"But if they do come here, I do not want you to deal with them alone," Zena persisted. "I am very afraid that Korg will harm you," she repeated stubbornly. "I do not understand why that is so, but I am certain it is."

Runor kept her face calm. To deceive Zena was terrible, but the alternative was worse. "Do not worry," she reassured her. "The villagers will warn me if Korg and the Leader come. I will be well protected, even if you are not here."

An idea came to her about how she could make sure Zena and Lief left before the men came, and for a moment amusement shone in her eyes. "Since you have come this far, it might be good to go on to Brulet's old village," she suggested. "There have been many changes as a result of Zena's performance."

Zena was too surprised to answer, and Lief spoke instead." We could do that," he answered hesitantly, puzzled by both the words and the unexpected flash of humor in Runor's eyes. "What has happened in Brulet's village?"

But Runor would not elaborate, saying only that she wanted them to see for themselves. "You should go right away," she urged, "while the sun is still strong. If you leave now, you can get almost to the pass before darkness. You may also find Durak as you travel. He said he would stay near the small lakes up there."

"We will look for him," Zena agreed, but she was aware that her apprehension was as strong as ever.

Runor sighed and leaned back against the pallet that supported her back. "Now, my children, I must rest. I fear I tire easily these last years." Taking their hands into her own once more, she stroked them lovingly. "I thank the Goddess for bringing you here. To see both of you again has brought me great joy, more than you could know."

Reluctantly, they rose. To leave Runor still seemed wrong, but the old wise one seemed so certain - and so tired. Perhaps it was best this way. And the others in the tribe would look after Runor, as she had said.

"We will see you soon again," Zena said, leaning down to press Runor's frail hand one more time. Runor reached up to touch her face and did not answer.

Zena was contrite. Runor must indeed be tired. They should not have stayed so long. Despite the strength of her mind, Runor was old and frail, and there was an air of waiting about her which probably meant she knew she would soon join the Mother. This could be their last visit together, and she was glad now that they had come.

They started up the hillside, intent now on their destination, but with every step she took, the sense that something was wrong seemed to become stronger in Zena's mind, as if some invisible cord wanted to hold her back, keep her from going.

Impatiently, she thrust the feeling away and strode on. Runor was all right; she had seen that with her own eyes. Except it was not just Runor now who worried her, she realized suddenly. It was the whole village.

Lief watched her face and saw her fear, and wished he could reassure her. But he could not. He felt it too, as if some unknown danger was gathering around them; he could feel it, taste it, but until he knew from whence it came, there was little he could do to help. As if to reinforce his sense of oppression, the skies filled with heavy dark clouds as they approached the lakes below the pass, and rain began to pelt down with such ferocity they could hardly see. There was no opportunity to linger as they had before and certainly they could not fly together in Akat, as Lief had hoped. They could not even search for Durak. The rain quickly erased footprints and all else. They would have to look on their way back instead.

Lief looked longingly at the lakes where he and Zena had lain as they passed them and scrambled on, wondering if they would ever again feel that wondrous sense of awakening together to a new future, or even if they would ever again find the peace they had enjoyed during the winter. That time was gone now; the torrential rains seemed to push the knowledge at him relentlessly, unsparingly.

His sense of foreboding increased. All through their visit it remained just beneath the surface of his mind, and Zena's, as if waiting for them to respond.

The changes in Brulet's old village were astonishing. Despite the driving rain, the people ran out to greet Zena and Lief, their faces alight with smiles of welcome.

"Zena is here again," they called out to the others. "Zena has come back! And Lief has come with her! They have both come."

Zena and Lief looked at each other in amazement. What had happened to make the villagers accept them like this?

Wulf, the young man who had encouraged Zena to speak of the Goddess, came up to them. "We have changed since you were here. We are Mother People now," he told them proudly.

"That I can see," Zena replied, and felt her throat close with pleasure. Despite her inexperience, her fears, she might have helped.

Another shock of surprise came when Niva approached them. She did not smile, but neither did she look angry as she had before. "We welcome you in the name of the Mother," she said. "To have the woman called Zena here is an honor.

"To have you is a further honor," she added, turning to Lief. Left speechless by the unexpectedly courteous greeting, he could only nod politely.

"You must come in out of the rain," Niva said graciously, and let them into her hut, where a small fire had been lit.

"Thank you," Zena mumbled, struggling to contain her bewilderment. Lief trailed behind without a word, shaking his head in perplexity. Niva was welcoming them? Still, it felt good to be in the hut. He had never known it to rain so hard. Even from here, he could hear its ceaseless drumming and the sound of water rushing down the hillsides as it created streams where none had existed before.

Niva turned to a woman who had come in with them. "Food and drink for our honored guests," she said, and Lief thought he saw amusement in her dark eyes at the astonishment he knew must show in their own.

"I have heard that you go together to all the villages to speak of the Goddess," Niva remarked when they were seated. "That is good. All of them need help to return to the Goddess, as we did."

She seemed very much in charge, Zena noted. Was it possible that this bossy woman, who had been so furious when she had come to speak of the Mother, was now the wise one for the village? Was that was Runor had hinted at?

Niva was looking at her expectantly. "That you are Mother People again is wonderful news," Zena said sincerely. "How did that happen?"

Niva hesitated, as if unsure how to answer, and Lief tried a less direct approach. "Zena has spoken of you often since the time we were here. She said that you know the village and its people very well," he told Niva.

Again, he saw the flash of amusement in Niva's eyes. "That is kind," she replied, "but I am not sure I knew as much as I thought at the time. We are often blinder than we think."

Lief was taken aback by the unexpected confession, and Zena almost laughed at his expression. Her amusement vanished when she saw that Niva's face had become serious, almost tragic, and when she spoke her voice was full of regret.

"For many years," she told them, "I believed the Leader. I wished to believe him, wished to help him, to help Korg. But then I saw incidents that made me wonder if they were what they seemed to be. If the Leader was not what he appeared to be, then the Great Spirit was not either."

She was silent for such a long time that Zena could not contain her impatience. "What incidents did you see?"

Niva's eyes dropped to the ground, as if she could not bear to look at them. "I saw that the Leader drank too much mead when he could, when Korg could not stop him," she began quietly. "I saw that Korg made up transgressions against those he did not like or those who dared to cross him. I saw the crown of feathers, the crown you had used, first in old Krone's hut, then in theirs."

Her voice dropped to a whisper that was hard to hear over the drumming of rain on the roof. "I knew then that one of them had taken it, that one of them had been in Krone's hut. And I saw that Krone, who knew more about them than anyone else, was dead and could not speak." Niva stopped abruptly, and Zena and Lief saw that her lips were trembling too much for speech.

Pulling her mouth into a tight line, Niva forced herself to go on. "I know now that one of them killed Krone and that I sent her to her death. Many years ago, Krone lived in the same village as Korg and the Leader. She tried to tell us what she knew of them but I stopped her, to protect them. Later, I told the Leader and Korg what she had said, thinking her words were only the ramblings of an old woman. I was wrong. And so she was killed, to prevent her from speaking more."

"That is harsh," Zena said quietly, and felt her own body wilt with the horror of having to bear such knowledge. She glanced at Lief and saw that he had winced.

"Yes," Niva agreed. "It was a hard judgment to make but I had to accept it. And I had to make up for it as best I could. This I have tried to do."

"Were you able to help Pila, the young woman whose infant I rescued?" Zena asked.

Niva shook her head. "Sadly, they left the village before I could. I think Pila was afraid we would take her child again, so she crept away with him when we were not watching. She was still very weak. We tried hard to find her but we could not. If you should hear anything of her, I would like to know."

"We will ask about her, "Zena promised, "and let you know if we find her."

The woman arrived with food and drink. "Niva is a good wise one for us," she remarked. "Once she was proud, but she is not any more. Not often, anyway."

Niva looked irritated, but only for a moment. "It is a lesson I must learn many times," she agreed, but she did not look cowed. Lief suspected Niva would not be easy to humble. And probably that was just as well. To be the wise one for a village took great confidence, as he had seen many times.

"Do you know what Krone wanted to say about the two men?" he asked as they ate and drank.

"She said that Korg and the Leader were not always so fine and grand as they pretended to be now, that they were forced from their village, but she did not have time to say why. I pulled her away before she could speak."

Niva's face twisted with pain, and she took a deep breath before she went on. "After she was killed, I was determined to find the truth. I began to watch Korg and the Leader carefully, and I spoke to the others here to see what they knew, and to people in other villages. One man told me he had heard that Korg and the Leader had killed an old woman in their village. He thought it was their mother, but that was hard to believe. I also heard that they were blamed for the deaths of young girls in nearby villages. No one knew if this was true, but it was enough to disturb me badly. I told the others what I had learned and all of us agreed we did not want Korg or the Leader in our village any more. We did not know how we were going to force them to leave, but when we went to confront them they had already left.

"Once, they tried to return," she added. "They even tried to take a girl for the Leader, but the women frightened them away. I was visiting Runor at the time, but the women did not need my help. They are very strong now." Niva smiled proudly at the women's courage. "Since that time we have not seen Korg or the Leader. I do not think they will come back, but if they do, we will be ready for them."

"You have seen Runor, spoken with her?" Zena asked. Both astonishment and curiosity showed in her voice, and Niva responded with a faint smile.

"I went to see Runor when I realized what I had done," she explained. "She is the wisest woman I know, and she helped me in many ways. It was Runor who suggested that I could make up for what I had done by helping my village return to the Goddess. She taught me many truths that I try to follow, as do the villagers."

"We saw Runor just before we came, but she did not mention your visit," Lief remarked. "She said we should come here and see for ourselves."

"We did not like to leave her," Zena added. "She seemed so tired and weak, and she could not speak with us for very long."

Niva looked surprised. "I must visit her again soon," she exclaimed. "When I was there a few days ago she seemed remarkably strong for one so old."

Zena and Lief looked at each other, perplexed. How could that be? Had Runor's health deteriorated that much in a few days?

Another thought struck Lief like a blow. Was it possible that Runor had only pretended to be tired and weak? But why would she mislead them? It was not like Runor to be deceptive - unless she had a reason for wanting them to leave quickly, a reason that was so important to her that she would mislead them...

Abruptly, he understood. Runor had known from Zena's fears that Korg and the Leader were coming soon and she wanted to deal with them by herself. That was the pact she had made with the Goddess...

Zena had reached the same conclusion at almost the same moment, and her eyes widened in horror. "Korg and the Leader!" she said suddenly. "That is why Runor pretended to be weak, made us go on. Runor knows they are coming..."

"Yes," Lief agreed. "She wanted to get us out of the way."

Zena was already standing." I was right!" she said urgently, her face a mask of fear. "Runor is in danger. We must go back!"

Taking time only to bid Niva a hasty farewell, she grabbed her pack, charged into the driving rain outside and darted onto the path that led to Runor's village. Lief followed at a run.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

At first Korg did not worry when he returned to the hut and saw that Mordor was gone. They often went off separately to look for food or wood for the fire. Not until the rain became hard and steady did he begin to wonder, and then to be afraid. For his brother to stay out in such torrential rain when he could be in the warm hut was strange. Mordor did not like discomfort. Only a compelling mission would keep him out in weather like this, and the only one Korg could think of was Mordor's obsession with ridding the villages of witches. What if Mordor had decided that Zena was a witch, had sneaked away to find her?

Terror seized Korg, a blind unreasoning terror he had not felt since childhood. Mordor had no idea what the villagers would do to him if they caught him. He simply assumed that all people agreed that a witch could not be permitted to live. He would just walk into Zena's village...

No. Korg interrupted the horrifying images forming in his mind and forced himself to think clearly. That was not true. Mordor had never acted by day. Always, he had gone at night when there was no one to see and had left before anyone came. He was clever enough for that. Still, he must find his brother and make sure. There should be time to get to Zena's village before night fell.

Korg ran most of the way. When he arrived, he found a hiding place with some protection from the rain, and peered into the village. If Mordor was here he should be visible in the light of the fires, or perhaps the actions of others would provide clues.

Nothing looked unusual; no one spoke loudly or looked alarmed as they might if Mordor had already come. He was more likely to sneak in at night, Korg realized, so he settled down to watch. But Mordor did not come, nor did he see any sign of Zena, or of Lief. Toward dawn, he snapped out of an uneasy sleep to see three people - a man and two women, preparing for a journey. The man was a trader called Hular who had come to Runor's village with Zena. One of the two women was Mara, he saw with surprise. An infant so tiny it looked newborn was strapped to her chest and an older child clung to her legs her child he thought, since it did not want to be separated from her. Korg frowned. He had not known of the child. If it was hers, she had hidden it well.

The second woman was tall and very straight, and Korg was almost certain she was Larak. He had seen her only once from a distance, but he remembered the way she carried herself. It had irritated him then and it irritated him now. No woman should look like that, as if she were in charge of herself and everyone else.

Zena was not with them. Had she left already? She must have. If she was here she would be going on this journey with Larak and Mara. So would the man, Lief.

Larak looked in his direction, as if studying the route, and Korg saw something else. She was worried, almost fearful. Zena? Was she worried about Zena? But how could she know what he knew, that Mordor might decide Zena was a witch?

Two other people emerged and Korg saw with horror that they were the girls he had taken to Mordor. Was it possible they lived in this village? Surely not he had found them in another area, closer to another village. They could have been visiting there, though. He had not thought of that. If they were from this village, then Larak would know that it was he, Korg, who had taken them, the Leader who had initiated them, only they would not call it that. Rape, they would say. Taken by force. And that meant they would be looking for him, looking for Mordor, seeking revenge...

Panic poured into Korg, stronger now, impossible to dislodge. It was like the terror he had felt when his mother had grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into the forest and left him there in the darkness where anything could attack him and there was no way for him to be safe, no way at all. Even Mordor had been unable to help him then; their mother had hauled him away earlier, had left him out there, too, somewhere deep in the woods where it was too dark to see. The whole night would pass before Mordor could make his way back. There was no one to help, no one at all; he would have to stay out there in the terrible blackness all by himself, waiting for the fangs, the claws...

Or the other boys. That was worse. They might have followed, might be waiting until she left to do horrible things to him, the things they had done before, touching him, pulling at him, reviling him...

Korg began to tremble. His body shook so hard that he held his arms tight around his chest to stop it. No, he told himself, he was not in the woods. He was here, not alone in the woods and the darkness, but here, where he was safe because no one had seen him. There were no animals, no boys waiting to molest him...

The shaking did not stop. Even if he was not in the woods people would be looking for him, people who wanted to hurt him. All he could do was wait for the terror to come, the terror he had held at bay with the Leader, with the Great Spirit, only now they could not help him any more. Mordor was no longer the Leader; he was another person now, the person he had been before who could not be trusted. Even he, Korg, was not what he had been before, when everyone had obeyed him. Now he would be hunted like an animal; people were filled with loathing for him, wanted to destroy him. Everything he had built was falling around him, the Leader, the Great Spirit; all of them were collapsing as if the earth had given way beneath them. They had fallen into the darkness below and no one could pull them up, no one; there was no Leader, no Great Spirit, only the illusion he had created for Mordor to use, that he too could use to make the people obey.

Korg closed his eyes and groaned, an agonizing groan that he heard himself. The sound roused him, forced him to try to think. No one must know he was here. That would bring death as surely as the claws, the fangs...

With a vast effort he pushed the terror away and focused on the village again. The three people were setting off on the path that wound past him and then led toward Runor's village, Rofina's village too...

Rofina! The name penetrated the chaos in Korg's mind. Of course! That was where Mordor had gone. Why had he not realized that right away?

Because he had allowed himself to lose control; that was why. Furious at himself, Korg jumped up and retraced his steps. The trembling and his long vigil had stiffened him, and his legs would hardly bend. He forced them to move. He must hurry, must get to Rofina's village before Larak and the others. Had Zena gone there too? Korg shook his head, trying to clear it so he could think. Then he realized that it did not matter. All that mattered was finding Mordor. That was most important.

Uncaring of the shaking that tormented his body, his empty belly or the rain that was still falling in torrents, he loped ahead, keeping well ahead of the three behind him but hardly caring now if they saw him. He was certain they could not catch him. His legs were strong and resilient from all the leaping and they would not let him down. His mind was harder to control. It kept going back to places he did not want to go, to his mother, surrounded always by men. They were as attracted to her full body as bees were to flowers. One at a time she took them into her hut, but sometimes she took two or three or even more, and inside the hut she laughed and groaned and shouted with pleasure; five of them she took in a night sometimes, if she could find them, but still she was eager.

"Away!" she had screamed at him if he came near. "Away, or into the woods with you." Her temper was as huge as her lust and her thirst. She had loved the mead as much as Mordor.

After a time she left his mind too, and then nothing was left but the legs that propelled him endlessly forward, the wet dirt beneath his feet, and the sound of the rain falling ceaselessly all around him. There was no meaning to anything except the need to get to Mordor before it was too late. Only once did he turn to see if Larak and the others were keeping pace. They were far behind, he saw, and he felt a spurt of triumph. After it came anger, a deep invigorating anger that spurred him on to faster and longer strides. They were destroying him, these women, Zena and now Larak too, destroying everything he had built with Mordor, with the Great Spirit. They were his creations, fashioned from Mordor's demons, and no one had the right to take them from him...

He gritted his teeth. Mara was one of them; he was certain of it now. He had never trusted her. Even the old wise one Runor could still be one of them, though he had thought she had learned her lesson, had finally been cowed, when the Great Spirit had chosen both her daughters. First one, then the other. She had understood who had done this to her, and why. She had believed the threat he had made about Rofina, too. He had seen it in her face.

Did the others know Runor's secrets as he did? But they could not; he was sure they could not. Runor would not have spoken, would not dare after the threat, and he certainly had not. Not to anyone would he reveal what he knew of Runor. His knowledge was too useful. Secrets were of little use if they became known.

He still had that power, Korg thought triumphantly. Runor would bend to his will if he threatened to tell her secrets, especially to Larak. She would be shocked.

Korg glanced once more at the tall woman behind him, a glance filled with malevolence and anger, then he ceased to think at all and simply ran on.

Larak saw the look and shuddered. The man was Korg, she was sure. The hatred that festered in him seemed to reach her across the distance that separated them. She had known he must be nearby as soon as the two girls had stumbled in and told what had happened to them, or what they could remember of it. She saw again their hurt and bewilderment that anyone would harm them. They had thought they would be given food, perhaps a drink. They had been drugged instead, and violated. Larak had heard many times about the initiations of young girls but until now the words had been hard to believe.

Hular was watching Korg too." That must be Korg," he said. "No one else has legs like that. It is strange, though, that the Leader is not with him. They always travel together."

Terror slashed through Larak, so sharp it left her breathless. If Korg was alone, the Leader was alone, and it was the Leader who terrified Larak most. He, not Korg, was the greatest threat to Zena. The Leader believed what Korg told him, what the Great Spirit told him, believed it with all his heart and mind, and the most dangerous people of all were those who were certain they were right. Without Korg to restrain him, the Leader might do anything... She had been right to set off on this journey, to follow Zena and make sure she was all right... But she must hurry...

She glanced up again at Korg's retreating figure. There was a desperate urgency in his movements; he never stopped or rested, hardly slowed even when the path steepened sharply as it wound toward the heights. Was it the Leader he sought with such frantic haste? Could the Leader already be in the village, already be with Zena? It must be so; there was no other explanation.

An uncontrollable tremor shook Larak. Always before when she had worried about Zena, she had felt the Goddess reassuring her. This time, there was no reassurance, only the overwhelming sense that Zena was in mortal danger.

"Great Goddess, keep Zena safe for us," she whispered, and forced herself to go faster. Deep in her bones, she knew there was not much time.

Mordor had walked all day and into the night, hardly aware that it had begun to rain heavily. Once, he had stopped briefly to sleep, uncomfortable and restless but paying no attention to the cold or the rain or to food. His mission was too important to stop for anything, even darkness. He knew this path well and did not fear that he would take a wrong step.

He saw the pass ahead and was cheered. He would be there soon. Bending down, he struggled into the wind. The rain came harder, slashing into his face with demonic force. For all these days, it had not stopped. Mordor shivered, suddenly fearful in this high lonely place, with the rain pelting down mercilessly. The spirit of death was here, or evil spirits; he could feel them all around him. He must get away.

Relief filled him when he caught sight of huts below. Intent now on his purpose, he hurried on. First, he would have some mead, to restore him; then he would find Rofina. Probably she was with her mother. Surely she must be, but if she was not Runor would know where she was. Perhaps she would know where Zena was as well, or the girl would, Mara. He would make them tell him if they knew.

Pine scent, sharpened by the rain, came to his nostrils as he entered the woods, and he drew in a long breath, savoring the familiar smell. Soon the hut Gurd had built for them showed against the trees. He went straight to the mead and took a great gulp. It had a bitter, rancid taste, but he did not care. The long journey had tired him, and to feel strong was important now. He would have Gurd make some fresh mead later. Where was Gurd? He must find him.

When he entered the village later, the people looked up, surprised, not that he had come but because he was alone. Runor had told them Korg and the Leader would come soon, had told them exactly what they should do. They were not happy with her instructions, but they trusted her and would obey. Still, that the Leader was here alone was surprising. Quick as a deer, a young girl ran to Runor's hut to tell her.