For the second time that week, Dilia Noh awoke in the middle of the night, sensing that something was horribly wrong.  It didn’t seem to be any immediate danger, but there was a problem nonetheless.  Dilia changed into hunting clothes, strapped on her weapons, and sheathed the dagger that she always kept out at night.  Picking up one of Aurin’s maps of the tunnels and a small candle, she scribbled out a note to Triss, knowing that he would sense the danger also, and left it at the door of the Home Guard barracks.  Then, following her instincts, she headed off for the Gardens of Life, arriving just in time to see a shadow disappear behind the Ellcrys.  Heedless of anything else, and knowing that she might not come out of this alive, Dilia pursued the silent figure.  She thought fleetingly of Triss for a moment before she too vanished behind the silver tree.  Dilia Noh had a feeling that she would be fighting the battle of her life.
 
 

Half-an-hour later, the Captain of the Home Guard flipped over in bed once more before waking up, not being able to sleep.  Like Dilia, his senses were honed to perfection, hearing every little noise in the distance; seeing a creature move a mile away; feeling something while not looking at it yet knowing what it was anyway.  He automatically threw on tracking clothes, strapped on his sword very much like the Highlanders in the Four Lands—across his back, and equipped himself with a bow and a quiver of arrows.  Triss wasn’t as skilled as Dilia in the latter, but he would be fine with his present knowledge.  Opening the door, he found a note from Dilia.  Hastily unfolding it, he read:

I have reason to believe that Gaden Pinal is a traitor, and that he and his Shadowen will attack Arborlon tonight.  I have gone to see if this is true.  If so, I may never see you again.  But when the Shadowen do attack, as I believe they will, you must be there to defend the city at all costs.  Do not follow me.  I will make sure Arborlon is safe from him, but you and the others must protect it from anything else.  Stay in Arborlon.

    Even as he read her letter, he knew that he would go after her.  Calling all of his Tracking skills to him, Triss followed her path until he reached the gates to the Gardens of Life.  He was surprised to find the absence of the Black Watch.  Examining the ground closer, he could just make out faint splotches of blood.  “So it’s true,” he whispered to himself.  “The invasion has begun.”  He flung open the gates and went in, heading straight for the Ellcrys.  The rock covering the entrance to the tunnel had disappeared, and Triss climbed in without opposition.  He landed with a soft thud on the floor, where he found the lifeless bodies of the Black Watch that had been guarding the Gardens of Life.  They were ravaged and hideously misshapen, with their weapons still sheathed.  Someone else knows of this passage as well, he thought, the beginnings of fear crawling up his spine.  He dropped into a half-crouch, his sword in front of him, and began to crawl through the tunnel.  The rock prevented any easy passage through, and Triss had to push it away before proceeding.  The feeling of danger increased with each step he took, and he feared for Dilia’s life.
    The Captain of the Home Guard picked up his pace with difficulty, trying to find signs of Dilia’s passage.  Many Shadowen and half-an-hour later, he reached the opening that led to the main tunnel.  He leaped out with relief, stretching his cramped muscles before resuming the search for Dilia.  Triss faintly smelled incense, the smell only about an hour old, and followed its sweet trail.
    To his surprise, the Captain discovered that he was following the same path that he, his father, and the Owl had gone through less then two weeks ago, the supposedly “safe” tunnel.  Feeling more confident then before for no reason, Triss plunged ahead.
 
 

Dilia Noh narrowed her eyes, picking out the silent figure ahead of her.  Her hands were empty except for the dagger she held; the map had been put away and the stunted candle discarded long ago.  The climax was near, she felt.  In a few moments, the person—who she thought to be Gaden Pinal—would reach their destination, and the attack would begin.  She wondered what Triss was doing.  Hopefully not following her.
    The Elf smiled sadly.  She loved him so much.  Triss really understood her.  They shared common beliefs, common interests, common values, and so on.  And he was a fighter.  Triss would give up his own life for something—or someone—else.
    In that moment she knew that he would be tracking her, reluctant to stay behind in the city while she was taking all the risks.  Triss would die for her.
    Suddenly there was a clawing sound from aboveground, and Dilia froze, backtracking until she found a smaller tunnel branching from the one they had been on.  Strangely, they hadn’t encountered a single Shadowen the whole time, despite the fact that it was night.  Not that it mattered in the tunnels, where it was forever dark.  She peeked out of the side trail, watching who she now knew to be Gaden pull on a mass of plant life.  Once that was achieved, there was an opening, where black claws fought to enter.  Gaden began to speak, his voice soft and whispery, very much unlike his normal one.  The Shadowen outside—every single Shadowen within a half-a-mile radius from the hole—struggled even harder to reach Gaden and the tunnels beyond.  Dilia realized that somehow, the Minister of Defense was speaking the Shadowen tongue.  But how?  He’d have to be a Shadowen himself to speak it!  The Elven warrior realized how in that instant, almost too late.  She stepped out of the side tunnel, notched her bow and shot her arrow into the hole, hearing the sharp cry of a monster, before saying to Gaden, who had turned, “Step back, Shadowen.”
    The being that appeared to be Gaden Pinal, but not really, hissed in rage.  Dark wisps of smoke rose out of him, forming into something else, the body slumping lifeless to the dirt floor.  It shifted and changed until it became like with the Shadowen, who were now streaming in, frenzied with the thought of an Arborlon assault, trampling Gaden’s body.  They ignored Dilia and the Shadowen that had once been in the Minister’s body, preferring a mass murder.  Dilia worried briefly for Triss, hoping against hope that he would be able to fight off these things.  But there was nothing she could do; in a few moments she would be locked in mortal combat with the Shadowen remaining.
    “Arborlon will not be yours tonight,” she breathed, trying to steady herself.
    “But it won’t be yours, either, will it?” the Shadowen hissed.  “For you will be dead…”  Without warning, green fire erupted from its hands, aiming directly at her.  Dilia lunged into the side tunnel, barely avoiding it.  She knew she was at a major disadvantage, for the Shadowen had magic and she did not.  The only thing that could counter magic was magic itself.  But she shot an arrow at it anyway, puncturing its eye.  The creature howled in pain, and she used that time to bring out her broadsword to slice off one of its hands.  Greenish blood spurted out of it, hitting the floor and making it sizzle.  Acid.  Dilia circled the creature, waiting to strike, always ready to dart out of the way lest the Shadowen magic attack.  She made sure she was not cornered, moving faster when nearing the end of the tunnel, then slowing down again as she reached a place where she could run.
    The Shadowen made its move.  Picking up Gaden’s body, it flung him at her, sending the magic in an arc above it at the same time.  Dilia dodged the magic, but Gaden’s cold hand brushed her, sending shivers down her spine.  She had never touched a dead person before.  Dilia feinted shortly at the Shadowen, unsheathing another sword and leaving it in its side in the same movement.  But it proved to be a mistake.  The creature howled in fury, sending its magic flying in all directions.  The Elf lunged back, but the magic hit her arm, burning it.  Dilia cried out in pain, dropping the dagger from her rigid fingers, but hurriedly picking it up again with her good hand.  She struck the flat side of her weapon against the handless arm, forcing the bleeding stump towards it.  Acid met Shadowen in a sizzling crash, and its own blood burned the creature through to the core.  It screamed, its voice filled with rage and hatred for the being who had outwitted it.  In a last, desperate attempt, it flung its stump of an arm towards Dilia, spraying acid in all directions.  Dilia swiveled, putting her long hair between herself and the blood.  The acid slowed, but most of it went through to her clothes and back.  Ignoring the pain that coursed through her entire body, she sprinted off, with the small knowledge that she had at least killed the Shadowen that had betrayed Arborlon, but perhaps at the cost of her life.  Her only thought was to reach Triss and Arborlon, to reach it before the Shadowen.
 
 

The Captain of the Home Guard had sidetracked onto another tunnel without knowing it, when he heard the sounds of a stampede.  Instinctively knowing that it was the Shadowen finally come, he turned back with thoughts of warning Arborlon.  But I’m coming after you, Dilia, after I alert Arborlon, he promised to himself and her, running faster.  Before he knew it, he was at the entrance to the smaller tunnel, pushing aside rubble as he fought to reach the other end.  The sounds of the Shadowen grew louder as Triss reached the exit, avoiding the bodies of the Black Watch.  Shades!  There must be hundreds of them!  He went straight to Ellenroh, waking her up unceremoniously as he told her of the planned assault.  “Rally the army!  Bring them to the Gardens of Life!”  Lingering around a moment more to make sure she would do as told, he ran to the Home Guard barracks and repeated his story.  “Cort, be Captain in my absence,” he ordered an Elf who had been in the Home Guard for nearly four years.
    “But why—”
    “Just do it!” Triss cut him off short.  “I’ll be back!  I have to do something…”  He ran off again to warn the Captain of the Black Watch, a woman named Nilynn.  After that he finally headed for the Gardens of Life, already seeing the bulky form of the commander, Barsimmon Oridio, organizing the Elven army into divisions.  Triss took another route to the stables, where the cavalry was saddling their horses.  He disappeared silently into the feed room, unlatching the trapdoor and going inside, knowing that all the Shadowen would be concentrated at the Gardens of Life.  The Captain of the Home Guard—thinking rather ironically that if he survived he would be demoted—picked up Dilia’s trail again, following it like a lost dog.  Eventually he ended up at a pile of greenish ash, and fearing that it might have been Dilia, looked around hopefully for a fresher trail, finding one.  It was only minutes old.  The color red was everywhere, and Triss knew that if he did not find her in time she would die.
    Triss had almost passed her without noticing it, when he heard a low groan from somewhere behind him.  He spun around, not sensing danger, but cautious nonetheless.  He squinted and made out a figure hunched against the wall, bleeding freely.  “Dilia!”  The word escaped his mouth in a harsh whisper, and he ran over to her.
    The tattered Elf looked up in disbelief.  “Triss!  Oh, Triss, I was looking for you for so long!”  Her arms wrapped around Triss, clinging to him, a lifeline.  “We have to… we have to get to Arborlon to… save them…”  She coughed violently before continuing.  “The Shadowen are… attacking…”
    “I know,” assured Triss.
    Dilia looked up.  “But how?
    Triss smiled.  “I followed you.”
    “You… you warned them then?”  A hand suddenly reached up for his face, holding it, savoring the memory.
    “I warned them.  But right now the main thing is getting you back to Arborlon; the Healers will have to work on you.”
    “The Healers will not…” Dilia lapsed into unconsciousness before completing the sentence.  Triss picked her up, gently, bearing her back to the Arborlon palace, back to safety.  Too slow! his mind screamed at him.  You won’t make it in time!  Hurry!  Triss began to sprint as fast as he could, faithfully carrying Dilia in his arms, cradling her.
    She regained consciousness shortly before they reached the tunnel exit.  Insisting that she walk by herself, Dilia trudged up the stairs, Triss behind her, always ready.  He steered her towards the palace, leaving her with the Elven Healers, standing by to watch.  He barely even noticed that a battle was raging all around him.
    At last, the chief Healer, Harlan, came out of the room.  “Her condition is critical,” he said after a while.  “The arm is better, but her back… the Shadowen ravaged it.  And she wants to fight.  Her, of all people!  Just got back from combating some kind of demon and still wants to battle!  I can’t believe it!”
    “Let her,” Triss said immediately.
    “But why?”
    “She was a born fighter and will not rest unless she is defending her people.  And she will die faster if confined.  I… I can feel it.”
    “You can?  Fancy the girl?”
 Triss pointedly ignored him.  “Just let her fight.”  The Captain really wasn’t sure how he could indeed tell what could make her live longer and what could cut back her life, but he went ahead with it anyway.  Anything to let Dilia live.
    Dilia Noh stepped out of the infirmary minutes later, bandaged everywhere but smiling.  Her weapons were still strapped to her, including the longbow, but Triss didn’t think that her burned arm was strong enough to support it.  They headed outside, quickly joining the Home Guard surrounding the queen.
    “Cort, I’m back,” Triss said.
    The other Elf gladly let him take the lead, worn out by being a Captain.  Triss looked around, assessing the situation.  The infantry and archers were in the center, with light and heavy cavalry flanking it on both sides.  All the foot soldiers were in phalanx formation, shields up, swords and spears bristling.  Barsimmon Oridio was in the lead, directing them.  Cavalry feinted at the Shadowen, distracting them enough so that the infantry could attack.  But there was one major flaw in all of this, not one of formation, but one of territory.  The Shadowen were surrounding the Ellcrys, and soon enough would turn on her to destroy it and the Elves’ spirit.  For if the Ellcrys died, the Demons would rise again from the Forbidding, but this time there was no Ohmsford to protect a Elven maiden on a journey to the Bloodfire, nor Druid to stall the Demon attacks.  The Elves would be annihilated.  And then it would truly be the end.
    “We have to outflank the Shadowen!” Triss shouted over the melee.  “We have to gain the Ellcrys!”
    Barsimmon Oridio heard the Captain, splitting the infantry up into a pincer movement, keeping the cavalry as a distraction.  Half of the army, under Aurin Striate, would go into the tunnels and strike from behind.  Being as primitive as they were, the Shadowen had not thought to guard the tunnel entrance.  The other half, serving to prevent them from expanding, would circle the palace and strike from there, hopefully forcing the creatures back towards the Gardens of Life.  They had better hopes now then before, when they were cramped into a single room, killing for the sole purpose of gaining space more than defending the king.
    Triss, Dilia, and most of the Home Guard left with the Owl through the stable entrance, along with some of the army.  They had no need to be quiet, the sounds from the battle above masking their presence, but being Elves, they were cautious nonetheless.
    A painful hour later, Aurin Striate reached the far end of the small tunnel, the Elves fanning out in the clearing.  The bodies of the Black Watch were still there, but they were buried quickly.  An Elf signaled that the opening and most of the little area surrounding it was clear, although the Ellcrys was now being attacked, and certain soldiers got to work expanding the exit.  Then, the ambush began.
    The Ellcrys, being a living thing, was moving its limbs about lethargically, trying to knock off the Shadowen clinging to it.  Archers shot them down quickly, making sure not to hit the tree itself, while infantry rushed to meet the monsters in hand-to-hand combat.
    The other half of the pincer movement struck.  All was chaos for a moment while the Shadowen, not understanding what was going on, attacked each other in the night.  Black Watch used this time to form a protective circle around the Ellcrys, making sure the Shadowen did not get near it.
    The battle raged for an hour or so when the Elves finally seemed to gain the upper hand.  Daylight was coming and most of the more nocturnal Shadowen had already fled, seeking to escape the sun’s rays.  But some were still there, fighting to the death, although now the Elves’ numbers were beginning to tell.  Triss and Dilia had gotten separated some time earlier, engaging in different conflicts, caught up inside themselves.  Finally the sun appeared and the moon vanished, bringing with it nearly all of the Shadowen still alive.  The yelling ceased and all was silent.  Triss looked around, clutching his calf where one of the monsters had scratched it.  The Gardens of Life was a charnel house.  Bodies were strewn about everywhere, the majority of them burned Elves, though a good number of them were Shadowen.  There was a strange acidic smell hanging around the Gardens, making Triss’ nose sting.  He scanned his eyes around, focusing on the survivors’ faces, looking for Dilia.
    The Elf he was searching for appeared from out of nowhere, her left side burned black.  “Triss,” she whispered, his name hanging in the muggy air, before stumbling over to him.
    Triss caught her before she could fall.  “Dilia,” he whispered back.  “What’s wrong?”  He looked at his hand, which had been holding onto Dilia’s left arm, and found it covered in ash.  Her arm was crumbling apart.  “We have to bring you to the Healers!  They’ll be able—”
    Dilia smiled ruefully at him, the green eyes lifting to meet his.  “No,” was her quiet reply.  “They can’t save me.  No one can.”  She gripped the Captain’s arm suddenly.  “I love you, Triss, now and forever.”
    “I love you too,” the Captain of the Home Guard answered, stricken, a terrible sadness welling up inside of him as he grasped the concept of what she was saying.
    “Your life will go on without me, whether you like it or not.  When the girl comes, remember what I said in that note—see her and the city safely back to the Four Lands.  Do not let Arborlon fall into enemy hands.  Continue to protect Ellenroh from hidden dangers.  You are a Captain of the Home Guard, Triss, and I know you are capable of anything.  Destroy all the Shadowen before they can hurt any others.  They are demons… cousins of the creatures locked in the Forbidding…” she began to choke on the words, but continued on anyway.  “But they will learn to fear you one day…  Protect our legacy… the legacy of the Elves…”  Dilia’s green eyes bored into him, clear as a pond of water, the emotions revealing themselves to Triss in rapid succession, emotions hidden from him since the very beginning until now, until Dilia’s final moments.  Triss read those emotions clearly, interpreting them, tucking them away in his mind.
 
 

Then they were embracing each other in one last final kiss, holding each other tight.  It lasted for a full minute before they broke apart for the last time.  Triss savored that moment, knowing that it would never come again.  Dilia’s thin hand reached for his face, holding it in her hand.  “It’ll be okay,” she said.  And then she was drifting, lost in another place and time, the scarred, bloodied image of Triss changing into a younger version of him, when they had been riding horses together.  She had fallen off, breaking her leg, watching as Triss leaped off his mount and rushed to her side.  He had picked her up, running towards the palace and its healers, all the while whispering “It’s going to be okay.”  And Dilia knew that it was true, placing all her trust and faith in him, believing.  Then as she was being worked on, she had seen Triss standing right outside the door, making sure that she would be all right.  Dilia blinked, returning to the present, looking at Triss, holding her in his arms once more, his face an image of despair and hopelessness.
    “Don’t die, Dilia,” Triss begged in vain, his eyes beginning to fill up with tears.  “I can’t go on without you…”
    “My time… is up, Triss.  I’m… I’m so sorry that… it should end… like this… fate… has turned its back on me… once and… for all.  But no matter what… I love you.”  Dilia’s voice was a sob now, crying, reluctant to leave the man she loved, but all the while knowing that it was inevitable.  “Triss.  Remember me,” she sighed.
    “Dilia!”  The Captain’s only thought was that of the woman he loved, unaware of anything else—including any dangers.
    A Shadowen climbed up onto the Ellcrys, thinking only of gaining a small measure of revenge against the mortals that had destroyed its brethren.  It was too weak to fight a healthy Elf, even with its magic, so one weakened would have to do.  The Elves were a sentimental race, after all, and the death of anyone would at least make some angry.
    Looking down, it found its target and stretched its claws outward.
    Red fire snaked out of it quickly, only a small stream but dangerous enough, striking a female Elf being propped up by another.  Then it fell down to watch from the bushes.
    Before Triss knew what was happening, Dilia Noh was dead, her arm dropping abruptly to her side, hanging limp, while those eyes, clear only moments ago, clouded over in death, rolling upwards.
    “Dilia,” Triss whispered, holding the body close.  “Dilia!” he said again, louder, as if the sound of her name could bring her back, waiting for a reply that would never come.  And then Triss realized the truth, and everything exploded inside of him, turning into a single, compact ball of fury.  He went into a frenzy, searching for the unlucky Shadowen that had killed his lover, slaying it instantly.  He looked for others like it, killing them, wrapped up in a strange feeling of power.  Triss stomped around like this for another ten minutes, before being confronted by someone only vaguely recognizable to him.  He raised his broadsword to attack, but the other’s hand stopped him, her eyes boring through him.  Her face was streaked with tears.
    “Triss.”  She spoke his name softly, meaningfully.
    He stared at her blankly, not recognizing her.
    She continued to look at him with that penetrating gaze, not saying another word.
    Triss shook his head, trying to clear it, then looked back at the other Elf, realizing who she was.  “Ellenroh.”
    “Calm down.  I… I know this has been hard, but… Dilia… she is dead.  Destroying other Shadowen like this is wild, and it will not bring… her back.  Just calm down… and think.  Stop this.  Please.”  Ellenroh began to cry silently, tears streaming down her face in small streams, dripping down onto her clothes.  She wiped her eyes, and said, “I have to go back to the palace to sort out everything…”  The queen left, leaving Triss alone to let him think.
    The battle-hardened Elf hung to the Ellcrys for support, all the while clinging to Dilia’s body.  Kneeling down in front of the tree, the Captain of the Home Guard wept.