lumbering to a halt atop a small rise, spines lifting guardedly.
The company stared out bleakly at what lay ahead, listening for
and hearing nothing, looking at and seeing nothing, feeling
death’s presence at every turn. The devastation spread away
before them, a vast and empty landscape wrapped in gray si-
lence.
On Wren’s shoulder, Faun sat up stiffly and leaned forward,
ears pricked. She could feel the Tree Squeak shiver.
“What is this place?” Gavilan asked.
A heavy rumble distracted them momentarily, causing them
to glance north to where Killeshan’s bulk loomed darkly, seem-
ingly as close to them now as it had been on their leaving Ar-
borlon. The rumble receded and died.
Stresa swung slowly about. “This is the Harrow,” he said.
“Hssttt! This is where the Drakuls live.”
A form of demon-or Shadowen-Wren recalled. Stresa had
mentioned them before. Dangerous, he had intimated.
“Drakuls,” Gavilan repeated, weary recognition in his voice.
Killeshan rumbled again, more insistent than before, an un-
necessary reminder of its presence, of the anger it bore them
for having stolen the magic away, for having disrupted the bal-
ance of things. Morrowindi shuddered in response.
“Tell me about the Drakuls,” Wren instructed the Splinters-
cat quietly.
Stresa’s dark eyes fixed on her. “Demons, like the others.
Phhfftt! They sleep in daylight, come out at night to feed. They
drain the life out of the living things they catch-the blood, the
fluids of the body. They make-hssstt-some into creatures like
themselves.” The blunt nose twitched. “They hunt as wraiths,
but take form to feed. As wraiths, they cannot be harmed.” He
spit distastefully.
“We will go around,” Triss announced at once.
Stresa spit again, as if the taste wouldn’t go away. “Around!
Phaaww! There is no ‘around’! North, the Harrow runs back
toward Killeshan, miles and miles-back toward the valley and
the demons that hunt us. Rwwlll. South, the Harrow stretches
to the cliffs. The Drakuls hunt its edges, too. In any case, we
would never-hrraaggh-get around it before nightfall and we
must if we are to live. Crossing in daylight is our only chance.”
“While the Drakuls sleep?” Wren prompted.
“Yes, Wren of the Elves,” the Splinterscat growled softly.
“While they sleep. And even so-hsssttt-it will not be entirely
safe. The Drakuls are present even then-as voices out of air,
as faces on the mist, as feelings and hunches and fears and
doubts. Phhffttt. They will try to distract and lure, try to keep
us within the Harrow until nightfall.”
Wren stared off into the blasted countryside, into the haze
that hung from the skies to the earth. Trapped again, she thought.
The whole island is a snare.
“There is no other passage open to us?”
Stresa did not answer-did not need to.
“And on the other side of the Harrow?”
“The In Ju. And the beaches beyond.”
Triss had moved up beside her. His lean face was intense.
“Aurin Striate used to speak of the Drakuls,” he advised softly.
His gaze fixed on her. “He said there was no defense against
them.”
“But they sleep now,” she replied, just as softly.
The gray eyes shifted away. “Do they?”
A new rumble shook the island, deep and forbidding, rising
like a giant coming awake angry, thunderous as the tremors built
upon themselves. Cracks appeared in the ground about them
and rock and silt fell away into the void. Steam and ash belched
out of the Killeshan, showering skyward in towering geysers,
arcing away into the gloom. Fire trailed ominously from the
volcano’s lip, a trickle only, just visible in the haze.
Garth caught Wren’s attention, a simple shifting of his shoul-
ders. His fingers moved. Be quick, Wren. The island begins to shake
itself apart.
She glanced at them in turn-Garth, as enigmatic and im-
passive as ever; steady Triss, her protector now, given over to
his new charge; Dal, restless as he stared out into the haze-she
had never even heard him speak; Eowen, a white shadow against
the gray, looking as if she might disappear into it; and Gavilan,
uneasy, unpredictable, haunted, lost to her.
“How long will it take us to cross?” she asked Stresa. Faun
scrambled down off her shoulder and moved away, picking at