But Wren found within herself that morning a strength she
had not believed she possessed. Something of who and what
she had once been, of the Rover girl she had been raised, of the
Elessedil and Shannara blood to which she had been born,
caught fire within her and willed that she should not despair.
She rose from the queen and stood facing them, the Ruhk
Staff gripped in both hands, placed in front of her like a stan-
dard, a reminder of what bound them.
“She’s gone,” Wren said quietly, drawing their eyes, meeting
them with her own. “We must leave her now. We must go on
because that is what we have sworn we would do and that is
what she would want. We have been asked to do something that
grows increasingly difficult, something we all wish we had not
been asked to do, but there is no point in questioning our com-
mitment now. We are pledged to it. I don’t presume to think I
can be the woman my grandmother was, but I shall try my best.
This Staff belongs in another world, and we are going to do
everything we can to carry it there.”
She stepped away from the queen. “I only knew my grand-
mother a short time, but I loved her the way I would have loved
my mother had I been given the chance to know her. She was
all I had of family. She was the best she could be for all of us.
She deserves to live on through us. I do not intend to fail her.
Will you help me?”
“Lady, you need not ask that,” Triss answered at once. “She
has given the Ruhk Staff to you, and while you live the Home
Guard are sworn to protect and obey you.”
Wren nodded. “Thank you, Triss. And you, Gavilan?”
The blue eyes lowered. “You command, Wren.”
She glanced at Eowen, who simply nodded, still lost within
her grief.
“Carry the queen back into the Eden’s Murk,” Wren directed
Triss and Dal. “Find a sinkhole and give her back to the island
so that she can rest.” The words fought their way clear, harsh
and biting. “Take her.”
They bore the Queen of the Elves into the swamp, found a
stretch of mire a hundred feet in, and eased her down. She
disappeared swiftly, gone forever.
In silence, they retraced their steps. Eowen was crying softly,
leaning on Wren’s arm for support. The men were voiceless
wraiths turned silver and gray by the shadows and mist.
When they reached the base of Blackledge, Wren faced them
once again. “This is what I think. We have lost a third of our
number and have barely gotten clear of Killeshan’s slopes. Time
slips away. If we don’t move quickly, we won’t get off the is-
land, any of us. Garth and I know something of wilderness sur-
vival, but we are almost as lost as the rest of you here on
Morrowindl. There is only one of us remaining who stands a
chance of finding the way.”
She turned to look at Stresa. The Splinterscat blinked.
“You brought us safely in,” she said quietly. “Can you take
us out again?”
Stresa stared at her for a long moment, his gaze curious.
“HrrwlIl, Wren of the Elves, bearer of the Ruhk Staff, I will take
a chance with you, though I have no particular reason to help
the Elves. But you have promised me passage to the larger world,
and I hold you to your promise. Yes, I will guide you.”
“Do you know the way, Scat,” Gavilan asked warily, “or do
you simply toy with us?”
Wren gave him a sharp glance, but Stresa simply said,
“Stttsst. Come along and find out, why don’t you?” Then he
turned to Wren. “This is not country through which I have
traveled often. Here the Blackledge is impassable. Hssstt. We
will need to-rrwwlll-travel south for a distance to find a pass
through which to climb. Come.”
They gathered what remained of their gear, shouldered it
determinedly, and set out. They walked through the morning
gloom, into the heat and the vog, following the line of the cliffs