The Measure of the Magic (49 page)

Now she was wondering if the flight of the scarlet dove meant she was to leave the valley entirely. Was it possible that when Pan disappeared below the Ashenell he somehow ended up outside their safe haven once more?

She watched the dove fly into view ahead of her, a quick flash of crimson against the grays and blacks, before disappearing. It was still traveling toward the mountains.

Toward Pan.

She wondered suddenly if she were taking something for granted that she shouldn’t. There was nothing to say that even though the dove
had led her to Pan once it would do so a second time. It was a creature of the King of the Silver River and perhaps of her own magically altered condition, and it might well be serving more than one purpose. She couldn’t really be sure. She couldn’t know until she had arrived at wherever she was being taken.

But something odd was happening through all this. She was experiencing a strange new connection with the dove. When she had first seen it, when it had revealed to her that she had lost the ability to see colors, she had felt an immediate closeness to it. Then the dove had disappeared, and she had not thought she would see it again and the connection felt broken. But when it had returned and ever since, their bond, built on little else than its presence and her unmistakable sense of emotional attachment, had grown steadily stronger. The scarlet dove had come to mean something more to her than a symbol of what had been lost or what might be found. It had evolved into a companion, a living reassurance that there was purpose in what together they were doing. It represented their shared connection to Panterra, their commitment to protect him so he could fulfill his obligations as the new bearer of the black staff.

It was a strange way to look at it, as if it were a belief carved out of air and faith and promises. Yet it felt real and tangible. When she saw the dove, flying on ahead in search of Pan—which she believed deep down it was doing—she was filled with unmistakable hope.

It was midafternoon and they were ascending the slopes through the forests toward the mountain peaks, the air cool and brisk with the steady retreat of the sun west, when they began to find the stragglers from the Glensk Wood evacuation. There were a few old people at first, limping back down the hillside, holding one another up, heads down, bodies bent. Their faces were stricken as they spoke, and their voices were infused with bitterness.

“Left us, they did. Just left us like trash thrown away.”

“Abandoned us without a word.”

“Went on ahead, even our children. Couldn’t find it in their hearts to stay with us, even when we begged them.”

“Friends, neighbors, everyone. All they could talk about was the Seraphic, and how he was leading them to something wonderful, something waiting just ahead.”

“Time slipping away, they said. Time running out.”

Heads shaking, they moved on. Prue exchanged a glance with Aislinne. It was the demon’s work in his guise as Seraphic, taking the villagers to some imaginary safehold where the boy who had saved their ancestors would be waiting for them.

Soon, there were others—small groups and then more. Old people, women, and children. Some younger men, as well, who had been injured sufficiently that going on became impossible and going back difficult. They were helping one another now, which seemed to Prue a good thing, but there was no disguising the disappointment and sadness that marked them all. They felt they had missed out. They had been cheated of what had been promised them. They had been left behind, and perhaps no one would ever come back for them.

“Just go home,” Aislinne told each of them, trying to offer reassurance. “Help anyone you find, but go home and stay there. This isn’t what it seems. It isn’t anything of what you believe.”

The girl and the woman walked on, stopping only long enough to offer encouragement to those they found along the way. They could not stay to help and could not turn back. There was no time for that. They had something else that needed doing, something more important and necessary.

They had to find a way to save the entire valley.

“How are we going to do that?” Aislinne said at one point. “What can we do that will make a difference?”

Prue shook her head. “I don’t know. Whatever we can, I guess. But we have to try. There’s no one else to help Pan, and I won’t let him face this alone.”

It was well after midnight before they reached the pass at Declan Reach, the half-moon risen and the stars shining brightly in a cloudless night sky, bathing the valley in brilliant white light. They were no longer encountering stragglers or abandoned villagers; those who felt themselves faltering at this point must have found fresh reserves of strength that allowed them to go on. The split into the pass gaped dark and empty before them as they neared, and there was no sign of movement or hint of sound from within. They came upon the bodies of the dead, those men killed days earlier in the Drouj surprise attack, ruined and decaying. The smell wafted through the darkness, and carrion-eaters tore at the remains.

Prue and Aislinne skirted the edges, the latter with an arrow notched in her bow and held ready. The dove had flown on ahead into the pass, still leading them onward. Neither of them spoke as they followed after. Rather, they listened and watched.

Prue kept her eyes on the flashes of scarlet that appeared and vanished in the shadowy depths of the pass, making sure she did not lose contact. At her side, Aislinne’s eyes flicked right and left, searching for what was hidden. But Prue knew that when danger was close, she would sense it first. By now, she was certain her instincts were working as the King of the Silver River had promised they would. She did not know if this would be enough to keep them safe, but it was the best she could hope for.

What troubled her most was what she was expected to do once they found either Pan or the demon in their search. Wherever the scarlet dove was leading Aislinne and herself, one or the other or both would be waiting. She could feel it in her bones. The promised confrontation would take place at the end of this hunt.

Aislinne touched her arm. Something was moving in the shadows ahead. She stopped where she was, Aislinne with her, and they watched as a form shambled out of the darkness, slowly taking shape. It lurched from side to side, and stumbled frequently, as if drink or exhaustion had dulled its reflexes and eroded its sense of balance.

The girl and the woman exchanged an uncertain glance, and then Aislinne pulled Prue to one side of the passageway, flattening them both against the rock wall.

Then the shadowy form emerged from the darkness into a broad patch of moonlight, lifting its head as if in shock at the brightness of the light, and there was just enough time to recognize that it was one of the villagers from Glensk Wood before its legs gave way and it tumbled to the ground.

F
IVE HOURS EARLIER
, those who followed the Seraphic had passed this way. Weary and footsore and anxious, they found renewed strength in their leader’s words, spoken to them as they entered the pass.

“We are almost there!” he shouted out. “The long trek is almost
over, and the Hawk awaits us. Just through this pass and a little way beyond. When we reach him, he will tell us where we are to be taken and what we will find waiting when they get there. He will soothe our aches and pains; he will heal our hearts and minds. And remember this! Those left behind are not lost, only delayed. They, too, will find their way to us and be joined anew to families and friends. All will be together.”

Buoyed by the words of the Seraphic, they marched through the pass, closely bunched now, for they had been allowed to wait until the stragglers who could manage to do so had caught up to the main body. More than two thousand strong, the bulk of those men and women who made their homes in Glensk Wood were joined as one in their common effort to reach the newer, safer home that had been promised to them. A few still doubted. A few still voiced their concerns. But others shouted them down, proclaiming themselves true believers in the teachings of the Hawk and the promise of his return. All would soon be revealed, and they would be reunited with their spiritual leader and never leave his side again.

When they reached the far end of the pass, the Seraphic brought them to a halt. They were to wait for him here, he advised, while he went on ahead to make certain the Hawk was ready to receive them. Then he would return. Be patient, he urged them. Be worthy of the gift that was about to be bestowed on them.

His own little joke, he thought as he walked away.

Because while they were being patient, the demon went out from the pass and straight to where he sensed Arik Siq and his Drouj soldiers were waiting. One hundred strong, armed and ready, they hid in the rocks just north of the pass entrance, as he had instructed they must do.

“They are weak and foolish people,” he told Arik Siq, once the other had appeared. “You may kill them all at your leisure.”

“Will they not resist?” the other asked, doubtful of this claim. “Will they not fight for their lives?”

“There are not enough of them for that,” the demon lied. “Besides, they are too exhausted to give you much of a struggle. Kill them, and then we will wait for the boy to come.”

“You are sure he will do that?” The Drouj was watching him
closely, intense and anxious. “Why would he come if they are already dead?”

The demon smiled. “He will come
because
they are already dead. He will want to see for himself. To find out what killed them. To exact revenge. Isn’t that what you would do?”

Arik Siq nodded. “Bring these people to me, and I will put a quick enough end to them.”

The demon turned away. Such bravado. But it was dust in the wind, and the end of things would be something far different from what Arik Siq expected. The demon misled him as he misled the people of Glensk Wood and everyone else he had ever encountered, and the result was always the same.

It only remained for them to play out the roles he had assigned, and then to die.

He went back into the pass, brought the faithful to their feet, and marched them forth into the brave new world beyond. They were singing again—a nice touch—songs of hope and promise, of overcoming obstacles and realizing dreams. Fools, all. He saw them looking about hopefully as they caught their first glimpses of the old world, a world they had never seen. He saw their smiles as he took them onto the slopes canting downward from the mouth of the pass to begin their descent.

And then the Drouj fell on them like wolves. Weapons drawn, blades glinting in the moonlight, the Trolls waited until their victims were clear of the pass, then slipped in behind them to block the way back, and with howls of wild animals began slashing their victims to pieces from the rear. They made no distinctions among men, women, and children, between young and old, between brave hearts and cowards. They tore into them with terrible ferocity, hacking and cutting, pushing them downhill, away from safety, away from any hope. In droves, they slaughtered them.

But some fought back, using weapons they had brought with them or had torn from the hands of their attackers. Because there were so many more villagers than the demon had led them to believe and they were so few themselves, they began suffering losses that steadily diminished their ranks and hampered their ability to complete the slaughter. Soon the dead on both sides had eroded the number of fit
combatants, and it was uncertain who would prevail. The demon aided in this, now and then selectively cutting down a Troll here and a human there, whittling at them like a knife at a piece of wood. He did it surreptitiously, his acts unseen by others, his efforts covert and stealthy.

In the end, almost everyone lay dead. Of the Drouj, only Arik Siq and another five remained. A handful of survivors of the Glensk Wood party had managed to regain the mouth of the pass and disappear into its black maw, most of them badly injured and a couple of those dying.

It was the strongest of those who would survive that made it far enough to find Prue Liss and Aislinne Kray before collapsing.