anyway? What am I doing in that closet, for cat’s sake?»
Wil came to his feet unsteadily. «Hebel! The Witch, Mallenroh — she changed you to wood! Don’t you remember?» He grinned in relief. «We thought you were lost! I don’t see how you…»
Amberle took hold of his arm. «It was the magic, Wil. When Mallenroh died, so did the magic. That was why the stick men collapsed — the magic was gone. It must have happened that way with Hebel and the dog as well.»
A fresh wave of smoke poured through the open doorway, and Eretria called out anxiously.
«We have to get out of here.» Wil started for the door once more, still cradling the terrified Wisp beneath his arm. «Bring Amberle,” he called back to Hebel.
On the landing, they stopped in dismay. The entire hall was in flames. Burning stick men littered the floor. The timbers that spanned the arched ceiling sagged and cracked, the fire burning them through. Even the stone walls had begun to shimmer redly with the heat. At the front of the hall, the entry doors stood closed and barred. Hesitantly, Wil started down the stairs, searching through the flames and smoke for a path that would take them to those doors.
Then suddenly the doors flew open with a crash, hammered back against the stone by something breaking through from without. At the bottom of the narrow stairway, Wil Ohmsford and the others stopped in surprise, peering through the wall of fire. Daylight streamed through the shattered opening, and Wil thought for just an instant that he saw something shadowy move into the hall. Uncertain, he stared past the flames, trying to decide what it was that he had seen. Had he imagined that shadow…
A few steps back, Drifter dropped hurriedly in a crouch, snarling and whining.
And then he knew. The Reaper! He had forgotten about the Reaper.
«Wisp!» he cried frantically, shaking the Elf so hard the wizened face whipped back and forth in front of him. «How do we get out of here? Listen to me! Show me another way out!»
«Wisp… out… over there.» One arm pointed weakly.
Wil saw, it — a door, to their left, perhaps twenty yards through the fire. He never hesitated. Calling to his companions to follow, he stumbled through the flames and the smoke for the door. He could almost feel the Reaper breathing over his shoulder. Somewhere back in the hall, it was coming for them.
They reached the door. Choking and gagging, Wil found the handle and twisted. This door, too, was unlocked. Pushing the others before him, he followed them through, slamming the door closed with a heave and throwing the latch bar tight.
Then they ran down a stairwell that spiraled deep beneath the tower, through gloom lit dimly by the smokeless lights, into musty dampness that cooled their heated bodies, stumbling and lurching, footfalls echoing through the stillness. Only twice did the Valeman turn to speak as he led the others from the ruined tower, once to speak the name of their pursuer, once to warn that the Reaper had found them at last. Then no one spoke again. They simply ran.
At the bottom of the stairs, a passageway opened ahead, tunneling through the light of a scattering of the lamps and twisting from view. Down the corridor they went, Wil carrying the hunched form of Wisp, who moaned and whimpered at every step; Hebel — with Drifter beside him — and Eretria were lending support to Amberle, who still hobbled weakly upon her damaged ankle. The passageway twisted and turned through the earth, angling first one way, then another, filled with insects that skittered and dust that flew as they ran past.
Time and again Wil glanced back through the shadows. Had something moved? Had something sounded? Tears blurred his vision, and he brushed at them angrily. Where was the Reaper? It had tracked them all the way from Arborlon to this tunnel. It was here, close; he could sense it. It was here, hunting.
Ahead, the passageway ended and a second stairwell curled upward, dark and empty. At its foot, the Valeman paused until the others were next to him, then led the way quickly onto the stairs. For long minutes they wound upward through the gloom, watching the curve of the steps slip teasingly ahead, listening for the sounds of the thing that pursued them. But they heard nothing save their own movements. Silence wrapped the passage and those who climbed it.
The stairwell ended at a trapdoor, a latchbolt thrown tight into its stone seating. Wil wrenched the bolt free, paced his shoulder against the door, and heaved upward. With a muffled thud, the trapdoor toppled back; clouded, dull sunlight spilled down into the passage. Quickly the humans and the dog stumbled from the earth.
They stood again within the Hollows, misted, gray, and still. Behind them the island keep of Mallenroh, shrouded in smoke that rose high into the trees and curled down about the moat and wall, crumbled slowly into ruin.
The forest all about lay empty. The Reaper was nowhere to be seen.
Chapter Forty–Six
Wil glanced about uncertainly. Mist and gloom masked everything but the bright flicker of the fires that still burned within the tower of Mallenroh. Nothing else was distinguishable. The Valeman had no idea at all where they should go from there.
«Hebel, where is Spire’s Reach?» he asked hurriedly.
The old man shook his head. «Can’t be certain, Elfling. Can’t see anything.»
Wil hesitated, then knelt quickly on the forest earth and brought the cringing form of Wisp out from under his arm. Wisp had buried his face in his hands, and his furry body was curled tightly into a ball. Try as he might, the Valeman could not get the little Elf to unfold. Finally he gave up, holding Wisp by his shoulders and shaking him urgently.
«Wisp, listen to me. Wisp, you have to talk to me. Look at me, Wisp.»
The little fellow peeked reluctantly through his fingers. His body shook.
«Wisp, where is Spire’s Reach?» Wil asked quickly. «You have to take us to Spire’s Reach.»
Wisp did not respond, staring out through his parted fingers like a fascinated child for a moment, then locking his hands tight.
«Wisp!» Wil shook him again. «Wisp, answer me!»
«Wisp serves the Lady!» the Elf exclaimed suddenly. «Serves the Lady! Serves the Lady! Serves the…»
Wil shook him so hard his teeth rattled. «Stop it! She’s dead, Wisp! The Lady is dead! You don’t serve her anymore!»
Wisp went still and slowly the hands fell away from his face. He began to cry, great wracking sobs that shook his small frame. «Don’t hurt Wisp,” he pleaded. «Good Wisp. Don’t hurt.»
Then he collapsed in a ball, crying and rolling on the ground like a wounded animal. Wil stared down at him helplessly.
«Well done, Healer.» Eretria sighed and stepped forward. «You’ve frightened him half to death. He should be of great use now.» She gripped the Valeman’s arm and lifted him out of the way. «Let me handle this.»
Wil moved over beside Amberle and they watched in silence as the Rover girl knelt beside Wisp and cradled the sobbing Elf in her arms. Whispering softly, she held him close against her and stroked the furry head. Long moments passed and finally Wisp stopped crying. His head lifted slightly.
«Pretty thing?»
«It’s all right, Wisp.»
«Pretty thing take care of Wisp?»
«I’ll take care of you.» She gave Wil a stern look. «No one will hurt you.»
«Not hurt Wisp?» The wizened face lifted to find her own. «Promise?
Eretria gave him a reassuring smile. «I promise. But you have to help us, Wisp. Will you do that? Will you help us?»
The little fellow nodded eagerly. «Help you, pretty thing. Good Wisp.»
«Good Wisp, indeed,” Eretria agreed. Then she bent close to him. «But we have to hurry, Wisp. The Demon — the one that followed us into the Hollows — it still hunts for us. If it finds us, it will hurt us, Wisp.»
Wisp shook his head. «Not let it hurt Wisp, pretty one.»
«No, it won’t hurt you, Wisp — not if we hurry.» She stroked his cheek. «But we have to find this mountain —
