Taréz stood on a high hill over looking a broad meadow. He felt exposed, but he knew he was safe. Below, a battle raged, the red forces vastly outnumbered by theirs in the various blue, purple and yellow of the western kingdoms. It would have been beautiful if not for the fact that the red forces were battling to perserve his throne.
But the sounds were not beautiful. They never were. Elfmen were not meant to scream, but scream they did on both sides as they suffered mortal wounds. Beneath the screams was the clank of metal on metal, a random jumble of sounds
          that slowly became
                    more insistent,
                              regular
                                        and singular.
As he awoke, he realized that the clanging was the announcement of the approach of a rider. How long had the sun been up? He rolled his head to look at Pimber, but she wasn’t there. No surprise; she probably slipped away to her coach to head for the inn under cover of darkness.
It wasn’t very light outside. He pulled aside the covers and got out of bed. “Iyo?”
A rather short Vle entered the room with the royal robe. “Good morning, Sire. Did the bell wake you?”
“Yes, but it’s just as well. My dream was going sour. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know, Sire. Stecky is bringing a message to your father.”
“Hmm. News at this time of the morning is never good.” He went out the door toward his father’s chambers. Halfway there, Stecky came up the stairs. “What’s the news?”
“Good news, Sire. Gardric sent a report about his engagement with the humans.”
“Oh?” He followed the acting chamberlain into the room.
“Good news at this time of the morning?” asked the King. “Let us see.”
Stecky handed the scroll to the King, and Taréz read over his father’s shoulder.

Your Majesty,
I am pleased to report my success in repelling the humans. Their strategy had been to harry our coast with ships, and the large boomers mounted on them. The sea is quite shallow some distance out on both sides of the bottleneck, so I commandeered some merchant ships and attacked theirs by night. Their mission: to capture some of the boomers and leave the human ships in ruins. Success on both measures! I then had the boomers brought to the bottleneck.
I also loaded our forces on the commandeered ships and sailed to the western and eastern shores of the bottleneck, where the soldiers disembarked and attacked. Though outnumbered, we won by using the boomers against the rear of the human forces. We were thus able to prevent reinforcements from joining the battle.
I expect to have the peninsula retaken within two weeks.
Your Servant,
Gardric

“Well, the only thing worse than a Gardric is a Gardric with recent victories to brag about! I wonder how instrumental his secret weapon was.”
“It probably wasn’t,” answered Taréz. “It could be that those ‘boomers’ Gardric mentioned were a very good tool to use from outside the range of our secret weapon. That would then be threat number one.”
“So, maybe now that we have weapons, we won’t need the secret weapon?”
“That’s a good thought. I’m glad I’m leaving today.”
“So am I.”

Once again, Taréz found himself near the peninsula. But he had further to go this time; rumors he heard put the battle line anywhere from ten to forty leagues south of the narrowest point of the isthmus. This time, he rode into Hume. That would allow him to walk the main road south, quizzing whomever he might find going the opposite way. Plus, Gardric had mentioned sea battles in the message; maybe Taréz could watch a few.
But neither panned out. He saw no ships at all, and there wasn’t a soul on what should have been a very busy road. He’d expected the battle to reduce traffic, but not so completely!
Then he remembered that the territory he was walking in was more than 80% light Vle, and that most of them were already at the camp.
The sound of thunder was his first clue of his approach to a battle, this time. Since the sky was cloudless, he reasoned that he was hearing the ‘boomers’. Still, he continued on the road for another two leagues before heading into the forest.
He had a different reconnaissance plan this time. When he felt he was as close to the battlegreound as he dared get, he chose a tree. In his pack was a set of tree cleats, which he strapped to his hands and feet. Spread eagle, he headed up the chosen tree.
The trees over the battlefield would be crawling with spies, but only at the second canopy. He would need to be at the third canopy to be relatively safe. Fit as he was, he was breathing heavily by the time he got up that high. The next step was much more time consuming: Finding the command center. On his last foray, he’d walked right past it and never did find it. This time at least, he knew he was still behind it.
The branches overlapped well here, he noted, to his benefit. He started searching in a spiral pattern, always looking out for other Vle. If he met any at this level, he’d know he was close. And, sure enough, he did see an Vle on the ninth tree.
A light Vle.
That was significant. A dark Vle up at this level would be looking for counterspies trying to get around the second canopy spies. The humans weren’t known to be aware of the tree spying tactic, however, plus their physical form made climbing trees next to impossible for them. So, finding a human up here would be unlikely. But the presence of the light Vle meant that they were aware of the tactic.
He spotted another light Vle in the adjacent tree, but what the first lightie did surprised him: he came around to the prince’s side of the tree and hid.
Taréz crept up the tree toward the hiding Vle, who seemed unaware of the approach. Then came another surprise: with a few soft vocal notes, the bark of the tree opened. The hiding Vle further ensconced himself in the hole, and then the hole closed.
Taréz froze. A treesinger. Conceivably, the light Vle could move the hole to where the prince perched, open the hole, and attack! Three hundred heartbeats later, however, no attack had come, and he felt safe again. He looked around carefully, and, seeing no evidence of the second light Vle, he continued his spiral pattern.
The sound of battle began to fade with the light in the forest. Far above him, the sun still lit the highest leaves, but on the ground below, it was getting difficult to see. So, Taréz headed upward to the very highest canopy. There, he slung his tent and sleeping bag, to wait out the night.
At least he wouldn’t have to worry about curious humans in the early morning.

He woke with the sun, long before any of the light reached the ground. But, as was the pattern, the battle had already begun. Quickly, and without breakfast, he struck his hanging camp and headed down. Right then would be best time to see the secret weapon at work, if he was lucky. He continued his spiral pattern.
There were no spies at first, but as his oppportunity slipped by, he did come across some. Mostly, they preferred to remain as hidden as the the prince himself.
He also noted that the spiral was getting very ineffective at the north end, and even less effective at the south end. So, he adjusted it, so that he was now traveling in ovals, going a little bit further south each time.
Still nothing.
When the sun was at its northernmost point, he finally decided to take a break. This he did in the fourth canopy. It was a simple meal of dried thaleberries and rabbit jerky, but it sufficed to quiet his stomach.
Just as he was repacking his backpack, a hole in the tree opened.
He froze.
The light Vle inside came out, almost cavlierly. “I’ve been watching you,” he began.
“That is what spies do.”
“Yes. But I found your behavior interesting. Trained spies don’t move in patterns.”
“I was pressed into service.” Taréz maintained calm in his voice, but couldn’t keep out the skepticism. If he was so predictable, why didn’t this light Vle kill him? In a forest battle, it wasn’t unusual to see a spy come crashing to the ground, dead.
“I don't think so. I think you’re a counterspy, of some sort. You’re looking for something.”
“What is it to you?”
“I was thinking we might work together.”
“Sorry, I’m not a traitor.”
“No, but you don’t hate light Vle. You don’t kill them.”
Taréz refused to be prodded for information. “Again, I ask, What is it to you?”
“I want to find out why our troops can’t fight for more than two hours without getting lethargic. To do that, I have to find command central. And you’re searching for that, as well.”
Right then Taréz wished he hadn’t been the only person available for the job. “Now tell me why I shouldn’t just kill you for a spy.”
“Because you're untrained. You need my help, however loyal you wish to be.”
Burn it! This Vle was good. “And if I’m so untrained, what help can I be?”
“You can identify who’s who.”
“You know you’re asking too much. You’ll just return with assassins.”
The light Vle didn’t respond at first, which was all the affirmation Taréz needed.
“What if you only identify the mage for me?”
“The what?!” Tarez's eyes felt as if they were popping out. How much did the light elves know, how did they know, and most of all, that a mage existed among the dark Vle...
“Oh, come now, you can’t tell me you don’t know what’s been going on.”
The spy was right. Taréz couldn’t tell him that, even though it was true. “You have a deal.”
“Glad to hear it. Come.”
As Taréz followed, he mulled over what this spy had said. Not that a spy could be trusted, but it fit the facts. Magic! The Great Master himself had proclaimed against its use. While no one was ever stoned for using magic any more, it was illegal, and contrary to all codes of war.
Where would Gardric have found even one mage, let alone enough for every front?!
Taréz was glad for his impatience— for it helped him keep up his ‘partner’s’ pace. Until he actually saw the mage, however the Vle might look, he couldn’t quite believe it to be true.
It was a long path to the command center, especially since the spy refused to travel in even an approximately straight line. Suddenly, as the sunlight began to fade below, the spy stopped. “We’ll camp here and look in the morning.”
“What?! I have a mission to accomplish!”
“Well, you’re not going to accomplish it in the dark.”
“What kind of spy are you? Now’s the perfect time.”
“Wrong! This is the worst time. Their- your- spies get thicker, because they think this is the perfect time. Not to mention all the troops coming back to report, and such. More eyes and ears. By the Great Master are you lucky I came along!”
Taréz couldn’t disagree, but it darkened his heart. There was a prayer to be said, a dilemma to be solved tonight. The spy tried to make whispered conversation, over dinner, but the prince spared no thought for response.
He hardly slept a wink.