ing back at where they had been.
The Keel was swarming with demons, their black bodies
everywhere as they sought to scale the hated barrier. The magic
was gone, but the tremors that had replaced it proved an even
more formidable obstacle. Demons flew from the heights,
screaming as they fell, shaken free like leaves from an autumn
tree in a windstorm. The Keel cracked and split as the moun-
tainside shuddered beneath it, chunks of stone tumbling away,
the whole of it threatening to collapse. Fires spurted out of the
earth from within, the crater from which Arborlon had been
scooped by the magic become a cauldron of heat and flames.
Steam hissed and spurted in geysers. High on Killeshan’s slopes,
the crust of the mountain’s skin had ruptured and begun to leak
molten rock.
“Killeshan comes awake,” Eowen said softly, causing them
all to turn. “The disappearance of Arborlon shifted the balance
of things on Morrowindl; a void was created in the magic. The
disruption reaches all the way to the core of the island. The
volcano is no longer dormant, no longer stable. The fires within
will burn more fiercely, and the gases and heat will build, until
they can no longer be contained.”
“How long?” the Owl snapped.
Eowen shook her head. “Hours here on the high slopes, days
farther down.” Her eyes were bright. “It is the beginning of the
end.”
There was an instant of uncertain silence.
“For the demons, perhaps, but not for us.” It was Ellenroh
Elessedil who spoke, back on her feet again, recovered from the
strain of invoking the Loden’s magic. She freed herself from
Triss’s steadying grip and walked through them, drawing them
after in her wake until she turned to face them. She looked calm
and assured and unafraid. “No hesitation now,” she admonished.
“We go quickly, quietly, down to the shores of the Blue Divide
and off the island, back to where we belong. Keep together,
keep your eyes sharp. Owl, take us out of here.”
Aurin Striate turned away at once, and the others went with
him. There were no questions asked-Ellenroh Elessedil’s pres-
ence was that strong. Wren glanced back once to see her grand-
mother come up beside Eowen, who seemed to have lapsed into
a trance, put her arms about the seer, and lead her gently away.
Behind them, the glare of the volcano’s fire turned the Keel and
the demons the color of blood. It seemed as if everything had
disappeared in a wash of red.
Shadows against the hazy light, the company crept down off
the slopes of Killeshan through the rugged mix of lava rock,
deadwood, and scrub. All of the sounds were behind them now
where the demons converged on an enemy that they were just
beginning to discover was no longer there. Ahead there was only
the steady rush of the Rowen as its gray waters churned to-
ward the sea. The tremors chased after, shudders that rippled
along the stretches of lava rock and shook the trees and brush;
but their impact diminished the farther the company went. Vog
clouded the air before them, turning the brightness of early-
morning haze and the shape of the land indistinct. Wren’s
breathing steadied, and her body cooled. She no longer felt
trapped as she had in the tunnel, and the intensity of the heat
had lessened. She began to relax, to feel herself merge with the
land, her senses reaching out like invisible feelers to search out
what was hidden.
Even so, she failed to detect the demons that lay in wait for
them before the attack. There were more than a dozen, smallish
and gnarled, crooked like deadwood, rising up with a rending
of brush and sticks to seize at them. Eowen went down, and the
Owl disappeared in a flurry of limbs. The others rallied, striking
out at their attackers with whatever came to hand, bunching
together about Eowen protectively. The Elven Hunters fought
with grim ferocity, dispatching the demons as if they were noth-
ing more than shadows. The fight was over almost before it
began. One of the black things escaped; the rest lay still upon