there, you know.”
Wren pursed her lips. “Demons. Vog, fire, ash, and lava rock
until you reach the cliffs, then swamp and jungle, and then
there’s mostly vog. Gavilan, you shouldn’t have agreed to come.”
He laughed. “And you should? No, Wren, I want to die a
whole man, knowing what’s happened, not wondering from
within the shield of the Loden’s magic. If it even works. I won-
der. No one really knows, not even the queen. Perhaps she’ll
invoke it and nothing will happen.”
“You don’t believe that, though, do you?”
“No. The magic always works for Ellenroh. Almost always,
at least.” The hands dropped away wearily.
“Tell me about the magic, Gavilan,” she asked impulsively.
“What is it about the magic that doesn’t work? Why is it that
no one wants to talk about it?”
Gavilan shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat, seeming
to hunch down within himself as he did so. “Do you know,
Wren, what it will be like for the Elves if Aunt Eli invokes the
Loden’s magic? None of them were alive when Arborlon was
brought out of the Westland. None of them have ever seen the
Four Lands. Only a few remember what it was like when Mor-
rowindi was clean and free of the demons. The city is all they
know. Imagine what it will be like for them when they are taken
away from the island and put back into the Westland. Imagine
what they will feel. It will terrify them.”
“Perhaps not,” she ventured.
He didn’t seem to hear her. “We will lose everything we
know when that happens. The magic has sustained us for our
entire lives. The magic does everything for us. It cleans the air,
shelters against the weather, keeps our fields fertile, feeds the
plants and animals of the forest, and provides us with our water.
Everything. What if these things are lost?”
She saw the truth then. He was terrified. He had no concept
of life beyond the Keel, of a world without demons where na-
ture provided everything for which the Elves now relied upon
the magic.
“Gavilan, it will be all right,” she said quietly. “Everything
you enjoy now was there once before. The magic only provides
you with what will be there again if nature’s balance is restored.
Eilenroh is right. The Elves will not survive if they remain on
Morrowindi. Sooner or later, the Keel will fail. And it may be
that the Four Lands, in turn, cannot survive without the Elves.
Perhaps the destiny of the Races is linked in some way, just as
Eilenroh suggested. Perhaps Allanon saw that when he sent me
to find you.”
His eyes fixed on hers. The fear was gone, but his look was
intense and troubled. “I understand the magic, Wren. Aunt ElI
thinks it is too dangerous, too unpredictable. But I understand
it and I think I could find a way to master it.”
“Tell me why she fears it.” Wren pressed. “What is it that
causes her to think it dangerous?”
Gavilan hesitated, and for a moment he seemed about to
answer. Then he shook his head. “No, Wren. I cannot tell you.
I have sworn I wouldn’t. You are an Elf, but . . . It is better if
you never find out, believe me. The magic isn’t what it seems.
It’s too . .
He brought up his hands as if to brush the matter aside,
frustrated and impatient. Then abruptly his mood changed, and
he was suddenly buoyant. “Ask me something else, and I will
answer. Ask me anything.”
Wren folded her arms angrily. “I don’t want to ask you any-
thing else. I want to know about this.”
The dark eyes danced. He was enjoying himself. He stepped
so close to her that they were almost touching. “You are Al-
leyne’s child, Wren. I’ll give you that. Determined to the end.”
“Tell me, then.”
“Won’t give it up, will you?”
“Gavilan.”
“So caught up in wanting an answer you won’t even see
what’s right in front of your face.”
She hesitated, confused.
“Look at me,” he said.
They stared at each other without speaking, eyes locked,