bones beyond, empty and stark. Faun poked her head up ten-
tatively. Stresa lumbered over to join them, panting, tongue
licking out. The Splinterscat spit. “Hsssttt! Stupid wraiths!”
Wren nodded. In her hands, the heat of the Ruhk Staff dis-
sipated and was gone. She felt her own body cool in response.
A small measure of relief welled up within.
Then abruptly Garth crowded forward, startled by some-
thing she had missed, intense and anxious as he searched the
mist. Wren followed his gaze, frightened without yet knowing
why. She saw the others glance at one another uneasily.
Her heart jumped. What was wrong?
She saw it then. There were only five of them. Eowen was
missing.
At first she thought such a thing impossible, that she must
be mistaken. She had counted all six when they had climbed
from the ravine. Eowen had been among them; she had recog-
nized her face .
She stopped herself. Eowen. She saw the red-haired seer in
her mind, trailing after-too pale, too ephemeral. Almost as if
she wasn’t really there-which, of course, she hadn’t been. Wren
experienced a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, an aching
that threatened to break free and consume her. What she had
seen had been another image, one more clever and calculated
than the others, an image designed to make them all believe
they were together when in fact they were not.
The Drakuls had Eowen.
Garth signed hurriedly. I was watching out for her as I promised I
would. She was right behind us when we climbed from the ravine. How
could I lose her?
“You didn’t,” Wren replied instantly. She felt an odd calm
settle over her, a resignation of sorts, an acceptance of the in-
evitability of chance and fate. “It’s all right, Garth,” she whis-
pered.
She felt the ground open beneath her, a hole into which she
must surely fall. She waited for the feeling to pass, for stability
to take hold. She knew what she had to do. Whatever else
happened, she could not abandon Eowen. To save her, she
would have to go back into the Harrow, back among the Drak-
uls. She could send the others, of course; they would go if she
asked. But she would never do that-would never even consider
it. Tracker skills, Rover experience, Elven Hunter training-all
would be useless against the Drakuls. Only one thing would
make any difference.
She took a few uncertain steps and stopped. Reason screamed
at her to reconsider. She was aware of the others coming for-
ward one by one to stand with her, their eyes following her own
as she peered out into the Harrow’s gloom.
“No!” Stresa warned. “Phffft! it’s already growing dark!”
She ignored him, turning instead to Gavilan. Wordlessly she
took his measure, then held forth the Ruhk Staff. “it is time for
you to be a friend to me again, Gavilan,” she told him quietly.
“Take the Staff. Hold it for me until my return. Keep it safe.”
Gavilan stared at her in disbelief, then cautiously reached
for the talisman. His hands closed over it, tightened about it,
and drew it away. She did not allow her eyes to linger on his,
frightened of what she would find there. He was all that re-
mained of her family; she had to trust him.
Triss and Dal had dropped their packs and were cinching
their weapons belts. Garth already had his short sword out.
“No,” she told them. “I am going back alone.”
They started to protest, the words quick and urgent, but she
cut them off instantly. “No!” she repeated. She faced them. “I
am the only one who stands a chance of finding Eowen and
bringing her out again. Me.” She reached within her tunic and
pulled forth the pouch with the Elfstones. “Magic to find her
and to protect me-nothing less will do. If you come with me,
I shall have to worry about protecting you as well. These things
can’t be hurt by your weapons, and this one time at least you
cannot help me.”
She put a hand on Triss’s arm, gentle but firm. “You are
pledged to watch over me, I know. But I am ordering you to