Bearers of the Black Staff

The Gray Man wondered if that were so, but he let the matter drop. There was no point in voicing his doubts; Aislinne would do what she felt she must, and any words of caution from him would be wasted. “Tell me of the boy and girl. I met them; they seem capable enough, reliable and honorable. Am I right to think so?”


“You are. They will do what they say and attempt to convince the Elves of the danger. But they can only do so much. Word must still be gotten to the other villages, to the other communities, to all the Races. Everyone needs to come together and decide what to do.”

He nodded. “Can you help me with that? Do you have friends whom you can trust and can send as messengers, warning of the danger? I know I ask a lot …”

She placed her fingers quickly to his lips. “You ask little enough, Sider. I will do what I can. But you must promise to go after our young friends and see to it that they are protected. They escaped once, but I am not sure they are safe yet. Skeal Eile is not one to forget. He knows the danger they represent, and he may try to do something to put an end to it—and to them—even as far away as they are. He is a ruthless man.”

Sider nodded, and they were silent for a moment, looking at each other in the darkness. “I don’t like leaving you here,” he said finally. “I think you should come with me. To Arborlon or somewhere else. But away.”

She shook her head. “You don’t have the right to ask that of me anymore, Sider.” Her smile was wan and tight. “You gave it up when you chose that staff over me.”

He glanced down at the talisman, tightly gripped in one hand, and then he looked back at her. “I know what I gave up. A day doesn’t pass that I don’t think of it. Not a day that I don’t regret it and wish it could have been otherwise. That I don’t …”

He trailed off. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

She gave him a perplexed look. “How strange to hear you say so. I’ve had that same worry about you every single day since you left me. You might want to consider that after you’re gone.”

He stared at her, his words all drained away.

Then she rose. “I think we’ve said all there is to say, Sider. Thank you for coming to let me know what’s happened to the wall. And for promising to look after Panterra and Prue.” She stepped back. “I should leave now. I can go back alone.”

But she stood where she was, looking at him, as if undecided. “Please be careful,” he said.

She nodded, but still said nothing and still did not move.

Without looking away, he laid the staff against the makeshift bench and reached for her, enfolding her in his arms, pressing her against him. He felt the softness and warmth of her, and for just an instant it was twenty years ago. “I never stopped loving you,” he whispered. “I never will.”

“I know,” she whispered back, her head buried in his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry.”

“There’s no need. Not anymore.”

She broke away from him, turned quickly, and went back down the path that had brought them. She took long, purposeful strides, and her long hair swung from side to side like a dusky curtain.

She did not look back.





SIXTEEN




PAN! WAKE UP!”

A familiar voice, hushed and urgent. It was both close and at the same time a long way off, indistinct and fuzzy. He tried to put a name to it and failed.

“Pan! Please!”

Prue. He blinked against the woolly darkness that wrapped him like a blanket and opened his eyes. She was looking at him from only inches away, her eyes huge and gleaming in a wash of firelight. Her face was tight with fear.

“Are you all right?” she whispered.

Good question, he thought. His head was pounding and he was trussed hand and foot with ropes. He tried to remember what had happened. Something big and black had fallen on him while they were stalking the builders of the fire. Prue had sensed its presence, they had tried to escape, the black thing had …

A cloud of acrid smoke blew past him from the fire as the wind shifted. Sparks erupted from the blaze in a bright shower, and he caught a glimpse of huge bodies standing all around him, leaning on clubs and spears, shoulders hunched. Somewhere farther off voices argued. He could not make out the words, but there was no mistaking the tone.

Then a wolfish head swung into view directly in front of him, and he caught his breath. Yellow eyes fixed on him as jaws split wide in a lean muzzle to reveal rows of white teeth. A tongue licked and lolled alternately from between hooked incisors. He could smell the beast’s fetid breath, could feel the heat of its humped, shaggy body as it moved to block his view, eyeing him as it might a piece of raw meat. Some sort of wolf? A feral dog? He couldn’t tell; he only knew that he had never seen anything like it. He shrank from it, pressing himself up against Prue.