by Terry Brooks
“She might have returned and not been seen,” Prue suggested.
The boy stopped and looked at her. “That’s so. But then where would she go? She would have to go into hiding right away.”
“She could have found a way to get out of the city and decided to try to reach the Orullians.”
He shook his head. “She would stay put for now. She knows I will be searching for her.” He stopped suddenly. “There is one place she might go.”
He led them hurriedly ahead, moving into a residential section where there were rows of cottages situated on the ground and in the trees overhead. Eventually they reached the tree house that the Orullians had been working on when Pan and Prue had first come to see them weeks ago to discuss the collapse of the protective wall that warded the valley.
“Wait here,” he told them.
He scrambled up the stairs onto the platform on which the cottage was situated and disappeared through the door. Pan and Prue waited patiently for his return.
“He certainly doesn’t lack for energy,” Pan observed quietly.
“He doesn’t lack for determination, either,” Prue added.
They continued to wait, shifting their gazes every so often to the roads and pathways around them, keeping watch. Neither felt entirely comfortable with the situation, even though there was no reason to think they were in any immediate danger.
Xac Wen reappeared abruptly and scampered down the stairs, his young face grim. “Nothing. She’s not been there. We should go to the arch. If she came back through, she will have left me a sign.”
It took them less than half an hour to reach the gates of the Ashenell burial grounds. There was little activity in evidence here, the iron gates leading inside open, but the grounds themselves deserted. Xac Wen led his companions ahead without slowing, taking a direct route toward the Belloruusian Arch.
Even before the boy told them they had reached their destination, Pan knew it for what it was. Built of massive stone blocks stacked one atop another, the Belloruusian Arch was fully twenty feet high and almost as wide. The letter B was carved into its keystone, signifying the surname of the family and marking the entrance to all the tombs and sepulchers that stretched away within the shadow of its broad span.
“This is where she disappeared,” Xac Wen announced, pointing at the arch. “Right there, underneath. She just walked up to it and then vanished.”
Panterra studied the arch and the space below for a long time, trying to see if he could discern something that would explain what had happened to Phryne. But he couldn’t see anything unusual or revealing about it. Stones and earth—that was all.
“There must be a portal of some sort,” Prue said quietly. “There must be magic at work.”
Pan nodded. “Definitely magic.”
He was resting the black staff butt-downward against the earth, running his fingers slowly up and down its length, feeling the runes respond with a soft tingle. The staff’s magic was awake, perhaps responding to something he couldn’t see. It was sending him a signal—perhaps a warning—of something waiting.
Yet Prue had said nothing of her instincts responding to any danger. They had been quick enough to warn her when Bonnasaint had lain in wait for them in the meres. So perhaps the staff’s response was to the presence of another magic and not necessarily to anything dangerous.
“Do your instincts tell you we are threatened?” he asked her quietly.
She shook her head no.
“Wait here for me,” he told her.
He walked forward alone, taking his time, the magic of the black staff fully awake now, coursing up and down its length and into his body. He was prepared to use it if he was attacked, but he couldn’t find anything that suggested this might happen. The Belloruusian Arch and the ground about it were empty of movement or sound or life of any sort. He studied the space beneath the arch where Phryne had disappeared, but he couldn’t see anything of where she might have gone.
When he was very close, he called up the magic and gave the space directly ahead of him a spray of its bright light. For just an instant, something flickered in response—a sliver of darkness, a splitting of the air that was little more than a vertical shimmer. It was there and then gone again in an instant. Pan blinked in response to its quick, momentary appearance, not certain what it was he had seen.
Slowly, he moved toward it.
XAC WEN WAS STANDING close enough to Prue Liss that he heard her gasp when Panterra Qu walked up to the exact same spot where Phryne had vanished two days earlier and disappeared himself. The boy couldn’t quite believe it, having decided any danger was past and all they were doing at this point was searching for some indication of whether the Princess had come back out again. After all, he had walked beneath the arch, right where the two who had vanished had walked, and nothing had happened to him. So there was no reason to think that anything would happen to either of his companions.
But now something had, and the boy was stunned.
Prue Liss never hesitated. She charged toward the arch the minute Pan disappeared, shouting his name, her voice frantic. Xac chased after her, afraid now for both of them. But when they reached the arch and stood exactly where Panterra had disappeared, nothing happened. The girl felt the air with her hands, waved them as she might to find a spiderweb and clear it away.
“Where is he?” she screamed.
Xac Wen had no answer to offer.
-Who brought you here, girl-
Phryne did not recognize the voice, but she was able to track its source immediately. It was another shade, an old woman far different in appearance from Mistral. This shade glowed with a malevolent green fire that pulsed at the center of her transparent form with wicked purpose. Bent and withered, her face crumpled like discarded paper, she had a fierce presence as she stood atop the short, flat surface of the pinnacle of a strange triangular stone into which had been carved the letters P, R, and G.
-Mistral Belloruus does not rule here. She does not decide who comes and who goes. I do-
Phryne glanced at her grandmother for support, but Mistral was pressed against the stone of the marker, her face turned away.
-Answer my question, girl! Who brought you here? What do the living wish of the dead that you should come to me-
“I don’t even know who you are,” Phryne answered sharply, recovering herself enough to speak up.
-Little fool! All know my name in the land of the dead! I am Queen Pancea Rolt Gotrin, ruler of those who dwell in this underworld! Now, who brought you here? I will not ask again-
Pancea Rolt Gotrin, who had given the blue Elfstones to Kirisin five hundred years ago in this same spot! Phryne tried frantically to remember the details of the story and failed.
“No one brought me,” she lied, determined to do what she could to protect Mistral. “I found my own way here. And I am a Princess in the land of the living!”
The shade hissed as if she had been scalded.
-You lie, Princess of whatever you are. What exactly would you be Princess of? Of the Elves who walk and breathe the air above me? Of the fools who have forgotten their heritage? Of the insects who chose to abandon the teachings of those who made this journey before them? Of what, then? Of nothing! You are Princess of nothing-
“Perhaps it is you who have forgotten!” Phryne snapped in reply, her face coloring. “You were one of us before you came to live with the dead. Perhaps you should remember that the road runs both ways.”
-You are arrogant and disrespectful. I should put an end to you-
Phryne took a deep breath and tamped down her anger. “My Queen,” she said and dropped to one knee. “I apologize. I spoke out of anger, and for that I am sorry. I did not know it was you until you told me. But your name is not unfamiliar to me. I know how important you were.”
-How important I am, little fool. More important now, for I am absolute ruler down here. But if you know of me—as you claim—then tell me something specific. Make me believe you
speak the truth-
Phryne risked a quick glance at Mistral, who had not moved, save to raise her head and fix her eyes on her granddaughter. “I know that five hundred years ago you met a boy from our family on my mother’s side. His name was Kirisin Belloruus. He came to you seeking the blue Elfstones. In exchange for his promise to help persuade the Elven people to resume their study and use of their magic, you gave them to him.”
The shade said nothing, waiting for more.
“I know that you have ruled as Queen of this underworld burial ground for centuries, and that you have use of magic still. I know that you can kill me without my being able to stop you. But I hope you will not do that. I am not here to cause trouble. I am here to save our people.”
-Very pretty words. You speak them well. You speak them with sincerity and passion. The boy who came before you did likewise, but he betrayed me. He took my gift and failed to keep his word. He did nothing to persuade the Elves to study the old ways, to master the old magic. Would you make me the same promise now if I were to give the Elfstones to you-
It caught Phryne by surprise. She hadn’t realized that Pancea Rolt Gotrin had gotten possession of the Stones—and when she remembered the pouch in Mistral’s hands, she realized the old woman was baiting her. But why would she do that?
“Kirisin Belloruus did what he could, and some followed him in his studies,” she answered. “Most did not and would not be persuaded otherwise. But, yes, I would make the same promise, and I would work hard to keep it.”
The old woman laughed, a high cackle that sounded like a wild animal calling out in the darkness of the eastern swamps.
-I know you, girl. You are Phryne Amarantyne. You are Mistral’s granddaughter, and she has promised you the Elfstones. That is the reason you are here, isn’t it? Come down out of the world of light and living things to this place of darkness and death—what other reason could there be? You needed to find her to gain possession of the Elfstones. Do not suppose that you can dissemble with me-
“It is more than that, my Queen.” Phryne decided that addressing the shade with respect was the better choice, and she would stay with it. “I came here to make certain that my grandmother was safe. She disappeared from her home, and I was frightened for her. There are Elves aboveground, among the living, who sought to put her here among the dead. One of them is my stepmother. She killed my father, the King, and she will not be satisfied until the Belloruus line is extinguished.”
The shade made a dismissive gesture, hunching her shoulders like a carrion feeder.
-My line was extinguished centuries ago. All of them are dead and gone. All of them live down here to keep me company; all live in the afterlife I have provided for them. What care I for you and yours? Your line is of no importance. Nor are the lines of other families among the living. I care nothing for the living, just as they care nothing for me-
The shade hissed again, softer now and teasing.
-And you are right. I can kill you anytime I choose. I think I will do so now. I grow weary of this talk. You come too late to help your grandmother, Princess of nothing. She is as dead as I am. She died within hours of finding her way to me. She came here injured and I could do nothing to heal her wounds. She carried with her the Elfstones that rightfully belong to me, and so I took pity on her, thinking she had come to give the Elfstones back to me. I did what I could. But she deceived me. She never intended to give the Elfstones back. She intended to give them to you. All along, to you-
“She would have me use the Elfstones to help our people, who are threatened by invasion and extermination. She would have me follow in the footsteps of Kirisin Belloruus and make the magic a part of the lives of Elves once more. She would have me try to help fulfill the promise that Kirisin made all those years ago.” Phryne was making it up as she went, desperate to convince this old woman to rethink her position, to remember that she had once been one of the living and so should want to help them. “I will give you that promise you asked for. I will do what you want. I will find a way to make the magic a part of Elven life again. Why not give me the chance?”
-And lose possession of the Elfstones once again? For another five centuries? How stupid do you think I am, Princess of nothing-
Phryne didn’t know how stupid Pancea Rolt Gotrin might be, but she had a pretty good idea how bitter she had become. There wasn’t a shred of pity left for the living, not a bit of sympathy for their plight, not a care for what happened to them. All she wanted was to regain possession of her precious Elfstones.
But why hadn’t she? Why did Mistral still have them?
“If you want the Elfstones so badly, why don’t you just take them?” she demanded suddenly. “If you are Queen and ruler of everything, why not take them and be done with it?”
The shade hissed and spat like a cat with its tail in a vise.
-You will give me the Elfstones if you want to get out of here alive! Do you understand me, girl? You will tell Mistral to give them to me-
Phryne saw it then, realized the truth. Pancea Rolt Gotrin, for all the power that she commanded as Queen of these dead, couldn’t take the Elfstones by force. She needed Phryne to get them for her. But why was that? Why couldn’t she just take them away? If she had such power, why couldn’t she …?
Then she remembered her grandmother telling her that the Elfstones couldn’t be taken by force if they were to be of use to the holder. They had to be freely given.
Pancea Rolt Gotrin was waiting for Mistral to break down and do just that, and she would use Phryne as leverage. So if she wanted to make sure that her grandmother’s sacrifice in coming here with the Elfstones—in believing, even mistakenly, that this was the only way she could get them into her granddaughter’s hands—meant something, Phryne had to act now. She caught Mistral’s eye, a quick glance that revealed what she intended to do. She saw the look of dismay in her grandmother’s face and realized that there was something else at work here, something she had missed. But it didn’t matter. If there was even the smallest chance, Phryne knew she had to take it.
She leapt forward from the water’s edge toward the marker against which Mistral was pressed. She had a momentary glimpse of her grandmother’s arms raised in warning, stretched out as if to try to stop her. Then Pancea Rolt Gotrin was screaming and something as cold and heavy as frozen iron slammed into Phryne with immense force, knocking her off her feet.
She went down in a heap, gasping for breath, tried to rise, was struck again, and then everything went black.
WHEN SHE WOKE, she was lying on her back, staring up at the stalactite-encrusted ceiling of the cavern. Mistral sat a few yards off, her back against the stone marker, a weary look on her shade’s white face.
Child, I did not mean for this to happen.
Phryne took a moment to recall exactly what it was that had happened and failed. “What did she do to me?”
She has magic at her command even here, even in death. She used it to keep you from reaching me, to prevent me from giving you the Elfstones. I came here to ask for her help, trying to stay alive until you reached me. But my wounds were too much for either of us. Once dead, I asked her help again. But she would not give it. She wants the Elfstones for herself. I made the mistake of telling her early on that you would come for me, that I had left a message for you. She was waiting for you to come, knowing what I intended, determined that she would not allow it.
Phryne raised herself up on her elbows, trying to clear her head. Every part of her body ached from whatever the Queen had done to her. “Why can’t you just give them to me now? Right now, before she knows what you have done?”
Look behind you.
Phryne did, and she saw Pancea Rolt Gotrin perched atop her triangular marker, watching closely.
If I attempt to pass them to you, she will kill you before you can make use of them.
Phryne studied her grandmother’s face, still trying to come to terms with the fact that she was dead, a shade with no physical
presence and no place among the living. She remembered so clearly how her grandmother had looked the last time she had seen her—sharp and flushed with the excitement of her intention to give the Elfstones to her granddaughter. She thought of Isoeld and her minions coming to Mistral’s cottage to take the Stones by force, and her sadness turned to icy rage.
“Won’t she grow tired of watching us?” she demanded. “Won’t she eventually leave us alone?”
The dead do not sleep. They are patient. They are good at waiting. Besides, she has no choice. To be of use, even to the dead, the Elfstones must be freely given. They cannot be taken by force. You know this already, child. She will keep us here until one of us gives her the Stones. In the end, if she must, she will destroy us both.
“But what more can she do to you? I am the only one she can hurt.”
She can use you to hurt me. She can even use her magic to take away what little remains of me. She has that power.
Phryne felt whatever small hope remained draining away. “What can we do?” she asked.
We can wait. We must. At some point, she may become distracted, and we will have our chance. When that happens, we will have to act swiftly. I cannot touch you. I must set the Elfstones on the ground, and you must snatch them up instantly. If she sees what we are doing, she will kill you in the blink of an eye. The dead are quick; do not think otherwise. If we are slow or careless, whatever we attempt will end in failure.
Her grandmother paused, her voice become a whisper.
Pancea is a monster, child. She keeps you safe now so that you can persuade me to give the Elfstones to her so that you can go free. But once she convinces you to do this, she will take your life.
“And waiting is our only choice?” Phryne’s voice was a low hiss of dismay. “I can’t wait! Isn’t there something else we can do?”
Her grandmother shook her head as if the answer to that question was more than she could bear. One withered hand lifted and gestured. Phryne’s eyes closed in response, and she fell fast asleep.
