She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m not sure he knows. I think he’s afraid. Of failing to get out, if the darkwand won’t take him. Of getting out and finding it isn’t what he expects. Maybe something else altogether.”
Penderrin looked away. “I wouldn’t stay here if I were him. I would take the chance that there might be something better.”
She took a deep breath. She could use her magic to try to find the Ulk Bog. He might be close still, waiting to see if they would look for him. He might be testing her. But she knew in her heart that he wasn’t, that he was far away, that he had put her behind him. She would be someone he had known and helped, someone he could brag about. But she would be only a memory.
Would he try to go back to Tael Riverine and become his Catcher once more? Would he take the chance that the Straken Lord either did not know of his participation in her escape or would forgive him for it? With the Ulk Bog, it was impossible to tell.
Weka Dart.
She spoke his name in her mind, conjuring up images of him that she thought she would carry with her to the grave.
“We have to go,” she told Pen abruptly. “We can’t wait on him. Use the staff.”
The boy brought out the darkwand and set it butt-downward against the earth, his hands wrapped around its carved surface. The runes were glowing softly, pulsing bright red in the darkness of the midday storm.
“Place your hands with mine,” he said.
She started to do so, and then stopped. “Pen, listen to me. They will be waiting for us when we come through—Shadea a’Ru and those who have allied themselves with her. They will have figured out where you went and be prepared for the possibility that you might get back again and bring me with you. They will know where to look for us. They will attack the moment they see us. They will try to put an end to both of us. So I want you to be ready. I want you to get behind me and stay there until you have a chance to get clear. Any chance. As soon as you see one, you are to take it. Don’t wait for me. Don’t even think about me. Just run and keep running. Do you understand?”
He nodded, but looked uncertain.
She put her hands on his shoulders. “You showed great courage in coming here to save me. I don’t know anyone else who could have done what you did, except perhaps your father. I owe it to him to do for you what you have done for me. I want you safe and sound when this business is finished, Penderrin. Tell me you will do as I have asked.”
He nodded again, more firmly this time. “I will, Aunt Grianne.”
She took her hands from his shoulders. “Are you ready?”
He took a deep breath. “I am.”
“Then let’s go home.”
She wrapped her hands on the staff and held tight.
TWENTY-EIGHT
The transition happened quickly. The runes began to glow more intensely, gaining strength from her touch. Grianne blinked against the sudden brightness, and then felt a kind of shifting in the space she occupied. The grayness of the Forbidding grew slowly darker, as if the storm had caught up to them and they were about to be engulfed. All that took place in seconds, barely giving her time enough to register what was transpiring. She glanced over at Pen, who held on to the darkwand from the other side, his eyes closed.
But she did not close hers. She wanted to see what was going to happen to her.
Even so, she did not. The runes suddenly burst into fiery brightness, and it appeared as if the staff itself was aflame. It was all she could do to keep holding on to it, to persuade herself that the fire was an illusion. The glow grew steadily, cocooning her away, shutting off her surroundings, from the world of the Jarka Ruus, from everything but the staff and herself and Pen.
Then everything was gone, and she was fighting for air as a massive fist closed about her body, crushing her, squeezing the air from her lungs with relentless pressure. She fought back against it, struggling to breathe, to stay alive. Something has gone wrong, she thought in desperation. Something isn’t right.
Then the light dimmed, the runes darkened, and she was standing once more in the familiar surroundings of her sleeping chamber, returned safe and whole to Paranor. She still had a death grip on the staff, but the runes had gone dark.
She exhaled sharply in relief.
In the next instant, the triagenel collapsed about her.
She knew what it was immediately. She had caught a glimpse of the magic’s glow in the few seconds it took for her passage out of the Forbidding to become complete, but had failed to recognize its significance until it was too late. The glow disappeared as the triagenel dropped into place, becoming an invisible presence that hemmed her in on all sides, an unbreakable cage.
“Don’t move, Penderrin,” she said to him.
He stood across from her, still smiling happily at having escaped the Forbidding. The smile faded slowly, and he looked around in surprise.
“We’re caught in a triagenel,” she informed him. A quick sweep of her hand illuminated the strands of their prison. “I told you they would be waiting. But I didn’t foresee this.”
“What is it?”
“A very powerful form of magic. It takes three magic users to create it, a combination of their skills to bring it to life.”
But the glow was not uniform, she saw. In some places it was very nearly dark. In a properly constructed triagenel, the magic should be equally distributed. “There’s something wrong here,” she murmured.
“See?”
She pointed at a couple of the weaker spots, at the obvious darknesses, and as she did so the door to the concealed passageway on the far side of the chamber swung inward and her brother’s face appeared in the opening. “Grianne?”
“Bek!” she exclaimed in shock. “How in the world … ?”
“Listen to me,” he interrupted, cutting her short. “I’ve used the wishsong to weaken several of the triagenel’s strands. I think you can break free, if you try.”
“Close the door!” she said.
He did so, and she pushed Pen down on the floor and stood over him. “Cover your head. Don’t look up until I tell you.”
She would not have much time. Shadea and the others would be coming. Perhaps they were already just outside. She would have to hurry. She was afraid of the wishsong after what had happened inside the Forbidding, but she had no other choice. She was going to have to use it anyway when she faced Shadea.
So she summoned the magic boldly, and when it surfaced she formed it into razor-sharp edges that would cut and sever and then sent them screaming into the weakened places in the net. The wishsong spun and ripped through the netting, overcoming momentary resistance from the enabling magic and slicing through strands until the cage sagged like soft rope. She kept at it, working at first one place and then another, and when she had the entire structure sufficiently weakened, she attacked it with such force that the triagenel disintegrated, and she blew out the entire north wall of the sleeping chamber. Stone blocks and debris exploded outward, and a huge cloud of dust mushroomed through the room.
Grianne covered her face, waited for the dust to settle, and then pulled Pen back to his feet. “Bek!” she shouted.
Her brother burst into the room with Rue Meridian, Tagwen, and an Elven girl she took to be Khyber Elessedil right behind. There was a quick exchange of grateful hugs between Pen and his parents and Khyber. Only Bek hugged her. Grianne saw dismay and shock reflected in their faces when they looked at her. She could even see pity.
“I’m all right,” she said to them.
Her brother shook his head. “You are not all right. Shadea a’Ru and all those others who betrayed you will pay for this. We will hunt them down. We will find out everything. But we have something else we have to talk about now, something that won’t wait. A demon was set free when you were taken. It’s still here, and it’s trying to break down the Forbidding.”
“I know of this,” she said.
“I thought as much. What you don’t know is that the only way to
stop it is for Pen to find it and use the darkwand to return it, just as he used the staff to return you.”
“Penderrin has to do this?” she asked in surprise.
“The King of the Silver River said he must. Only the darkwand can complete the transfer from one world to the other, and only Pen can command the magic. I have to take him with us to find the demon.”
In the hallway outside the sleeping chamber door, there was new activity, the sound of running and of shouts.
“They’re coming,” she said to the others. She brought up her hands, summoned her magic once more, and sealed the door from the inside. “That will hold them for a few minutes, no more.” She turned back to Bek. “Take the others and go. You found your way here through the secret passageways—can you find your way back again?”
He nodded. “Between us, Tagwen and I can manage.”
“I’m not coming,” the Dwarf declared almost belligerently. “I belong here with the Ard Rhys.”
Grianne moved over to him quickly and knelt. “Yes, you do. But you must leave anyway. All of you must. There’s nothing you can do for me by staying. I have to face Shadea and the others alone. I am the one who can deal with them best. Only Bek might be able to help, but his place is with Pen, finding that demon and dispatching it. Listen to me.” She gripped the Dwarf’s shoulders tightly. “I’ve seen the inside of the Forbidding, Tagwen. It is a horror beyond anything you can imagine. If the creatures that live there were to be set free in this world, it would be the end of us all. You have to stop that from happening. Whatever becomes of me, you have to stop that.”
She held his gaze. Finally, he gave her a small nod, his bearded face twisted into an unhappy knot. “I will do this because you ask it,” he said quietly. “But not willingly.”
She turned at once to Pen. “This won’t be easy. You won’t know what you have to do until you find the demon. Perhaps you will have to find a way to get it to touch the staff. Perhaps it will take more. I wish I could tell you something helpful, but you know as much as I do about how it works. Trust your instincts, Pen. They won’t betray you.”
The boy nodded. “I don’t want to leave you, either.”
She smiled. “I’ll see you again. Just go. Do what you must. Do what is needed.” She looked around. “All of you. Go, now.”
They did so, one by one, disappearing through the door into the secret passageway, glancing back at her as they did, a mix of reluctance and dismay mirrored on their faces. Bek was the last to depart.
“Don’t let anything happen to you,” he said. “It’s taken too much out of us getting you back to bear the thought of losing you again.” He paused. “I love you, Grianne.”
Then he pulled the door shut behind him and was gone, his words still echoing in her mind.
I love you, too, she thought.
She turned back to the sleeping chamber and looked at the sealed door. She had come a long way to face what awaited her on the other side. She had fought hard for a chance to put things right. But all of a sudden, she was unsure if she could do so.
How odd, she thought.
On the floor in front of her, the last strands of the ruined triagenel were slowly dissolving as their magic leached away. She stared for a moment, then caught sight of herself in the mirror and saw what Bek and the others had seen: a ghost, a tattered imitation of herself.
She walked to the closet on the other side of the room, opened it, and took out one of the robes hanging there, clean and sleekly black. She draped it around her shoulders and fastened it in place with the clasp she had fashioned in the shape of the Eilt Druin, the Druid chain of office, the symbol of their order.
Her enemies would see her this last time, she told herself, as she meant for them to see her. As leader. As Ard Rhys.
She fingered the clasp, tracing the raised image of a hand holding forth a burning torch. The meaning of the Elfish words came back to her. THROUGH KNOWLEDGE, POWER.
Perhaps. This day, she would see.
Then she crossed the room and swept the air in front of the chamber door with one hand to remove the magic that sealed it. Tightening her resolve, she flung open the door.
Shadea a’Ru stood on the battlements of Paranor’s north wall with Traunt Rowan and looked down at the army of Rock Trolls amassed before the gates. On hearing of this new threat, she had come at once, determined that she would deal with it herself, that she would not leave it up to her less-than-reliable allies. But having seen for herself how many Trolls were gathered—in excess of a thousand—she was unsure of what to do.
“Have they made any sort of demand?” she asked Traunt Rowan.
He shook his head. “Not a word out of any of them. They simply walked out of the trees and formed up in ranks and haven’t moved or said anything since.”
“This must have something to do with Kermadec,” she said quietly. “Those Trolls bear the banner of Taupo Rough. They wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him. Are you sure you left him safely behind at Stridegate? After all, that girl managed to find a way onto one of the ships.”
“He was on the ground with the others when we lifted off. He was trapped by thousands of Urdas. Even if he got past them, he would have had to walk out. It would have taken days.” Traunt Rowan shook his head, and then gestured toward the Troll army. “Maybe they’ve come looking for him. Maybe they think he’s here.”
She considered the possibility. “Maybe.”
But that suggestion didn’t feel right. A few might come, but not an entire army. It was something else, something much more dangerous. She glanced at the lower walls, where the Gnome Hunters were hiding behind the battlements. They could hold against an attack if the Trolls did not get past the walls. But there were too few of them to withstand an assault if the attackers broke through.
She had already ordered that the gates be reinforced. There was nothing more she could think of to do at that point. She would let the Trolls stand out there all day if that was what they wanted to do. If they were still standing there the next day, she might consider using her magic to disperse them. But that would require an enormous drain on her reserves, a last resort when all else failed. She would need a good reason to commit herself to such an action.
She was considering the possibility of sending word to the Eastland Gnomes that they needed reinforcements when Pyson Wence came flying down the stairs from the north tower, his black robes billowing wildly, his sharp features stricken.
“The triagenel has collapsed!” he shouted to them.
She’s back, Shadea thought instantly.
“You’re sure about this?” she snapped, exchanging a quick glance with Traunt Rowan.
Pyson Wence sneered, trying to hide the fear in his eyes. “Do you think me a fool? The magic’s gone dark. What else could it mean?”
She ignored the taunt, brushing past him as she moved quickly toward the tower stairs, her strong features hard and set. “Let’s finish this,” she said softly.
They went up the stairs in a rush. Already, Shadea felt the magic building inside her in anticipation of the battle ahead. She smiled fiercely. This time there would be no mistakes.
They had gained the head of the stairs and were turning down the hallway leading to the sleeping chamber when its north wall blew apart.
Deep in the hidden passageways in the walls of the Keep, the Ohmsfords, Khyber Elessedil, and a grumbling Tagwen descended toward the furnace room. In a somber mood, the group moved ahead in silence.
“I don’t like it that we left her back there alone,” the Dwarf repeated over and over again.
“You know we couldn’t stay, Tagwen,” Rue Meridian said finally. “You know she wouldn’t let us.”
“There are too many of them for her to have a chance.”
Rue shook her head. “I wouldn’t wager against her, whatever the odds.”
Tagwen went silent for a time as the little band continued through the darkness using a small light provided by Khyber’s elementa
l magic as a beacon. They could not tell what was happening behind them. The stone-block walls were thick and massive and muffled all sounds from the other side. The chambers of the Druid’s Keep were tombs, and they kept their secrets well.
“We could still go back,” Tagwen muttered under his breath. “It isn’t too late.”
Bek wheeled back on him furiously. “Stop it, Tagwen! None of the rest of us likes this any better than you do! How do you think I feel about leaving her? She’s my sister! But if the Forbidding comes down, it really won’t make any difference what happens to Grianne, will it?”
“Bek,” Rue admonished softly.
Tagwen went crimson with shame at the rebuke, his lips compressing into a tight line. He tried to say something in response, but failed. Trembling, he pushed past Bek and went on alone.
It was Pen who went after him, hurrying to catch up as he wandered blindly ahead into the darkness. “Wait, Tagwen!”
When he was even with the Dwarf, Pen slowed and walked at his side. They were descending a stairway that was broad enough for two to pass together, so the boy was able to stay on his shoulder.
“He didn’t mean it, Tagwen. He just thinks like you do; he’s afraid he will lose her.”
Tagwen didn’t say anything.
“We all want to go back and help her,” Pen continued. “We are all afraid for her. I saw what sort of place the Forbidding is. I saw what she had to survive for all those weeks. She has been though a lot more than you think. I don’t even know it all; she wouldn’t talk about it with me. But I sensed it, anyway.”
“All the more reason we should be back there helping her,” Tagwen said furiously. “She’s not strong enough to face Shadea and those others. She’ll try to stand up to them, to reclaim the order, but she might not have the strength to do it.”
Pen nodded. “I know. But if we’re not there, Tagwen, she doesn’t have to worry about us getting hurt. She only has to worry about herself. I think that’s all she can manage just now. She sent us away to find the demon, but she sent us away to keep us safe, too.”