What would that take?
He knew at once. He looked down at the seer, pressed against the man she had betrayed. Having found her way back from the wilderness to give him the help he needed and to make herself whole in the process, she was at peace. The magic of the phoenix stone had given her that. It would do the same for him, if he let it. He could not bring to life those he had abandoned. But he could give them back their legacy.
Phoenix stone. The reason for the name was not that the stone could be reborn from the ashes of its destruction, but that the user could. That was the magic's true purpose-to make Ahren whole again, to provide him with new life. That was what it had done for Ryer Ord Star in leading her to Walker. Ahren could have that, as well, but he must first do what the stone required-what it had already required of the seer. He must let the magic take him into the dark place where he would find redemption and, thereby, his way back from the cowardice that had crippled him.
He took a deep breath and exhaled. He must do for his people what he had pledged to do in coming on the voyage. He must do for his dead companions what they could not. He must recover the lost Elfstones.
He could feel the magic of the phoenix stone nudging him in that direction, a subtle hint of dissatisfaction, of need unfulfilled, of realization that his rebirth was not yet complete. He had come with Ryer Ord Star to find and aid Walker because that was what the magic had required of her. But what the magic required of him was to find the Stones. What it demanded was that he walk into the trap that Antrax had set for him, confront and overcome it, and retrieve the missing talismans.
Now.
While there was still time.
He could not explain it, but he could feel it as surely as he could feel the weight of the responsibility he was proposing to accept. Time was slipping away, and when it was gone his chance at retrieving the Elfstones and thereby his chance to be made whole again would be gone, as well. A confrontation between Walker and Antrax loomed, a resolution of the latter's attempt at destroying the Druid and his companions. It would not wait, and it could not be avoided.
For a moment, he was paralyzed by fear. He was so shattered by the feeling that he did not think he could get past it. How could he even contemplate the undertaking? What chance did he have against Antrax and his devices? Fire threads and creepers would be waiting, machines like the ones that had overwhelmed Walker. He lacked any weapons to combat them, any of sufficient strength or capability to offer him even the slightest chance of success. He was alone and impossibly vulnerable.
What made him think he wouldn't run again?
He broke away from his fear, wrenching free as he might from quicksand that threatened to swallow him. It didn't matter what the odds were. He was going. He had to. He reached down for Ryer Ord Star and placed his hand over hers. Her warmth infused him, and although she did not respond to his touch, he told himself that somehow she knew whose it was. He was withdrawing the protective mantle of his magic from her shoulders, breaking the link that bound them. He did not know what that would mean for her, what it would do to her chances for helping Walker. He knew only that the magic was telling him to go, and he must do what it asked of him.
He stepped away from her, backing toward the door through which they had entered. He watched the hazy shroud of the magic stretch and then divide, a little of it clinging to them both, diminished, but still functional. It was the best he could hope for. It was all he could ask.
Good luck to you, Ryer, he thought. Good luck to us both.
Then he turned away, passed back out through the doorway, and was gone.
TWENTY-ONE
Insubstantial and ethereal as air, Walker began his search for the books of magic.