Bearers of the Black Staff

Sider Ament! Pan practically fell over himself with relief.

“I thought I would have to come get you on my own, but you’ve saved me the trouble,” the Gray Man continued. “Your would-be rescuers and like-minded fools are back up in the rocks, waiting for us. We should join them.” He gave Arik Sarn a sharp look. “What’s become of Prue Liss?”

Panterra started to speak, couldn’t, gestured back over his shoulder at the Troll camp and shook his head.

“Like that, is it?” Sider Ament walked over and put an arm around the boy’s shoulder. “We’ll have to go get her back then, won’t we? But first you must tell me everything. Both of you. Come now.”

And turning away, he led them up into the rocks and out of view.





NINETEEN




IT WAS A WEARY AND DISPIRITED LITTLE GROUP THAT walked on past midnight and well into early morning before reaching the base of the mountains that warded their valley destination. By then, everyone was exhausted, all but one of them having slept little or not at all for the past two days.

But more disturbing to Panterra Qu than their lack of rest was their barely concealed distrust of Arik Sarn.

“I don’t care what he did for you,” Tasha whispered at one point when they were walking apart from the others during their homeward trek, the sky gone black and star-speckled and the wind a low wail across the flats. “He will revert to his own kind at some point; it’s the nature of things. Don’t trust him. I’m warning you.”

“He troubles me,” Tenerife added. “He has a look. Darker than what he shows on the surface, rougher-edged. He’s hiding something.”

Phryne wouldn’t come close to either one of them, and even Sider Ament was not convinced. “You are right to feel grateful for his help,” the Gray Man said. “But temper your gratitude with caution and remember that things aren’t always what they seem. Remember that these are not people of the same sort as the ones you have known.”

The Troll didn’t do much to encourage them to feel differently. He barely spoke to any of them, relying on Pan to explain what had happened and make clear his part in the matter. He seemed wary of all of them, but particularly of Sider, from whom he continually shied away. Pan saw the way he looked at the black staff, saw the fear and uncertainty in his eyes, and realized that the Troll knew something of this part of their history, too.

When Pan asked him about it, the two of them briefly trailing the others, the Troll said, “You said nothing of a black staff wielder, of a user of magic. It is dangerous to be close to one. There are stories of them and their magic sticks, of fire that consumes, that burns everything to ash. They fought demons in the old days, the stories tell. All were supposed to be dead. Trolls don’t like magic or magic wielders. We don’t trust any of it.”

There was nothing for it, of course. None of them had been there to see how the Troll had protected him. He could hardly expect that they would become instant friends, since Sarn was allied with the bunch that had made Prue and himself prisoners in the first place. Such friendships took time and required trust not easily given. But they did not send him back; nor did he ask to go. An uneasy acceptance of the situation was reached, an accord that would at least allow them to travel together as their shared purpose required.

Which, of course, was Taureq Siq’s demand for a meeting. All involved clearly understood it to be a preliminary step to invading their homeland. But Panterra had not hesitated to tell them of it right from the start. It was necessary they know everything, that they be fully aware of what was at stake when they reentered the valley and stood before Oparion Amarantyne.

This was their intention, of course, agreed to from the beginning by all of them. The Elf King was the leader they had the best chance of convincing; there was no one better to approach. With Phryne and the Orullians spearheading the effort and the Gray Man and Panterra in support, the King would have to listen and consider. In the end, Panterra was willing to bet, he would have to act, as well. Oparion Amarantyne commanded the largest and most powerful fighting force in the valley; he could not just stand by if convinced of the impending invasion. And if he agreed to rouse the other Races to stand and fight with him, they had a chance of keeping Taureq Siq and his Drouj from the valley.