by Terry Brooks
There was no question that Arling was hiding something. But Edinja wasn’t sure what. She’d admitted to having a sister and had been straightforward enough about what had happened to them in Drey Wood, but there was something else going on, something Edinja didn’t yet understand.
She took a moment to recall what the captain of her warship had reported on arriving back from Drey Wood. They had engaged the Elven ship in combat after tracking it, losing it and finding it again, and then they had brought it down. Stoon and the mutants had left the ship to track down the survivors, but none of them had returned. Finally, not wanting to go himself—Edinja’s interpretation of things from the way the captain squirmed while telling this part of his story—he had dispatched two members of his crew. When they returned, they told him that Stoon and all three mutants were dead, and their uneasy looks and whispers made it clear that they were done with this business.
But then, just as they were preparing to lift off, a husband and wife had appeared with a wounded Elven girl lying in the bed of a cart. The couple, clearly farmers or foragers, had asked if the captain knew the girl or could take her to people who did. The man, in particular, seemed anxious to have her out of the way. The captain, not entirely a fool, realized what he had—one of the two Elessedil sisters whom they had been hunting. He might have gone back to look for the other or their protector, but he would have had to go himself at this point because his crew had already made it plain that they were having none of it.
Deciding, therefore, that a bird in the hand was worth more than the two still in the bush, he had carried the girl aboard and headed for home.
But Edinja had warned the captain personally before he had set out that she wanted both women alive and under her control. He had been charged with making certain this happened, even if Stoon did not. So his assumption that she would settle for half a loaf was a big mistake.
Still, there was nothing to be done about it now. While she had expected to have both sisters brought to her—she didn’t care one way or the other about their protector—she would have to settle for the one. Because of her age, she knew the one she had must be the younger, the one that was a Chosen in service to the Ellcrys.
Arlingfant.
That meant she wasn’t the one carrying the Elfstones. The older one—Aphenglow, the Druid—would be doing that. So why was this one so concerned about her clothes and her pack? The clothing had been searched and discarded. But the pack was missing, lost or left behind. Had there been something of value in it?
She would have to wait to find out. For now, the girl would sleep, and the drug Edinja had added to her water would do its work.
She thought momentarily about Stoon. She would miss him in some ways, but none that truly mattered. He had his uses and his strengths, but didn’t they all? She would have had to rid herself of him sooner or later, and she always felt bad about having to do it herself. This time it had been someone else’s doing, and even though she had always known it would end like this, she could take some comfort in the fact that she hadn’t been the one to wield the weapon.
What she wondered now was whether or not the older sister and her protector were dead, too. That would prove more troublesome because it meant the Elfstones were likely lost, as well. And she would have to send someone back into Drey Wood to the wreckage of the Elven vessel to search for the bodies of the Druid and the Elven Hunter and the talismans, as well. She was already thinking of whom she might choose to do this.
Once, the choice would have been easy. It would have been Stoon.
“Poor Stoon,” she murmured.
She went off to prepare for the girl’s awakening—if she had calculated her dosages right, it would be about an hour from now—knowing that her approach must change. But first she would feed Cinla her favorite treats.
Arlingfant didn’t know how long she slept after the nameless woman who was caring for her had left, but when she woke again the woman was sitting on the bed beside her. “There you are,” she said. She smiled, but there was no warmth in the expression. “Tell me your name.”
“Arlingfant Elessedil,” Arling replied at once, even though she hadn’t intended to.
“And your sister’s name?”
“Aphenglow Elessedil.”
“And your protector’s name? The Elven Hunter who accompanied you on your journey?”
“Cymrian.”
She couldn’t seem to help herself. Whatever the woman wanted to know she was willing to tell her. No, it was more than that. She needed to tell her. She was compelled to answer, and answer truthfully. She was horrified. Why was she doing this?
“It’s the drink I gave you,” the woman said, noticing her change of expression. “It puts you to sleep, and when you wake you find yourself unable to do anything but speak the truth. It’s a combination of drugs and magic I concocted some time ago. Rather useful.”
She leaned forward, the smile gone. “So we can dispense with games and get on with being truthful with each other. You know who I am, don’t you? You must have suspected, and now there can be no doubt. Say my name.”
“Edinja Orle.”
“There, that wasn’t so hard. Now all the introductions and identities are out in the open. Are you thirsty?”
“Yes,” Arling replied, cringing. She said it because it was the truth, but she didn’t want any more of what Edinja had already given her.
The sorceress rose, walked back to the table, and poured a fresh cup of water. She glanced over her shoulder at Arling. “This isn’t what you drank earlier. This is pure. Untreated. You’ve had enough of the other to serve my purposes. Do you still want it?”
“Yes.”
Arling took the water and drank it down, suddenly desperate to cool her throat. She hated what was happening, what this woman was doing to her, but she couldn’t make herself stop responding.
Edinja sat down again on the side of the bed. “Now tell me what was in your pack that you don’t have with you anymore.”
Arling fought to keep from giving the answer. “I don’t have a pack.”
“Yes, I know. You lost it or left it behind or whatever. What was in it?”
“Nothing.”
Edinja was momentarily confused, but only momentarily. “Never mind the pack. What were you carrying that matters so much to you?”
Now Arling had no choice. The words came unbidden. “A seed from the Ellcrys tree.”
Edinja stared. “How did you come by such a seed? Why would you have something like that in your possession?”
“The seed was given to me by the tree.”
“For what purpose?” Suspicion reflected in Edinja’s eyes now. “Why would the tree give you its seed?”
Arling hiccuped when she tried to change the answer she was compelled to give. She was suddenly having trouble completing her sentences, the result, she assumed, of her efforts not to say anything. “The Forbidding is failing and the demons imprisoned … are breaking free. The Ellcrys … must be renewed by the magic of the Bloodfire. I have been chosen … to make this happen.”
A long silence followed. Edinja looked away and then back again. “How did this happen?”
Arling didn’t know what to say, the words catching in her throat. Edina reached out and slapped her hard across the face. Arling jerked away. “The tree is dying! She must … renew.”
The sorceress rose and stalked about the room for a time, stopping once to pull back the curtains and peer out the window. “What happens if the seed does not reach this Bloodfire you speak about? What happens if the tree dies?”
Arling had lowered her head in shock from the slap, her eyes filled with tears. “Then the creatures of Faerie … imprisoned there … come back out into the Four Lands.”
“They would kill us all if that happened, wouldn’t they?” Edinja murmured, mostly to herself. “Can the Druids stop this from happening?”
“No.”
“Only this seed you carry can stop it?
&nbs
p; “Yes.”
“Except you’re not carrying the seed anymore, are you? Where is it?”
Arling shook her head. “I don’t know. I had it … before the crash. Now it’s gone. I thought … you took it.”
Edinja turned away. “Someone took it. That much is true.” She walked away again, then turned around slowly. “Let’s consider your sister’s situation. If she’s alive, what will she do once she finds you missing?”
Arling squeezed her eyes shut as she gave her answer. “She will come looking … for me.”
“Exactly what I thought. She will come looking for you. A smart young woman with Druid skills and magic. She will figure out where you are and come to Arishaig to rescue you. From me.” She laughed. “Won’t that be convenient?”
Arling lurched up on one elbow, fighting to hold on to the words she wanted to speak. “Don’t hurt … her. Don’t.”
Edinja walked over and pushed her back down again. “You should be worried about yourself instead of your sister. You should be worried about what might happen to you.”
“If anything happens … to me, the Ellcrys … dies.”
Edinja made a dismissive gesture but said nothing. Arling swallowed hard. “Doesn’t the captain … or any of those … who brought me here know what happened … to the seed? Or to my sister?”
“Perhaps.” The sorceress pursed her lips as if considering. “They said nothing of it to me, but they might be hiding something. Frightened men often do that. Should we go and find out? At least you could be doing something useful while we wait for your sister to appear. I think you can handle doing this much to help move things along, don’t you?”
She hauled Arling out of bed by sheer force, bundled her into a robe, and put slippers on her feet. She was strong for someone so slight and managed the task easily. With her arms locked about the girl, she guided her from the room and down the hallway to where a panel in the wall concealed a massive iron door that opened into the interior of the building. A stone stairway spiraled downward into darkness and disappeared into a pool of impenetrable gloom.
Edinja gave Arling a friendly squeeze, as if they were close friends off on an adventure. “I don’t think you’re ready to attempt such a dangerous descent without help, let alone make the long climb up again after we’re done. I’ll have you carried.”
She reached into a niche beside the doorway and produced a small bell. Holding it out over the stairwell, she rang it three times. Then she returned the bell to the niche. Together the sorceress and the girl stood waiting.
A flaring of torchlight within the darkness accompanied a slow tromping of footfalls.
When the creature appeared, Arling very nearly bolted. It was vaguely human, but mostly something less—a huge semi-human with blunted features and listless movements. It climbed into view with slow, measured steps, as if repeating from clouded memory a process it had gone through many times but did not entirely understand. It did not glance up at them or seem to look anywhere at all. It carried its torch held out before it, but stared straight ahead as if light were unnecessary. There was an emptiness to its gaze that was frightening.
Edinja said something to the creature in a language that Arling had never heard. Then, after passing the torch to the sorceress, it abruptly picked up Arling without even looking at her. Cradling her in its huge arms, it began to descend the stairs once more. Arling, too frightened to struggle, let herself be borne into the depths of the building.
Edinja walked in front of them, holding up the torch so that the gloom was at least partially dispelled. “Stay calm,” she said to the girl. “He won’t hurt you.”
Arling didn’t believe this for a moment, but she was still too weak to do anything to help herself, and certainly nothing that would allow her to escape. So she steeled herself and kept her eyes averted from her bearer’s blank expression and empty eyes.
The descent seemed to take forever, each step measured by another footfall. At the bottom of the stairs they passed down a corridor that ended at a huge iron door. Arling could hear sounds from behind the door—grunts and squeals and guttural mutterings that suggested things more animal than human.
Edinja touched a series of studs on the door, and it swung open with a ponderous groan.
Arling gave a small gasp.
The room was cavernous and gloom-filled, but there was no mistaking its purpose. Chains hung from racks, and cages lined the walls. Metal tables were scattered across the room, many with sharp blades and tools of extraction resting on their bloodied surfaces. Fluids ran down funnels into drains and buckets. More creatures resembling the one that bore her were shambling about the room, moving slow-footed and witless. In the back of the room, men in cages screamed and begged, gripping the bars or sagging in postures of hopeless dejection.
Edinja directed the creature carrying Arling to the back of the room where the cages holding the screaming, moaning men were bolted to the floor. They saw her approach and began calling out to her: Lady, Mistress, please help me! Release me and I will never return. Please, I beg you, let me go. What wrong have I committed? Why am I here?
They seemed to be addressing Arling, their attentions turned to her rather than to Edinja, their hands reaching through the bars as if to grasp at the chance they thought she offered.
“Here are the members of the ship’s crew, the ones who brought you to me, eager to be of service.” Edinja motioned for the creature to put Arling down. “Ask them what you wish. If they have an answer, they will be most willing to give it to you.”
Arling was so horror-stricken she could barely get the words out. “Why are they here? What have they done?”
“They disobeyed me. This is what happens to those who don’t do as I ask.” Edinja seemed impatient. “Now, don’t waste my time. I brought you here so you could find out something about your sister. This is your chance. Ask your questions.”
Arling turned to the men. “Do any of you know what happened to my sister? Or to the other Elves?”
The muttering was pronounced. Nothing, Lady. They are fine and well! No, they weren’t even there! We never saw them! They must be safe by now! They killed those creatures we brought aboard—they looked like this one. And the man Stoon. We saw them dead, my mate and I. No one else! Please! Believe me!
So it went, words spoken in desperation, answers tinged with fantasy and lies, all of it useless. Arling turned away. “Can they be set free?” she asked Edinja without looking at her.
The sorceress shrugged. “I will give it some thought.”
But she wouldn’t. Arling could tell from the way she said it. “Can I speak with the captain of the ship?”
Edinja Orle gave her a sympathetic look. “That might be rather difficult.”
She took the girl by her arm and steered her across the room to a table. Another of the creatures was fastened to it, bound by leather straps, limbs splayed across its metal surface, head pulled back, mouth open. A funnel had been forced down its throat, and it was gagging on the metal end lodged in its windpipe and quaking as if with a fever.
Beneath the table, a huge ginger moor cat, its colorings starkly beautiful, was gnawing on a piece of meat.
Edinja reached out and extracted the funnel. The creature did not look at her, its eyes fixed on a point somewhere between the table and the ceiling of the room. It had the look of a dead thing, as if any spark of what had made it human had been leached away.
Arling cringed, suddenly realizing who it was.
“Captain,” the sorceress said, “have you remembered yet what happened to this girl’s sister?” She waited a moment. “No? What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”
Then she looked over at Arling and began to laugh.
Eight
Oriantha sat with Tesla Dart atop a ridgeline perhaps a mile distant from the sprawling camp of the Straken Lord’s army. Sunset was approaching, the surrounding landscape stretching out its shadowy fingers from the east as the skies slowly darkened and the
lighter gray of daytime slowly changed to twilight. She was weary and footsore, and she would have liked a bath. But there was no water for bathing and no respite for sore feet save rest and sleep. She wasn’t tired from the journey’s length so much as its circuity. Unwilling to trust to a straight line of travel that would have had them trailing along like obedient dogs, she had opted instead for brief forays around the army’s flanks and all the way forward to where Tael Riverine flew a dragon at its head, trying to discover where in the Forbidding they were going. Admittedly, she’d had help from Tesla, who scurried left and right with unbridled energy and seemingly endless fascination with the whole of the countryside and those passing through it. But even so, she refused to let the Ulk Bog bear the entire weight of this effort and so had inserted herself into the equation to shoulder an equal share of the burden.
Now, many hours later, she was ready to sit right where she was for as long as the light remained and then hopefully get some sleep. But it wasn’t a given that sleep would be permitted her—or, at least, any sort of useful sleep. Tesla Dart had dispatched the Chzyks—including the Ulk Bog’s favorite, Lada—a few minutes ago, sending a handful of the little creatures down into the enemy camp to see if they could pinpoint the location of the cage imprisoning Redden Ohmsford. If they were successful and if the conditions allowed for it, she would leave after midnight to attempt a rescue.
She was momentarily distracted as Tesla Dart leapt up and dashed off into the distance, weaving her way through clusters of rocks and clumps of thorny brush, a small wiry shadow in the disappearing light. Oriantha watched her until she was out of sight, wondering what had attracted Tesla’s attention this time and how she could manage to muster the effort to go look. The shape-shifter had spent some of that day asking Tesla about the Ulk Bog people, thinking to learn something about her in the process. But what information Tesla Dart was willing to share was dispensed in sudden, brief bursts that ended almost before they began and did little to provide any useful insights.
