she had not had a choice, she reminded herself quickly; she had
only done what was needed. She could not let her grandmother
die. It was this one time only; it need not happen again. This
once, because it was her grandmother’s life and her grandmother
Was all she had left . .
The words dissipated with Eowen’s soft voice. “Hurry,
Wren,” she urged, “while there is still time.”
They set off at once, Wren leading until Garth caught up
to her and she motioned him ahead, content to let someone else
take charge. Faun returned from the darkness, and she scooped
the little creature up and placed it on her shoulder. Dal and
Triss bore the litter with the queen, and she dropped back to
walk beside it. She reached down and took her grandmother’s
hand in her own, held it for a moment, then squeezed it gently.
There was no response. She laid the hand carefully back in place
and walked ahead again. Eowen passed her, the white face look-
ing lost and frightened in the shadows, the red hair flaring against
the night. Eowen knew how sick Ellenroh was; had she foreseen
what would happen to the queen in her visions? Wren shook
her head, refusing to consider the possibility. She walked alone
for a time until Gavilan slipped up beside her.
“I’m sorry, Wren,” he said softly, the words coming with
difficulty. “I should have known you would not act without
reason. I should have had more trust in your judgment.” He
waited for her response, and when it did not come, said, “It is
this swamp that clouds my thinking. I can’t seem to focus as I
should . . .” He trailed off.
She sighed soundlessly. “It’s all right. No one can think
clearly in this place.” She was anxious to make excuses for him.
“This island seems to breed madness. I caught a fever on the
way in and for a time I was incoherent. Perhaps a touch of that
fever has captured you as well.”
He nodded distractedly, as if he hadn’t heard. “At least you
see the truth now. Magic has made Morrowindl and its demons,
and magic is what will save us from them. Your Elfstones and
the Ruhk Staff. You wait. You will understand soon enough.”
And he dropped back again, his departure so abrupt that
Wren was once again unable to ask the questions that his com-
ments called to mind-questions of how the demons had been
made, what it was the magic had done, and how things had
come to such a state. She half turned to follow him, then de-
cided to let him go. She was too tired for questions now, too
worn to hear the answers even if he would give them-which
he probably would not. Biting back her frustration, she forced
herself to continue on.
It took them all night to get free of Eden’s Murk. Twice
more Wren was forced to call upon the power of the Elfstones.
Torn each time by conflicting urges both to shun its flow and
welcome it, she felt the magic boil through her like an elixir.
The blue light seared the blackness and cut away the haze,
showing them the path to Blackledge, and by dawn they had
climbed free of the mire and stood at last upon solid ground
once more. Before them, Blackledge lifted away into the haze,
a towering mass of craggy stone jutting skyward out of the jun-
gle. They chose a clearing at the base of the rocks and set the
litter with Ellenroh carefully at its center. Eowen bathed the
queen’s face and hands and gave her water to drink.
Ellenroh stirred and her eyes flickered open. She studied
the faces about her, glanced down to the Ruhk Staff still clutched
between her fingers, and said, “Help me to sit up.”
Eowen propped her forward gently and gave her the cup.
Ellenroh drank it slowly, pausing frequently to breathe. Her
chest rattled, and her face was flushed with fever.
“Wren,” she said softly, “you have used the Elfstones.”
Wren knelt beside her, wondering, and the others crowded
close as well. “How did you know?”