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do it.
    â€œThere is a—large lout—in my way, Dan.”
    He was panting. I risked a glance and saw the enormous granite-gray foe who faced him. The hulks kept coming at us in spite of sword wounds and lopped hands, and there were a number of them, more than the six I had seen, all the stone colors. I faced one of dull red. He was old, his hair like so much frost on his boulder of a head, and he was a wily fighter. There was no thought in me, any longer, of Ytan. It was all I could do, even with the sword, to keep the Cragsmen from forcing me back. Our enemies had the advantage of height, their own great height plus a stance on the rocks. And behind us lay nothing but a sheer drop onto fir spires.
    I saw Kor take a whistling blow that glanced off the side of his face. “Alar!” I cried crazily. “Zaneb!”
    The swords were already doing all they could. But like an echo of my words there came an uncouth sound, a blast as of a bison horn strongly blown, and a great stag leaped over the rocks and rammed his antlers into a slate-blue chest. At his heels came two more nearly as mighty. The Cragsmen saw them and shrank from them, unnerved by the strangeness of it, I think, for Cragsmen are no cowards when it comes to blows. But that the deer of the forest should take battle against them, and in company with a wolf …
    Ytan had torn the wolf off his shoulders at last, hurled it onto the rocks. Clubs struck—but it was quick, a shining flash, they had not yet hit it—
    â€œForward!” I bellowed, and Talu took me straight up the rocks with a surge. She could not wait to sink her fangs into the nearest Cragsman’s throat. The fellow toppled before her like a downed tree. I made for another, sword upraised and the green-tinged blood dripping off it and rattling on the stones.
    â€œDan, you hotheaded fool!” I heard Kor cursing behind me. Then he was beside me, Sora bearing down on every foe before her, their blood streaking her yellow hide before it fell away in shards. Zaneb darted, a deadly raptor to meet—Ytan, the one who stood before him was Ytan.…
    Battle fire burning in me, I shouted, “Take him, Kor!”
    But the sword hovered by Kor’s head. A moment of hesitation, and Ytan scrambled away, slipped into forest and vanished, leaving his bow behind him. The Cragsmen were unmanned, and fled in like wise. Three they left behind them, dead or groaning. Stags bounded after them, harrying their backs. Battle clamor echoed away into silence.
    I sat, my sword dangling from my lowered hand, staring at Kor.
    â€œYou could have had him,” I said, for I sensed even then that killing Ytan would have saved a stoup’s worth of trouble and peril later on. “Why did you let him go?”
    â€œI could no more strike him than strike you, Dan.”
    Battle fire cooling, it was as if haze drifted from my eyes. I saw my bond brother clearly, scarcely comprehending what he had said, knowing only that the side of his face was bruised black and streaked with blood, his brow cut open, one eye swollen shut. A thick red smear ran down from his nose and mouth. He was trying to stanch it with his fingers.
    â€œBlood of Mahela,” I said numbly, vaulting down from Talu.
    â€œNo,” Kor retorted, “my own.”
    With more haste than grace I went to him, slipping on mossy rocks, the mare trailing after me.
    â€œHe looks so much like you,” Kor said, veering back to the matter of Ytan. I no longer cared about Ytan. A pox on Ytan.
    â€œGet down,” I told Kor, “and let me see to those cuts.”
    I took him over by the nearest small torrent, laved the side of his face with the cold, clear water, eased it on with my hands until the bleeding had stopped and the swelling had come down somewhat. Kor sat and leaned against stone. I crouched beside him. The wolf came and stared at us for a moment, then trotted away with a liquid gait that flowed more