Farther on, they caught sight of the silver thread of the Mermidon winding through foothills north of the Rock Spur and followed the course of the river until it disappeared into the mountains themselves. They flew on after that across the broad, rugged span of the Rock Spur—a sprawling mass of jagged peaks and deep valleys into which the emerging sun barely penetrated. In spite of the morning’s clouds, the midday sun was bright and welcoming as they passed beyond the mountains.
By early evening, they were entering the valley of the Wilderun just east of the town of Grimpen Ward. All three knew of Grimpen Ward’s reputation, and none of them thought it a good idea to spend the night there. On the other hand, continuing on deeper into the Wilderun and attempting to locate the Bloodfire with darkness likely to fall long before they were finished was not an attractive option. So they decided to find a suitable place to camp for the night and then set out again at dawn to complete their search.
They landed in a clearing within the deep forests of the Wilderun, not far from the Rock Spur. The shadows cast by the huge old growth were already darkening the pale light that penetrated the canopy of branches—a clear signal that, when night approached, it would be on them quickly.
“I’m going to use the Elfstones,” Aphenglow announced to the other two, once the three of them had climbed down from the airship. “We need to make certain we are on the right track before we go any farther. But I won’t do it now; I’ll wait until morning.”
Neither Arling nor Cymrian said anything in response. They all understood that use of the magic might draw unwanted attention—a constant risk when the Elfstones were employed. But this place was as remote as any they were likely to find far away from Arishaig and the other major Southland cities. They had to confirm both the exact location of the Bloodfire and the possibility of wards that might interfere with their efforts in reaching it. There had been nothing in the various histories they read that revealed either, but they couldn’t rely on writings alone.
They unloaded gear and supplies for eating and sleeping, and Aphen set about building a fire. Cymrian said he wanted to have a look around to be certain they had chosen a safe enough spot, and then he moved off into the trees.
Arling began unrolling blankets and setting out food and drink. As she carried in wood for a fire, Aphen glanced repeatedly at her sister, wondering what she was thinking. On her third trip, she walked over and sat down next to her.
“How is my brave sister?” she asked.
Arling smiled. “Well enough. Better than I was before we got the Ellcrys seed back.”
“We were lucky the task wasn’t more difficult. Good thing we had the Elfstones to find it for us.”
Arling didn’t respond, but instead busied herself with removing supplies from their containers. She had an unreadable look on her face, as if whatever she was thinking confused her. Aphen waited long minutes before speaking again.
“I wish we could take back everything that’s happening and make it go away,” she said finally.
Her sister nodded. “But we can’t.”
“We can keep trying.”
Arling looked up at her and smiled. “You don’t need to. I know what’s going to happen.”
Aphen felt a surge of panic. “I don’t think you should—”
“Let’s stop pretending, you and I,” Arling interrupted. “If we find the Bloodfire and immerse the Ellcrys seed, the matter of what happens afterward is decided. There aren’t any choices. There aren’t any miracles that can change things. There never were. I think I knew it the moment the Ellcrys gave me her seed. She was so certain I was the one; it had to be me, she insisted. I kept telling her I wasn’t right for this, that I couldn’t do it. But she knew me better than I knew myself.”
She paused. “When I was in Arishaig, down in the streets of the city, I was trying to escape, running anywhere I could think to run. But everyone else was doing the same thing. They were trying to escape, too. Not from Edinja, of course; from the demonkind attacking their city. But it was the same thing. Our fear of what was going to happen was the same. I could feel what they were feeling; I was sharing the rawness of it. But I knew something they didn’t. I knew I could save us all, just by doing what I had been asked.
“Then later when we flew out of the city on our Sprint and I was looking down at the walls, I could see the Federation soldiers fighting and dying. I saw all those men and women struggling to survive against creatures that had no regard for them at all, and I pictured in my mind what that would look like if those people were my own—if it were Elves that were down there. I thought about what it would be like if it were Arborlon under siege rather than Arishaig.”
She took a deep breath. “And it will be Arborlon if nothing is done, won’t it, Aphen? Unless someone prevents it? Unless I prevent it because, really, there isn’t anyone else, is there? We don’t have time to find someone else; we don’t even know where to begin to look unless one of the other Chosen volunteers to replace me. And that’s not going to happen. None of it is going to happen.”
Aphen stared at her, stunned. “You’ve decided to do what the Ellcrys wants? Everything?”
Arling nodded. “Because it’s the right thing to do. Because I know how all those people in Arishaig felt, when they saw their own deaths coming. There were thousands of them, Aphen! And there will be millions more. I can’t live with that. Not knowing I can do something about it. I don’t care what the cost is anymore; I have to do whatever I can to put a stop to this. No more excuses. No more delays. No more false hopes. I’m the one.”
“But you’ve been so determined not to … to let this …”
“I was wrong. I was selfish. I was thinking only of myself and not of anyone else.” She brushed back her dark hair. “When the Ellcrys began telling me of her life, of how she had witnessed so much of the world’s history, of how she had been there steadfast and determined, the sole barrier between the world of the demonkind and our own, I found myself admiring her. Even though I didn’t want to do what she was asking—didn’t want to be her—I understood the immense importance of what she was doing. Without her, the entire Four Lands would be in chaos. We would be at war constantly with the creatures she shut away—just as we were in the time of Faerie. She was the one who prevented that.
“So I began to change my mind. Gradually, perhaps without even realizing it, until all at once I saw that maybe I was wrong; maybe I would have to do this. At Arishaig, caught up in the middle of the fighting and the killing, running in fear amid all the others … I knew. I was certain. It took me until now to say this to you. But it needs saying before we reach the Bloodfire and I do what I must to save the Ellcrys from extinction.”
Aphen was in tears. “Arling …”
“I can do it now, Aphen. I can become her. I can make myself …”
She was in tears now, too. Aphen reached out and pulled her close. She tried to find something to say that would express what she was feeling, but she couldn’t find the words. Instead, she just closed her eyes and held her sister and let Arling hold her in return.
They were still locked in a tight embrace when Cymrian reappeared, coming out of the trees and walking toward them. He didn’t say anything. He just walked past them and went over to the airship, climbed into the cockpit, and began working on something, giving them the time and space to be alone.
When Aphenglow finally broke the embrace she continued to grip her sister by her shoulders, their faces close, their eyes locked. She held her sister’s gaze. “I will be with you every step of the way, Arling. I will be with you no matter what.”