The Gnome caught him staring. "What's bothering you?" he snapped.

"Nothing." Jair looked away quickly, then looked back again. "I was just wondering where you'd been."

Slanter stayed bent over his plate. "I decided to sleep down by the river. Cooler there. Too hot by the fire." Jair's eyes strayed down to the discarded pack, and the Gnome's head jerked up.

"Took the pack so I could scout upriver a bit-just in case. Thought I'd be certain that nothing..."

He broke off. "I don't have to account to you, boy! What's the difference what I was doing? I'm here now, aren't I? Let me be!"

He went back to his breakfast, attacking it with a vengeance. Jair glanced furtively at Garet Jax, but the Weapons Master seemed to take no notice. The Valeman turned again to Slanter. He was lying, of course; his tracks led downriver. Garet Jax had said so. Why had he decided to come back?

Unless...

Jair caught himself. The idea was so wild that he could barely conceive of it. But just perhaps the King of the Silver River had used his magic to bring the Gnome back again. He could have done that, Jair thought, and Slanter would never have been the wiser or realized what was being done to him. The old man could have seen that Jair would have need for the tracker-a Gnome who knew the whole of the Eastland.

Then suddenly it occurred to Jair that perhaps the King of the Silver River had brought Garet Jax to him as well-that the Weapons Master had come to his aid in the Black Oaks because the old man had wanted it so. Was that possible? Was that the reason that Garet Jax had freed him-all without realizing it?

Jair sat there in stunned silence, his food forgotten. That would explain the reluctance of both tracker and soldier-of-fortune to discuss the reasons for their actions. They didn't understand it fully themselves. But if that were true, then Jair, too, might have been brought here by similar manipulation. How much of what had happened to him had been the work of the old man?

Garet Jax finished his breakfast and was kicking out the fire. Slanter, too, was on his feet, wordlessly pulling on the discarded pack. Jair stared at them in turn, wondering what he shoulddo. He knew that he couldn't just stay silent.

"Time to go," Garet Jax called over, motioning him up. Slanter was already at the edge of the clearing.

"Wait...wait just a minute." They turned to stare at him as he climbed slowly to his feet.

"I've got something to tell you first."

He told them everything. He had not intended it to happen that way, but telling one thing led to telling another by way of explanation; before he knew it the whole story was out. He told them of Allanon's visit to the Vale and of his story of the Ildatch, of how Brin and Rone Leah had gone east with the Druid to gain entry into the Maelmord, and lastly of the appearance of the King of the Silver River and of the mission he had given to Jair.

When he had finished, there was a long silence. Garet Jax walked back to the fallen log and sat down, gray eyes intense.

"I am to be your protector?" he asked quietly.

Jair nodded. "He said you would be."

"What if I were to decide otherwise?"

Jair shook his head. "I don't know."

"I have heard some wild tales, but this is the wildest it has ever been my misfortune to suffer through!" Slanter exclaimed suddenly. "What are you up to with all this nonsense? What's the purpose of it? You don't think for a minute anyone sitting here believes a word of it, do you?"

"Believe what you want. It's the truth," Jair insisted, refusing to back away as the Gnome advanced on him.

"The truth! What do you know about the truth?" Slanter was incredulous. "You spoke with the King of the Silver River, did you? He gave you magic, did he? And now we're supposed to go traipsing off into the deep Anar, are we? And not just into the Anar, but right into the teeth of the black walkers! Into the Maelmord! You're mad, boy! That's the only truth there is in any of this!"

Jair reached into his tunic and brought forth the pouch containing the Silver Dust. "This is the Dust he gave me, Slanter. And here." He pulled the vision crystal on its silver chain free of his neck. "You see? I have the things he gave me, just as I said. Look for yourself."

Slanter threw up his hands. "I don't want to look! I don't want anything to do with any of this! I don't even know what I'm doing here!" He wheeled about suddenly. "But I'll tell you this-I'm not going into the Anar, not with a thousand crystals or a whole mountain of Silver Dust!

Find someone else who's tired of living and leave me be!"

Garet Jax was back on his feet. He came over to Jair, took the pouch from the Valeman's hand, slipped the drawstrings open, and peered inside. Then he looked up again at Jair.

"Looks like sand to me," he said.

Jair glanced down hurriedly. Sure enough, the contents of the pouch looked exactly like sand. There was not a sparkle of silver to be seen in the supposed Silver Dust.

"Of course, the color might be a guise to protect against theft," the Weapons Master mused thoughtfully, a distant look in his eyes.

Slanter was aghast. "You don't really believe..."

Garet Jax cut him short. "I don't believe much of anything, Gnome." His eyes were hard again as they shifted to Jair. "Let's put this magic to the test. Take out the vision crystal and sing to it."

Jair hesitated. "I don't know how.""You don't know how?" Slanter sneered. "Shades!"

Garet Jax didn't move. "This seems like a good time to learn, doesn't it?"

Jair flushed and looked down at the crystal. Neither of them believed a word he had told them. He couldn't really blame them, though. He wouldn't have believed it himself if it hadn't happened to him. But it had, and it had been all too convincing not to be real.

He took a deep breath. "I'll try."

He began to sing softly to the crystal. He held it cupped within his hands like a fragile thing, the silver chain dangling down through his fingers. He sang without knowing what it was he should sing or how he could bring the crystal to life. Low and gentle, his voice called to it and asked that it show him Brin.

It responded almost instantly. Light flared within his palms, startling him so that he nearly dropped the crystal. A living thing, the light shimmered a brilliant white, expanding until it was the size of a child's ball. Garet Jax bent close, his lean face intense. Slanter edged his way back from across the clearing.

Then abruptly Brin Ohmsford's face appeared Within the light, dark and beautiful, framed by mountains whose slopes were stark and towering against a dawn less friendly than their own.

"Brin!" Jair whispered.

He thought for a moment she might reply, so real was her face within the light. Yet her eyes were far distant in their vision, and her ears were closed to his voice. Then the vision faded; in his excitement, Jair had ceased to sing, and the crystal's magic was spent. The light was gone in the same moment. Jair's hands cupped the crystal once more.

"Where was she?" he asked hurriedly.

Garet Jax shook his head. "I'm not sure. Perhaps..." But he did not finish.

Jair turned to Slanter, but the Gnome was shaking his head as well. "I don't know. It happened too fast. How did you do that, boy? It's that song, isn't it? It's that magic you have."

"And the magic of the King of the Silver River," Jair added quickly. "Now do you believe me?"

Slanter shook his head glumly. "I'm not going into the Anar," he muttered.

"I need you, Slanter."

"You don't need me. With magic like that, you don't need anyone." The Gnome turned away. "Just sing your way into the Maelmord like your sister."

Jair forced down the anger building within him. He shoved the crystal and the pouch with the Silver Dust back into his tunic. "Then I'll go alone," he declared heatedly.

"No need for that quite yet." Garet Jax swung his pack over his shoulder and started across the clearing once more. "First we'll see you safely to Culhaven, the Gnome and me. Then you can tell the Dwarves this story of yours. The Druid and your sister should have pa.s.sed that way by now-or word of their pa.s.sing reached the Dwarves. In any case, let's find out if anyone there understands anything of what you've been telling us."

Jair stalked after him hurriedly. "What you're saying is that you think I made this all up!

Listen to me a minute. Why would I do that? What possible reason could I have? Go on, tell me!"

Garet Jax s.n.a.t.c.hed up the Valeman's cloak and blanket and shoved them at him as they went. "Don't waste your time telling me what I think," he replied calmly. "I'll tell you what I think when I'm ready.

Together they disappeared into the trees, following the trail that led east along the banksof the Silver River. Slanter watched them until they were out of sight, his rough yellow face twisting with displeasure. Then, picking up his own pack, he hastened after, muttering as he went.

12.

For the better part of three days, Brin Ohmsford and Rone Leah rode north with Allanon toward the Keep of Paranor. The path chosen by the Druid was long and circuitous, a slow hard journey through country made rugged by steep slides, narrow pa.s.ses, and choking forest wilderness. But at the same time the path was free of the presence of Gnomes, Mord Wraiths, and other evils that might beset the unwary traveler, and it was for this reason that Allanon had made his choice.

Whatever else must be endured on their journey north, he was determined that in the making of that journey he would take no further chances with the life of the Valegirl.

So he did not take them through the Hall of Kings as he had once done with Shea Ohmsford, a match that would have forced him to leave their horses and proceed afoot through the underground caverns that interred the kings of old, where traps could be triggered with every step forward and monsters guarded against all who trespa.s.sed. Nor did he take them across the Rabb to the Jannisson Pa.s.s, a ride through open country where they might be easily seen and which would take them much too close to the forests of the Eastland and the enemy they sought to avoid. Instead; he took them west along the Mermidon through the deep forests that blanketed the lower slopes. of the Dragon's Teeth from the Valley of Shale to the mountain forests of Tyrsis. They rode west until at last they reached the Kennon Pa.s.s, a high mountain trail that led them far into the Dragon's Teeth to emerge miles further north within the forests that bound the castle of Paranor.

It was at dawn of the third day that they came down from the Kennon into the valley beyond, a dawn gray and hard as iron, clouded over and cold with winter's chill. They rode in a line, traversing the narrow pa.s.s through mountains bare and stark as they loomed against the morning sky, and it was as if all life had ceased to be. Wind swept the empty rock with fierce gusts, and they bent their heads against its force. Below, the forested valley that sheltered the castle of the Druids stretched dark and forbidding before them. A faint, swirling mist hid the distant pinnacle of the Keep from their eyes.

As they rode, Brin Ohmsford struggled with an unshakable sense of impending disaster. It was a premonition really, and it had been with her since they had left the Valley of Shale. It tracked her with insidious purpose, a shadow as murky and cold as the land she rode through, an elusive thing that lurked within the rocks and crags, flitting from one place of hiding to another, watching with sly and evil intent. Hunched down within her riding cloak, drawing what warmth she could from the bulky folds, she let her mount choose its path on the narrow trail and felt the weight of the presence as it followed after.

It had been the Wraith mostly, she thought, that fostered that premonition. More than the harshness of the day, the dark intent of the Druid she followed, or the newfound fear she felt for the power of her wishsong, it was the Wraith. The Druid had a.s.sured her that there were no others. Yet such a dark and evil thing, silent in its coming, swift and terrible in its attack, then gone as quickly as it had appeared, with nothing left but its ashes. It was as if it were a being come from death into life, then gone back again, faceless, formless, a thing without ident.i.ty, yet above all, frightening.

There would be others. How many others she did not know nor care to know. Many, certainly-all searching for her. She sensed it instinctively. Mord Wraiths-wherever they might be, whatever their other dark purposes-all would be looking for her. One only, the Druid had said.

Yet that one had found them; and if one had found them, others could. How was it that that onehad found them? Allanon had brushed aside her question when she asked it. Chance, he had answered. Somehow it hid crossed their trail and followed after, choosing its moment to strike when it thought the Druid weakened. But Brin thought it equally possible that the thing had tracked the Druid since his flight from the Eastland. If that were so, it would have gone first to Shady Vale.

And to Jair!

Odd, but there had been a moment earlier, a brief, fleeting moment as she wound her way down through the grayness of the dawn, alone with her thoughts, wrapped in the solitude of wind and cold, when she had felt her brother's touch. It was as if he had been looking at her, his vision somehow reaching past the distance that separated them to find her as she made her way out of the great cliffs of the Dragon's Teeth. But then the touch had faded, and Jair was as distant once more as the home she had left him to keep watch over.

This morning she was worried for Jair's safety. The Wraith might have gone first to Shady Vale and found Jair, despite what Allanon said. The Druid had dismissed the idea, but he was not to be trusted completely. Allanon was a keeper of secrets, and what he revealed was what he wished known-nothing more. It had always been that way with the Ohmsfords, ever since the Druid had first come to Shea.

She thought again of his meeting with the shade of Bremen in the Valley of Shale.

Something had pa.s.sed between them that the Druid had chosen to keep hidden-something terrible. Despite his a.s.surances to the contrary, he had learned something that had disturbed him greatly, had even frightened him. Could it be that what he had learned involved Jair?

The thought haunted her. Were anything to happen to her brother and the Druid to learn of it, she felt he would keep it from her. Nothing would be allowed to interfere with the mission he had set for her. He was as dark and terrible in his determination as the enemy they sought to overcome-and in that he frightened her as much as they. She was still troubled by what he had done to Rone.

Rone Leah loved her; it was unspoken between them perhaps, but it was there. He had come with her because of that love, to make certain that she had someone with her whom she could always trust. He did not feel Allanon was that person. But the Druid had subverted Rone's intentions and at the same time silenced his criticism. He had challenged Rone's self-designated role as protector; when the challenge was accepted, he had turned the highlander into a lesser version of himself by the giving of magic to the Sword of Leah.

An old and battered relic, the Sword had been little more than a symbol Rone bore to remind himself of the legacy of courage and strength-of-heart attributed to the house of Leah. But the Druid had made it a weapon with which the highlander might seek to attain his own oft-imagined feats-at-arms. In so doing, Allanon had mandated that Rone's role as protector be something far more awesome than either she or the highlander had envisioned. And what the Druid had made of Rone Leah might well destroy him.

"It was like nothing I could ever have imagined," he had confided to her when they were alone that first night after leaving the Valley of Shale. He had been hesitant in his speech, yet excited. It had taken him that long just to bring himself to speak of it to her. "The power just seemed to explode within me. Brin, I don't even know what made me do it; I just acted. I saw Allanon trapped within the fire and I just acted. When the Sword cut into the fire, I could feel its power. I was part of it. At that moment, I felt as if there were nothing I could not do-nothing!"

His face had flushed with the memory. "Brin, not even the Druid frightens me anymore!"Brin's eyes lifted to scan the dark spread of the forests below, still misted in the half-light of the harsh autumn day. Her premonition slipped through the rocks and across the twist of the pa.s.s, cat-quick and certain. It will show no face until it is upon us, she thought. And then we will be destroyed. Somehow I know it to be so. The voice whispers in my thoughts of Jair, of Rone, of Allanon, and of the Mord Wraiths most of all. It whispers in secrets kept from me, in the gray oppression of this day, and in the misty dark of what lies ahead.

We will be destroyed. All of us.

They were within the forests by midday. All afternoon they rode, winding their way through mist and gloom, threading needles of pa.s.sage through ma.s.sive trees and choking brush.

This was an empty woods, devoid of life and color, hard as iron in autumn's gray, with leaves gone dusty brown and curled against the cold like frightened things. Wolves had once prowled these woods, great gray monsters that protected against all who dared to trespa.s.s in the land of the Druids. But the wolves were gone, their time long past, and now there was only the stillness and the emptiness. All about, there was a sense of something dying.

Dusk had begun to fall when Allanon at last bade them halt, weary and aching from the long day's ride. They tied their horses within a gathering of giant oaks, giving them only a small ration of water and feed so that they might not cramp. Then they went ahead on foot. The gloom about them deepened with night's coming, and the stillness gave way to a low, distant rumble that seemed to hang in the air. Steady and sure, the Druid led them on, picking his way with the sense of one familiar with the region; there was no hesitation in his step as he found the path. As silent as the shadows about them, the three slipped through the trees and brush and melted into the night.

What is it that we go to do? Brin whispered within her mind. What dark purpose of the Druid's do we serve this night?

Then the trees broke before them. Out of the gray dusk rose the cliffs of Paranor, steep and towering, and at their rim was the ancient castle of the Druids, called the Keep. It rose high within the darkness, a monstrous stone and iron giant rooted in the earth. From within the Keep and the mountain upon which it rested sounded the rumble they had heard earlier, and which had grown steadily louder as they approached, the deep thrum of machinery grinding in ceaseless cadence against the silence that lifted all about. Torches burned like devil's eyes within narrow, iron-barred windows, crimson and lurid against the night sky, and smoke trailed into mist. Once Druids had walked the halls beyond, and it was a time of enlightenment and great promise for the races of Man. But that time was gone. Now only Gnomes and Mord Wraiths walked in Paranor.

"Hear me," Allanon whispered suddenly, and they bent close to listen. "Hear what I tell you and do not question. The shade of Bremen has given warning. Paranor has fallen to the Mord Wraiths. They seek within its walls the hidden histories of the Druids so that their own power may be strengthened. Other times, the Keep has fallen to an enemy and it has always been regained. But this time that cannot be. This marks the end of all that has been. The age closes, and Paranor must pa.s.s from the land."

Highlander and Valegirl stared at the Druid. "What are you saying, Allanon?" Brin demanded fiercely.

The Druid's eyes gleamed in the dark. "That in my lifetime and yours-in the lifetime of your children and perhaps your children's children-no man shall set foot within the walls of the Druid's Keep after this night. We are to be the last. We shall go into the Keep through its lowerpa.s.sages that are yet unknown to the Wraiths and Gnomes who search within. We shall go to where the power of the Druids has for centuries been seated and with that power close away the Keep from mankind. We must pa.s.s quickly though, for all found within the Keep this night shall die-even we, if we prove too slow. Once the needed magic is brought forth, there will be little time left to escape its sweep."

Brin shook her head slowly. "I don't understand. Why must this be done? Why can no one again enter Paranor after tonight? What of the work that you do?"

The Druid's hand touched her cheek softly. "It is finished, Brin Ohmsford."

"But the Maelmord-the Ildatch..."

"Nothing we do here can help us in our quest." Allanon's voice was almost lost to her.

"What we do here serves another purpose."

"What if we're seen?" Rone broke in suddenly.

"We shall fight our way free," Allanon answered at once. "We must. Remember first to protect Brin. Do not stop, whatever happens. Once the magic has been called forth, do not look back and do not slow." He bent forward, his lean face close to that of the highlander.

"Remember, too, that you now possess the power of Druid magic in your sword. Nothing can stop you, Prince of Leah. Nothing."

Rone Leah nodded solemnly, and this time did not question what he was told. Brin shook her head slowly, and the premonition danced before her eyes.

"Valegirl." The Druid was speaking to her, and her eyes lifted to find his. "Stay close to the Prince of Leah and to me. Let us shield you from whatever danger we may encounter. Do nothing to risk your own life. You, most of all, must be kept safe, for you are the key to the destruction of the Ildatch. That quest lies ahead of you and it must be completed."

Both hands came up to grip her shoulders. "Understand. I cannot leave you here safely or I would do so. The danger is greater than it will be if you go with us into the Keep. Death flies all through these woods on this night, and it must be kept from you."

He paused, waiting for her response. Slowly she nodded. "I'm not afraid," she lied.

Allanon stepped back. "Then let us begin. Silently, now. Speak no more until this is done."

They disappeared into the night like shadows.

13.