An instant later four sets of talons locked onto his shoulders. He had been seized by not one but two of the skrails, huge creatures with reptilian faces that were beaked and horn-encrusted. Their leathery wings beat madly as they hoisted him aloft, and although he twisted and thrashed in their grip he could not break free. The ground fell away beneath him, and his companions began to diminish in size. He experienced an overwhelming terror as he realized what was happening. He screamed for help, but it was already too late. Even if he were freed from the skrails, the fall would kill him. His companions were not going to be able to save him. Already he could barely see them. Only Praxia was giving chase, shouting up at him futilely.

A cold certainty flooded through him. He knew where he was being taken and the fate that awaited him when he got there. Demons would be waiting for him, and he would be made to use the Loden exactly as Culph had intended.

In desperation he yanked the pouch that contained the Loden Elfstone from within his shirt, broke it free from its cord, and cast it away. He watched it fall to earth. At least they wouldn’t get that, he thought. But would his companions find it? Had they seen him drop it? Would they even know to look for it?

Then he was too high to see anything more, and he quit looking.

FOURTEEN

ANGEL PEREZsat in an old rocker on the cottage porch and stared out into the screen of trees that masked the sluggish flow of the Columbia River. It was midday, the heat penetrating even the thick canopy of the forest. Only the breezes off the river kept it cool, but today they were sporadic and slight. She was tired of the heat, the cottage, the inactivity, and the long days and longer nights. Mostly, though, she was tired of not knowing what was happening to those who had left her behind. She exhaled wearily, thinking of it. Her recovery had been slow, if steady. She had been with Larkin Quill for more than a week now, sleeping most of the time at first, and then dozing frequently after that until she’d had enough of sleep and healing and the corner on her recovery had been turned. Her pain from her wounds had been harsh but bearable. Her magic had helped her to mend as an ordinary person could not have, restoring her health so quickly that even Larkin Quill, who had seen much of injuries and recoveries in his time, was surprised.

“You would be laid up for another month, were you a normal young lady,” he had declared that very morning. “I thought I knew something about healing, but you could teach me a few things.”