Morgawr by Terry Brooks

It worried Bek, but he understood it, too. She was protecting herself in the only way she could, by closing off the emotions that would otherwise destroy her. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel anything or that she no longer believed that she must account for the wrongs she had committed. But if she gave them too much consideration, if she gave her past too great a hold over her present, she would be unable to function. She had survived for many years through strength of will and rigid control. She had kept her emotions hidden. Last night, she had discovered that she could not let go of those defenses too quickly. She was still his sister, but she could not turn away from being the Ilse Witch either.

She was walking a fine line between sanity and madness, between staying out in the light of the real world and fleeing back into the hiding place she had only just managed to escape.

“We have to decide what we’re going to do if he comes into the ruins and finds us,” Bek said quietly.

“He is only one man,” Rue said. “None of the others have his magic to protect them. The rets can be killed. I’ve killed them myself.”

She sounded so fierce when she said it that Bek turned to look at her in spite of himself. But when he saw the look on her face he could not bring himself to say anything back.

Grianne had no such problem. “What you say is true, but the Morgawr is more powerful than any of you or even all of you put together. He is not a man,—he is not even human. He is a creature who has kept himself alive a thousand years through use of dark magic. He knows a hundred ways to kill with barely a thought.”

“He taught you all of them, I expect,” Rue said without looking at her.

The words had no visible effect on Grianne, though Bek flinched. “What can we do to stop him?” he asked, looking to avoid the confrontation he could feel building.

“Nothing,” his sister answered. She turned now to face them both. “This isn’t your fight. It never was. Rue was right in asking me what I intended to do about the Morgawr. He is my responsibility. I am the one who must face him.”

“You can’t do that,” Bek said at once. “Not alone.”

“Alone is best. Distractions will only jeopardize my chances of defeating him. Anyone whom I care about is a distraction he will take advantage of. Alone, I can do what is necessary. The Morgawr is powerful, but I am his match. I always have been.”

Bek shook his head angrily. “Once, maybe. But you were the Ilse Witch then.”

“I am the Ilse Witch still, Bek.” She gave him a quick, sad smile. “You just don’t see me that way.”

“She’s right about this,” Rue interrupted before he could offer further argument. “She has magic honed on the warlock’s grinding stone. She knows how to use it against him.”

“But I have the same magic!” Bek snapped, hissing in anger as he sought to keep his voice down. “What about Ahren Elessedil? He has the power of the Elfstones. Shouldn’t we use our magics together? Wouldn’t that be more effective than you facing the Morgawr alone? Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

“You are inexperienced at using the wishsong, Bek. Ahren is inexperienced at using the Elfstones. The Morgawr would kill you both before you could find a way to stop him.”

She walked over to stand beside Rue Meridian, a deliberate act he could not mistake, and turned back to face him. “Everything that has happened to me is the Morgawr’s doing. Everything I lost, I lost because of him. Everything I became, I became because of him. Everything I did, I did because of him. I made the choices, but he dictated the circumstances under which those choices were made. I make no excuses for myself, but I am owed something for what was done. No one can give that back to me. I have to take it back. I have to reclaim it. I can only do that by facing him.”