from his feet. Instantly the Shadowen was on him, snarling.
Garth forced the sword between them, holding the wolf jaws
back. Garth was stronger than any man Wren had ever known.
But not stronger than this monster. Already she could see him
weakening.
Garth!
She launched herself at the wolf thing, slamming the long
knife into its body. It did not seem to notice. She clutched at
the beast, struggling to dislodge it. Beneath, she could glimpse
Garth’s dark face, sweat stained and rigid. She screamed in fury.
Then the Shadowen shook itself, and she was thrown clear.
She sprawled in a heap, weaponless, helpless. She hauled herself
to her knees, aware suddenly that she was burning from the
heat of the fire. The burning was intense-how long had it been
there?-centered in her chest. She clawed at herself, thinking
she had caught fire somehow. No, there were no flames, she
realized, nothing at all except .
Her fingers flinched as they found the little leather bag with
its painted rocks. The burning was there!
She yanked the bag free and almost without thinking about
what she was doing poured the rocks into her palm.
Instantly they exploded into light, dazzling, terrifying. She
found that she could not release them. The paint covering the
rocks disappeared, and the rocks became . . . She could not
bring herself to think the word, and there was no time for think-
ing in any case. The light flared and gathered like a living thing.
From across the clearing, she saw the Shadowen’s wolfish head
jerk up. She saw the glitter of its eyes. She and Garth might
still have a chance to survive, if . .
She acted out of instinct, sending the light hurtling ahead
with only a thought. It launched itself with frightening speed
and hammered into the Shadowen. The wolf creature was flung
away from Garth, twisting and shrieking. The light wrapped it
about, fire everywhere, burning, consuming. Wren held her
hand forth, commanding the fire. The magic terrified her, but
she forced her terror down. Power coursed through her, dark
and exhilarating, both at once. The Shadowen fought back,
wrestling with the light, fighting to break free. It could not.
Wren howled triumphantly as the Shadowen died, watching it
explode and turn to dust and disappear.
Then the light disappeared as well, and she and Garth were
alone.
CHAPTER
4
REN WORKED SWIFTLY to bind Garth’s wounds. No
bones were broken, but he had suffered a series of deep
lacerations on his forearms and chest, and he was cut
and bruised from head to root. foot He lay back against tne
earth as she knelt above him applying the healing salves and
herbs that Rovers carried everywhere, his dark face calm. Iron
Garth. The great, muscular body flinched once or twice as she
cleaned and bandaged, stitched and bound, but that was all.
Nothing showed on his face or revealed in his eyes the trauma
and pain he had endured.
Tears came to her eyes momentarily, and she bent her head
so he would not see. He was her closest friend, and she had
very nearly lost him.
If not for the Elfstones .
And they were Elfstones. Real Elfstones.
Don’t think about it!
She concentrated harder on what she was doing, blocking
out her anxious, frightened thoughts. The signal fire burned on,
flames leaping at the darkness, and wood crackling as it disin-
tegrated with the heat. She labored in silence, yet she could
hear everything about her-the fire’s roar, the whistle of the
wind across the rocks, the lapping of waves against the shore,
the hum of insects far back in the valley, and the hiss of her
own breathing. It was as if all of the night sounds had been
magnified a hundredfold-as if she had been placed in a great,
empty canyon where even the smallest whisper had an echo.
She finished with Garth and for a moment felt faint, a swarm
of images swimming before her eyes. She saw again the wolf
thing that was a Shadowen, all teeth and claws and bristling hair.
She saw Garth, locked in combat with the monster. She saw