Beneath the boughs of the great forest trees stood Nessalir the Red, the drakkowar woman who had faced countless foes and lived to tell the tale. She stood frozen in place, her eyes locked upon the still form of the forest guardian, the Green Man to whom she had proven her strength, and with whom she had set out to save the forest unicorns.

  That Green Man lay dead upon the forest floor. Standing over him was a man with a face covered by a great dark beard. He was a huge man, tall and broad-shouldered, with strong and well-muscled limbs, thick as the trunks of the trees. In his hands he held the instrument of the Green Man's destruction: a massive ax, with a great black haft and a double head that looked heavy enough to cut her in twain with but a single stroke.

  The axman's eyes were locked onto Nessalir. He breathed heavily, his great chest heaving. A savage smile spread across his face.

  "And who might you be?" asked the other man, the smaller man with the golden curls and the shaved chin. The Remuan man. He stepped beside the axman, twirling his spear lazily in his hands. "So our little party has been attacked by a forest giant and a woman with a red clawed hand? These are strange lands indeed."

  Nessalir set her jaw. She braced herself, and pushed away her shock and horror. There would be time to grieve later. This was not the first time she had lost a comrade in battle, nor was it likely to be the last. Nessalir had learned long ago how to set aside her feelings and continue the fight.

  "I am called Nessalir the Red," she announced. "I lent my aid to the guardian of these woods, to help him hunt down those who have been poaching the land's unicorns."

  The Remuran smiled. "You have found us," he said. "And most of my men, it seems, have died by either your hand or his. Our trophy has fled, and my expedition has ended in quite the failure. My congratulations, Madam Nessalir."

  She frowned. "For a man who has experienced such a failure, you do not seem upset."

  "I am but a humble merchant," said the Remuran. "The lords and ladies of Remura will pay good coin for trophies of the strange and magical beasts who roam the Northern Lands. A live unicorn would have sold well indeed, but I still have a horn or two, and we can claim the remains of this green giant, and of course dead men require no payments. It is no great loss."

  Nessalir scowled. She raised her sword. The axman tensed.

  "And you…" The Remuran man tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I have heard of you. A drakkowar, yes? The product of human and dragon parents? A rare creature indeed. A trophy such as yourself… yes, that would make me a rich man."

  The big axman laughed.

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  "Try not to kill her, Hrolnar," the Remuran told the axman. "She will be worth far more as a servita than a corpse. But if she gives you no choice, well, I suppose we'll have to make do."

  The huge brute—"Hrolnar," as the Remuran called him—charged forward, ax raised high. Nessalir moved quickly, ducking behind a tree even as the ax was swung in her direction. The blade bit into the wood, splintered the bark to pieces, and cut clean through the trunk.

  Nessalir ran around the tree, striking quickly at Hrolnar as she passed. She managed only a glancing blow, a shallow cut across his arm as he pulled his weapon from the tree and spun on her.

  Her heart hammered in her chest as she danced away. Nessalir could see plainly that even with her own enhanced abilities, she would be no match for Hrolnar in terms of strength, and in these woods she would not have the room she required to maneuver around him. But that was true as well for her foe; a man of his bulk would likewise be unable to move freely through such a dense forest.

  The ax head came swinging through the air once more, and once more Nessalir was ducking around and behind a tree. She hoped perhaps that he'd get his weapon caught in the wood again, granting her the opportunity to go in for another blow—hopefully a deeper, more decisive one, but it seemed that Hrolnar had learned from that first attack. He avoided chopping into any more trees, and as Nessalir ducked and weaved, he gave chase.

  Through the woods she jumped and ran, managing somehow to stay just ahead of Hrolnar's attacks. She led him around in circles, studying his every movement as she did so, looking for any opening that she could exploit. But the big man showed none. He was too mighty, too savage. Nessalir could tell that any opening she spotted would be gone too quickly for her act on it, and to strike him at any point would be tantamount to suicide.

  Her only option was to keep at it; continue weaving through the forest, continue provoking attacks from the man. With luck, he would falter eventually, and then Nessalir could seize the opportunity.

  At last, the moment came. Hrolnar misjudged the distance between his weapon and a tree, and once more his ax head was buried in a thick trunk. Even with a split second to study the scene, Nessalir could see that it was a shallower cut than before, and would likely give her little if any chance at all to strike, but it was enough for her to draw upon the heat within her, call it into her lungs, and exhale a plume of flame at the big man's face.

  Or at least, that was her intention. But no sooner had the fires left her lips than a wooden haft slammed hard into her neck. Nessalir stumbled backward, coughing, her insides ablaze, her throat constricted. She shook and fought through the pain, and through watery eyes she saw the Remuran.

  Instantly she realized her mistake. Nessalir had led Hrolnar in a circle, and this had afforded the Remuran the chance to sneak up behind her while she was focused on his larger lackey. When she'd attempted to breathe fire, he'd cut her off with a quick strike from his spear's shaft. Now the flames, denied their escape through her lips, burned agonizingly hot within her.

  "Now, now, now," said the Remuran with a grin, "that won't do at all."

  Behind him, Hrolnar removed his ax from the tree and approached Nessalir.

  She tried to speak, but all that came out was a gasp and small spark. Smoke billowed from her mouth, and it was all she could do not to double over in pain.

  The Reumuran pointed his spear at her, and Hrolnar laughed once more.