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stance—but he was barefoot, clad only in his nightshirt, holding only a silver belt in his hand. He felt helpless and naked as he glanced around, trying to find a branch or something to fight with.
    Overhead the greenish aurora, Lady Maire’s Veil, lit the clearing. Through a break in the trees, Delrael could see Steep Hill, on top of which stood the walled-in Stronghold. He had been somehow transported into one of the neighboring forest-terrain hexes. He hadn’t the slightest idea why.
    “Who’s there?” Delrael said quietly. Then, squaring his shoulders, he spoke in his loudest battle-commander voice. “I said who’s there!”
    After a moment he wondered if he should have said anything at all.
    The forest sounds vanished. It made Delrael wonder if all the creatures had some sort of rapport with … with whatever had brought him here. The trees stood completely still, then began to sway on the edges of the meadow. The wind picked up. Spangles of light wove in and out of the air, drawing rough shapes that towered impossibly high and yet might not have been there at all.
    Delrael blinked his eyes again and again. The outlines grew sharper, taking form as the breeze turned to a roar. The tree branches clattered and scratched against each other. Delrael’s brown hair blew back away from his face.
    He squinted into the stinging wind, but the white light grew brighter and brighter until it coalesced into three discrete forms, giant hooded shapes. They stood taller than the trees, stretching up toward the glowing aurora.
    “We are the Earthspirits. We have come back to save Gamearth. And you must help us.”
    Delrael didn’t know what to say. His jaw dropped. Vailret had told enough stories about the Transition—he knew how powerful the Spirits were. The wind rang in his ears. He thought he was shouting, but his voice felt pitifully small. His words sounded limp and inane even to him. “How can I help? Can you destroy Scartaris?”
    The Earthspirits paused at that, then spoke again in unison. “We have been gone too long. We are not aware of what has taken place since we departed.
    “We sought a way to escape from the Game, to leave the map behind and seek our own reality . We found ways to avoid the Rules, but we cannot break them entirely. We are bound to Gamearth—its Rules are fundamental to our existence.
    “The Deathspirits learned this, too, but they wish to embrace chaos. They would form their own Rules, make their own maps, Play their own new games.
    “They were our enemies in the Wars. We have not communicated with them since the Transition.”
    Silence hung in the wind for a moment.
    “But the Wars are over.” Delrael felt giddy at his own brashness for interrupting. “Scartaris is our enemy now, but we don’t stand any chance against him. Unless you can help.”
    Delrael shrugged off his doubts. No character ever won a gamble without first placing a wager.
    “Scartaris is … unknown to us. We do not know if we will win against him.” The Earthspirits paused a beat. “But if we are to fight , you must take us there.”
    Delrael stood straight, brushing the damp folds of his nightshirt. “Take you there? What do you mean? Can’t you just … go?”
    “We are bound by Rules of travel as are all characters on Gamearth. But it is much more difficult for us to cross hex-lines. We are not substantial enough.
    “Also, Scartaris has the power to destroy the map and end the Game any time he wishes. If he knows we are coming for him, he will not wait.”
    Delrael felt disappointed and helpless. “Why doesn’t he get it over with, then?”
    “The Outsider David is a vindictive one. He wants to make all characters watch the destruction of Gamearth first.
    “You must deliver us in secret. The Outsiders are not aware of our return to the world. They can know nothing of this quest. We are beyond them now—Gamearth has its own magic they do not realize.”
    Listening to the Earthspirits speak,