The Wishsong of Shannara

Chapter Thirty–Seven

It was the third day after leaving the prisons at Dun Fee Aran before Jair and the little company from Culhaven reached the towering mountain range they called the Ravenshorn. Unable to use the open roadways than ran close to the banks of the Silver River as it wound south out of the mountains for fear of being seen, they were forced to traverse the deep forests above, picking their way at a slower pace through the tangled wilderness. The rains finally ceased on the second day out, slowed to a drizzle by midmorning, and turned to mist by noon. The air warmed as the skies cleared, and the clouds drifted east. When darkness slipped across the land, the moon and stars became visible through the trees. Their pace was slow, even after the rains had subsided, for the saturated earth could not absorb all of the surface water that had gathered, and the ground was muddied and slick with it. Stopping only for short periods of time to rest and eat, the company did its best to ignore the poor travel conditions and resolutely pressed ahead.

The sun appeared on the third day, brilliant and warm, filtering down in friendly streamers through the forest shadows, returning bits and pieces of color to the sodden land. The dark mass of the Ravenshorn came into view, barren rock rising up above the treeline. All morning they worked their way toward it, then on through the noonday, and by midafternoon they had reached the lower slopes and were starting up.

It was then that Slanter brought them to a halt.

«We have a problem,” he announced matter–of–factly. «If we try to cross through these mountains, it will take us days — weeks, maybe. Only other way in is by following the Silver River upstream to its source at Heaven’s Well. We can do that — if we’re careful — but sooner or later we will have to pass right under Graymark. Walkers will see us coming for sure.»

Foraker frowned. «There must be some way we can slip past them.»

«There isn’t,” Slanter grunted. «I ought to know.»

«Can we follow the river until we’re close to Graymark and then cross into the mountains?» Helt asked, his big frame lowering onto a boulder. «Can we come at it from another direction?»

The Gnome shook his head. «Not from where we are. Graymark sits on a cliff shelf that overlooks the whole of the land about it — the Ravenshorn, the Silver River, everything. Rock is barren and open — no cover at all.» He glanced at Stythys, who sat sullenly to one side. «That’s why the lizards like it there so well. Nothing could ever creep up on them.»

«Then we’ll have to go in at night,” Garet Jax said softly.

Again Slanter shook his head. «Break your neck if you try it. Cliffs are sheer drops all the way in and the paths are narrow and guarded. You’ll never make it.»

There was a long silence. «Well, what do you suggest?» Foraker asked finally.

Slanter shrugged. «I don’t suggest anything. I got you this far; the rest is up to you. Maybe the boy can hide you with his magic again.» He lifted his eyebrows at Jair. «How about, it — can you sing for half the night?»

Jair flushed. «There must be some way to get past the guards, Slanter!»

«Oh; it’s no problem for me.» The Gnome sniffed. «But the rest of you might have some trouble.»

«Helt has the night vision…» Foraker began thoughtfully.

But Garet Jax cut him short, beckoning to Stythys. «What suggestion would you make, Mwellret? This is your home. What would you do?»

Stythys let his lidded eyes narrow. «Findss your own way, little peopless. Sseekss another’ss foolissh aid. Leavess me be!»

Garet Jax studied him a moment, then walked over to him wordlessly, gray eyes so cold that Jair stepped back involuntarily. The Weapons Master’s finger lifted and came to rest on the Mwellret’s cloaked form.

«You seem to be telling me that you are no longer of any use to us,” he said softly.

The Mwellret seemed to shrink back within the robes then, slitted eyes glittering with hate. But he held no power over Garet Jax. The Weapons Master stood where he was, waiting.

Then a low hiss escaped the lizard’s mouth and its forked tongue licked out slowly. «Helpss you if you ssetss me free,” he whispered. «Takess you where no one sseess you.»

There was a long silence as the members of the little company glanced at one another suspiciously. «Don’t trust him,” Slanter said.

«Sstupid little Gnome cannot help you now,” Stythys sneered. «Needss my help, little friendss. Knowss wayss that no other can passs.»

«What ways do you know?» Garet Jax asked, his voice still soft.

But the Mwellret shook his head stubbornly. «Promisse firsst to sset me free, little peopless. Promisse.»

The Weapons Master’s lean face showed nothing of what he was thinking. «If you can get us into Graymark, you go free.»

Slanter’s face wrinkled with disapproval, and he spit into the earth. Standing with the others of the company, Jair waited for Stythys to say something more. But the Mwellret seemed to be thinking.

«You have our promise,” Foraker interjected, a hint of impatience in his voice. «Now tell us what way we must go.»

Stythys grinned, an evil, unpleasant smile that appeared to be almost a grimace. «Takess little peopless through Cavess of Night!»

«Why, you black… !» Slanter exploded in fury and came at the Mwellret in a rush. Helt caught him about the waist as he tried to push past and hauled him back, the Gnome yelling and struggling as if he had gone mad. Stythys’ laughter was a soft hiss as the members of the little company closed about Slanter to keep him back.

«What is it, Gnome?» Garet Jax demanded, one hand fastening about Slanter’s arm. «Do you know of these caves?»

Slanter wrenched himself free of the Weapons Master, though Helt still maintained his grip. «The Caves of Night, Garet Jax!» the Gnome snarled. «Death bins for the mountain Gnomes since the time they fell under the rule of the lizards! Thousands of my people were given over to the Caves, thrown within and lost! Now this… monster would do likewise with us!»

Garet Jax turned quickly back to Stythys. The long knife appeared as if by magic in one hand. «Be careful of your answer this time, Mwellret,” he advised softly.

But Stythys seemed unperturbed. «Liess from little Gnome. Cavess are passsagess into Graymark. Takess you beneath the mountainss, passt the walkerss. No one sseess.»

«Is there truly passage in?» Foraker asked Slanter.

The Gnome went suddenly still, rigid in Helt’s firm grip. «Doesn’t matter if there is. The Caves are no place for the living. Miles of tunnels cut within the Ravenshorn, black as any pit and filled with Procks! Have you heard of Procks? They are living things, formed of magic older than the lands — magic from the old world, it’s said. Living mouths of rock, all through the Caves. Everywhere you walk, the Procks are there in the cavern floor. One wrong step and they open, swallowing–you up, closing about you, crushing you into…» He was shaking with fury. «That was the way the lizards disposed of the mountain Gnomes — pushed them into the Caves!»

«But the Caves do offer a passage through.» Garet Jax turned Foraker’s question into a statement of fact.

«A passage useless to us!» Slanter exploded once more. «We can’t see to find our way! A dozen steps in and the Procks would have us!»

«Havess not me!» Stythys cut him short with a hiss. «Mine iss the ssecret of the Cavess of Night! Little peopless cannot passs, but my peopless know the way. Prockss cannot harm uss!»

They were all still then. Garet Jax stalked back to stand before the Mwellret. «The Caves of Night run to Graymark beneath the Ravenshorn — safe from the eyes of the walkers? And you can lead us through?»

«Yess, little friendss,” Stythys rasped softly. «Takess you through.»

Garet Jax turned to the others. For a moment no one spoke. Then Helt gave a quick nod. «There are only six of us. If we are to have any chance at all, we have to reach the fortress unseen.

Foraker and Edain Elessedil nodded as well. Jair looked at Slanter. «You’re all fools!» the Gnome exclaimed bitterly. «Blind, stupid fools! You can’t trust the lizards!»

There was an awkward silence. «You don’t have to go any farther, if you don’t want to, Slanter,” Jair told him.

The Gnome stiffened. «I can take care of myself, boy!»

«I know. I just thought that…»

«Well, keep your thoughts to yourself!» the other cut him short. «As for not going any farther, you’d be better off taking that advice yourself. But you won’t, I’m sure. So we’ll all be fools together.» He glanced darkly at Stythys. «But this fool will be keeping close watch, and if anything goes wrong in this, I’ll be there to make certain the lizard doesn’t see the end of it!»

Garet Jax turned back to Stythys. «You’ll take us through then, Mwellret. Just remember — it will be as the Gnome says. What happens to us happens as well to you. Don’t play games with us. If you try…»

Stythys’ smile was quick and hard. «No gamess with you, little friendss.»

They waited until nightfall to resume their journey, then slipped down out of the rocks above the Silver River and turned north into the mountains. Light from the gibbous moon and stars brightened the dark mass of the Ravenshorn. as it rose about them, great barren peaks towering against the deep blue of the skyline. A worn pathway ran parallel to the riverbank through a scattering of trees and brush, and the little company from Culhaven followed it in until the forestland south was lost from view.

All night they walked, Helt and Slanter in the lead, the others following in cautious silence. The dark peaks drew steadily closer about the channel of the Silver River to wall them in. Save for the steady rush of the river, it was oddly silent within these peaks, a deep and pervasive stillness wrapping about the barren rock as if Mother Nature cradled her sleeping child. As the hours slipped away, Jair found himself growing increasingly uneasy with the silence, staring about at the massive walls of rock, peering into the shadows, and searching for something he could not see yet sensed was there, watching. The company chanced upon no other living creature that night, save for the great cliff birds that winged silently overhead across their nocturnal haunts, and still the Valeman sensed that they were not alone.

A part of this feeling sprang, he knew, from the continued presence of Stythys. Trailing, he could see the black figure of the Mwellret immediately in front of him. He could feel the creature’s green eyes constantly shifting to find him, watching him, waiting. Like Slanter, he did not trust the Mwellret. Whatever promises Stythys might have made to aid them, Jair was certain that behind it all lay a ruthless determination to gain mastery over the Valeman’s Elven magic. Whatever else happened, the creature meant to have that power. The certainty of it was frightening. The days he had spent walled away in the prisons at Dun Fee Aran haunted him like a specter so terrible that nothing could ever entirely banish it. It was Stythys who was responsible for that specter, and Stythys who would see life breathed back into it once more. While Jair now seemed free of the Mwellret, he could not shake the feeling that in some insidious way the creature had not lost control of him entirely.

But as night lengthened into early morning and weariness blunted the sharp edge of his doubt and his fear, Jair found himself thinking instead of Brin. In his mind he saw her face again as he had seen it twice so recently in the vision crystal — once ravaged as she experienced some unspeakable grief, once awestruck as she looked upon the twisted image of herself in the form of that shade. Glimpses only, those two brief visions, and nothing in either could tell the Valeman what had come to pass. Much had befallen his sister, he sensed — some of it frightening. An empty feeling opened within him as he thought of her, gone so long now from the Vale and from him, on a quest that the King of the Silver River had said would cause her to be lost. It was odd, but in a sense she seemed already lost to him, for the distance and the time that separated them was strangely magnified by the events that had transpired since last he had seen her. So much had happened, and he was so far from what and who he had been.

The emptiness grew suddenly into an ache. What if the King of the Silver River had misjudged him? What if he were to fail and Brin be lost to him? What if he were to come to her too late? He bit his lip against such thoughts, swearing fiercely that it would not be so. Deep ties bound him to her, brother to sister — ties of family, of a life shared, of knowledge, understanding, and caring, and most of all ties of love.

They marched on through the dark of early morning. With the first light of dawn, Stythys took the company up into the rocks. Moving away from the Silver River where it churned dark and sluggish in its channel, they passed deep into the cliffs. Trees and scrub disappeared and barren rock stretched away on all sides. Sunlight broke east above the mountain’s edge, a brilliant, blinding gold that flared through the cracks and splits of the rock like fire. They climbed toward that fire until suddenly, unexpectedly, their ascent took them into a cliff’s dark shadow and they stood at the entrance of an enormous cavern.

«Cavess of Night!» Stythys hissed softly.

The cavern yawned before the little company like an open maw, jagged rock split and twisted about the passageway like teeth. Wind blew down across the mountain heights, and it seemed as if it whistled at them from out of the Caves. Lengths of dull, whitish wood lay scattered about the entry as if stripped by age and weather. Jair looked closer and froze. The lengths of wood were bones, splintered, broken, and bleached of life.

Garet Jax placed himself before Stythys. «How are we to see anything in there, Mwellret? Have you torches.?»

Stythys laughed, low and evil. «Torchess not burn in the Cavess, little friendss. Needss the magic!»

The Weapons Master glanced back momentarily at the cavern entrance. «And you have this magic?»

«Havess it, indeed,” the other answered, arms folding within the robes, body swelling slightly. «Havess the Fire Wake! Liess within!»

«How long will this take?» Foraker asked uneasily. Dwarves were not fond of closed places, and he was less than anxious to venture into this one.

«Passs through Cavess quickly, little friendss,” Stythys reassured rather too eagerly. «Takess you through in three hourss. Graymark waitss for uss.»

The members of the little company glanced at one another and at the cavern entrance. «I’m telling you, you can’t trust him!» Slanter warned yet again.

Garet Jax produced a length of rope and tied one end about himself and the other about Stythys. Testing the knots that bound them, he slipped free the long knife. «I will be closer to you than your shadow, Mwellret. Remember that. Now take us in there and show us your magic.» Stythys started to turn, but the Weapons Master yanked him about. «Not too far in. Not until we see what you can do.»

The Mwellret grimaced. «Sshowss little friendss. Come.»

He slouched toward the monstrous black entry to the Caves, Garet Jax a step behind him and the rope about their waists binding them as one. Slanter followed them at once. After a moment’s hesitation, the others of the little company also followed. Sunlight fell away as, the shadows about them deepened, and they passed into the stone maw and the darkness beyond. For a few moments, the dawn’s faint light aided them in their progress, silhouetting the shapes of walls, floors, jagged stalactites, and clustered rocks. Then quickly even that small light began to fail, and the blackness swallowed them.

Now they were practically blind, and their steps faltered to a ragged halt, the scraping of leather boots on rock a rough echo in the cavern’s silence. They stood in a knot and listened to the echo die. The sound of dripping water reached their ears from somewhere deep within the blackness ahead. And from deeper still came the unpleasant sound of rock grating against rock.

«Ssee, little friendss,” Stythys hissed suddenly. «All iss black in the Cavess!»

Jair glanced about uneasily, seeing almost nothing. Beside him, Edain Elessedil’s lean Elven face was a faint shadow. There was a curious dampness to the air, a clinging wetness that stirred, though there was no wind, and seemed to wrap and twist about them. It had an unpleasant feel, and it smelled of rot. The Valeman wrinkled his nose in distaste, realizing suddenly that it was the same smell that had been present in Stythys’ cell at Capaal.

«Callss now the Fire Wake!» the Mwellret rasped, startling the Valeman. «Lissten! Callss now the light!»

He cried out sharply, a kind of grim, hollow whistle that sounded of bone scraping, rough and tortured. The whistle rang through the blackness, carrying deep into the caverns. It echoed, long and mournful, and then the Mwellret repeated it a second time. Jair shivered. He was liking this whole idea of the Caves less and less.

Then abruptly the Fire Wake came. It flew at them through the darkness like a gathering of brilliant dust, bits of iridescent fire whirling and sailing on wind that wasn’t there. Scattered through the blackness as it darted toward them, it drew together in a rush before the Mwellret’s outstretched hand, tiny particles swirling in a tightened ball of light that cast its yellow glow outward to brighten the shadows of the Caves. The members of the little company stared in astonishment as the Fire Wake gathered and hung suspended before Stythys, and against their faces the strange glow flickered and danced.

«Magicss of my own, little friendss,” Stythys hissed triumphantly. The snouted face turned to find Jair, green eyes gleaming in the whirling light. «Ssee how the Fire Wake obeyss?»

Garet Jax stepped quickly between them. «Point the way, Mwellret. Time slips from us.»

«Sslipss quickly, it doess,” the other rasped softly.

They pressed on into the darkness, the Fire Wake lighting their path forward. The walls of the Caves of Night rose higher about them, lost finally in shadowed gloom that even the Fire Wake could not penetrate. From out of the gloom, the sound of their footfalls fell back upon them in strange, sullen echoes. The smell grew worse the deeper in they went, turning foul the air they breathed and forcing them to take shortened breaths to avoid gagging. The passageway split and divided before them into dozens of corridors intertwined in an impossible maze of tunnels. But Stythys did not slow, choosing without hesitation the tunnel he would have them follow. The glowing dust of the Fire Wake danced on before him.

Time dragged past. Still the tunnels and passageways wore on, endless black openings in the rock. The smell grew even worse, and now the sound of grating rock was no longer distant, but unpleasantly close at hand. Then suddenly Stythys drew to a halt at an entrance leading into a particularly massive cavern, the Fire Wake dancing close as his hand lifted.

«Prockss!» he whispered.

He cast the Fire Wake from him with a snap of his wrist and it flew into the cave ahead, lighting the impenetrable blackness. The members of the little company from Culhaven stared in horror at what the light revealed. There, dotting the whole of the cavern floor, were hundreds of jagged, gaping fissures that opened and closed as if mouths engaged in some hideous chewing, the rock grinding hatefully in the dark. Sounds came from within those mouths — gurgling–rushes, rendings, deep groaning belches of liquid and crushed stone.

«Shades!» they heard Helt whisper then. «The whole cave is alive!»

«Musst passs through,” Stythys announced with an ugly grin. «Little peopless sstay closse.»

They stayed practically on top of one another, pale faces gleaming with sweat in the light of the Fire Wake, eyes fixed on the cavern floor before them. Again Stythys led, Garet Jax a step behind, Slanter, Jair, Edain Elessedil, and Helt in a line following, and Foraker trailing. They made their way in a slow, twisting path into the midst of the Procks, stepping where the Fire Wake showed the black mouths not to be, their ears and minds filled with the sounds those terrible mouths made. The Procks opened and closed all about them as if waiting to be fed, hungry animals that sensed the presence of food. At times they closed so tightly that they seemed a part of the cavern floor that was solid, no more than thin lines in the roughened stone. Yet they could open quickly, snatching away the seemingly safe ground offered, ready to swallow anything that ventured above. But each time one lay hidden on the path ahead, the Fire Wake showed the members of the company where it waited and guided them carefully past.

They passed from that first cavern into another and after that into another. Still the Procks were with them, dotting the floor of every cave and passageway so that none was safe to traverse. They moved slowly now, and the minutes dragged away in a seemingly endless passage of time. Weariness set in as their concentration intensified, each knowing that a single misstep would be the last. All the while the Procks opened and closed about them, grinding in gleeful anticipation.

«There is no end to this maze!» Edain Elessedil whispered once in frustration to Jair.

The Valeman nodded in helpless agreement. Foraker pressed close behind now, and Helt brought up the rear. The Dwarf’s bearded face was soaked with sweat and his hard eyes were glittering.

A concealed Prock opened suddenly, almost at Jair’s feet, its black maw yawning. Frantically, the Valeman jerked away, stumbling into Slanter. The Prock had been right next to him and he hadn’t seen it! He fought back against the wave of disgust and fear that swept over him and set his jaw determinedly. It would not be much longer. They would be clear soon.

But then, as they were passing through yet another cavern, through yet another maze of Procks, Stythys did what Slanter had warned all along he would do. It happened so quickly that not even Garet Jax had time to act. One moment they were all together, easing past the hideously grinding fissures; in the next, the Mwellret’s hand flicked suddenly backward, casting the Fire Wake directly into their faces. It came at them in a flare of brilliant light, scattering. Instinctively they turned away, shielding their eyes, and in that instant Stythys moved. He leaped past Garet Jax and Slanter to where Jair crouched. Snatching the Valeman about the waist with one powerful arm, the lizard creature slipped a wicked–looking knife from somewhere beneath the dark robes where he had kept it hidden and pressed it close against his captive’s throat.

«Sstay back, little friendss!» The Mwellret hissed, turning to face them as the Fire Wake again gathered before him.

No one moved. Garet Jax crouched barely two yards away, a black shadow poised to spring. The length of rope still bound him to the Mwellret. Stythys kept the Valeman between them, the knife glittering in the half–light.

«Foolissh little peopless!» the monster rasped. «Thinkss to usse me againsst my will! Sseess now what liess ahead for you?»

«I told you he couldn’t be trusted!» Slanter cried out in fury.

He started forward, but a warning hiss from the Mwellret brought him to a halt instantly. Behind him, the others of the little company stood frozen in a tight circle — Helt, Foraker and Edain Elessedil. All about them the Procks continued to grind steadily, stone grating on stone.

Garet Jax shifted from the crouch, gray eyes so cold that Stythys’ arm tightened further about Jair. «Let the Valeman go, Mwellret,” the Weapons Master said softly.

The blade of the knife pressed closer against Jair’s throat. Jair swallowed and tried to shrink away from it. Then his eyes met those of Garet Jax. The Weapons Master was fast — faster than anyone. It was when he had confronted the Gnome Hunters who had taken Jair prisoner in the Black Oaks that he had first shown how fast he could be. And the same look he had worn then was now in the lean, hard face — a calm, inscrutable look where only the eyes spoke of the death that was promised.

Jair breathed a deep, slow breath. Garet Jax was close enough. But the knife at the Valeman’s throat was closer still.

«Magicss belong to uss, not to little peopless!» Stythys rasped in a quick, anxious whisper. «Magicss to sstand againsst the walkerss! Little peopless cannot usse it, cannot usse uss! Sstupid little peopless! Crussh you like bugss!»

«Let the Valeman go!» Garet Jax repeated.

The Fire Wake danced and glimmered before the Mwellret, a whirling cloud of shimmering dust. Stythys’ green eyes drew into slits of hatred, and he laughed softly.

«Letss you go insstead, black one!» he snapped. He glanced quickly at Slanter. «You, little Gnome? Cut loosse thiss tie that bindss me to him!»

Slanter looked at Garet Jax, then looked back again. His eyes shifted for just an instant to find Jair’s. The Valeman read there what was expected of him. If he hoped to get out of this alive, he was going to have to do something to help..

Slowly Slanter came forward, a step at a time, slipping the long knife from his belt. No one else moved. Jair steadied himself, fighting back against the fear and repulsion that coursed through him. Slanter came closer, another step. One hand reached for the slackened rope that bound the Mwellret to Garet Jax. Jair went perfectly still. One chance was all he would get. Slanter’s hand closed about the rope and the knife lifted to the hemp.

Then Jair sang — a quick, sharp cry that Slanter recognized at once. Dozens of gray, hairy spiders clustered on Stythys, crawling over the arm that held the knife to Jair’s throat. The Mwellret jerked his arm away with a howl, beating it wildly against his robes in an effort to dislodge the things that clung to it. Abruptly the Fire Wake scattered in a wide circle, taking back the light and throwing everything into shadow.

Cat–quick, Slanter threw himself on Stythys, burying his long knife in the arm that gripped Jair about his waist. That arm, too, jerked away, and Jair tumbled to the roughened stone, free again. Shouts rose from the others of the little company as they charged forward to pull him clear. Stythys flew backward onto the cavern floor, Slanter clinging to him, Garet Jax leaping after. A long knife appeared in the Weapon Master’s hand as he sought to cut through the rope that bound him to the Mwellret. But he was yanked off balance as the rope snapped taut. He lost his footing and skidded to his knees.

«Slanter!» Jair screamed.

The Gnome and the Mwellret stumbled through the maze of Procks, clawing wildly at each other. The Fire Wake continued to rise as Stythys’ control over it slipped away, and the entire cavern was rapidly falling into shadow. Another few seconds and no one would be able to see anything.

«Gnome!» Foraker cried in warning, breaking away from the others to where the two forms struggled.

But Garet Jax was quicker. He leaped like a shadow from the gloom, his footing regained. The long knife severed the rope about his waist with a single cut. Procks grated and snapped in response to the sounds above, dark maws working madly. Stythys and Slanter were directly in their midst, squirming closer, slipping…

And then Garet Jax reached them, flinging himself across the remaining space that separated them, his iron grip fastening on Slanter’s leg. With a yank, he tore the Gnome free from Stythys’ claws. Clothing shredded and ripped, and a frightful hiss burst from Stythys’ throat.

The Mwellret tumbled backward, thrown off balance. Beneath him, a Prock’s black maw gaped open. The lizard seemed to hang suspended for an instant, clawed fingers grasping at the air. Then he fell, disappearing from sight. The Prock closed and there was a sudden shriek. Then the black fissure began to grind, a terrible crunching, and the whole of the cavern was filled with the dreadful sound.

Instantly the Fire Wake scattered and fled back into the gloom, taking with it the precious light. The Caves of Night were plunged into darkness once more.

It was several minutes before anyone moved again. They, crouched where they were in the blackness, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the absence of light, listening to the sounds of the Procks grinding all about them. When it quickly became apparent that there was not even the smallest amount of light to allow their eyes to adjust, Elb Foraker called out to the others and asked them to respond. One by one, they called back, faceless voices in the impenetrable dark. All were there.

But they knew that they were not likely to be there for long. The Fire Wake was gone, the light they so desperately needed to show them the path forward. Without it, they were blind. They must attempt to move through the maze of Procks using little more than instinct.

«Hopeless,” Foraker announced at once. «Without light, we cannot tell where the passages open before us and we cannot choose our path. Even if we escape the Procks, we will wander in these Caves forever.»

There was a hint of fear in the Dwarf’s voice that Jair had never heard before. «There has to be a way,” he murmured quietly, as much to himself as to the others.

«Helt, can you use the night vision?» Edain Elessedil asked hopefully. «Can you see to find a way through this darkness?»

But the giant Borderman could not. Even the night vision must have some light to aid it, he explained gently. In the absence of all light, the night vision was useless.

They were quiet then for a time, bereft it seemed of even the smallest hope. In the darkness, Jair could hear Slanter’s rough voice admonishing Garet Jax that he should have known better than to trust the lizard, as Slanter had told him. Jair listened and seemed to hear Brin speaking to him as well, telling him that he, too, should have listened. He brushed the whisper of her voice from his mind, thinking as he did so that, if the wishsong served him as it did her, he could call back the Fire Wake. But his song was only illusion, a pretense of what was real.

Then he thought of the vision crystal.

Calling excitedly to the others, he fumbled through his clothing until he found it, still tucked safely away, dangling from its silver chain, and he brought it forth into the cup of his hands. The crystal would give them light — all the light that was needed! With the crystal and Helt’s night vision to guide them, they would yet get clear of these Caves!

Barely able to suppress the excitement that coursed through him, he sang to the gift of the King of the Silver River and called forth the magic. The brilliant light sprang up, flooding the cavern with its glow. Brin Ohmsford’s face appeared within it, dark, beautiful, and worn, rising up before them in the gloom of the Caves of Night like some wraith come forth from another world. Grayness surrounded the Valegirl, gloom all too reminiscent of their own, close and stifling. Wherever she was as she looked past them to her own future, it was no less hostile a place than their own.

Cautiously, they rejoined one another, gathering about the light of the crystal. Joining hands as children might on a walk through some dark place, they began to move forward through the maze of Procks. Jair led, the light of the vision crystal sustained by his voice, scattering the shadows before them. Helt followed a step behind, sharp eyes scanning the cavern floor for where the Procks lay hidden. Behind them, the others followed.

They passed from that cavern into another, but this new cavern was smaller and the proper choice of passage less difficult to discern. Jair’s song lifted, clear, strong, and filled with certainty. He knew now that they were going to escape these Caves, and it was because of Brin. He wanted to cry out in thanks to her image as it floated before him. How strange that she should come like this to save them!

Closing his ears to the sounds of the Procks as they grated stone on stone, closing his mind to everything but the light and the vision of his sister’s face as it hung suspended before him, he gave himself over to the wishsong’s magic and passed on through the darkness.