from the grassy area on which they stood to a forest of massive trees that sat atop a pinnacle of rock, a forested island surrounded by a deep ravine that ringed it like a moat, stretching away for as far as his eyes could see in the rapidly dimming daylight. The trees on the pinnacle were tall and straight and unbroken, rising hundreds of feet against the skyline, their bark mottled by greenish gray patches of moss. Their branches were deeply intertwined, forming a canopy so thick that it shut away the sky, but their trunks were widely spaced and the ground beneath opened through, clear and uncluttered by undergrowth. The forest backed away from the edge of the ravine in front of them until it joined with the curtain of the encroaching night.
Cinnaminson lowered her head against his shoulder, as if all the strength had gone out of her. «Did you hear them, too, Pen? Did you hear their voices?»
He wrapped her in his arms and stroked her long hair. 'The spirits of the air?» he guessed. «The ones from before?»
She nodded. «From the edge of the gardens. Did you hear them?»
«I sensed them, but they spoke only to you.«Something else spoke to me.
«No. It wasn't speaking. They didn't use words. But I knew what they wanted. For us to follow them. For us to cross to the island.»
Pen looked again at the narrow stone arch and the forested pinnacle of rock beyond. The top of the pinnacle was mostly flat, though rock formations jutted from between the old growth and ravines split the forest floor. The interior of the woods was dark and shadowed in the failing light. It was difficult to tell how deep in it went.
«Is the tanequil in there?» he asked quietly. «Is this the place?»
She hesitated, then lifted her head to stare blindly at him. «Something is in there. Something is waiting.»
Kermadec touched Pen on the shoulder and, when he turned, directed his attention to a flat–faced boulder into which symbols had been carved, the markings so worn they were almost unreadable.
«This is the warning of which I spoke,' the Maturen advised. «Written in the Gnome language. Very old. It tells strangers that the place is forbidden. It warns that to cross the bridge is death.» He looked at the boy. «We can't risk you going until we know. One of us will have to go first.»
«No!» Cinnaminson said sharply. Her eyes were suddenly frantic. «No one is to cross but Pen and me. We alone are permitted entry. The spirits of the air insist!»
Atalan gave an audible snort and looked off into the trees. Tag–wen began rubbing at his beard the way he did when he was anxious.
«They told you this?» Kermadec pressed her. «These spirits? You are not mistaken?»
«It doesn't matter,' Khyber interrupted. «I'm going with them, whatever these spirits say. Ahren gave the responsibility of making this journey to me. He gave me the only real weapon we have. The Elfstones will protect us. And I have the use of Druid magic. Whatever threatens, I will be able to keep it at bay.»
«No,' Cinnaminson said again. She walked over to Khyber and embraced her. «Please, Khyber, no. The warning is clear. You cannot come with us. I wish you could. But whatever lies on the other side is for Pen alone.»
«And for you, it seems,' Khyber said quietly.
«And for me.» Cinnaminson released her and stepped back. There were tears in her eyes. «I'm sorry. I don't understand why the spirits have chosen me. But my sense of what they want is very clear. Pen is to go and I am to go with him. But you cannot come. You must not.»
«This could easily be a trap,' Atalan pointed out, his flat face dark with suspicion as he swung back around again. «You are awfully trusting of invisible voices, Rover girl. If they have bad intentions, you will likely be dead before you know of them.»
«He is right,' Khyber agreed. «You are too trusting.»
Cinnaminson shook her head. «They are not dangerous to us. They mean us no harm. I have felt them guiding us ever since we entered Stridegate. They are a presence meant to shelter us, not to cause us harm.»
She turned to Kermadec. «Please. They have been waiting for us. They want something from us, but they won't tell us what it is until we cross the bridge.» She hesitated. «What choice do we have but to do as they expect? Pen has come in search of the tanequil, and the Elfstones have shown it to be on this island. Doesn't he have to cross over and find out if it is really there?»
There was a long silence as the other members of the company looked at one another uneasily. Even the Rock Trolls, who spoke little of her language, seemed to sense what was happening. Already on edge from their encounter with the Urdas, they were suspicious of everything in this strange place. Stridegate belonged to the past, to a time dead and gone. They had intruded on that past by going there, and they were anxious to do what was needed and be gone again. Most looked to Kermadec, waiting on his decision.
Cinnaminson turned to Pen, her blind eyes empty, but her face bright with expectation. «You understand, don't you, Pen? You know what we have to do. Will you cross with me?»
The boy nodded. «I will.» He looked at Kermadec. 'There is nothing to be gained by sending someone on ahead. It would be a pointless sacrifice that would tell us nothing. Cinnaminson and I are the ones who must test the warning.»
He could tell that the big Troll was unhappy with the idea, the impassive face giving away just enough to reveal his displeasure. The Maturen glanced at Tagwen and then Khyber, shaking his head. «I don't like it, but his point is well taken. We won't know anything if we don't let them try. We will have come all this way for nothing.»
Atalan walked to the edge of the ravine and peered down. «It's deep enough that I cannot make out the bottom. Maybe there isn't one.» He looked back at them. «If you fall off that bridge, boy, we will have come all this way for nothing, anyway.»
«Tie a rope around his waist,' Khyber suggested suddenly. «Tie one to each of them. It couldn't hurt.»
They did so, the trolls knotting the ropes in place and taking up positions on both sides of the bridge, ready to haul back should it be required. Pen felt foolish, trussed as he was. He thought the effort pointless. If the spirits of the air or whatever else dwelled in that place wanted them dead, they were not going to be able to save themselves anyway.
He looked at Cinnaminson and wished she weren't involved. It was bad enough risking his life. He didn't care to risk hers, as well. It wasn't her fight. It had nothing to do with her. She was here because of him, and that was unforgivable.
«Pen.» Khyber came up to him. «I will stand at the edge of the ravine when you cross. If anything threatens—anything at all—I will use the Druid magic and the Elfstones to help you.» Her lips tightened. «I won't fail you.»
He nodded and smiled. «You haven't yet, Khyber.»
Cinnaminson took hold of his hand. Pen looked around at those assembled, those who had come with him on the quest. The trolls stared back, blank–faced and imperturbable. Tagwen was tugging on his beard, but he managed an encouraging nod. Khyber was already at the edge of the ravine, the Elfstones gripped in her hand, her dark face alert and watchful.
Pen took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. With Cinnaminson's hand in his own, he began to walk toward the bridge.
Twenty–three
As he approached, Pen was able to take a closer look at the bridge, and what he saw gave him pause. It was narrow, less than eight feet wide, and provided no handholds to protect against a fall. You don't want to walk too close to the edge, he thought. You don't want to look down.
But it was the nature of its construction that troubled him most. The bridge was formed of massive stone blocks cut and placed so precisely that the seams were barely noticeable. Each block was wedge shaped, with the narrow part pointed downward, the blocks carefully fitted and aligned so that the weight of each was buttressed by
