Straken

One Pen Ohmsford!" the black-cloaked figure called out to him from across the chasm that separated the island of the tanequil from the rest of the world. "We have been waiting for you!" A male Druid. He came forward a few steps, pulling back his hood to reveal the strong, dark features of his face. Pen had never seen him before. "Come across the bridge so that we can talk," the Druid said. The firelight threw his shadow across the stone archway in a dark stain that spilled into the chasm, and the connection was unmistakable. Pen wished he hadn't rushed into the light so quickly, that he had been more careful. But he had thought himself past the worst of it. He had survived his encounter with the tanequil and received the gift of the darkwand, the talisman that would give him access into the Forbidding. He had lost two fingers in doing so, but he had come to believe that this was a small price to pay. Losing Cinnaminson was a much larger price, but he had accepted that there was nothing he could do about it until after his aunt was safely returned, promising himself he would try to come back for her then. Finally, he had escaped the monster that had pursued them all the way from Anatcherae and knew it to be dead at last, pulled down into the chasm and crushed. But now this. His fingers tightened possessively around the darkwand, and he scanned the faces of the captive Trolls. All there, he saw. No one missing. No one even appeared hurt. They must have been caught completely by surprise not to have put up any fight. He wondered vaguely how that could have happened, how the Druids had found them at all, for that matter, but he guessed it was a pointless exercise. A few of the Trolls were looking up now, Kermadec among them. The anger and disappointment in his eyes were unmistakable. He had failed Pen. They all had. The boy saw Tagwen there as well, almost hidden behind the massive bodies of his companions. There was no sign of Khyber. "Cross the bridge, Pen," the Druid repeated, not unkindly. "Don't make this any harder on yourself." "I think I should stay where I am," Pen answered. The Druid nodded, as if understanding him perfectly. "Well, you can do that, if you choose. I've read the warning on the stone facing of the bridge, and I know better than to try to come across after you." He paused. "Tell me. How did you manage to get over there without being harmed, if the danger is real?" Pen said nothing. "What are you doing here, anyway? Trying to help your aunt? Did you think you might find her here?" Pen stared back at him silently. "We have your friends. All of them. You can see for yourself. We have your parents, as well, locked away at Paranor." His voice was patient, calm. "It doesn't do you any good to stay over there when those you care about are all over here. You can't help them by refusing to face up to your responsibilities." My responsibilities, Pen repeated silently. What would this man know of his responsibilities? What would he even care, save that he thought he could stop Pen from carrying them out? A second Druid appeared beside the first, coming out of the darkness and into the light, this one slender and small, a ferret-faced Gnome of particularly cunning looks, his eyes shifting swiftly from the first Druid to Pen and then back again. He muttered something, and the first Druid gave him a quick, angry look. "How do I know you aren't lying about my parents?" he asked suddenly, remembering that this wasn't the first time he had heard this claim, thinking that he still didn't want to believe it. The first Druid turned back to him. "Well, you don't. I can tell you that they were flying in a ship called Swift Sure when we brought them into the Keep. They helped us toBrooks, Terry is the author of 'Straken', published 0000 under ISBN 9780345451125 and ISBN 0345451120.