quicker and more agile than they, better able to penetrate the maze of trees and brush, better able to pursue than they would be able to flee. He wanted to scream what he was feeling. Stupid! His shortsightedness had taken away their one slim chance of escape. He had been so concerned with what they had been running from that he had forgotten to consider what they had been running into. They were not going to escape at all. They would be caught. They would be killed. It was his fault. He had done this to them.
He must do something.
His mind raced, searching desperately. He had only one weapon left.
The Elfstones.
Then Amberle screamed. The Valeman jerked about, following the Elven girl’s rigid arm as it pointed skyward.
Through the mouth of the valley flew a monstrous black creature with leathered wings that spanned the line of the ridges and a head hooked and bent like some twisted limb. Shrieking, it swept out of the Streleheim into the crease of the valley and came for them. Wil had never seen anything so huge. He yelled frantically to Artaq, but the black had nothing left to give — he was running now on spirit alone.
A hundred yards away loomed the draw that marked the far pass. Beyond lay woods that would hide them from this nightmare, woods into which a thing of such size could not possibly go. All they needed was a few seconds more.
The creature dove for them. It seemed to fall toward them like some massive rock, plummeting downward out of the night. Wil Ohmsford saw it come and glimpsed momentarily at the rider it bore, a thing vaguely manlike, yet hued and misshapen, its eyes red against the black of its face. The eyes seemed to transfix him, and he felt his courage melt.
For an instant he thought they were finished. But then, with a final lunge, Artaq gained the far pass, broke clear of the high ridges, and plunged into the darkness of the trees.
Down a narrow rutted earthen trail the big horse thundered, barely slowing as his sleek body dodged and twisted through the tangle of trunks and heavy brush. Wil and Amberle hung on desperately, limbs and vines whipping across them, threatening to unseat them at every turn. Wil tried to slow the black, but Artaq had taken the bit between his teeth. The Valeman had lost control of him entirely He was running his own race now.
In seconds the riders lost all sense of direction, confused by the forest dark that had closed about them and by the winding trail. Although he could no longer hear the howl of the Demon–wolves nor the shriek of that flying monster, Wil was terrified that they might inadvertently become turned about and end up traveling back toward the very creatures from whom they sought to escape. He sawed away on the reins in an effort to free the bit, but Artaq held on firmly.
The Valeman had just about given up hope of ever stopping the black when the big horse abruptly slowed and then stopped altogether. Standing in the middle of the forest trail, sides heaving, nostrils flaring, he lowered his finely shaped head and nickered softly. A long moment of silence followed. Wil and Amberle glanced at one another questioningly.
Then a tall, black form appeared right in front of them, slipping from the forest night without a sound. It happened so quickly that Wil did not even have time to think to reach for the Elfstones. The dark figure stepped forward, one hand touching gently Artaqs sweating neck, slowly stroking the satin skin. From out of the shadow of a hooded cloak, his face lifted to the light.
It was Allanon.
«Are you all right?» he asked softly, reaching up to take Amberle from the saddle and lower her carefully to the ground.
The Elven girl nodded wordlessly, astonishment filling her sea–green eyes — astonishment, and a touch of anger. The Druid frowned, then turned to aid Wil, but the Valeman was already scrambling down from Artaq’s back.
«We thought you dead!» he burst out in disbelief.
«It seems that someone is forever declaring me dead before the fact,” the mystic remarked somewhat petulantly. «As you can see, I am quite…»
«Allanon, we have got to get out of here.» Wil was already glancing anxiously over his shoulder. His words tripped over one another in his haste to get them out. «The Demon–wolves chased us north all the way from the Mermidon, and there’s a black, flying thing that…»
«Wil, slow down.»
«…almost caught us in the valley, bigger than anything I’ve ever…»
Wil Ohmsford went silent. Allanon shook his head reprovingly.
«Would you please let me get a word in edgewise?» The Valeman flushed and nodded. «Thank you. First of all, you are quite safe now. The Demons no longer pursue you. The one who leads them can sense my presence. He is wary of me and has turned back.»
The Valeman looked doubtful. «Are you sure?»
«Very sure. No one has followed you. Now come over here with me, both of you, and sit down.»
He led them to a fallen log that lay next to the trail, and the Valeman and Elven girl seated themselves wearily Allanon remained standing.
«We must go on to Arborlon tonight,” he advised them. «But we can spare a few moments to rest before we leave.»
«How did you get here?» Wil asked him.
«I might ask you the same question.» The big man hunched down on one knee, drawing the black robes close about him. «Do you understand what happened to you at the river?»
The Valeman nodded. «I think so.»
«It was the King of the Silver River,” Amberle interjected quietly. «We saw him; he spoke to us.»
«It was to Amberle that he spoke,” Wil corrected. «But what happened to you? Did he help you as well?»
Allanon shook his head. «I am afraid I did not even see him — only the light which enveloped and took you away. He is a reclusive and mysterious being, and he shows himself to very few. This time, he chose to appear to you. His reasons must remain his own, I suppose. In any case, his appearance caused considerable confusion among the Demons, and I took advantage of that confusion to make my own escape.»
He paused. «Amberle, you said that he spoke with you. Do you recall what it was that he said?»
The Elven girl looked uneasy. «No, not exactly. It was like a dream. He said something about… joining.»
For an instant there was a flicker of understanding in the Druid’s dark eyes. But neither Wil nor Amberle saw it, and it disappeared at once.
«No matter.» The mystic brushed the incident aside casually. «He helped you when you needed help, and for that we are in his debt:”
«His debt, to be sure — but certainly not yours.» Amberle did not bother to disguise her anger. «Where have you been, Druid?»
Allanon seemed surprised. «Looking for you. Unfortunately, when he helped you, the King of the Silver River caused us to become separated. I knew you were safe, of course, but I did not know where you had been taken or how to go about finding you again. I might have used magic, but that seemed unnecessarily risky. The one who leads these Demons who have broken through the Forbidding has power as great as my own — perhaps greater. Using magic might have led him to us both. So I chose instead to continue on toward Arborlon, searching for you as I went, believing that you would remember and follow accordingly the instructions I had given you. Because I was forced to go afoot — your gray, Wil, was lost in the battle — I was certain that you were ahead of me the entire time. It was not until you used the Elfstones that I realized I was mistaken.»
He shrugged. «By then I was almost to Arborlon. I started back at once, traveling south through the forestland, thinking that you would seek sanctuary by entering the woods below the Mermidon. Again, I was mistaken. When I heard the howling of the Demon–wolves, I realized that you were trying to reach the Valley of Rhenn. That brought me here.»
«It appears that you have been mistaken much of the time,” Amberle snapped.
Allanon said nothing, his eyes meeting hers.
«I think you were mistaken in coming to me in the first place,” she continued; her voice accusing now.
