of the harness. There were foot loops, knotted hand grips, and
a waist restraint, all designed to keep them safely in place. The
Wing Rider spent long moments telling them how the Roc would
react once in flight and how flying would make them feel. He
gave them each a bit of bitter-tasting root to chew on, advising
that it would keep them from being sick.
“Not that a couple of seasoned veterans of the Rover life
should be bothered by any of this,” he chided, managing a grin
that was worse than his scowl.
He clambered aboard in front of them, settled himself com-
fortably, pulled on his heavy gloves, and without warning gave
a shout and whacked Spirit on the neck The giant bird shrieked
in response, spread his wings, and lifted into the air. They
cleared the edge of the cliffs, dipped sharply downward, caught
a current of wind, and rose skyward. Wren felt her stomach
lurch. She closed her eyes against what she was feeling, then
opened them again, aware that Tiger Ty was looking over his
shoulder at her, chuckling. She smiled back bravely. Spirit flat-
tened out above the Blue Divide, wings barely moving, letting
the wind do the work. The coastline behind them grew small,
then lost definition. Soon it was nothing more than a thin dark
line against the horizon.
Time slipped away. They saw nothing below them save for
a scattering of rocky atolls and the occasional splash of a large
fish. Seabirds wheeled and dived in small white flashes, and
clouds lay along the western horizon like strips of gauze. The
ocean stretched away, a vast, flat blue surface streaked with the
foaming crests of waves that rolled endlessly toward distant
shores. After a time Wren was able to dismiss her initial uneas-
iness and settle back. Garth was less successful in adjusting. He
was seated immediately behind her, and whenever she glanced
back at him she found his dark face rigid and his hands clutched
about the restraining straps. Wren quit looking at him and con-
centrated on the sweep of the ocean ahead.
She soon began thinking about Morrowindl and the Elves.
Tiger Ty did not seem the sort to exaggerate the danger she
faced if she persisted in trying to penetrate the island. It was
true enough that she was determined to discover what had be-
come of the Elves; it was also true that her discovery would
serve little purpose if she didn’t survive to do something about
It. And what exactly did she expect to do? Suppose the Elves
Were still there on Morrowindl? Suppose they were alive? If no
one had gotten in or out in ten years, how was her appearance
going to change anything? Why, whatever their present circum
stances, would the Elves even consider what Allanon had sent
her to propose-that they abandon life outside the Four Lands
and return?
She had no answers to these questions, of course. It was
pointless to try to find any. She had made her decisions up to
now based strictly on instinct-to search for the Elves in the
first place, to seek out the Addershag in Grimpen Ward and
then to follow her directions, to persuade Tiger Ty to convey
them to Morrowindl. She could not help but wonder if her
instincts had misled her. Garth had stayed with her, virtually
without argument, but Garth could be doing so out of loyalty
or friendship. He might have resolved to see this matter through,
but that didn’t mean he had any better sense of what they were
about than she did. She scanned the empty expanse of the Blue
Divide, feeling small and vulnerable. Morrowindl was an island
in the middle of the ocean, a tiny speck of earth amid all that
water. Once she and Garth were there, they would be isolated
from everything familiar. There would be no way off again with-
out the aid of a Roc or a boat, nor was it certain there would
be anyone on the island who could help them. There might no
longer be any Elves. There might be only the monsters .
Monsters. She considered for a moment the question of what