by Terry Brooks
“I want us out of here by nightfall,” Oriantha insisted.
“I want us out of here forever!” the Ulk Bog snapped in reply.
It was midafternoon when they reached the rim of a crater-shaped valley that dropped away in a huge, sweeping bowl, its slopes rock-strewn and chopped apart by twisting defiles. The valley floor stretched away for perhaps a mile, all of it riven with jagged cracks and littered with boulders and clumps of thick scrub. It was a stark, desolate landscape, an arena poorly carved by ancient cataclysms and the passing of time, rough-hewn but immediately reminiscent of the place where Redden had watched Khyber Elessedil do battle with Tael Riverine. When he made the connection, a deep shudder went all through him, and he wrenched his gaze away and concentrated on the ground in front of him.
“What is that?” Oriantha asked Tesla Dart.
The Ulk Bog glanced over and shook her head. “Kroat Abyss. Very bad. You don’t go there. Dangerous things.”
They kept walking, glancing over now and then to the valley. “Who was Kroat?” the shape-shifter pressed.
“Straken Lord, very early. One of first. Drilled down for place to keep the bad things collected.”
“The bad things. What sort of bad things?”
“Elf magic, talismans and sorceries used against the Jarka Ruus in ancient wars. Locked away with us, these ones, when we were imprisoned. But no one knows their power, no one knows how to use, afraid to try.” She gave them a sly look. “Weka touched them and no harm came to him, he told. But Straken Lords keep such for themselves, not let others come close. Weka not like others. Weka knows all the secrets of the lands, all the hiding places, all the treasure chambers and tombs and keeps. So he visits and looks.”
She gestured at the valley. “Takes me there, once. Long ago. So long. I was still learning. Just a girl. Takes me down into darkness and shows me what is there. Things of the Old World. Of when Jarka Ruus were one with Faerie. Long since gone.”
Redden, who had been only half listening before, suddenly realized what he was hearing. He stopped where he was. “What did you say?” he asked sharply. “Things of the Old World?”
The other two stopped and turned back to him. “No, Redden,” Oriantha said in warning. She was already sensing what was coming.
“Were there pretty stones?” he asked, ignoring her. “Did Weka show you colored stones?”
“Some,” said the Ulk Bog. “In a box, locked up. Pretty stones. Different colors.”
“Were they in sets of three?” he pressed, moving over excitedly.
“Redden, stop it!” Oriantha snapped.
Tesla Dart glanced over at her, and then looked back at the boy. “Sets of three. Red. Green. Another two. Yellow, maybe?”
“Four sets, four colors? You saw these stones? They were down there?”
“Saw them like I see you. Took them out of the case and held them in my hands. Pretty in the light. Glittered and shined. But they were only stones, not magic. Nothing happened. I put them back.”
“Shades!” Redden breathed, turning to Oriantha. “Do you believe it? We’ve found the missing Elfstones!” He held up his hands as she started to object, giddy with excitement. “No, listen to me. This is a miracle. We had the chance to find them all along; we just didn’t know it. Tesla Dart knew where they were. She knew! But she didn’t know we were looking for them because we didn’t say anything about it. We just told her we were trying to find friends that had been carried off by a dragon. We didn’t tell her why we were inside the Forbidding in the first place. We didn’t say what we had really come looking for!”
“Redden, what difference does it make now? That search is ended!”
“Only because, until this moment, we had no place to look. We didn’t know where to go. Only Khyber knew anything, and she took that knowledge with her when she died. But think about it! Tesla Dart knows this information, too. She can take us down there into that pit. We can still find the Elfstones and bring them back out again!”
Oriantha stared at him. “Listen to yourself. How many are dead already because they thought they could find the missing Stones? How many, Redden? Now you want to risk our lives, as well? You want to forget about getting out of here, about finding a way back to your brother? You want to go hunting for the Elfstones, too? You must be out of your mind!”
Redden stepped forward so that he was right in front of her.
“I need to do this. Do you understand me? I need to. I’ve watched everyone die—and most of them right in front of me. I watched Carrick die. I watched the Ard Rhys die at the hands of Tael Riverine. All of this happened because of the search for the Elfstones—I understand that. But if we now have a chance to find the Stones and bring them back into the Four Lands—to finally do what we set out to do—don’t we have an obligation to try? It would provide some small vindication for what’s been sacrificed. It would prove that those who are gone didn’t die for nothing!”
Oriantha shook her head. “No. It was madness before, and it is madness now.”
“But we’ve suffered so much! The Druids are mostly dead; the order is destroyed. Your mother is dead. My brother may be dead, too. The search was a disaster. If we could get possession of the Elfstones, at least we would have something to show for all that.” He shook his head and stared at the ground. “I am not going back without trying. I can’t. I won’t ever be the same if I give up on this chance. I have to try to find a way back to who I was before all this began. Maybe I can do that if we recover the Stones.”
Oriantha folded her arms. “The Elfstones have been the cause of everything bad that has happened. Why do you think it would be any different now? Insisting on this just gives you one more chance to kill yourself and take us with you. I risked my life to break you free of that cage. Was it all for this? To have you take up right where you left off and in the end die anyway?”
“But what if all that is behind us?” He wheeled on Tesla Dart. “Are you sure the Elfstones are still down there, in this underground storage chamber? Can we find a way down there like you did?”
She looked from him to Oriantha and back again, clearly uneasy. “Stairs take you down—a long way down. But the stones are there. No one touches Old World magic, not even Tael Riverine. We can do, can go, if you want.”
“Does something guard the magic? Are there creatures watching over it? Is it dangerous down there?”
“Nothing guards. Nothing watches. It is a dead place with dead things from a dead world. Only the Straken Lord goes. And Weka, too, once upon a time. Now, you maybe.”
“You see?” Redden turned back to Oriantha. “We can do this! If we bring back the Elfstones, it will mean we didn’t fail entirely. You must see it. We can’t let this chance pass! We have to take it. We have to at least have a look!”
She glared at him. “You were the one who claimed to be falling apart. You were the one who insisted we had to be out of the Forbidding by day’s end. Remember?”
“But knowing the Elfstones are down there changes everything. Now we have a real purpose in being here, one that doesn’t involve running and hiding and fighting to stay alive. We have a chance to bring back the most important magic in Elven lore.”
“Bringing back the Elfstones won’t bring back the Ard Rhys or my mother. It won’t bring back any of them. The past is done. You understand that, don’t you?”
Redden took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. He could feel this opportunity slipping away from him, and he couldn’t stand the thought of it. Oriantha was determined not to go, and if she didn’t she probably wouldn’t let him go, either. She was too invested in saving him, had given up too much to bring him back to his family. He understood what that meant, and he knew he wouldn’t fight her.
But if that happened, he would never recover from what he had gone through. He could sense it—and not just in an offhand way, but deep down inside where the pain never quite goes away. Doing this, giving it at least a chance, would help him heal. It would l
end him the emotional strength that had been steadily eroding all during his imprisonment and systematic incapacitation.
He met Oriantha’s hard stare squarely. “What if the Elfstones could be used to help us defend against the Straken Lord’s invasion? What if one of those sets has the power to negate the size and numbers of his army—maybe even to destroy it? Would it be worth it then?”
“We don’t know what the Stones can do, Redden.”
“But if we had them in our possession, we might be able to find out. We would have four chances to find a magic that would make a difference. Isn’t that worth the risk?”
She continued to stare at him, saying nothing.
“We just need someone with Elven blood to wield the Stones,” he continued. “Even I would do! I’m more than half Elf. My mother’s blood is Elven; my father had some small portion of Elven blood, as well. I could try to use them.”
Oriantha sighed wearily. “You are determined, aren’t you? Even given the probable danger. Even knowing that it might all come to nothing. Your stubbornness exceeds your fears and doubts and your need to escape this place.” She shook her head. “Hard to believe.”
He almost laughed. “No harder to believe than anything else that’s happened. It’s just another part of the madness we’ve been struggling with since we left Bakrabru. But this, maybe, will lead to something good. For me, it means finding a way to live with what’s happened. It means putting an end to this whole business. I have to try.”
She shook her head in despair. “You won’t let go of this, will you?” She gave a deep sigh. “All right. Maybe there’s something in what you say. We’ll give it a try.”
She held up one hand quickly as she saw the look of joy on his face. “But here are my terms. If something dangerous wards the treasure of the Old World and I decide we are overmatched, we come back out. If we fail to find the Elfstones quickly or are not able to free them from their chamber, we come out. Tesla Dart, how do we see anything once we’re down there?”
“Torches,” the Ulk Bog said. She looked at Redden. “I know how to go, the way down and out again. I can lead us. Let me watch for dangers, use Lada to help.” She looked back at Oriantha. “Agreed?”
The shape-shifter nodded. “Agreed.” She glanced over at the valley and its black pit, then over her shoulder, already looking for the pursuit she knew would be coming. “Against my better judgment.”
They left the valley rim and started down a brush-covered slope that provided handholds as they went. Tesla Dart made the choice of approach, offering a dozen reasons why others wouldn’t work, most having to do with hidden dangers involving poison and teeth. Oriantha didn’t argue. It was bad enough that they were going at all, but once the decision had been made she was not about to start second-guessing. This was the Ulk Bog’s country, and she knew it better than the outlanders. Oriantha decided the best use of her time was in keeping watch for danger.
Slipping and sliding down patches of loose rock and dry earth, grabbing one clump of brush and then reaching for the next, using outcroppings of rocks for footrests and handholds where the brush was sparse, the trio made a torturous descent into the valley. Daylight was fading quickly now, the already pale gray light darkening by the minute as the skies lost what little glow they offered and shadows spread in sweeping pools that soon covered everything. Visibility diminished to a point where Oriantha was left feeling adrift, but it seemed not to bother Tesla Dart at all. Lada had disappeared early on, skittering away at the beginning of things, a flash of color disappearing into the brush. Apparently, the Chzyk was out there somewhere, scouting the way forward, but Oriantha couldn’t prove it.
She glanced often at Redden Ohmsford. The transformation was astonishing. From beaten down and discouraged to reenergized and eager; it was as if he had been newly made. Before, he couldn’t stand being inside the Forbidding and wanted only to get out again. Now he seemed to have lost his sense of despair and his fears, and his thoughts were dominated by what he saw as the very real possibility that he could find and carry away the treasure they initially had come searching for. Admittedly, it was an astonishing prospect. That, after all that had happened, they should actually lay hands on the missing Elfstones was beyond belief. In truth, all of them had long since forgotten or at least set aside the original purpose for their quest. No one had given thought to it since the destruction of the company and discovery that the demons were breaking free of the Forbidding. There had seemed no reason for doing anything else. Redden was right: They had lost their way and believed they had no real chance of finding it again.
Now this.
Fate worked in mysterious ways. Oriantha understood that much about life, and her own strange history convinced her that the future was unpredictable and the past often shrouded in confusion and mystery. But what was happening now, undertaking this effort to find what had seemed forever lost, surpassed everything she knew.
“Can you see anything?” Redden asked Tesla Dart, his voice a whisper.
“Can see everything,” the answer came back. “Night eyes are Ulk Bog’s friends. Nothing hides. We are safe.”
Oriantha doubted that, but then she harbored so many doubts anyway that one more hardly mattered. It had been her plan for them to reenter the Forbidding and escape swiftly—not to veer off on an unexpected quest that she could not help thinking would be a failure. But no one’s plans had worked out as intended since the moment they had set out from Bakrabru. Mostly, they had just muddled through, trying to do the best they could.
Minutes later they reached the floor of the valley and started across the shattered terrain toward the dark pit that would take them down inside the earth. She kept her eyes directed ahead, scanning for whatever waited.
But as the Ulk Bog had said, there was nothing to see.
26
How could this have happened?
Aphen screamed the question in the silence of her mind, its echo reverberating as she fought to regain her composure. She had never trusted Edinja Orle, not even when the sorceress was helping them escape Arishaig. She had wondered then if Edinja had something to gain by giving them her airship and sending them on their way so willingly. Given what she knew, it seemed wrong to believe the other woman could change so abruptly from an enemy to a friend.
But there was no indication of an ulterior motive and seemingly no earthly way she could do them harm once they were away from her.
Now Aphen knew better.
“How did you find us?” she asked.
Edinja gave a small shrug. “I never lost you. Not as long as you kept your sister close, which I knew you would. She is fitted with my marker, a bit of magic buried beneath the skin of her neck, there in the hairline where it can’t be seen. Had you searched her thoroughly, you would have found it. But I knew you wouldn’t do anything like that where dearest Arling was concerned.”
“You tracked us as soon as we left, didn’t you?”
“Shortly after. I used the second Sprint. Arishaig was doomed by then. Even I knew that. There was no reason to stay once it became apparent. Besides, I had plans of my own that were more important than going down with the ship. I might be Prime Minister of the Federation, but I am not required to sacrifice myself when the cause is lost.”
Aphen was thinking desperately of what she might do to turn the situation around. Edinja’s knife was perilously close to ending Arling’s life. A single swipe of that blade across her sister’s throat, and there would be nothing anyone could do. In which case, the Ellcrys could not be renewed and none of them would be saved.
But Edinja must know this, too. Would she really kill Arling if they came at her? What was she trying to do?
Aphen glanced sideways at Cymrian. He seemed at ease, but she knew he was looking at a way to get at the sorceress. The difficulty with this lay not only in the danger to Arling but also in the closeness of Cinla, who was crouched down and ready to spring. He might try to reach Edinja, but the big cat would be
on him before he completed his first step.
“Hold your light steady,” Edinja said to Arling, tightening her hold on the girl. “Point it where I can see everything they are doing. No tricks. If you drop the light or try to switch it off, I will cut you.”
Arling’s features tightened. “You won’t do anything to me. If you do, you doom us all. I have the quickened seed of the Ellcrys. I am the only one who can send the demons back to where they came from. You don’t dare harm me.”
Edinja’s strange green eyes glistened. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that. You don’t even know what it is that I want yet. It would be better for you if you wait to hear me out before you risk your life in a foolish effort to escape.”
“Stay still,” Aphen said to her sister. “Let’s hear what she has to say.”
Arling—the new, hardened version of Arling, unpredictable and volatile—did not seem convinced, and for a moment Aphen thought she would abandon caution and do what she so clearly wanted to do. She would wheel back on Edinja, knife or no knife, and claw her eyes out.
“What is it you are trying to do?” Aphen asked quickly, hoping to forestall any reckless attempts of that sort. She continued to look into Arling’s eyes, hoping her sister would remain calm.
“Are you ready to listen to what I have to say?” Edinja replied. “You might be surprised by what you will learn.” She tilted her head sideways. “Move over there.”
She wanted Aphen and Cymrian to shift away from where they stood between her and the passageway leading out. They hesitated only a moment, then moved over as directed. Edinja shuffled Arling several steps over until she stood where the way was clear.
“Now let’s all be very quiet while I talk.”
She forced Arling to sit on one of the stone benches while she stood over her, one hand gripping her hair, pulling back the girl’s head, the other keeping the blade of the knife pressed up against her throat.
