“You look very tired.”
She smiled.
“Would that we had known,” he murmured.
She glanced over. “Known what?”
“Everything. Anything! Something that would have prepared
us better for what we’re going through.” His voice sounded odd
to her, almost frenetic. “It is almost like being cast adrift in an
ocean without a map and being told to navigate to safety and at
the same time to refrain from using the little bit of drinking
water we are fortunate enough to carry with us.”
“What do you mean?”
He turned. “Think about it, Wren. We have in our posses-
sion both the Loden and the Elfstones-magic enough to accom-
plish almost anything. Yet we seem afraid to invoke that magic,
almost as if we were restrained from doing so. But we aren’t, are
we? I mean, what is to prevent it? Look at how much better
things became when you used the Elfstones to find a way out
of Eden’s Murk. We should be using that magic every step of
the way! If we did, we might be to the beach by now.”
“It doesn’t work that way, Gavilan. It doesn’t do just any-
thing . .
But he wasn’t listening. “Even worse is the way we ignore
the magic contained in the Loden. Yes, it is needed to preserve
the Elves and Arborlon for the journey back. But all of it? I
don’t believe it for a moment!” He let his hand come to rest
momentarily on the Ruhk Staff. His words were suddenly fer-
vent. “Why not use the magic against these things that hunt us?
Why not just burn a path right through them? Or better still,
why not make something that will go out there and destroy
them!”
Wren stared at him, unable to believe what she was hearing.
Gavilan,” she said quietly. “I know about the demons. Eowen
told me.”
He shrugged. “It was time, I suppose. Ellenroh was the only
reason no one told you sooner.”
“However that may be,” she continued, her voice lowering,
taking on a firmness, “how can you possibly suggest using the
magic to make anything else?”
His face hardened. “Why? Because something went wrong
when it was used before? Because those who used it hadn’t the
ability or strength or sense of what was needed to use it prop-
erly?”
She shook her head, voiceless.
“Wren! The magic has to be used! It has to be! That is why
it is there in the first place! If we don’t make use of it, someone
else will, and then what? This isn’t a game we play. You know
as much. There are things out there so dangerous that . .
“Things the Elves made!” she said angrily.
“Yes! A mistake, I agree! But others would have made them
if we had not!”
“You can’t know that!”
“It doesn’t matter. The fact remains we made them for a
good cause! We have learned a lot! The making is in the soul
of the wielder of the power! It simply requires strength of pur-
pose and channeling of need! This time we can do it right!”
He broke off, waiting for her response. They faced each
other in silence. Then Wren took a deep breath and reached
down to remove his hand from the Staff. “I don’t think you had
better say anything more.”
His smile was bitter, ironic. “Once you were angry because
I hadn’t said enough.”
“Gavilan,” she whispered.
“Do you think this will all go away if we don’t talk about it,
that everything will somehow just work out?”
She shook her head slowly, sadly.
He bent to her, his hands closing firmly on her own. She
didn’t try to pull away, both fascinated and repelled by what
she saw in his eyes. She felt something like grief well up inside.
“Listen to me, Wren,” he said, shaking his head at something
she couldn’t see. “There is a special bond between us. I felt it
the moment I first saw you, the night you came to Arborlon,
still wondering what it was that you had been sent to do. I knew.
I knew it even then, but it was too early to speak of it. You are