He had nothing to do with the explosion,” Vereesa insisted. “Why would he do something like that?”
“He is a wizard,” Duncan returned flatly, as if that answered any and all questions. “They care nothing
about the lives and livelihoods of others.”
Well aware of the prejudices of the holy order toward magic, Vereesa did not try to argue that point. As
an elf, she had grown up around magic, even could perform some slight bit herself, and so did not see
Rhonin in the terrible light that the paladin did. While Rhonin struck her as reckless, he did not seem to
her so monstrous as to not care about the lives of others. Had he not helped her during their flight from
the dragon? Why bother to risk himself ? He could still have gotten to Hasic on his own.
“And if he is not to blame,” Lord Senturus continued, “then where has he gone? Why is there no trace of
him in the rubble? If he is innocent of this, his body should be there along with the two of our brothers
who perished during his spell. . . .” The man stroked his beard slightly. “No, this foul work is the fault of
his, mark me.”
And so you would hunt him down like an animal,she thought. Why else had Duncan summoned ten of his
best to ride with them in search of the missing spellcaster? What Vereesa had originally seen as a rescue
mission had quickly revealed itself as otherwise. When she and the rest had heard the explosion,
discovered the ruin, the elf had felt a twinge inside her heart. Not only had she failed to keep her
companion alive, but he and two other men had perished for no good reason. However, Duncan had
clearly from the first seen it otherwise, especially when a search had revealed no trace of Rhonin's corpse
among the rubble.
Her first thought had been of goblin sappers, well-versed in sneaking up to a fortress and setting off
deadly charges, but the senior paladin had insisted that his region had been swept clean of any trace of
the elements of the Horde, goblins especially. While the foul little creatures did possess a few fantastic
and utterly improbable flying machines, none had been reported. Besides, such an airship would have had
to move with lightning speed to avoid detection, something not possible for the cumbersome devices.
Which, of course, left Rhonin as the most likely source of the destruction.
Vereesa did not believe it possible of him, especially since he had been so dedicated to fulfilling his
mission. She only hoped that if they found the young wizard she would be able to keep Duncan and the
others from running him through before they had a chance to find out the truth.
They had scoured the nearby countryside and were now headed toward the actual direction of Hasic.
Although it had been suggested by more than one of the younger knights that Rhonin had likely used his
magic to spirit himself away to his destination, Duncan Senturus had evidently not thought enough of the
wizard's abilities in that respect to take it to heart. He fervently believed that they would be able to track
down the rogue mage and bring him to justice.
And as the day aged and the sun began its downward climb, even Vereesa began to question Rhonin's
innocence.Hadhe caused the disaster, then fled the murderous scene?
“We shall have to make camp soon,” Lord Senturus announced some time later. He studied the
thickening woods. “While I do not expect trouble, it would serve us little good to go wandering through
the dark, possibly missing our quarry at our very feet.”
Her own eyesight superior to that of her companions, Vereesa considered continuing on by herself, but
thought better of it. If the Knights of the Silver Hand discovered Rhonin without her, the wizard stood
little chance of surviving.
They rode on a bit farther, but spotted nothing. The sun slipped below the horizon, leaving only a faint
glow of light to illuminate their way. As he had promised, Duncan called a reluctant halt to the search,
ordering his knights to immediately set up camp. Vereesa dismounted, but her eyes continued to sweep
over the surrounding territory, hoping against hope that the fiery wizard would make himself known.
“He is nowhere about, Lady Vereesa.”
She turned to look up at the lead paladin, the only man among the searchers tall enough to force her to
such an action. “I cannot help looking, my lord.”
“We will find the scoundrel soon enough.”
“We should hear his story first, Lord Senturus. Surely that is fair enough.”
The armored figure shrugged as if it did not make a difference either way to him. “He will be given his
chance to make his penance, of course.”
After which they would either take Rhonin back in chains or execute him on the spot. The Knights of the
Silver Hand might be a holy order, but they were also known for their expedience in meting out justice.
Vereesa excused herself from the senior paladin, not trusting her tongue to keep her from infuriating him
at this point. She led her horse to a tree at the edge of the campsite, then slipped in among the trees.
Behind her, the sounds of the camp muted as the elf moved farther into her own element.
Again she felt the temptation to continue with the search on her own. So very easy for her to move lithely
through the forest, seek out those crevices and areas of thick foliage that might hide a corpse.
“Always so eager to go rushing off, handling matters in your own inimitable style, eh, Vereesa?”her first
tutor had asked one day shortly after her induction into the select training program of the rangers. Only
the best were chosen for their ranks.“With such impatience, you might as well have been born a human.
Keep this up and you will not be among the rangers for very long. . . .”
Yet despite the skepticism of more than one of her tutors, Vereesa had prevailed and risen to among the
best of her select group. She could not now fail that training by turning reckless.
Promising herself that she would return to the others after a few minutes' relaxation in the forest, the
silverhaired ranger leaned against one of the trees and exhaled. Such a simple assignment, and already it
had nearly fallen apart not once but twice. If they never found Rhonin, she would have to think of
something to say to her masters, not to mention even the Kirin Tor of Dalaran. None of the fault in this
lay with her, but—
A sudden gust of wind nearly threw Vereesa from the tree. The elf managed to cling to it at the last
moment, but in the distance she could hear the frustrated calls of the knights and the wild clattering of
loose objects tossed about.
As quickly as the wind struck, it suddenly died away. Vereesa pushed her disheveled hair from her face
and hurried back to camp, fearful that Duncan and the others had been attacked by some terrible force
akin to the dragon earlier that day. Fortunately, even as she approached, the ranger heard the paladins
already discussing the repair of their camp, and as she entered the area, Vereesa saw that, other than
bedrolls and other objects lying strewn about, no one seemed much out of sorts.
Lord Senturus strode toward her, eyes filled with concern. “You are well, milady? No harm has come to
you?”
“Nothing. The wind surprised me, that is all.”
“Surprised everyone.” He rubbed his bearded jaw, gazing into the darkened forest. “It strikes me that no
normal wind blows in such a manner. . . .” He turned to one of his men. “Roland! Double the guard! This
may not be the end of this particular storm!”
“Aye, milord!” a slim, pale knight called back. “Christoff! Jakob! Get—”
His voice cut off with such abruptness that both Duncan, who had turned back to the elf, and Vereesa
looked to see if the man had suddenly been struck down by an arrow or crossbow bolt. Instead, they
found him staring at a dark bundle lying amidst the bedrolls, a dark bundle with legs stretched together
and arms crossed over the chest, almost as if in deathly repose.
A dark bundle gradually recognizable as Rhonin.
Vereesa and the knights gathered around him, one of the men holding a torch near. The elf bent down to
investigate the body. In the flickering light of the torch, Rhonin looked pale and still, and at first she could
not tell whether he breathed or not. Vereesa reached for his cheek—
And the eyes of the mage opened wide, startling everyone.
“Ranger . . . how nice . . . to see you again. . . .”
With that, his eyes closed once more and Rhonin fell asleep.
“Fool of a wizard!” Duncan Senturus snapped. “You'll not up and vanish after good men have died, then
think you can simply reappear in our midst and go to sleep!” He reached for the spellcaster's arm,
intending to shake Rhonin awake, but let out a startled cry the moment his fingers touched the dark
garments. The paladin gazed at his gauntleted hand as if he had been bitten, snarling, “Some sort of
devilish, unseen fire surrounds him! Even through the glove it felt like seizing hold of a burning ember!”
Despite his warning, Vereesa had to see for herself. Sure enough, she felt some discomfort when her
fingers touched Rhonin's clothes, but nothing of the intensity that Lord Senturus had described.
Nevertheless, the ranger pulled back her hand and nodded agreement. She saw no reason at the moment
why she should inform the senior paladin of the difference.
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