“They drank the water, Mother,” sulked Prin from the depths of the pouch. “I knew they would.”
“You could not know that they would drink before they did you harm!” her mother snapped. “Be still. Your side is badly bruised.”
“We drank the water also!” exclaimed Barda, who was gazing from the Kin to the motionless trees in pure amazement.
Prin poked her head out of the pouch and twitched her whiskers. “Those who mean no harm can drink without harm,” she chanted, plainly repeating something she had been taught.
Her mother ignored her and turned to Barda. “We knew you were of good heart when you drank from the spring and remained unharmed,” she said in her slow, deep voice. “Sure that you were not a danger to us, we dreamed peacefully last night — little knowing that our child would be a danger to you in the morning. We are sorry.”
Barda bowed. “It was my friend who helped the little one,” he said, gesturing to Lief. “But for my part, it is a privilege to meet you. I never thought to see the Kin in my lifetime.”
“We are few now,” said an old Kin standing beside Prin’s mother. “Since we left our Mountain —”
“Dread Mountain! You lived on Dread Mountain once, did you not? Why did you leave?” Lief interrupted, able to keep silent no longer.
The old Kin stopped, and looked at Barda.
Barda smiled. “As you see, I too have young ones in my care,” he said, to Lief’s annoyance. “Please forgive the interruption and continue.”
“The gnomes of Dread Mountain had always tried to hunt us,” said the old one. “But their arrows could not do us great harm. Our main dangers were Grey Guards and Vraal beasts, coming from the Shadowlands. But long ago something changed …”
His voice trailed off and he bent his head.
“The gnomes began using poison on their arrow tips,” said Prin’s mother, taking up the story. “It was deadly poison, and killed painfully and quickly. Many of us died.” Her voice sank to a whisper. “It was a terrible time. I was very young then. But I remember.”
The other Kin nodded and whispered among themselves. Plainly they too remembered.
“At last, the few of us that were left decided we could stay on the Mountain no longer,” the old Kin rumbled. “This grove used to be our winter home — a good place for the growing young. Now we are here all year long. Now we can visit our Mountain — see the Boolong trees, hear the rippling streams, and smell the sweet, cool air — only in our dreams.”
A feeling of sadness swept over the group. There was a long silence. Jasmine fidgeted uncomfortably.
“I had a strange dream last night,” she said, plainly trying to bring a little cheer to the gathering. “I dreamed I saw the man Doom. He was in a cave full of people. The boy Dain was there — and Neridah, and Glock, and many others. Glock was eating soup, spilling it all down his chin. I called to them, but they did not hear me. It was so real!”
The old Kin looked at her. “Do you not understand? It was real,” he said. He waved a paw at the spring. “This is the Dreaming Spring. Whatever or whoever you picture in your mind when you drink, you visit in spirit when you sleep.”
“We ourselves visit our Mountain every night,” Prin’s mother added, as Jasmine looked disbelieving. “It comforts us greatly to see it as it is now. The Boolong trees grow thickly — far more thickly than they once did. Of course, we cannot eat the cones, but at least we are there, and together.”
“Not me!” said Prin loudly. “I cannot go there. I have never seen it! I have never known anywhere but here. So I have nothing to dream of. It is not fair!”
Her mother bent over her, murmuring. The other adults looked at one another sadly.
“What I saw in my dream was real?” Jasmine gasped.
“So Doom, Neridah, and Glock have reached the Resistance stronghold in safety!” Barda exclaimed. He looked with satisfaction at the two new trees by the spring. “And now no Guards will trouble them.”
He grinned. “I dreamed of Manus and the Ralad people. I stood by the stream in their underground town. They were singing, and all was well. That is very good to know.”
But Lief sat in silence, numb with shock. He was remembering his own dream, and slowly facing the knowledge that it too had been true.
At length, the gathering of the Kin broke up as each creature moved off to feed on the grass that grew beneath and beyond the trees.
“Grass is all we have here,” Prin’s mother explained to Lief, Barda, and Jasmine as she toiled away with her heavy young one in her pouch. “It is nourishing enough, but we have grown tired of its sweetness and long for the leaves and cones of the Boolong trees. The leaves of the trees in this grove are not fit to eat. They are not truly alive.”
Kree, perched on Jasmine’s arm, squawked in disgust. “Kree always knew the trees were not as they should be,” Jasmine said, shuddering as she looked around her. “No wonder they are silent. It is horrible to think of them standing here, unchanging, for centuries.”
“And it is fortunate for us that we passed the spring’s test,” said Barda grimly. “Or we would be with them.”
Lief had not spoken for a long time. When the last of the Kin had departed Jasmine turned to him.
“What is the matter?” she demanded. “All is well.”
“All is not well,” Lief muttered. “My mother and father —” He broke off, swallowing desperately to hold back tears.
“Jarred and Anna?” Barda exclaimed, looking alert. “What do you …?” Suddenly his face changed, filling with fear as he understood. “You had a dream!” he exclaimed. “Lief —”
Lief nodded slowly. “The forge is empty,” he said in a low voice. “The Shadow Lord’s brand is on the gate. I think — I think they are dead.”
Stricken with shock and grief, Barda stared at him wildly. Then his mouth firmed. “Very likely they are not dead, but simply taken prisoner,” he said. “We must not give up hope.”
“To be a prisoner of the Shadow Lord is worse than death,” Lief whispered. “Father told me that, many times. He was always warning me …” The words choked in his throat and he covered his face with his hands.
Awkwardly, Jasmine put her arm around him and Filli jumped onto his shoulder, brushing his cheek with soft fur. Kree clucked sorrowfully. But Barda stood apart, struggling with his own fear and sorrow.
Finally Lief looked up. His face was very pale. “I must go back,” he said.
Barda shook his head. “You must not.”
“I must!” Lief insisted angrily. “How can I go on, knowing what I know?”
“You know nothing but that the forge is empty,” Barda said evenly. “Jarred and Anna could be in the dungeons of the palace in Del. They could be in the Shadowlands. They could be in hiding. Or, as you said before, they could be dead. Wherever they are, you cannot help them. Your duty is here.”
“Do not speak to me of duty!” Lief shouted. “They are my parents!”
“They are my friends,” Barda said, still in that same expressionless voice. “My dear and only friends, Lief, since before you were born. I know what they would say to you if they could. They would tell you that our quest is their quest too. They would beg you not to abandon it.”
Lief’s anger died, leaving dull sadness in its place. He searched Barda’s face and saw the pain behind the grim mask.
“You are right,” he mumbled. “I am sorry.”
Barda put a hand on his shoulder. “One thing is clear,” he said. “Time has become of the first importance. We must reach Dread Mountain with all speed.”
“I cannot see that we can move any faster than we have been doing,” Jasmine put in.