reason to be frightened now. That was all behind her. The journey to find the Bloodfire was done. Her promises were kept. All that remained was to give life back to the Ellcrys.
Her hand slipped down within her tunic and closed about the seed that was the source of that life. It felt warm and alive, as if anticipating an end to its dormancy. She was about to withdraw her hand when the fears came back again, sudden and intense. She hesitated, feeling her strength of will begin to ebb. Was there more to this ritual than she imagined? Where was Wil? He had promised to see her through this. He had promised to make certain that she did not falter. Where was he? She needed the Valeman; she needed him to come to her.
But Wil Ohmsford would not come. He was beyond the Fire’s wall, and she knew that he could not reach her. She must do this by herself. It was the task she had been given; it was the responsibility she had accepted. She took a deep breath. A moment’s time to place the Ellcrys seed in the flames of the Bloodfire and the task would be finished. It was what she had come all this way to do; now she should do it. Yet the fear persisted. It filled her like a sickness and she hated it, because she did not understand it. Why was it that she was so frightened?
In her hand, the seed began to pulsate softly.
She glanced down. Even this seed frightened her, even so small a part of the tree as this. Memories came and fled again. In the beginning they had been close, the Ellcrys and she. There had been no fear, only love. There had been joy and sharing. What had changed that? Why had she begun to feel that she was losing herself in the tree? Such a frightening thing that had been! Even now it haunted her. What right had the Ellcrys to do that to her? What right had the Ellcrys to use her so? What right…?
Shame filled her. Such questions served no purpose. The Ellcrys was dying and she needed help, not recrimination. The Elven people needed help. The Even girl opened her eyes and blinked into the Bloodfire’s crimson glow: There was no time to indulge her bitterness or to explore her fear. There was only time to do what she had come to do — to bathe the seed she held in the Fire.
She started. The Fire! Why had the seed not already been affected by the fire? Could the flames not reach it within her tunic? Had they not already touched it? What difference whether she took the seed out?
More questions. Pointless questions. Again she started to withdraw the seed and again the fear held her back. Tears filled her eyes. Oh, that there might be someone else to do this thing! She was not a Chosen! She was not suited! She was not… she was not…
With a cry, she wrenched the seed from her tunic and held it forth into the Bloodfire’s scarlet flame. It flared within her hand, alive with the Fire’s touch. From deep within the Elven girl the feeling came again, the feeling that had warned her of the Reaper’s coming, the feeling that had called her to the Bloodfire, flooding through her now in a dazzling sweep of images that wracked her with such intense emotions that she dropped weakly to her knees.
Slowly she brought the Ellcrys seed to her breast, feeling the life within it stir. Tears ran down her cheeks.
It was she. It was she.
Now at last, she understood. She held the seed close against her and drew the Bloodfire in.
Chapter Forty–Nine
Huddled against the cavern wall, Wil Ohmsford and Eretria watched the Fire’s crimson glow wink into darkness. It happened suddenly — a final spurt of flame and then the Bloodfire was gone. All that remained to light the chamber gloom were the discarded lamps they had carried in, their soft white glimmer faint and small.
Valeman and Rover girl blinked in the sudden night, peering blindly through the shadows. Slowly their vision sharpened, and they saw movement from atop the shelf where the Bloodfire had burned. Guardedly Wil brought up the hand that held the Elfstones, and the Elven magic rose in a flicker of blue fire.
«Wil…»
It was Amberle! She emerged from the gloom like a lost child, her voice a thin, desperate whisper. Ignoring the pain that racked his body, the Valeman started toward her, Eretria a step behind. They reached her as she stumbled from the shelf, caught her in their arms, and held her.
«Wil,” she murmured softly, sobbing.
Her head lifted and the long chestnut hair fell back from her face. Her eyes burned crimson with the Bloodfire.
«Shades!» Eretria gasped and stepped back from the Elven girl.
Wil caught Amberle up in his arms; despite the pain that lanced through his injured arm, he cradled her against him. She was feather–light, as if the bones had withered within her and all that remained was a shell of flesh. She was crying still, her head buried in his shoulder.
«Oh, Wil, I was wrong, I was wrong. It was never her. It was me. It was always me.»
The words came in a rush, as if she could not speak them fast enough. The Valeman stroked her pale cheek.
«It’s all right, Amberle,” he whispered back to her. «It’s over.»
She looked up at him again, the blood–red eyes fixed and terrible.
«I didn’t understand. She knew… all along. She knew, and she tried… and she tried to tell me, to let me see… but I didn’t understand, I was frightened…»
«Don’t talk.» The Valeman gripped her tightly, a sudden, unreasoning fear slipping through him. They had to get free of this blackness. They had to get back to the light. He turned quickly to Eretria. «Pick up the lamps.»
The Rover girl didn’t argue. She retrieved the smokeless lights and hurried back to him. «I have them, Healer.»
«Then let us hurry from this…» he began and caught himself. The Ellcrys. The seed. Had the Elven girl…? «Amberle,” he whispered gently. «Has the seed been placed within the Fire? Amberle?»
«It… is done,” she said so softly he barely caught her words.
How much had this cost her, he wondered bitterly? What had happened to her within the Fire…? But no, there was no time for this. They must hurry. They must climb from these catacombs back to the slopes of Spire’s Reach and then return to Arborlon. There Amberle could be made well again. There she would be all right.
«Hebel!» he called out.
«Here, Elfling.» The old man’s voice was thin and harsh. He appeared out of the shadows, cradling Drifter in his arms. «Leg’s broke. Maybe something more.» There were tears in Hebel’s eyes. «I can’t leave him.»
«Healer!» Eretria’s dark face was suddenly close before his own. «How are we to find our way back without the dog?»
He stared at her as if he had forgotten she existed, and she flushed with shame, thinking him angry for her reaction to the Elven girl.
«The Elfstones,” he muttered finally and did not stop to question whether he could use them. «The Elfstones will show us the way.»
He shifted Amberle slightly in his arms, grimacing as the pain from his shattered body rose up in waves.
Eretria caught his arm. «You cannot carry the Elven girl and use the Stones as well. Give the girl to me.»
He shook his head. «I can manage,” he insisted. He wanted Amberle to stay close to him.
«Don’t be so stubborn,” she pleaded softly. Her jaw tightened, and it was with difficulty that she spoke. «I know how you feel about her, Healer. I know. But this is too much for you. Please, let me help. Give her to me to carry.»
Their eyes met momentarily in the half–light, and Wil saw the tears that glistened on her cheeks. That admission had hurt her. Slowly he nodded.
«You are right. I cannot do this alone.»
He gave Amberle to the Rover girl, who cradled her as if she were a baby. Amberle’s head slipped down against Eretria’s shoulder and she slept.
«Stay close,” Wil admonished, taking one of the smokeless lamps and turning away.
They went back through the waterfall and through the cavern that housed it, picking their way carefully
