Salvation.
Moving silently, Haplo crossed over to the ship’s hull. Resting the scrip on the floor, he laid his hands upon the wooden planks. The runes on his skin began to glow red and blue, the flame running along his fingers, extending to the wood. The planks shimmered and slowly began to dissolve. A large hole, wide enough for a man, opened up.
Haplo shouldered the supplies, stepped onto the moss embankment on which he landed. The dog jumped out after him, tagging along at its master’s heels. Behind them, the red-blue glow enveloping the hull faded, the wood returned to its original form.
The Patryn crossed the open mossy area swiftly, losing himself in the darkness. He heard enraged shouts in two languages, human and elven. The words were different, but their meaning was the same—death for the wizard.
Haplo grinned. The mensch seemed to have found something to unite them at last.
“Haplo, we—Haplo?” Paithan groped his way onto the bridge into the darkness, came to a dead stop. The runes’ glow faded slowly; by its light, he could see the bridge was vacant.
Roland burst through the hatch, shoving the elf aside. “Haplo, we’ve decided to dump the old man, then leave this—Haplo? Where is he?” he demanded, glaring at Paithan accusingly.
“/ haven’t made off with him, if that’s what you’re thinking. He’s gone … and the dog, too.”
“I knew it! Haplo and Zifnab are in on this together! They tricked us into coming to this awful place! And you fell for it!”
“You were welcome to stay back in Equilan. I’m sure the rytans would have been pleased to entertain you.”
Frustrated, angry, feeling an unaccountable guilt that somehow this was his fault, Paithan stared gloomily at the runes glimmering on the wooden planks.
“That’s how he did it, obviously. More of his magic. I wish I knew who or what he was.”
“We’ll get answers out of him.”
Blue light flickered on Roland’s clenched fists and scowling features. Paithan looked at the human, and laughed. “If we ever see him again. If we ever see anything again! This is worse than being down in the dwarven tunnels.”
“Paithan?” Rega’s voice called. “Roland?”
“Here, Sis.”
Rega crept onto the bridge, clutched at her brother’s outstretched hand. “Did you tell him? Are we going to leave?”
“He’s not here. He’s gone.”
“And left us here … in the dark!”
“Shhh, calm down.”
The light of the sigla was fading. The three could see each other only by a faint blue glow that grew dim, flickered briefly to fife, dimmed again. The magical light glittered in sunken, fearful eyes and emphasized drawn, fear-strained mouths.
Paithan and Roland each avoided the other’s direct gaze, darted suspicious glances when the other wasn’t looking.
“The old man says this darkness will pass in half a cycle,” Paithan muttered at last, defiant, defensive.
“He also said we were going to a new world!” Roland retorted. “C’mon, Rega, let me take you back—”
“Paithan!” Aleatha’s frantic voice tore through the darkness. Lunging onto the bridge, she grasped at her brother just as the sigia’s light failed, leaving them blind.
“Paithan! Father’s gone! And the old man!”
The four stood outside the ship, staring into the jungle. It was light again, the strange darkness had lifted, and it was easy to see the path someone—Lenthan, Zifnab, Haplo, or maybe all three—had taken. Vines had been severed by the sharp blade of a bladewood sword, huge dumau leaves, cut from their stalks, lay limply on the mossy ground.
Aleatha wrung her hands. “It’s all my fault! We landed in this horrible place and Papa began babbling about Mother being here and where was she and what was taking so long and on and on. I … I shouted at him, Paithan. I couldn’t stand it anymore! I left him alone!”
“Don’t cry, Thea. It’s not your fault. I should have been with him. I should have known. I’ll go after him.”
“I’m going with you.”
Paithan started to refuse, looked into his sister’s tear-streaked, pale face and changed his mind. He nodded wearily. “All right. Don’t worry, Thea. He can’t have gone very far. You better fetch some water.” Aleatha hastened back onto the ship. Paithan walked over to Roland, who was carefully scrutinizing the ground near the fringes of the jungle, searching for tracks. Rega, tense and sorrowful, stood near her brother. Her eyes sought Paithan’s, but the elf refused to meet her gaze.
“You find anything?”
“Not a trace.”
“Haplo and Zifnab must have left together. But why take my father?” Roland straightened, glanced around. “I don’t know. But I don’t like it. Something’s wrong with this place. I thought the land near Thurn was wild! It was a king’s garden compared to this!”
Tangled vines and tree limbs were so thickly massed and intertwined that they might have formed the thatched roof of a gigantic hut. A gray, sullen light struggled through the vegetation. The air was oppressive and humid, tainted with the smell of rot and decay. The heat was intense. And though the jungle must be teeming with life, Roland, listening closely, couldn’t hear a sound. The silence might be amazement at the sight of the ship, it might be something far more ominous.
“I don’t know about you, elf, but I don’t want to stay around here any longer than necessary.”
“I think we can ail agree on that,” said Paithan quietly. Roland cast him a narrow-eyed glance. “What about the dragon?”
“It’s gone.
“You hope!”
Paithan shook his head. “I don’t know what we can do about it if it isn’t.” He was bitter, tired.
“We’re coming with you.” Rega’s face was wet with sweat, her damp hair clung to her skin. She was shivering.
“That’s not necessary.”
“Yes, it is!” Roland said coldly. “For all I know you and the old man and the tattooed wonder are in this together. I don’t want you flying off, leaving us stranded.”
Paithan’s face paled with anger, his eyes flashed. He opened his mouth, caught Rega’s pleading gaze, and snapped his lips shut on the words. Shrugging, he muttered, “Suit yourself,” and walked over to the ship to wait for his sister. Aleatha emerged from the ship, lugging a waterskin. Her once gaily billowing skirts hung tattered and limp around her lithe figure. She had tied the cook’s shaw! around her shoulders, her arms were bare. Roland looked down at the white feet covered by thin, worn slippers.
“You can’t go into the jungle dressed like that!” He saw the woman’s eyes go to the shadows thickening around the trees, to the vines that twisted like snakes over the ground. Her hands twisted over the leather handle of the waterskin. She clutched it tightly, her chin lifted.
“I don’t recall asking your opinion, human.”
“Fool bitch!” Roland snarled.
She had guts, he had to give her that. Drawing his blade, he charged into the undergrowth, hacking furiously at the vines and heart-shaped leaves that seemed the very embodiment of his admiration and desire for this maddening female.
“Rega, are you coming?”
Rega hesitated, looked behind her at Paithan. The elf shook his head. Can’t you understand? Our love has been a mistake. All, a terrible mistake. Shoulders slumping, Rega followed her brother.
Paithan sighed, turned to his sister.
“The human’s right, you know. It could be dangerous and—”
“I’m going after Father,” said Aleatha, and by the tilt of her head and the glint in her eye, her brother knew it was useless to argue. He took the waterskin from her, slung it over his shoulder. The two hurried into the jungle, moving swiftly, as if to outwalk their fear.