He bit his lip as the thought slipped into his mind like a snake. It felt like betrayal of how much he loved his brother.
One hand drifted down to his pocket and the ring given him by the King of the Silver River. He carried it all the time, even though he had sworn off magic and had not used the wishsong once since his return. This forsaking, at least, was something his mother appreciated. He carried the ring mostly because it reminded him of the warning the King of the Silver River had given about what might happen if he persisted in his search for Grianne Ohmsford. It was his own, private form of punishment—and one that he felt he deserved. He wasn’t sure what else he should do with the talisman even if he quit carrying it. Should he cast it away or give it to the Druids as he had the crimson Elfstones, as they were now being called. Aphenglow might like to have it, as well, for the new Druid order. Maybe he would give it to her on her next visit from Paranor. She was overdue for taking a fresh stab at using her Druid magic to heal Redden. Her other attempts had failed, but she had insisted she would not give up.
He brought the ring out and studied it for what must have been the thousandth time, and as he did so something occurred to him—something so preposterous that for a moment he just sat there staring. The ring had been given to help him find his way out of the darkest places, to show him how to work his way clear when he was lost. Each thread was a link in a chain that would lead to a safe haven.
But what if …?
He stopped himself mid-thought, afraid to go farther. Then he relented.
What if it could help me find my brother?
He had used it only twice during the search for Grianne, and in retrospect those usages didn’t seem particularly important. Now he found himself wondering if it might have a further use, one he had somehow failed to consider until this moment. Go to your brother, the King of the Silver River had urged. Save him yourself. Could the Faerie creature have given the ring to him for that very reason? Could he have foreseen the future?
The possibility was so wild it left him breathless. He stared at Redden, his mind racing. “Are you in there?” he whispered to his brother. “Are you waiting for me to come find you?”
No reaction. But, then, there wouldn’t be, would there?
He slipped on the ring, and then took a deep breath and gently extracted one of the malleable threads. He was terrified he would fail. He was even more terrified he wouldn’t, but that his effort to bring back his brother would end the same way as his effort to bring back Grianne. He couldn’t bear the thought of that happening. But he couldn’t let this chance slip away, either.
He placed one end of the thread between the fingers of Redden’s right hand to hold it in place. Then he took the other end in his own. He didn’t know exactly how this might work; he was operating solely on instinct. He sat very close to his brother, their faces only inches apart, and looked into his eyes. I’m here, Redden. I’m right next to you. Don’t be afraid. Don’t hide. Come back to me.
He waited for a response from his brother. There was none. He experienced a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Then the thread disappeared.
He waited, hopeful once more. But nothing happened save that now the thread was invisible.
He reached over and took Redden’s hands in his own. Redden, please!
He felt a tugging in his mind from the thread, just as he had at Stridegate, insistent and forceful. He went inside himself, trying to find something more, a further response, a signal that Redden was reaching out for him. The tugging continued, with sudden, sporadic jerks.
He closed his eyes. Redden.
But there was nothing else. And after a few minutes, even the tugging ended.
He sat back, releasing his brother’s hands and placing them back in his lap. He would not give up, he thought. He would use the ring again another day. He would keep trying. He would pull out another thread and repeat the process. He would pull out threads until none remained.
He kept what he was doing to himself. It was his experiment, and he didn’t want to raise anyone’s hopes on so slim a possibility that something good might come of it.
Days passed. One by one, he pulled out the threads and used them to try to reach his brother. One by one, they disappeared. But Redden never responded.
When he was down to the last three and the gemstone they wound about, he put the ring aside, telling himself it was better to give it some time. Then he went back to sitting and talking with his brother.
Summer passed into fall. The days shortened, but were filled with softer light and the changing of the colors of the leaves on the trees, green giving way to gold and yellow, orange and red.
Then one day, solely on impulse, he decided to try once again. He sat alone near the woods in back of their home, close to his brother, facing him, and he pulled out one of the three remaining threads. He placed one end between Redden’s fingers and the other between his own. The thread disappeared, the tugging ensued, and he waited.
Nothing happened.
For the first time, he began to think nothing ever would. He stood and looked off into the trees, wishing things could be different, even if just a little.
“How long have I been asleep?” he heard Redden ask suddenly. He wheeled back in shock. His brother was looking at him, blinking his eyes. “It must have been awhile.”
Railing couldn’t make himself move, afraid if he did it would turn out this wasn’t happening. “A long while,” he said.
Redden nodded and stretched his arms, yawning. “Can you tell me what happened? I can’t seem to remember anything. Is everybody safe?”
Breaking free of his paralysis, Railing knelt in front of his brother and embraced him, holding him as if he would never let go. There were tears in his eyes, and it felt as if his heart was breaking. But there was joy, too.
“Yes, Redden,” he whispered. “Everybody is safe.”