrac, his melancholy voice whispering softly from the gloom.

Martine slammed the door in shock. "Jazrac, where in Cyric's hells have you been? What are you doing here?" Martine clenched the door handle, furious to see the wizard huddled on the bed before her.

Jazrac looked at her. His once imperious gaze was lost in the gray hollows of his eyes. The regally manicured goatee and perfect coiffure were in disarray; bits of pine needles clung to his graying hair and beard. Streaks of sweat and pine resin covered his face. With clothes stained and only half-laced, Jazrac looked more like a drunkard than the proud Harper she knew.

"Does anybody know you're here?" the woman hissed, her back against the door.

"No. I used a spell to get in," the mage mumbled. Martine slowly crossed the room, still moving like a huntress. "Jouka wants your hide. I'm not sure I blame him," she said. "What happened out there? The gnolls came right up behind us-right where you were supposed to be." With a pained expression, the wizard leaned back and looked at the ceiling, avoiding Martine's unforgiving gaze. "I… panicked."

"What do you mean, you panicked?" she shouted in disbelief. There had to be a better reason, she knew. Jazrac was a powerful Harper, a wizard. He didn't panic.

"I mean I panicked, that's all! I ran!" Jazrac bellowed back, unleashing all his self-loathing on Martine. "When I saw them coming, I couldn't do anything! I was afraid…

afraid of Vreesar and dying and all that, so I forgot everything and ran: Do you understand now? Is that clear enough for you? Didn't anybody ever run in your world-or did they all die gloriously?"

"You ran? How could you? You're a Harper-" "I didn't want to die!"

"-and Harpers don't run!" They just never tell anyone!"

Jazrac's last statement stunned Martine into silence. TIM pair glared at each other across the room. Each shivered with passion, struggling to control the rage within.

Finally Jazrac spoke, his voice a pleading whisper. "Martine, I could have been here in a day with my spells. Why do you think I sent you here?"