What to do? They could wait where they were and hope no fell creatures would happen upon them, or they could follow the Hansa woman deeper into the Blackwood.

How have they survived here? Sorela wondered. She thought they had all been wiped out by the Dar’nithie. No one ever found out why the islanders hated the Hansa so much. Perhaps when Lord Nightkar finally invaded their lands that mystery might come to light.

“We aren’t going deeper, are we?” Jasen asked, a look of silent panic on his face.

The Hansa woman was now completely enveloped by darkness.

If Sorela was going to follow the woman, it had to be now. “Follow,” she whispered. An abrupt decision. She did not like that kind. She had been forced to do that too often lately.

The stable boy swallowed. Wherever the Hansa wanted to take them it must have been safe enough to stay alive all this time. There was no other explanation as to how the non-human was able to survive there this long.

She felt Leisa’s body heat, bringing the young girl to the forefront of her mind. She had been through a recent ordeal with the belief that her death was imminant. Poor girl. Initiates to the Hall did not have to endure such fear and hardship to face the Tenecine Council. “A Mage has to be strong, child,” she whispered soothingly. “Have courage.”

Sorela’s eyes adjusted to the dark poorly as they followed the Hansa woman for some time. She could only make out dark forms five or more paces wide, towering into blackness.

She was tempted to weave a rune to alight the area after stumbling across massive root systems spread throughout, but thought better of it, knowing not to become a beacon in this foul place.

Finally the Hansa woman stopped, regarded them. Her eyes seemed to glow with a green flash. “Here,” she said faintly, pushing into a leafy mound and crawling into it.

Sorela cocked her head in surprise. She was disappointed. Finally she pulled up her hood and crawled in after the woman. She noted the large course leaves as she crawled through what felt like a steep tunnel angled downward. She was surprised when she made out light ahead, finally breaking through the leafy barrier, dropping onto a small mound, leaves raining atop her. Eyes wide, she surveyed her surroundings. She was in a small room with painted figures adorning the walls.

Where had the Hansa gone?

There are passages in all directions!

Leisa bounced on the mound beside her, leaves showering atop them. The younger woman gasped. “What is this place?”

The Hansa woman entered the room. With the light from the glow rocks, Sorela could make out her leather apparel. It was light, leaving bits and pieces of her skin bare, but her boots were furred and prominent compared to the rest of her trappings. “Come,” she said, voice brusk, then turned and made her way down one of the small corridors.

They followed as the others tumbled onto the pile of leaves behind them and entered a room, another Hansa, a male, sat in a wooden high-backed chair, seemingly trying to compose himself for unexpected visitors. The female Hansa who had brought them here moved up beside the chair. She gestured. “My father and leader of this tribe.”

Sorela bowed. “I am Lady Sorela Casen of House Morgrath. We are fortunate your daughter was gracious enough to bring us here in our time of need.”

The Hansa male turned to his daughter and they began conversing in Hanish. Were they arguing? Sorela could not be certain. She did not know very much about their people.

Finally the male Hansa turned to her. “I am Halgn, chieftain of this hold.”

There were more members of the tribe about now, nervously shifting their eyes toward the spears propped up against the walls. “This is my daughter, Naikal.” His already large eyes widened further when the rest of the company entered the room, the other members of the tribe visibly shifting to be in easy reach of their weapons.

Naikal barked something in Hanish, then turned to her father, her thick black braids swinging, the beads therein clacking together. She said a few more words. He responded, nervousness in his tone, but Sorela could not be sure, but his body language seemed to speak for itself.

Halgn tried to hide his alarm, doing it poorly as he eyed their weapons.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Halgn,” Falan said. He glanced around the room.

The startled-eyed Hansa continued to skirt the walls, muttering quietly amongst themselves in their native tongue. “How long will you stay, humaaans?” Naikal asked forcefully.

“As soon as it is safe,” Sorela answered, trying to sound humble. They were imposing. “Some men wish us harm. They have made their camp directly outside of the forest—“

“Yes, yes, humaaan,” Naikal said. Abruptly she looked up at the others, snapped her fingers and said something in Hanish. Immediately two of the other females scurried out of the room. “Sit,” she commanded, her eyes growing intense. “Sit!”

Warily, Sorela backed away from the chieftain to sit with the others around an open fire. The roof seemed to taper off until a tiny opening revealed itself at the top. Some of the Hansa sat, crossing their legs over furs. The two Hansa woman that had scurried out moments before entered with skewers of hot meat and something else. They served the chieftain first, then passed skewers to Sorela and the rest of the company. Afterward they served the rest of their own people, who doubled in number as more of what Sorela believed to be their returning hunters.

“How is it you come to speak the common tongue?” Sorela asked. She pulled a chunk of sizzling meat off her skewer. It was tough and accompanied by some kind of roasted tuber.

Sorela knew the Hansa to be an aloof people, preferring to stay out of human affairs. They had rarely ventured out of their own territory. That was before the Dar’nithie destroyed them, or so she had thought. They were still aloof—even more so now, it seemed. Discovering a tribe of Hansa living in the Blackwood was nothing less than astonishing.

The Hall will be thrilled to make a study of how they have managed to survive here, Sorela thought. She only wished she had some writing material to jot down notes.

“Every chieftain learns the common tongue, humaaan,” Halgn said chewing. “It has not been long since the invaders from the sea pushed us into the Dark. There are not many of us left. I taught my daughter this language. It is useful, I think.”

The Dark… That must be the Blackwood.

That invasion had been over twenty years ago. Sorela was barely ten and three years old at the time. She had been admitted to the Hall shortly after the invaders were pushed back to their islands some years later. It made sense that the Hansa remembered those events not long passed. “You mean there are other Hansa tribes in the Blackwood?” Sorela asked. The thrill of this newfound knowledge was making her feel like a fledgling mage again.

Unfortunately Halgn seemed reluctant to speak of the Hansa, so she did not press the issue, much to her regret.

After more introductions between themselves and the rest of the clan, Naikal told them to go to sleep, thrusting a palette of furs at Sorela. Mages rarely did as they were told when barked at. But she obeyed anyway.

The Hansa went into another section of the hold to sleep. Naikal kept watch over them while they slept. Sorela did not blame them for being wary.

But what will we do next? Would Lord Birtran wait overnight? Would he assumed they were dead by morning?

And what of young Jalen?

Sorela did not sleep well.