William awoke the following day and found his throat was even more parched than last night. He was aching, and the sand covering him made him itch badly. Then he heard voices from somewhere. For a moment, he thought that Raynald had come ashore. Joy filled his heart. They would be rescued!

Then he heard the harsh voices in nature, and his joy turned to dread. They did not belong to humans. He could not understand their speech but forced himself to look around. The fire was nearly dead; the last of its embers were cooling. They should have left a watch.

Crawling past the fire, he shook Felix awoke. The boy opened his mouth, but William covered it with one hand, then motioned with his other hand down the beach. Even as he did so, a pack of satyrs came around the bend wielding weapons. They were drawing near at an alarming rate. They hadn't yet seen them and were talking freely in their tongue. Some looked as though they had been drinking.

"Come on," said William, "we'll make for the trees."

They crawled forward on hand and foot while staying as low as possible. Then, slipping beyond the trees, they hid there. Then Felix wiped the sleep from his eyes and swore. "As soon as they see our campfire and the sticks, they'll know we're here," he said. "Let's get some distance between them and us while we can."

"But what if Raynald saw us?" asked William. "We can't just move away from the shore."

"The satyrs saw us first," said Felix. "Now, come on."

They ran into the woods. Their bare feet were hurt on the gnarled roots of the trees. William felt lightheaded from lack of water, and his stomach growled from lack of food. The trees seemed to loom over them, and one of their branches somehow grabbed ahold of William as they moved. Struggling to break free of it, he could not untangle its claw-like branches from his sodden cloak.

At last, he snapped off the branches and moved on.

"One more sign for the satyrs to find us by," said Felix.

Then, suddenly, they heard drunken whoops and cheers toward the shore. Without a word, Felix sprinted away, and William ran after him. He ignored the agony of his feet, for the voices drew nearer, and he dared not look back.

The woods around him seemed to distort and change around them. The voices of the satyrs seemed to come everywhere and nowhere. The trees loomed higher and higher around them. The roots appeared to shift to grab their ankles. It was as if they had entered a realm of nightmares without a beginning or end. William realized they had no idea where they were going or what they would do if they escaped. That just made it all worse.

Then William tripped on a root and hit the ground, having the wind knocked from him. His chest ached, and his whole body was numb with the shock. For a moment, he struggled to stand. Then Felix was by his side, pulling him up, and they ran. William felt he might faint at any moment and risked a glance back. He could see the satyrs gaining on them.

One hurled a spear, and William ducked. The spear went over his head and plunged into a tree near him. A shadow passed overhead. It veiled the world in darkness, and the spear thrower screamed. William looked up to see blood streaming from his assailant's eyes. Then, the satyr was consumed in a violet flame.

William followed Felix up a hill. A tall white satyr dropped from above as they reached the top. It was the same one that had nearly killed them on the ship coming out of the treetops and landing before them. William froze in horror as he realized the satyrs had won. They had taken the boat and killed both Raynald and Rusara.

Both his mentors were dead.

No, it was impossible. The ships might have broken off; it must have been a stalemate. Before he could move, the white satyr grabbed him and Felix by the collar. It dragged them down the hill to throw at the feet of a short black female satyr. The white satyr said something on their tongue.

The black satyr nodded while she replied, then motioned to William and Felix. The other satyrs were on them with ropes in moments. First, William's hands were bound behind his back harshly, and he was forced to stand upright. His legs were also tied, and then they were carried on the shoulders of the satyrs through the woods.

They were jostled and battered as they lugged through the forest's darkness. Time stretched on as they went onward. It became darker and darker until he could hardly see anything save vague shapes. Not that it slowed the satyrs any. The trees did not seem to trip and bar their way as they had William and Felix.

It was midday by the time they emerged once more into the light. A bleak and horrible-looking place welcomed them, patrolled by archers. It was a village of raised buildings of wood built into the branches of trees. Shacks were on the ground, made from many ill-cut boards, with small windows. The streets were filthy, and at the center of the town, a festival of some kind seemed underway.

Satyrs were dancing in a circle, their bodies painted with red dye. They were clutching weapons and howled upwards. A group of seven dwarves clad in rags was chained to one side, and bonfires surrounded the ceremony.

At the very center stood an idol of Melchious. William had never seen an image of him before, but he knew him on sight. He was a humanoid creature with talons instead of feet. On his back were the wings of a hawk, and his head was that of a vulture. In one upraised hand, he held a longbow and in the other several barbed arrows. It was both horrible and fascinating at once.

William and Felix were thrown down to one side. The satyr warband that had captured them went to join in the festivities. For a while, they lay there. They observed the dances as the satyrs drank and performed unspeakable acts. Then, there was the ringing of a bell, and the rites halted. The dwarves were dragged forward by their chains, and the black satyr drew out a serrated knife. Getting behind one of the dwarves, she pulled back the dwarf's head by the hair and cut his throat.

Blood sprayed over the statue of Melchious, and cheers came from the satyrs. The black satyr went to the next dwarf and did the same to him. Felix averted his eyes, but William could not look away. He watched as, one by one, the dwarves were sacrificed and the statue stained red with blood.

When, at last, the dwarves were all dead, the satyrs rushed forward with knives. They butchered the bodies like livestock and roasted the meat over the bonfires. More alcohol was brought out, and drunken revelry overtook them.

Felix was throwing up. William felt his stomach churning but forced it down. He would not lose control. What was going to happen to them? Would they be eaten like cattle? William felt tears coming to his eyes, but he blinked them back. He would not cry before these creatures; he would not! William looked away in horror and pity for the dwarves as the sacrifices continued.

Time passed as the revelry continued well after the sun had set, and darkness lay over the land. Then, when the rites had concluded, and the satyrs were in a drunken sprawl, the black satyr kneeled by them.

"Who are you?" she asked in Harlenorian. "And where do you come from?"

William's every inch hurt. He had been drenched and half-drowned. He had been frozen and carried around like a sack and would probably die horribly. But somehow, he forced his way up to a kneeling position. He held himself with as much dignity as could be managed.

"I am the son of Duke Vanion Gabriel and the student of Raynald De Chevlon. They will come looking for me," he said.

The black satyr considered this. "This is a good fortune that Melchious brings to us. We are lucky to have found you before the other villages. You will undoubtedly be worth a great ransom when he is done with you." She looked up at the white satyr. "Doltier, take his majesty to a special cage."

Then she gripped Felix by the throat and drew him to eye level. Felix remained calm despite it all. "This one is the Calishan. Melchious' messenger said nothing of him. Take him to the sacrificial pit. We'll spill his blood for Melchious tomorrow night!"

"He is a trusted friend of mine," said William. "And where he goes, I go."

"You don't have a choice." laughed the black satyr. "Take them away!"

Melchious himself had sent the satyrs to capture him. And William knew precisely why. But how had he learned to attack Hrungeld's ship? And how could William save Felix and himself?