But before the winged attackers could reach the airship, the witch wraith rose from her crouch and walked to the railing, ragged clothing flying in the wind, dark visage gone almost black. For just a second it seemed to Railing, watching from the pilot box, as if she weren’t there at all. As if all that inhabited the inside of her tattered clothing was a shadow.
The Harpies and bats must have seen something of it, too, and they didn’t like it one bit. As if formed of a single creature, they broke off their attack and swung away abruptly, gathering speed as they went.
The witch wraith turned to him. “Fly to the mouth of the pass!”
He did so without hesitating. Whatever was going to happen now was not something he cared to interfere with. They were here at the witch’s behest; she must have known she would find the Straken Lord’s army attacking the Westland or she wouldn’t have bothered. How she had known he had no idea. But now that they were here, it stood to reason that she intended to face her nemesis—perhaps to do what she had been asked, or perhaps to do something else altogether.
The witch stood where she was, staring down at the army beneath them as they neared the pass. She didn’t speak or move; she gave no indication of what she was thinking. They might have been invisible for all the interest she evidenced. Railing thought it better that way. The less attention she paid to them, the better.
They were closing on the pass when the dragon flew out of the east.
Redden and his companions reached Arborlon before dawn, flying in from the Elven Hunter outpost they had stumbled on several hours earlier, aboard an ancient transport they had persuaded the garrison to put at their disposal. It wasn’t so much what they were asking as the force with which they asked it. Redden in particular had invoked both Aphenglow and her grandfather as friends and protectors. Mention of the latter immediately led to the revelation that the old King was dead, assassinated by his brother, and that the city was preparing for war. But the Hunters agreed it was a good idea that the strange trio proceed to their destination so they could give their report to someone who might act on it—especially after the young girl had begun to cry uncontrollably.
Oriantha, it turned out, could shape-shift in more than one way when the need was present.
But when they arrived in Arborlon, they found the city in chaos, with rumors of another attack on the royal family, this time on the King’s son; of several others killed in the attack, including the Captain of the Home Guard, Sian Aresh; and of a demon army massed at the passes east in the Valley of Rhenn where a terrible battle had been fought the previous day and was expected to continue at sunrise.
The tension and fear they encountered were palpable, and there was a strong sense of panic setting in. It was impossible to get an accurate story from anyone, especially since Tesla’s appearance seemed to scare them away. Not able to find anyone they knew personally or to learn what was happening from those they didn’t, they decided to fly to the site of the pending battle, reasoning that, wherever there was fighting, they would likely find one or more of their friends.
So Redden and Oriantha boarded their transport once more, hauling a decidedly uncertain and fearful Ulk Bog with them, and flew out toward the Rhenn as the sky ahead slowly began to lighten.
“Did you hear the woman who claimed there was a Druid involved in last night’s attack?” Redden asked Oriantha over the rush of the wind in the open cockpit.
“I heard there was and that she might have been killed. I also heard it was only Aresh. I heard lots of things. Did you learn anything useful?”
Redden shook his head. “What are we going to do once we get to the passes?”
Oriantha shook her head. “Look around?”
She was weighing her options, he imagined. His own were troubling. If Railing wasn’t in the Rhenn, did he join in the fighting anyway to help the Elves? Or did he continue looking for his brother? Where were Seersha and Crace Coram while all this was happening? Where were Skint and the Rovers? Oriantha knew no one except Coram, who had been part of their group when she had left him at the portal leading out of the Forbidding but of whom she had heard nothing since.
Still, someone had to know something about what had become of the other members of the expedition.
They flew on, their uneasiness increasing the closer they got to their destination. All Redden could think about was what waited there—Tael Riverine and the entire demon army. He could not stop imagining what it would feel like to be back in their hands—a very real possibility if he were forced into a fight against them. His insides recoiled at the prospect, and if it hadn’t been for his even more pressing fears about his brother, he would have turned around on the spot.
I don’t have to be a part of this fight, he kept telling himself. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to. I just need to find Railing. I just need to make sure my brother is safe.
But he knew this wasn’t so. He was an irrevocable a part of what was happening and had been from the moment he had left in search of the missing Elfstones. He was even more committed now that he had found the Stones and knew they might make a difference in any struggle with the Jarka Ruus. He could tell himself anything he wanted, but the path his feet were set upon would take him in only one direction.
At one point, Tesla Dart wormed her way forward and pressed up against him. “You don’t forget your promise to me?” she asked, bending close.
He glanced over at her worried face. “I will keep my promise,” he said.
He would try to keep all his promises, he thought, even the ones he had made to himself and was afraid he could not face.
Time passed. They sun crested the horizon, a blazing light shining out on a bright clear day. Ahead, the passes loomed dark and shadowy in the lee of the Rhenn’s forested walls.
They flew straight across the near pass and continued on toward the far. No one tried to stop them; apparently, no one thought it worth the effort since they were flying such a harmless, decrepit vessel. There was no battle yet, it seemed. There were no sounds of it or activity atop the valley rim. If anything, it was unusually quiet.
“What’s happening?” Redden asked over his shoulder, but Oriantha only shook her head and moved closer to where he sat, peering ahead with him to see what waited.
They had just reached the opening through the second pass when they heard a thunderous roar rise from the creatures massed without.
The witch wraith half turned toward the monstrous dragon when it appeared, facing it with no indication of concern.
“Take me down,” she called over her shoulder to Railing. “Land at the mouth of the pass. Not inside. Out in front, where all those gathered can see.”
Railing did as she ordered. He banked the Quickening a quarter turn and began dropping her earthward. His heart was racing, anticipating what was going to happen next. Clearly, the witch intended to let the Straken Lord know she was there. What more she would do remained to be seen.
Challa Nand moved away from the rail where he had been watching the army of the Jarka Ruus and stepped closer to the pilot box.
“Once we are down and she leaves to do what she thinks she must, we are getting off this vessel,” he said quietly. He glanced in her direction, but her attention was fixed on the dragon. “We’ll make a run for the pass and get inside, where the Elves can offer us protection. We don’t wait. We don’t hesitate. We don’t stop.”
Railing glanced at Mirai, and they both nodded. Challa Nand nodded back and moved away.
As the Quickening descended, Railing hunched his shoulders against a sudden chill and took a surprised look around. Something odd was happening. The temperature, until now warm and pleasant, had suddenly gone as cold as deepest winter. There was no reason for it, no apparent cause, but the change was unmistakable. He glanced over at Mirai and saw that she was tightening her cloak about her shoulders.