Then Strabo breathed dragon fire into the air before them, and once again the sky melted and gave way. Edges frayed and crinkled about a jagged hole, and the dragon and his passengers passed through.
Ben had to squint against a sudden change of light. When he opened his eyes wide again, stars and colored moons brightened a misted night sky.
They were back in Landover once more.
It took Ben several moments to regain his bearings. They were in Landover, but not over the Greensward. They were north, almost to the wall of the valley. Strabo circled for a time, winging over thick forestland and barren ridgeline, then eased down gently into a deserted meadow.
Ben scrambled down from the dragon’s back. Bunion and Parsnip greeted him with hisses and gleaming teeth, so agitated they could barely contain themselves. Abernathy dropped rudely to the ground, picked himself up, brushed himself off, and denounced the day he had ever let himself become mixed up with any of them. Questor, conscious again, lowered himself gingerly along the harness straps and stumbled over to Ben, barely aware of what he was doing, his eyes fixed on the dragon.
“I had never believed I would see the day that anyone would rule this… this marvelous creature!” he whispered, awestruck. “Strabo — last of the old dragons, the greatest of the fairy creatures, brought to the service of a King of Landover! It was the Io Dust, of course, but still…”
He stumbled into Ben and suddenly remembered himself. “High Lord, you are safe! We thought you lost for certain! How you found your way clear of the fairy world, I will never know! How you accomplished what you did…” His enthusiasm left him momentarily speechless, and he reached for Ben’s hand and pumped it vigorously. Ben grinned in spite of himself. “We came looking for you after you failed to return that first day, and the witch took us,” the wizard went on hastily. “She sent us to Abaddon and dropped us on that slab of rock for the demons to play with. Almost five days, High Lord! That’s how long we have been trapped there! Days of being teased and taunted by those loathsome, foul…”
The kobolds hissed and chittered wildly, pointing.
Questor nodded at once, his enthusiasm fading. “Yes, you are correct to intercede — I had indeed forgotten.” He took Ben’s arm. “I ramble, High Lord, when there are more pressing concerns. The sylph is very ill.” He hesitated, then pulled Ben after him. “I am sorry, High Lord, but she may be dying.”
Ben’s smile was gone instantly. They hurried forward of where Strabo crouched, watching them with lidded eyes. Aberoathy was already kneeling in the grass next to Willow’s inert form. Ben knelt with him, and Questor and the kobolds gathered close.
“Her time for joining with the earth came when she was trapped in Abaddon,” Questor whispered. “She could not deny the changeling need, but the rock would not accept her.”
Ben shuddered. Willow had tried to transform, unable to resist the need, and the attempt had been only partially completed. Her skin had gone wrinkled and barklike, her fingers and toes had turned to gnarled roots, her hair had become slender branches, and her body had twisted and split. She was so hideous to look upon that Ben could barely manage to do so.
“She still breathes, High Lord,” Abernathy said softly.
Ben fought down his revulsion. “We have to save her,” he replied, trying desperately to think of what to do. He stared in horror as Willow’s body convulsed suddenly, and more roots split from the skin beneath one wrist. The sylph’s eyes fluttered blindly and closed again. She was in agony. Anger coursed through Ben like a fire. “Questor, use your magic!”
“No, High Lord.” Questor shook his head slowly. “No magic that I possess can help. Only one thing can save her. She must complete the transformation.”
Ben wheeled on the wizard. “Damn it, how is she supposed to do that? She’s barely alive!”
No one said anything. He turned back to the girl. He should never have left her alone with Nightshade. He should never have permitted her to come with him in the first place. It was his fault that this had happened. It would be his fault if she died…
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