former. They placed them carefully inside the tunnel entrance
and sat down to eat while waiting for Triss to return.
“Did you sleep?” Eowen asked softly, seating herself beside
Wren. She kept her gaze carefully averted.
“No,” Wren answered truthfully. “I couldn’t.”
“Nor I It was as difficult to speak the words as it was to
hear them.”
“I know that.”
The red hair shimmered damply as the pale face lifted into
view. “I have had a vision-the first since leaving Arborlon.”
Wren turned to meet the seer’s gaze and was frightened by
what she saw there. “Tell me.”
Eowen shook her head, a barely perceptible movement.
Only because it is necessary to warn you,” she whispered. She
leaned in so that only Wren could hear. “In my vision, you stood
alone atop a rise. It was clear that you were on Morrowindl.
You held the Ruhk Staff and the Elfstones, but you could not
use them. The others, those here, myself included, were black
shadows cast upon the earth. Something approached you, huge
and dangerous, yet you were not afraid-it was as if you wel-
comed it. Perhaps you did not realize that it threatened. There
Was a glint of bright silver, and you hastened to embrace it.”
She paused, and her breath seemed to catch in her throat.
“You must not do that, Wren. When it happens, remember.”
Wren nodded, feeling numb and empty inside. “I will re-
member.”
“I’m sorry,” Eowen whispered. She hesitated a moment, like
a hunted creature brought to bay with nowhere left to flee, then
rose and swiftly moved away. Poor Eowen, Wren thought. She
looked after the seer a moment, thinking. Then she beckoned
to Garth. The big man came at once, eyes questioning, reading
already her concern. She shifted so that only he could see her.
Eowen has had a vision of her own death, she signed, not bothering
to speak the words this time. Garth showed nothing. Watch out
for her, will you? Try to keep her safe?
Garth’s fingers gestured. I don’t like what I see in her eyes.
Wren sighed, then nodded. Neither do I. Just do the best you can.
Triss returned a few momentc later hearing two hunks of
dry wood that he had managed to salvage from somewhere on
the rain-soaked slopes. He glanced over his shoulder as he ap-
proached. “There is movement below,” he advised them, passing
one of the pieces to Dal. “Something is climbing toward us.”
For the first time since they had escaped the swamp, they
experienced a sense of urgency. Until now, it had almost been
possible to forget the things that hunted them. Wren thought
instantly of the Loden’s magic, wondering if the demons could
indeed scent it, if the smell of the Keel’s recovered magic was
strong enough to draw them even when it was not in use.
They bound the strips of cloth in place about the wood and
used the tinder to set it afire. When the brands were burning,
they started ahead into the tunnels. Stresa led, a night creature
comfortable in darkness, his burly body trundling smoothly
ahead into the gloom. Triss followed close behind with one
torch, while Dal trailed the company with the other. In between
walked Wren, Gavilan, Eowen, and Garth. The air in the lava
tube was cool and stale, and water dripped off the ceiling. In
places, a narrow stream meandered along the gnarled floor.
There were no projections, no obstructions; the passage of the
red-hot lava years earlier had burned everything away. Stresa
had explained to her while they waited for Triss how the pres-
sure of heat and gases at the volcano’s core forced vents in the
earth, carving tunnels through the underground rock to reach
the surface, the lava burning its way free. The lava burned so
hot that the passageways formed were smooth and even. These
tubes would run for miles, curling like giant worm burrows,
eventually creating an opening through Morrowindi’s skin that
in turn would release the pressure and allow the lava to flow
unobstructed to the sea. When the volcano cooled, the lava
subsided and the tubes it had formed remained behind. The one