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they drove back the arachar. The ancient, mighty magic of the Keeper’s staff burned within her, giving her the magical strength to achieve spells she could not have worked otherwise. 
    The surviving four spiderlings worked in concert, combining their powers to unleash spells of dark magic. They flung a bolt of blue fire wreathed in shadow at Calliande, a wasting spell that would have withered her to mummified skin and crumbled bone.
    She deflected the spell, casting a ward around herself, and the blue fire vanished against the power of the Well. Even with the staff, Calliande had reached the limits of her strength. She could have struck back against the spiderlings, unleashing the white fire of the Well or elemental magic or the raw power of the Keeper, but she could not maintain her wards or the augmentation spells around her companions at the same time. 
    Fortunately, she had Antenora to strike back for her.
    Once, Antenora wielded magic like the spells Calliande now used. Antenora’s betrayal had taken that power from her, along with most of the other abilities of a Keeper’s apprentice. All Antenora retained was the ability of the Sight and knowledge of the elemental magic of fire. 
    But she had practiced wielding the fire for fifteen centuries…and she had gotten very good at it.
    Antenora flung fireball after fireball. A ring of burned arachar corpses surrounded the spiderlings, the scent of charred flesh filling the air. The spiderlings tried to strike back at Antenora, but Calliande’s Sight gave her plenty of warning, and her wards protected Antenora from their dark magic. Together the Keeper and her apprentice worked in harmony, deflecting the spiderlings’ attacks and striking back with blasts of elemental flame. 
    Antenora thrust her staff before her, her long black coat and ragged vest billowing around her in the hot wind of her spell. A shaft of fire blazed from her staff, tight and focused and so hot that the grass of the hill charred as it passed. The bar of flame hammered into one of the spiderlings, and the creature’s tattered ward collapsed beneath the raw power. Antenora’s spell cut through the spiderling, bisecting her from head to groin, and the two halves of the spiderling collapsed, the cut edges of her flesh charred black. 
    One of the spiderlings stepped back, fear upon her face. She screamed out a command in the dark elven tongue, ordering the arachar to fall back and regroup at the base of the hill. The arachar warriors retreated, and Ridmark and the others pressed their advantage. Gavin and Arandar carved their way forward, leaving a trail of dead orcs in their wake. Ridmark, Kharlacht, Caius, and Jager fought in a knot, covering each other as they moved forward. Mara flickered in and out existence, harrying the arachar, and Morigna amused herself by causing the earth to ripple and fold, knocking the arachar from their feet. 
    They were winning. Calliande felt a fierce surge of pride in her friends, followed by concern. If the arachar broke and ran, Ridmark wanted to push to the River Moradel. If they went into that web-choked forest, the arachar could summon reinforcements. Whatever urdmordar commanded the arachar might come forth as well. 
    She started to draw breath, to shout for Ridmark…and a howl interrupted her.
    Dozens of howls, long and loud and bone-chilling. 
    A moment of shocked silence fell over the battle as both the arachar and Calliande’s friends looked to see the source of the howls. Antenora’s yellow eyes grew wide. The woman rarely displayed surprise at anything, but now she seemed stunned.
    “Keeper,” she rasped, “what are those creatures?”
    Dark shapes burst from the trees, racing up the slope towards the arachar. 
    They looked like strange hybrids of men and wolves. Each creature stood eight or nine feet tall, and looked roughly like a naked man, pale and gaunt with ropy muscle. Yet strips of dark fur marked their limbs and torsos, and as the