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went up after him, but Rydl, having been born in one of these nests, was as used to climbing and swinging as walking on the ground. While Dael struggled to keep his balance, Rydl made a scoffing show of his skill by hopping back and forth on Dael’s limb—forty feet above the ground! Dael lay down, clinging to the branch and fearing any shift of balance. Rydl extended a foot, not a hand, to him.
    There was no friendship between them. Dael glowered and rose on his own, at last managing to cast his torch into one of the nests. In his captivity, Zan had learned some of the wasp man’s skill in climbing, and together the three set every hive ablaze. Those below watched the spectacle. For Hurnoa it was like the end of all, and she stood transfixed. Her whole world had died and was now disappearing in clouds of black smoke.
    There were seven separate camps, and it was a labor to bring fire to them. After the first, they knew to destroy the topmost nests before those below, thus avoiding the rising heat and fumes. The dwellings had been fashioned largely of bark and leaves. Because they had been sealed with tar, they burned and smoked furiously in great, roaring spheres of fire. By the time night fell, the spectacular blaze illuminated the lake and surrounding area with an unnatural glow that tinted every object, even the distant granite cliff and its long-descending waterfall. In time the fires waned, but the trees continued to drop bright showers of sparks for a while. All the travelers were tired, and prepared for a night’s rest.
    As Dael was about to sleep, Zan approached him. “Do not be angry, Dael. You see that our enemies are ashes, and that there is nothing in this land that is not ours. What a victory this is for us!”
    Dael refused to be pacified. “Do not cross me again, Brother,” Dael replied, not looking at Zan but at the flickering glow on the distant granite cliff. “And do not suppose that you are as strong as I.” That was all he said, and Zan departed to join his wife.
    By morning, nothing was left of the wasp dens but gray ashes and a few glowing embers. An early breeze took the last of the fetid odor away, and the land was purged of the evil. Except for the scarred trees, all was beautiful and peaceful, and few signs of the holocaust remained.
    Zan made a speech: “Friends and kinsmen, we have come here at great risk, ready for a fight that might wellhave led to our destruction. But spirits—good or evil—have fought for us and undone our enemies. And not a blow was struck by our arms! The land, the Beautiful Country is purified—and it is empty. It is ours! Dael, what do you think? Can we not….
What happened to Dael?
”
    All were present but he. No, Hurnoa had disappeared somewhere too! No one knew where they were, and Zan, with fearful misgivings, instructed his group to seek them out without delay.
    It took only a few moments for Zan himself to find Dael behind some bushes, conversing peaceably with Hurnoa. But how could that be when Dael hated the old woman and spoke but little, even to his friends? Zan drew closer. A slight smile on his face, Dael was reclining, leaning comfortably on his elbow, and talking softly to her. Then Zan saw. Dael’s hands were covered with blood. And it was the seated corpse of Hurnoa that he was quietly addressing.

 
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6
RYDL
    When Rydl climbed to the high treetops to flame the wasp men’s nests, he felt no joy, as Dael did. For Dael it was a feast of revenge. To Rydl it was a last act of respect for the people who once had been his own. When he came to the dwelling of his father, he could not bring himself to enter. His father was dead now. All he could do was say a prayer and put the putrid hive to the torch.
    Rydl was a runaway, but he had hoped to see his father once again, to mend the old divisions that had put them apart, and make peace with his people. That was the dream he was