by Terry Brooks
It was becoming increasingly apparent that the chances were shrinking of finding their missing companions—if they were even still alive, which Crace Coram was beginning to doubt. Sooner or later, something bad was going to get one of them—or, more likely, both at once—and that would be the end. He kept his thoughts to himself, but they burned like live coals in the back of his mind.
Then, midway into the fifth day, Tesla Dart appeared.
They saw the small lizard first, a swift, momentary glimpse of it as it raced toward them and then away again. Because it was not threatening, they paid little attention. Even when it reappeared several hours later for a second look and a second quick disappearance, they barely gave it a thought. They were trudging along as before, trying to keep themselves alert enough to watch for predators, trying to stay focused in spite of the fact that their food had run out and their water was down to a single skin they had filled two days ago at a tiny stream where they saw other creatures drinking. They had ceased talking to each other except when it couldn’t be avoided, conserving their strength, knowing it was seeping away with each hour’s passing.
Oriantha was in the lead, as usual, having reverted to her lupine shape, her attention riveted on the landscape and the things that lived there. They had gone all morning without a threatening encounter, and there was reason to think they might reach nightfall without having to endure one. This day was darker than those that had preceded it, and a misty rain had been falling since first light.
They had just crested a low rise, climbing through jagged rocks and loose stones, when they first saw Tesla. Neither knew who or even what this new creature was, and they stopped where they were. Tesla was sitting just ahead of them, back resting against a stump, watching them. Crace Coram had the distinct impression that Tesla had been waiting for them, but he could not imagine how that could be. Even so, his hand tightened on his iron mace as he made a quick survey of his surroundings.
The creature rose and waved. “Greetings, friends of Straken Queen! Come speak with me.”
“Straken Queen?” the Dwarf muttered.
Oriantha had come loping back to him and was changing to her human self, her feral features fading as she stood upright once more. “Nothing hides here,” she said. “The girl is alone.”
“Girl?” He snorted. “How can you tell what that is?”
Oriantha gave him a look. “Who are you?” she called out to the creature. “Give us your name!”
“I am Tesla Dart! I am Ulk Bog. Like my uncle, Weka Dart? You know of him? Come here! I have searched for you for two days! What are you doing out here?”
The girl and the Dwarf walked over to her, and she rose to greet them—a mass of bristling black hair that seemed to grow in clumps, a gnarled body that was wiry and misshapen, and some very sharp teeth that revealed themselves when she attempted what appeared to be a smile.
“You are in dangerous country,” Tesla Dart advised, looking from one to the other. “You need to come with me.”
“Why were you searching for us?” Oriantha asked her. “How do you know of us at all?”
“The Straken Queen tells me you were lost. We looked for you, she and I and the others. For several days. But then I left them and went ahead to see if you were in a dragon’s lair. But you were not. So I know it is a different dragon that takes you away, even though I think it was this one. You can never be sure about dragons.”
“The Straken Queen?” Oriantha was suddenly animated. “You mean the Ard Rhys? Khyber Elessedil?”
Tesla Dart frowned. “She is the Straken Queen. She says not, but she is. These others, I don’t know of these names. But nothing matters now. They are all gone.”
Crace Coram exchanged a quick glance with Oriantha. “What do you mean?” he asked. “Gone where?”
The Ulk Bog wrung her hands in a peculiarly helpless fashion. “I tell them to wait for me. I tell them not to go anywhere until I come back. But the creatures that serve the Straken Lord come. His Catcher sees something that tells him they are close and is waiting for them. I wish to warn them, but I must hide until it is safe. But they do not wait as I say, and then they turn back. Tarwick is waiting. A trap.”
She clapped her hands together to demonstrate the trap closing, the emphasis clear.
“Are they dead?” Oriantha asked.
Tesla Dart nodded. “Dead. All but the Straken Queen and the boy. They are Tael Riverine’s prisoners now, taken by Tarwick to Kraal Reach. Lost to us.”
“All of the others dead?” the girl pressed. “All of the rest? You are certain of this?”
“Certain.”
Oriantha exhaled sharply. “Mother,” she whispered.
The Dwarf could not believe what he was hearing. The entire Druid expedition was gone? All those who had come with them through the cleft in the rock and the shimmer of light were dead save Khyber Elessedil and Redden Ohmsford? He felt his throat tighten and his stomach clench, and he saw again, clearly and unequivocally, how wrong it had been for any of them to come on this journey.
“Wait!” Oriantha said sharply. “You said it was Tael Riverine? The Straken Lord?” She had a frantic look in her eyes as she wheeled abruptly this way and that. “Where are we? What is this place?”
The Ulk Bog was taken aback. “Why do you ask such a stupid question? This is here! The land of the Jarka Ruus! We are the free peoples. Ca’rel orren pu’u!”
Crace Coram watched the shape-shifter’s young face undergo a terrible transformation. “Oriantha!” he snapped at her. “What’s happening here? I don’t understand any of this! Where are we?”
Austrum, who had been asleep for most of the discussion—exhausted from his efforts to find them—now woke up and wandered over. “What’s this all about?” he asked, looking from face to face. “Has something happened?”
The others hushed him, their collective attention on Crace Coram.
“You were inside the Forbidding!” Seersha exclaimed.
The Dwarf Chieftain nodded, the weariness returning to his face. “Oriantha said so. She learned the name from her mother. Jarka Ruus. The free peoples.” He shook his head. “There was no mistake.”
“Is my brother still in there?” Railing demanded.
“We couldn’t get to him. Tesla Dart said he had been taken with the Ard Rhys to the Straken Lord’s fortress at Kraal Reach. She said no one could get in there, not even with the use of magic. She told us we had to get ourselves out, that it would be hard enough just to do that.”
“And the rest are dead?” Skint pressed, his narrow features twisted in disbelief. “All of them?”
“Killed at one point or another along the way. Apparently Redden told this to the Ulk Bog.” He looked at Seersha. “It was suicide going in there. It was a mistake we should never have made.”
“Coming into the Fangs at all was a mistake,” she agreed. “But we’re here, and there’s nothing we can do about it.” She paused. “I want to get the rest of you safely away, but I have to go back for the Ard Rhys.”
“What are you talking about?” Skint demanded angrily. “Don’t you realize what’s happening? If the Forbidding is opened, it means the demons locked inside are breaking free! The Elves have to be told of this and then do something to stop it! And the other Races have to come together to defend the whole of the Four Lands in case doing something isn’t possible!”
A rush of objections and protestations followed, but Crace Coram quickly silenced them. “You had better hear the rest of my tale first. Then you might want to rethink everything.”
Tesla Dart led them on through the remainder of the day, still pointing toward the mountains, and found shelter for them for the night, kept watch while they slept, and at daybreak marched them ahead once more. She talked incessantly, mostly about Ulk Bogs and herself, but sometimes about the other peoples and the Straken Lord. She responded to questions, but her answers were frequently vague and meandering.
On one point, however, she was very
clear.
“The Straken Lord seeks Grianne Ohmsford and will not rest until she is his. If the woman he has now is not her, he is ut disonqjer—very displeased. He searches again, not just in the land of the Jarka Ruus. The wall of our prison comes down; everyone knows. Tael Riverine will lead his armies out and find the Straken Queen, wherever she is.”
“That might be difficult,” the Dwarf observed.
But before he could say more, Oriantha motioned for him to be silent. “She is the Straken Queen no longer. She lives in a faraway place now.”
Tesla Dart shrugged, her twisted features tightening. “Doesn’t matter. He finds her. He does not give up. He brings her back. His mind is set on this. She bears his children as his Queen. Tael Riverine is the Straken Lord. He has whatever he wants, and he wants her.”
The girl and the Dwarf exchanged a quick look, but said nothing. It would not help things if the Straken Lord were to learn that Grianne Ohmsford was dead.
Or was she dead? She had disappeared, but who knew what had become of her? Pen Ohmsford had gone with her on that last flight, but whom had he told of her fate? Did Khyber Elessedil know?
“I will lead you out,” Tesla Dart told them. “When you are free again, you find the Straken Queen Grianne and bring her. Let her face him. He will free the others, if you do.”
She paused, grinning broadly enough that all her teeth showed. “Then she can kill him and take his place!”
She scampered ahead at every opportunity, all energy and excitement,constantly moving, never still. Oriantha and Crace Coram followed dutifully, but with mixed emotions. Getting out of the Forbidding was a desperate need for both, but leaving Khyber Elessedil and Redden Ohmsford behind felt like a betrayal. Oriantha was grieving for her mother, and the Dwarf could tell she was tremendously shocked and distressed by the loss. He saw her cry only once, late at night, when she must have thought he was sleeping, and did not otherwise give herself away. But her grief was mirrored in her eyes and present in her voice, and though she might appear stoic otherwise she could not hide the truth from him.
Later that day Tesla Dart told them to wait and disappeared toward a cluster of hovels and outbuildings. Within minutes, she was back driving a wagon drawn by a pair of four-legged creatures that might have been horses but for their burly bodies, shaggy coats, and tusks. She urged them to climb aboard quickly, glancing back at the buildings from which she had driven away before whipping the creatures hard enough to send them galloping away into the haze.
A day later, after long hours of travel, they reached the place from which the Druid expedition had emerged from the shimmering light a week earlier. The mountains were still hazy and distant, and the gloom from clouds and shadows uniform across the landscape from horizon to horizon. Stiff and sore, Crace Coram and Oriantha climbed down from the wagon and faced Tesla Dart.
“Go quickly,” she said. “When you return, come here. The way will be open again. But for now, once you pass through, it will close behind you. It is the Straken Lord’s magic that makes this protection. Entry allowed, but no exit until later. Do you see?”
She brushed at the scrub of hair bristling from the top of her head, eyes shifting from one to the other. “Find the Straken Queen. Quickly. If you do not, Tael Riverine brings his armies into your land and finds her himself. He plans this already. His armies assemble already. Time is very short for you.”
“Why are you helping us?” Oriantha asked her.
The Ulk Bog looked confused. “Weka Dart is my uncle.”
Oriantha shook her head. “I don’t understand. What does he have to do with you helping us?”
“Weka was Straken Queen Grianne’s friend. He helped her escape. She said she would come back for him.”
“But what if she can’t come back for him?” Crace Coram interjected. “What if we can’t find her?”
Tesla Dart cocked her head, her strange face taking on an entirely new look. “Weka is dead. When the Straken Queen leaves him, he goes to hide in Huka Flats. But Tael Riverine hunts him down and kills him. Weka dies for helping her. Now she must come back and revenge him. This is a debt she owes.”
She pointed toward the shimmer of light. “Tell her my words. Tell her she must pay it.”
“So now we must find a dead woman in order to keep the Straken Lord from invading the Four Lands?” Skint summarized. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“The Ard Rhys is not necessarily dead,” Seersha said quickly.
“She’s not?” Railing asked in surprise. He had always thought she was. Both he and Redden had thought so.
Seersha made a dismissive gesture and shifted her gaze to Crace Coram. “What happened to Oriantha? Why isn’t she with you?”
The Dwarf shook his head. “She wouldn’t come. Right at the last, she said she was staying.”
“Why would she do that?”
“She said she was going back for the Ard Rhys and your brother.” He looked over at Railing and shrugged. “If you spent as much time with her as I have, you might understand the why of it.”
“She wants revenge for her mother,” Skint declared. “She’s going back to find Tael Riverine and kill him.”
Crace Coram nodded slowly. “That’s what Tesla Dart said. That’s why the Ulk Bog agreed to go with her.” He looked back at Seersha. “Madness.” He took a deep breath and exhaled wearily. “Do you have anything to eat?”
13
Still many miles to the east, Aphenglow and Cymrian flew the airship Wend-A-Way in search of the missing expedition. Using the vision revealed weeks earlier by the blue Elfstones, they had tracked their way across the Westland from Arborlon to the wilderness of the Breakline. Without any real idea of where the Ard Rhys and her party had flown, the pair were forced to rely entirely on Aphen’s memory. At least the landmarks shown by the vision had materialized as she remembered them, and they were now approaching a huge stretch of stone pillars that she recalled having glimpsed as the vision had moved her swiftly onward toward the shimmering waterfall. Her memory of this mist-shrouded marshland gave her no real idea of what she was to do once she reached this point, but it was enough to reassure her that, three days into their journey, they were still on course.
“I think we have to land Wend-A-Way somewhere in there,” she said to Cymrian, pointing ahead into the mix of pillars and mist. “If they were following the vision they will have done the same thing, and that’s where we will find them.”
He stood next to her in the pilot box, looking doubtful. The air was heavy and damp, and strands of his white-blond hair were plastered against his face. “Unless,” he answered carefully, “they have already moved on somewhere else.”
She shook her head. “No, the waterfall was in here. They had to pass through it on their way to finding the Elfstones, so they had to land and leave the ship. The Walker Boh is too large to have passed through the opening the vision showed me.”
“Big place,” he said, taking in the sweep of the marsh below. “Can’t see much of anything down there. This isn’t going to be easy. It will be dangerous to try to land the ship with all those stone spears waiting to tear her hull apart.”
He was right, of course, but she didn’t see that they had a choice. If the Walker Boh—a much larger vessel than Wend-A-Way—had done it, so could they.
She eased back on the thrusters and slowed the airship to a crawl. “Maybe it will clear as we get closer,” she said hopefully.
He glanced over, smiling. “Maybe. In case it doesn’t, I’m going forward where I can get a better look at what’s down there. Keep it slow. Watch for my hand signals.”
He left her, moving to the bow. She watched him go, thinking how hard this would have been without him. Once, in the beginning, she had tried to discourage his insistence on acting as her protector. Once she would have welcomed his decision to leave her. Now she had no idea how she would have managed without him. He was always there for her, ready to help when needed. He didn’t have to be as
ked; he anticipated what was required and provided it. He never seemed to want or even expected anything in return, not even a word of thanks. She couldn’t imagine why he was putting himself out this way when there was no reason for him even to be here, but she was grateful nevertheless.
Her thoughts drifted to Arlingfant, still back in Arborlon struggling with the terrible charge the Ellcrys had given her. She knew she must help her sister find a way to refuse it, but so far her efforts had failed. Nothing she had found in the Druid Histories offered a solution. Nothing she had found in the Elven archives or Chosen records had helped. She had come up with no answers on her own. Even talking about it with Cymrian—something she would never have done before now—had provided no useful answers. She was stymied at every turn and beginning to feel desperate.
But she had put all that aside for now, consigned to a compartment in the back of her mind where she could find it again after her present efforts were successful and the Druid expedition found. Perhaps the Ard Rhys would have something useful to suggest. Perhaps in discussion with the Elven High Council and the King, a solution might be found.
Although she could not help thinking that perhaps things had already gone beyond that, and that the loss of Paranor and the failing of the Ellcrys were symptomatic of much larger and more complex problems.
As the mist-shrouded stone pillars drew closer, she turned her full attention back to sailing Wend-A-Way. From the pilot box, she could see gaps in the hazy cover through which the floor of the wilderness was visible. All they needed, she thought, was just a glimpse of the Walker Boh. Then they could find a way to reach her.
