Wren took a deep breath against her fears and answered, “The shade of
Allanon.”
The aged head lifted with a snap. “Allanon!” She breathed the name
like a curse. “So! A Druid’s charge, is it? Very well. Listen to me, then.
Go south through the Wilderun, cross the Irrybis and follow the coast of
the Blue Divide. When you have reached the caves of the Rocs, build a fire
and keep it burning three days and nights. One will come who can help
you. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Wren replied, wondering at the same time if she really did.
“Beware, Elf-girl,” the other warned, a stick-thin hand lifting. “I see
danger ahead for you, hard times, and treachery and evil beyond imagining.
My visions are in my head, truths that haunt me with their madness. Heed
me, then. Keep your own counsel, girl. Trust no one!”
Trust no one!
Wren had left the old woman then, admonished to leave
even though she had offered to stay and help. She had rejoined
Garth, and the men had tried to kill them then, of course, be-
cause that had been their plan all along. They had failed in their
attempt and paid for their foolishness-perhaps with their lives
by now if the Addershag had tired of them.
Slipping clear of Grimpen Ward, Wren and Garth had come
south, following the old seer’s instructions, still in search of the
disappeared Elves. They had traveled for two days without stop-
ping to sleep, anxious to put as much distance between them-
selves and Grimpen Ward as possible and eager as well to make
yet another attempt to shake loose of their shadow. Wren had
thought earlier that day they might have done so. Garth was
not so certain. His uneasiness would not be dispelled. So when
they had stopped for the night, needing at last to sleep and
regain their strength, he had backtracked once more. Perhaps
he would find something to settle the matter, he told her. Per-
haps not. But he wanted to give it a try.
That was Garth. Never leave anything to chance.
Behind her, in the woods, one of the horses pawed restlessly
and went still again. Garth had hidden the animals behind the
trees before leaving. Wren waited a moment to be certain all
was well, then stood and moved over again beneath the willow,
losing herself in the deep shadows formed by its canopy, easing
herself down once more against the broad trunk. Far to the west,
the light had faded to a glimmer of silver where the water met
the sky.
Magic, the Addershag had said. How could that be?
If there were still Elves, and if she was able to find them,
would they be able to tell her what the old woman had not?
She leaned back and closed her eyes momentarily, feeling
herself drifting, letting it happen.
When she jerked awake again, twilight had given way to
night, the darkness all around save where moon and stars bathed
the Open spaces in a silver glow. The campfire had gone cold,
and she shivered with the chill that had invaded the coastal air.
Rising, she moved over to her pack, withdrew her travel cloak,
and wrapped it about her for warmth. After moving back be-
neath the tree, she settled herself once more.
You fell asleep, she chided herself. What would Garth say if he
were to discover that?
She remained awake after that until he returned. It was near-
ing midnight, the world about her gone still save for the lulling
rush of the ocean waves as they washed onto the beach below.
Garth appeared soundlessly, yet she had sensed he was coming
before she saw him and took some small satisfaction from that.
He moved out of the trees and came directly to where she hid,
motionless in the night, a part of the old willow. He seated him-
self before her, huge and dark, faceless in the shadows. His big
hands lifted, and he began to sign. His fingers moved swiftly.
Their shadow was still back there, following after them.
Wren felt her stomach grow cold and she hugged herself
crossly.
“Did you see it?” she asked, signing as she spoke.