left as she did so. Climbing made her feel even dizzier, and she was constantly in danger of losing her balance. She stopped at one point and shut her eyes, trying to muster her strength. But closing her eyes just made her feel worse, so she opened them quickly and forced herself to continue on.
At the door, she pulled downward on the handle, but it wouldn’t move. The door was locked.
She paused a moment, then summoned a small bit of her magic to force the lock. A little pressure, carefully applied, would release it from the catch. She heard it open with a sharpsnick, pulled down on the handle again to be sure, and was through.
The passageway beyond was dark and musty and narrow. She had to go back out to retrieve a pair of torches from the hallway leading into the furnace room, one to light the way, one to serve as a backup. It took an enormous effort just to do that, and she began to wonder how in the world she was going to muster enough strength to make the climb into the Keep. She wished she had some food and water, but there would be nothing to eat or drink inside these walls.
She lit the first of the torches with her magic and started ahead.
The passageway wound through a series of short, disjoined segments that ended at a stairway. The stairway took her upward in a series of switchbacks for several hundred steps to a door. The door opened, and a second passageway continued from there. At first, there were no choices to be made about which way to go, there were only forward and back. But when she had successfully navigated the second passageway and climbed another set of stairs to a third passageway, things changed. That passageway and those that followed branched out repeatedly, and the stairways she passed led both upward and downward. She still knew where she was meant to go, but she had to stop and think about it more than once.
When finally she reached a branch in the maze of corridors about which she was uncertain, the temptation to use the Elfstones was almost overpowering. She was afraid that if she didn’t and made the wrong choice, she would become hopelessly lost. Her feverish mind made her frightened of doing so, eroding what little confidence remained to her, and for a moment she was sure that she was about to make a mistake. But she forced herself to stay calm, gave herself a moment to think, and resisted the impulse to act in haste. When she started walking again, she felt that she was going the right way.
Soon enough, the first of her two torches sputtered out. If the second one gave out as well, she would be left in blackness. By then, she was deep inside the upper reaches of Paranor, passing doors in the walls whose seams were outlined by light from the other side. She had no idea what rooms these secret doors opened into and did not care to find out. The passageways branched off in dozens of directions at each level she passed through. It was a disquieting discovery. Paranor’s walls, like her occupants, were rife with secrets.
She stopped several times to rest, to give her head a few moments to clear and her fever and pain time to diminish. Her body ached, and she was so tired that she half believed she might simply collapse at some point.
She wished she knew more about healing magic. She had used what little she did know to cleanse her body of infection and to restore some of her rapidly diminishing strength. But it was hard going. Her injuries were eroding both her strength and her concentration. Determination and adrenaline would get her only so far. If she didn’t reach her destination soon, she would not reach it at all.
Time dragged on, and she continued through the darkness, the smoky light of the torch illuminating her way. She felt as if she were entombed, buried in the earth beneath tons of rock. The blackness of the passageways and stairwells never changed. Her torch was all she had for light. In her head, she was seeing movement and hearing noises everywhere.
I can do this,she kept telling herself.
She encountered the first strands of Druid magic not long after the passageway narrowed so far that there was only room for a single person to pass through. She detected them at once, the skills that Ahren Elessedil had imparted warning her they were in place. But in fact the strands were just that: bits and pieces of webbing that had been severed and were hanging loose and forgotten, remnants of some more elaborate magic from an earlier time. She was careful to study them only with her senses, touching them might still serve to alert the one who had placed them. She could not yet tell who that was.
She discovered soon enough that more than one set of magic users had left imprints in those wormholes. One had visited more recently than the other and had severed the others earlier efforts all along the route she was following. That suggested that the second user was Shadea or one of her minions, while the earlier was Grianne Ohmsford. If magic had been used to transport the Ard Rhys into the Forbidding from her sleeping chamber, that was the way it would have happened. To reach her victim undetected, Shadea would have broken down the protective barriers Grianne had installed.
Khyber moved ahead cautiously, keeping close watch for traps, but it appeared that Shadea’s efforts to reach the Ard Rhys had been her sole concern. None of the earlier snares and warning webs had been reset.
Khyber slowed further as she realized she was getting close to her goal. The last part of the Elfstones’ vision was playing itself out in her mind, and she knew that the corridor she was following would twist and turn through the Keep’s walls a bit more before ending just ahead at the secret door leading into the sleeping chamber. She breathed a long sigh of relief, grateful to have reached her destination, even if she wasn’t sure yet what she was going to do about it.
Then she sensed the clipps.
She stopped at once, holding herself perfectly still as she sought out their hiding places. Clipps were little bits of reactive magic that magic users embedded in walls and floors and, sometimes, even in ceilings to give warning of intruders. They were not as powerful or as difficult to bypass as strands of webbing, but they were effective enough. She could tell they had been placed quite recently, a new form of magic layered over the old. Apparently Shadea had decided to protect this approach to the sleeping chamber as well.
She would have to remove or disable the clipps, and that would take time she didn’t have. But there was no help for it.
On hands and knees she edged forward and, one by one, began searching them out.
Bek Ohmsford crouched at the edge of the forest abutting the rocky promontory on which Paranor rested, studying its steep walls through the screen of trees and scrub. The walls were cleft in a dozen visible places and many dozens more beyond his plane of view. Any of them could be the secret entrance they were looking for, but they all looked pretty much the same.
He glanced over at Tagwen, who knelt next to him, his bearded face screwed up in a knot of indecision. «Any idea which one it is?» he asked softly.
The Dwarf sighed. «It was only once she took me there, and it was several years ago. I wasn’t really paying much attention to the location.» He shook his head. «But there was something about it…»
He trailed off, lips compressing into a tight line. «I know it was right around here.»
Bek wasn’t sure Tagwen knew anything at all, that he hadn’t forgotten everything. But he didn’t have much else to work with. Rue, the young Druids, and the Rock Trolls were all crouched farther back in the trees, hiding until they were summoned to go in. They had arrived at dawn, and after anchoringSwift Sure in a place of deep concealment they had made their way in through the shadowed forest to Paranor. The day was gray and hazy, and mist snaked through the trees in long trailers, giving the woods an otherworldly feel that threatened to make them lose their way. But it was Pen who was in the other world and in need of finding.
« I don’t think this is exactly right,” Tagwen said after a moment’s further thought. «Let’s try left a bit.»
They moved silently through the trees, Bek determined to give the Dwarf whatever leeway he needed to find the entrance. As a last resort, he might try his own magic, although that was a stretch at best. His magic couldn’t locate hidden entrances. It might track traces of magic, but there was little chance that such could be found down there. Worse, if the Keep was protected by Druid magic, his own use might give them away. It was an untenable situation at best, and unless they found the entry quickly, it was only going to get worse.
« This looks familiar,” Tagwen was saying, muttering to himself as he worked his way through the heavy undergrowth.
It looks familiar because it is familiar,Bek was thinking. They had been that way less than half an hour ago. He exhaled softly. How much longer could he afford to let Tagwen wander about?
« Wait!» The Dwarf grabbed his arm tightly. «This is it! This is the way in!»
He pointed at a rift in the cliff wall that was barely visible through a heavy screen of undergrowth, just a
