"I became lost." He thought the simplest answers would be best.

"Yes, I should think so." A small smile brightened her serious features, and Joenek thought he had seldom seen such a lovely elf. "You were well on your way to a most gruesome death."

Joenek gathered his brows questioningly.

"What knowledge have you, of this location?" The rothnak chose not to answer his inquiry, making her own instead.

"I know nothing; only that we were–" Joenek stopped himself before he finished his thought.

You fool. What if she hasn't found Edileth yet?

She considered him for a moment. "Your travelling companion wouldn't happen to be a blonde rothnak, would it?"

He tried – and failed – to hide his surprise. The rothnak nodded thoughtfully to herself.

"What have you done to her?" he demanded.

"Be at peace, young one; she lays there." The rothnak lowered the knife and pointed to her left.

Joenek followed her gaze. His relief was short-lived upon seeing her condition.

"Yet, I know not what ails her," she continued. "I have fed and treated her. A broth with ginger to help with inflammation, herbs for the fever. Various other tinctures, as well, but still she worsens. Pray, what befell dear Edileth?"

Joenek flinched at the use of Edileth's name. "You know her?"

"I do. Now, please, tell me what has happened."

He hesitated for only a moment before telling the rothnak about the bekhron attack.

Her face darkened at the mention of the bekhron and worry filled her eyes."'Tis worse than I feared." She moved away from Joenek and bent over Edileth to lay a hand upon her brow. "My poor, dear girl. Would that you had not endured this. Feridh, guide my hands."

The rothnak rummaged through a bag. Joenek moved closer until he stood, looking down at Edileth.

A lump formed in his throat. Without thinking, he took one of her hands in his own. Her fingers seemed on fire, he could feel the rapid beat of her pulse. Her eyelids fluttered almost without ceasing.

"Help me tend to her," said the stranger. "And while we work, you can tell me about your travels, and how you came to be in Edileth's company."

Joenek sat, following the rothnak's instructions without a word.

"I know you do not trust me," she said while carrying a bowl toward him, "but I mean you no harm. What you need, this moment, is to eat and rest. It was not yesterday you fought those monsters, but near three days ago."

"Three days? Impossible."

The rothnak offered him the bowl. It was a stew filled with an assortment of vegetables. Its smell wafted up to his nose, and Joenek's stomach gave a low growl.

"Judging by your condition when I found you," she said, "I would guess you were in the chamber for a bit over two days."

"What chamber?" Joenek felt he had a vague recollection of some pleasant place with pale blue light and joy and laughter. But he could not recall what had happened.

"I imagine you were exploring the tunnels in search of water, for I found your waterskin. However, one of the smaller passages branching off the main tunnel leads to a chamber filled with burgamsia."

"What is burgamsia?"

"It is a deadly plant." The rothnak returned to her bag and pulled out a handful of dried herbs.

"A plant?" Joenek nearly laughed. "What does it do; eat elves?"

"As a matter of fact, that is precisely what it does. Although, I think it is not quite how you imagine it." She placed some of the herbs she had collected into a mortar and began crushing them with the pestle. "You see, this plant gives off a smell which addles the brain. Once it has been inhaled for a minute or two, the victim is drawn to the plant itself; hypnotized by the effects of its smell. By the time an elf arrives at the plant, he is lost in mental bliss, all the while starving to death.

"When I had come upon you, you had gone mad, laughing and swaying to and fro. Had I not arrived and removed you from the plant, your body would have been injected with a toxin. This toxin turns flesh and bone into a soft substance which the plant feeds upon."

Joenek shuddered. "How did you manage to save me? Wouldn't you have been affected by the smell as well?"

"I filled the mask I wore with neutralizing herbs. Now, would you kindly avert your gaze? I had to change Edileth's clothing to properly tend her wounds. She is not dressed decently for your eyes. You can tear this linen into strips. Yes, about that size."

Joenek took the fabric and did as the rothnak asked.

"Tell me; are you in possession of an orb?"

Joenek started at her question and – forgetting her previous request – turned to look at the rothnak. She had just removed the blanket from Edileth, who now wore a thin, dress-like garment. The rothnak laughed gaily and then reminded Joenek to face the other direction.

"Yes, I know of the Gredhe. In fact, it is for this reason I have come. We were to meet and depart once all had gathered."

"There are others?"

"Aye, more shall come in time. We have each been given the responsibility of ensuring the safety of the Gredhe."

"Why? What is it?"

"The Hibh en Gredhe – as it is truly named – is a precious, important item. Its history is shrouded in mystery, but there is one who knew of the Gredhe and its purpose intimately. We shall carry it away to the Fíthni in Filne-Semmit, where we may yet learn of the Gredhe."

"What are the Fíthni? How do you know the Gredhe is so important if you don't know anything about it?"

The rothnak laughed. "Forgive me. I find it most peculiar that you should be in Edileth's company and have so little knowledge of our purpose. Precisely how did you come to be here?"

"Repind suggested I join Edileth. He only told me this Gredhe will affect the future. And Edileth has shared nothing because she's arrogant and doesn't even want me along."

"I see," said the rothnak in a tone reminding Joenek of a mother listening to a child's fanciful tale. "The Fíthni are the elders of the Ferlian Order; a guild, if you will, of those devoted to the ways of Feridh.

"As for your second question: it is true, we have lost much knowledge of the Hibh en Gredhe. However, there are sources which state it may yet serve a purpose in deposing Akkheron."

Joenek considered her words. He had heard whispers spoken by wide-eyed elves concerning Akkheron's growing power. Arun had shown a notable distaste for Si-ol's ruler when his home country of Fekklorn had been invaded and forced to serve the larger country.

"You may look, now."

As Joenek turned toward her, the rothnak draped a second blanket over Edileth. She tucked it in with all the care of a mother. Then, lifting her face, she spoke again.

"Rest now. You are yet weak from your encounter with the burgamsia. I shall tend to Edileth and wake you if her condition changes."

Joenek hesitated, but for the time being, he would trust the rothnak. At least, until she gave him a reason otherwise. "My name is Joenek."

She glanced up and smiled. "And I am Yena."

Edileth was shivering in her sleep. Joenek pressed a new cloth over her forehead. A cold breeze howled through the entrance of the cave, but even that did not cool her down.

"Her fever has reached its height." Yena pulled her hair back. "It will either break, or her condition worsens and she shall perish. I have done what I can; the result is for Feridh to decide. Come. Let us pray."

Joenek cringed.

Pray? What good will that do?

There was a faint niggling in the back of his mind. It was like a small voice within, reminding him of his desperate plea for help after the bekhron skirmish. He tried to shut the voice out, to deny the truth. But it persisted.

Joenek ducked his head and pretended to pray.

"Mighty Feridh," Yena whispered, "hold this precious child in your embrace. We humbly ask for Your healing. She is young, eager to do Your will. In our weakness, be our stronghold."

Joenek resisted the urge to scoff. He let his mind wander as Yena continued praying over Edileth. Then, Yena's prayer shifted, becoming a bright, trilling song. Her words were foreign to Joenek, but he thought them beautiful. And whether it was the beauty of the lyrics or the tune itself, Joenek felt a sudden wave of emotion crash upon and swirl about him.

He closed his eyes and drank in the waters of song, letting Yena's radiant melody soothe his soul. And somewhere deep inside, unacknowledged, a prayer was formed. It was not a lofty prayer filled with flowery words, but a simple cry from the heart.

He opened his eyes.

Edileth's breath was so shallow Joenek had to study her to see the small rise and fall of her chest. Her eyelids still fluttered, but all else was still.

She was sweating so profusely he could smell it. Her lips were chapped, but at least they were twitching.

A clammy hand brushed his and rested there. Joenek gasped. Edileth's eyes slowly opened, looking directly at him.

"Yena!"

Her song had now turned to a soft humming. She stopped at Joenek's call and rushed to grasp Edileth's hand, eyes wide. "We are here, Edielth. We shan't leave you."

Edileth smiled faintly, relief shining in her eyes. She returned to sleep – a more restive one, this time.

Yena leaned closer and kissed her brow. "Feridh is with you."

Joenek sighed in relief, his body easing back against the niche's wall.

"Her fever has broken," Yena whispered.