It was day break and the column of soldiers was following the trail. Why wouldn't they, if they tried to go through the trees and thick underbrush they would be slowed down considerably. Satisfied, Hefring ran along the ditch he was in and then cut through the forest to where the trail made a sharp curve. He came out about two hundred yards in front of the soldiers. He climbed the tree where he stashed his bow and settled into a crouch on a branch about fifty feet above the ground. He heard them coming. He looked down at the brambles and spikes he set up as a barricade. The soldiers would come to a stop and the rest of his plan would come into being. He had hoisted a huge tree trunk, about 30 feet in length, into the air. He then heaved the trunk backward with a vine which he tied to his tree. The trunk would swing downward towards the path, hopefully killing the majority of the soldiers. He saw the column round the corner and proceed toward him. He was prepared.

Hefring took his quiver of arrows and winched it between two branches near his right hand. He then took four arrows out, strung one and held the others in his left hand. The lead soldier was followed by ten others. Hefring's heart started beating hard and adrenaline ran through his body. As the soldiers closed in on the barricade, he got in a stance and drew his bow. He pulled the base of the arrow to the edge of his right cheekbone and gazed down the shaft. He watched as the leader slowed his pace and raised his right hand in a fist, signaling the rest of the column to come to a halt.

Hefring took a calm breath and held it, aligned his drawn arrow towards the center of the man's chest, and let it fly. It buzzed through the air like an angry hornet and buried itself deep in its target. For a long second nothing moved. The man looked down at his chest with a confused look on his face. He reached up and grasped the base of the arrow as if he was going to pull it out, blood poured freely between his fingers, then he fell. Everything sped up. The rest of the men panicked. The ones that were near the front started bullying their way to the rear of the column, knocking down their comrades.

Suddenly Hefring felt a surge of energy. There was an explosion nearby, flames reaching upwards like a giant hand trying to grab him. He cried out in pain as the flames seared his face. As he covered himself with his arms another explosion rent the area directly below him, enveloping the entire area with an angry fire. The tree jarred and then started falling sideways with an earsplitting creak. Hefring lost his balance as the tree began to fall, dropping his bow into the bellowing forest below him.

Hefring's breath was knocked out of his lungs as he hit the ground. He was stunned. The vine he had tied to the hoisted trunk snapped with a loud twang. He looked to his right and saw the tree swing low to the ground. It was swinging toward him. He gazed upward as it passed over his body, missing him by less than a foot. The vine that was keeping the tree airborne suddenly snapped as well, sending it flying and tumbling off direction and through the forest.

Hefring tried to lean forward to get his bearings but he fell back. He felt weak, as if he had been deprived of all his energy. As he lay there his thoughts drifted to the ambush. "What went wrong", he thought. Then he realized where the explosions came from. "They have a spell caster. They weren't supposed to have a spell caster!" Panic rushed through Hefring's being. "These soldiers are well prepared. I cannot defeat them on my own!"

He groaned as got into a sitting position. He caught his breath but it was short-lived. The forest was on fire. All around him angry flames consumed the lush underbrush and climbed the many trees. The wind changed direction suddenly and a furious black smoke enveloped him. Coughing and groaning Hefring pushed himself into a crouch and then stood, taking the top of his tunic and covering his nose and mouth with it. He looked towards the trail. "No sign of the soldiers" he thought. He noticed the barricade was burning as well, leaving a gaping hole in the middle. They must have continued down the path.

Hefring avoided the fires behind him and started running back up the trail. The panic that he felt earlier subsided and was replaced by another emotion. Anger. "That withering old man. My so called Master thinks he knows everything. Soldiers coming this way he said. Soldiers not used to this terrain he said. Good tracking and stealth practice he said. He knew their exact location and their exact pace. How could he not know about the spell caster!"

Hefring sighed. He'd have a good talk to the old man when he got back. Right now he had to concentrate on how to deal with the soldiers. After running for a couple minutes, Hefring slowed and came to stop. He looked up and down the trail. Nobody. He trudged up the embankment to his right and crouched behind a large tree bordering the path.

He gazed down at the ground by his feet as he pondered the situation. The soldiers were headed directly towards his home. For an instant Hefring considered letting them go on their way. When they got there they would have to confront his master and Ajax. He laughed at that last part, visualizing the battle that would take place. "No, if the soldiers got to the keep they would be massacred. I have to prove myself to Master, this is my chance."

Deciding that he would come up with a plan as he worked on locating the soldiers, Hefring stood and turned around, facing away from the path. As soon as he turned he saw a glimpse of a body. He tried to react but was not fast enough. A hand shot towards him and grasped him by the throat and hefted him off his feet. Hefring gazed down the arm that held him and examined the rest of the being. He was startled by what he saw. In front of him was a woman dressed as a soldier of the Empire. She had long dark brown hair and fierce eyes. She was not much taller than himself and had a small frame. Hefring put her age at about nineteen. "How can this woman be this strong" Hefring thought as he struggled to breath. There was no waiver or sign of weakness in the woman's arm. Suddenly he felt a presence in his mind. The woman was trying to pry through his thoughts. He tried to put up a barrier around his mind but he couldn't concentrate.

Hefring's vision stared to fade. Blotches of black appeared and disappeared in his vision. Sensing that he was about to black out, he tried to mutter something to the woman. "Heptht me gtho"he said in a gasping voice. When he got no response he muttered "wghat do thyou want?" At that he felt the presence in his mind leave and the woman finally softened her grip. She gently lowered Hefring to his feet. As soon as the woman released her grip, he fell to his knees grasping his neck, gasping for air.

"What do you want? ", said the woman in a surprisingly pleasant voice.

Hefring couldn't reply, he was still clutching his throat. The woman reached down, un-pried Hefring's hands and re-grasped his neck. This time however her grip was soft and gentle. "Waise heill", she muttered. Hefring felt a wave of pleasure rush through his neck. The pain that was there left and he could breathe clearly again. He slowly stood up, still rubbing his neck, and leaned up against the tree. He was confused. The woman obviously showed hostility toward him but, then, why would she heal him? Where were the other soldiers? What did she want? Was this the spell caster who almost killed him in the tree?

The woman took a couple steps back and looked towards him. Hefring met her gaze and looked into her eyes. They were full of mystery. They looked hard and calculating, but at the same time they appeared weary and full of sorrow.

"What's your name", the woman said in a gentle voice.

"Hefring", he said with a cough. "Who are you?"

"I have many names", the woman replied, "Mostly I'm known as the Black Hand, servant to Morzan of the Forsworn. You, however, may call me Selena."