It took them only a few minutes to get beyond the dead Graumth to an alcove set into the far side of the chamber—a deep niche in which all manner of strange implements were revealed. There were globes of metal and glass, staves intricately carved of wood and fashioned with silver tips, books of all sizes and shapes, iron boxes, flags emblazoned with emblems unrecognizable to the trio, weapons of all sizes and shapes, intricately shaped pieces of jewelry, and even a cauldron. Silk cloaks and scarves draped boxes and shelves on which many of the artifacts rested. A fine coating of rock dust covered everything. Motes hung in the air, swirling in an invisible breeze come from an unknown source.
Redden started forward, but Tesla Dart quickly put a hand out to stop him. “Traps,” she said.
Motioning for both the boy and Oriantha to stay where they were, she walked to one side of the wall and did something to the rock. After that, she seemed to count off steps toward the center before passing into the niche. Once there, she moved to the other side of the niche to release a series of trip wires. Finally, she retrieved a jar set close to the front of the opening, carried it over to a box set to one side, opened the jar, and set it inside the box.
Instantly dozens of tiny snakes emerged from the darkness, slithering quickly to reach the box and crawl inside.
The Ulk Bog spent a few moments more checking the darker places in the storage space, running hands over the surface of the walls and floor before beckoning them inside.
“Safe now,” she said. “Bad things put away. Traps disabled. You see?” She pointed to the box with the small snakes. “Poison. One bite?” She made a choking motion. “Dead fast.”
“You got all of them in that box?” Oriantha said. “You didn’t miss any?”
“All in box. Come here. Look.”
Tesla Dart took them over to a collection of boxes, cloths draped casually over a few of them. She went behind the pile, reached down beneath a heavy cloak, and pulled out a small metal box with an insignia stamped into it. The image was of crossed blades laid over a field of wheat with a bird that looked like a hawk circling overhead.
She handed it to Redden. “Stones inside. Pretty colors.” She cocked her head. “What do they do?”
Redden took the box from her, holding it out so that he could study it. “I don’t know. No one does.”
He experienced an emotional tightening in his chest. The missing Elfstones, lost for all these centuries, were now in his hands. He couldn’t quite believe it. Finding them now was so far removed from anything he had imagined possible that he was afraid to look inside for fear it was all a mistake.
He glanced at Oriantha and shook his head. “I don’t know if I can bear to open it.”
She smiled encouragingly. “You can. Go ahead.”
Still, he hesitated. This was what had brought the entire company into the Forbidding in the first place—what had led them to their destruction, what had swept most of them away and changed the lives of the rest forever. There had been no reason for weeks now to think that finding the Elfstones was any sort of possibility. In his own mind, the quest had been abandoned after the destruction of the Druid order.
Now here he was with the box that might contain the precious talismans in hand, and it was all he could do to make himself believe that it was real.
He knelt, balancing the metal box on one knee, and released the catch securing it. Slowly, he raised the lid and peered inside.
Soft black cloth layered the bottom of the box. Into it had been fashioned five molded depressions. Four contained sets of gemstones, each a different color—crimson, emerald, saffron, and white.
The last depression was empty.
Redden had never seen the blue Elfstones, but he knew instinctively they had come from the empty space, and these other stones were the ones that had been missing all these years. He stared down at them, studying the smooth facets and even, geometrical shapes. Save for their colors, all were exact duplicates. Even in the gloom and the swirl of rock dust, they glittered with brilliant insistence.
He looked up at Oriantha and Tesla Dart. “We’ve found them!”
Her companions crowded close, peering into the box, taking in the beauty of the gemstones. After a moment, Oriantha asked quietly, “Is that a piece of paper tucked underneath the edge of the cloth?”
She pointed to where something white poked out from the gathered velvet just above the nestled crimson stones. Redden bent close. She was right; something was there. He reached in and extracted a folded piece of paper, carefully opening it. There was writing, but he couldn’t make out what it said. It was in a form he had never seen before. He guessed it might be as ancient as the stones themselves—a language lost in the passage of time, abandoned as the world changed. The things of Faerie had mostly been forgotten over the centuries because so much of the past had been lost.
Oriantha took a look, as well, but shook her head. “I can’t read it, either.”
Redden started to put the paper back in the box, then changed his mind and slipped it into his pocket instead. He looked down at the Elfstones. “Should we see what they do?” he asked, suddenly eager to know.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, now that we’ve found them, shouldn’t we discover their powers? What if their magic could carry us back into the Four Lands with nothing more than a wish? Maybe it could let us fly? Don’t you want to know?”
But Oriantha shook her head. “You need an Elf to test them, Redden. A full-blooded Elf, if you want to be sure. You know the history.”
He did. Anyone other than a pureblood Elf risked injury or even death by attempting to make use of Elfstone magic. It was a part of the Ohmsford legacy, written down during the time of Wil Ohmsford, when he dared to use the seeking-Stones to save the life of Amberle Elessedil, the King’s daughter, so she could become the new Ellcrys. He had chosen to ignore the danger posed to someone who was of mixed Elven–human blood. As result, his body had been altered by the power of the magic, generating within him the seeds for the birth of the wishsong—a magic he had passed down to his children, Brin and Jair Ohmsford, and which had subsequently been discovered in other Ohmsford descendants ever since, including most recently Redden and Railing.
“We should go,” Tesla Dart said to them. She was looking about now, hopping from foot to foot. “Past time. Still dangerous here.”
Redden looked up from the box, realizing he had lost all track of time while he was admiring his find. He closed the lid and secured the catch. “Do we go back out tonight or wait for morning?”
“Not wait,” the Ulk Bog answered at once. She looked suddenly skittish, uneasy. “Takes time to climb back up. Morning light is close by then.”
They started back across the chamber and were almost to the passageway that had brought them in when a flash of movement appeared in the gloom and Lada shot into view. Tesla Dart bent down to greet the Chzyk, and the two chattered back and forth for brief moments before the Ulk Bog sprang up again.
“Tarwick comes! Has tracked us!” Her face was taut. “Comes down into this place. Traps us here!”
There was real fear in her dark eyes. “He brings Furies!”
Twenty-eight
No one panicked, though there was ample reason to do so. Furies were monsters, cat-like beings that hunted in packs and lacked any semblance of rational behavior. It was said they could not be controlled, but it appeared that someone had found a way. If Furies were included among Tarwick’s hunters, they had to be doing his bidding, and the Catcher would not hesitate to use them.