determination in their eyes, and her smile was wicked. She came
forward, one step, another step . . .
Coil launched himself at her while she was watching Par,
trying to grasp her and pin her arms. But she was much quicker
than he, the walking stick slashing at him and catching him
alongside the head with a vicious whack mat sent him sprawling
to the earth. Instantly, she was after him, howling like a mad-
dened beast. But Par was quicker. He used the wishsong, almost
without thinking, sending forth a string of terrifying images.
She fell back, surprised, trying to fend the images off with her
hands and the stick. Par used the opportunity to reach Coil and
haul him to his feet. Hastily he pulled his brother back from
where his attacker clawed at me air.
The woodswoman stopped suddenly, letting the images play
about her, turning toward Par with a smile that froze his blood.
Par sent an image of a Demon wraith to frighten her, but this
time the woman reached out for the image, opened her mouth
and sucked in the air about her. The image evaporated. The
woman licked her lips and whined.
Par sent an armored warrior. The woodswoman devoured it
greedily. She was edging closer again, no longer slowed by the
images, actually anxious that he send more. She seemed to rel-
ish the taste of the magic; she seemed eager to consume it. Par
tried to steady Coil, but his brother was sagging in his arms,
still stunned. “Coil, wake up!” he whispered urgently.
“Come, boy,” the woodswoman repeated softly. She beck-
oned and moved closer. “Come feed me!”
Then the fire exploded in a flash of light, and the clearing
was turned as bright as day. The woodswoman shrank away
from the brightness, and her sudden cry ended in a snarl of rage.
Par blinked and peered through the glow.
An old man emerged from the trees, white-haired and gray-
robed, with skin as brown as seasoned wood. He stepped from
the darkness into the light like a ghost come into being. There
was a fierce smile on his mouth and a strange brightness in his
eyes. Par wheeled about guardedly, fumbling for the long knife
at his belt. Two of them, he thought desperately, and again he
shook Coil in an effort to rouse him.
But the old man paid him no notice. He concentrated instead
on the woodswoman. “I know you,” he said softly. “You
frighten no one. Begone from here or you shall deal with me!”
The woodswoman hissed at him like a snake and crouched as
if to spring. But she saw something in the old man’s face that
kept her from attacking. Slowly, she began to edge back around
the fire.
“Go back into the dark,” whispered the old man.
The woodswoman hissed a final time, then turned and dis-
appeared into the trees without a sound. Her smell lingered on
a moment longer, then faded. The old man waved almost ab-
sently at the fire, and it returned to normal. The night filled
again with comforting sounds, and everything was as before.
The old man snorted and came forward into the firelight.
“Bah. One of nighttime’s little horrors come out to play,” he
muttered in disgust. He looked at Par quizzically.’ ‘You all right,
young Ohmsford? And this one? Coil, is it? That was a nasty
blow he took.”
Par eased Coil to the ground, nodding. “Yes, thanks. Could
you hand me that cloth and a little water?”
The old man did as he was asked, and Par wiped the side of
Coil’s head where an ugly bruise was already beginning to form.
Coil winced, sat forward, and put his head down between his
legs, waiting for the throbbing to ease off. Par looked up. It
dawned on him suddenly that the old man had used Coil’s name.
‘ ‘How do you know who we are?” he asked, his tone guarded.
The old man kept his gaze steady. “Well, now. I know who
you are because I’ve come looking for you. But I’m not your
enemy, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Par shook his head. ‘ ‘Not really. Not after helping us the way