the side of the basket. Arborlon was just ahead, the number of visible lights increasing steadily as they neared.
“Hurry up, Little K!” his sister urged. She was working the vents and flaps with quick, rushed movements. “Much closer and we won’t have any option but to land farther down the slope!”
Which was where the greater number of demons was likely to be concentrated, she was suggesting. He tightened his fingers about the Elfstones and extended his arm in the general direction of the city. He kept his eyes open this time, concentrating his attention on the middle space between the balloon and the earth, in the vast sprawl of the night’s darkness, envisioning the demons and their followers, spying out an army hidden from view. He pictured that army as he thought it might be, an army of creatures of the sort Culph and the four-legged demon had been, humans become monsters. He imagined their dark intention of hunting down and destroying the Elves. He reached out as he had on the slopes of Syrring Rise when searching for the ice caves.
The response was instantaneous and completely unexpected. Whatever he had been prepared for, it wasn’t this. The blue light blazed from his closed fist in a brilliant ball and then exploded in a swath so wide and all-encompassing that it seemed to flood the landscape for miles. When it settled, the light had formed a wide, jagged curve that wrapped the lower slopes of the Cintra. The magic heightened and clarified the faces and bodies of myriad creatures, each a point of light within the band, allowing them to take shape, giving them form and identity.
Kirisin caught his breath. It was the demon army they had feared, and it was gathered just below the Elven home city. It was thousands strong. The numbers seemed endless.
“Sim,” he whispered.
“I see,” she replied in a high, tight voice. “Call back the magic, Little K. Quickly!”
He did so, and the light of the revealing magic died at once. They were left wrapped in darkness and star glow and in disbelief.
“So many,” he murmured.
“Too many not to be noticed.” Simralin was already working the ropes, bringing the balloon slowly downward. “Something’s wrong. How can the Elves not know about them? There’s no sign of anything happening anywhere. No defensive preparations, nothing.”
“Is it possible that we’ve come too late?”
She glanced at him. “There wouldn’t be any lights if we were too late. There would be fires and screams and much worse.”
“But what are they doing?” he asked. “What are they waiting for? Why haven’t they attacked?”
She handed him one of the ropes to help her steady the basket. “Only one possible answer, Little K. Culph told you he had summoned an army that would be waiting for his return because he would have you in tow. So they’re waiting on you. They want the Elves inside the Loden and the Loden under a demon’s control.”
Kirisin felt a chill run down the back of his neck all the way to his heels, the sort you have when you’ve encountered the freakishly impossible. He stiffened momentarily, then shook his head.
“They’ll wait a long time for that to happen,” he muttered. “I can promise you that!”
Simralin gave him a doubtful glance, but didn’t say anything more.
D EEP IN THE FORESTS OF THE CINTRA , in the midst of his army, the demon that called itself Findo Gask blinked twice as he caught the first whiff of the magic’s use. At first he thought he had been mistaken, that his senses were deceiving him, but as the magic steadied and sharpened, he could feel its proximity and recognize it for what it was. The sharp old eyes fixed on a point in space, and his senses drank in the full extent of what they were experiencing. He shut out everything happening around him—the noise, smell, and movement, and the creatures that generated them—and he began to search.
Quickly, quickly . . .
But he wasn’t quick enough. There wasn’t
“Hurry up, Little K!” his sister urged. She was working the vents and flaps with quick, rushed movements. “Much closer and we won’t have any option but to land farther down the slope!”
Which was where the greater number of demons was likely to be concentrated, she was suggesting. He tightened his fingers about the Elfstones and extended his arm in the general direction of the city. He kept his eyes open this time, concentrating his attention on the middle space between the balloon and the earth, in the vast sprawl of the night’s darkness, envisioning the demons and their followers, spying out an army hidden from view. He pictured that army as he thought it might be, an army of creatures of the sort Culph and the four-legged demon had been, humans become monsters. He imagined their dark intention of hunting down and destroying the Elves. He reached out as he had on the slopes of Syrring Rise when searching for the ice caves.
The response was instantaneous and completely unexpected. Whatever he had been prepared for, it wasn’t this. The blue light blazed from his closed fist in a brilliant ball and then exploded in a swath so wide and all-encompassing that it seemed to flood the landscape for miles. When it settled, the light had formed a wide, jagged curve that wrapped the lower slopes of the Cintra. The magic heightened and clarified the faces and bodies of myriad creatures, each a point of light within the band, allowing them to take shape, giving them form and identity.
Kirisin caught his breath. It was the demon army they had feared, and it was gathered just below the Elven home city. It was thousands strong. The numbers seemed endless.
“Sim,” he whispered.
“I see,” she replied in a high, tight voice. “Call back the magic, Little K. Quickly!”
He did so, and the light of the revealing magic died at once. They were left wrapped in darkness and star glow and in disbelief.
“So many,” he murmured.
“Too many not to be noticed.” Simralin was already working the ropes, bringing the balloon slowly downward. “Something’s wrong. How can the Elves not know about them? There’s no sign of anything happening anywhere. No defensive preparations, nothing.”
“Is it possible that we’ve come too late?”
She glanced at him. “There wouldn’t be any lights if we were too late. There would be fires and screams and much worse.”
“But what are they doing?” he asked. “What are they waiting for? Why haven’t they attacked?”
She handed him one of the ropes to help her steady the basket. “Only one possible answer, Little K. Culph told you he had summoned an army that would be waiting for his return because he would have you in tow. So they’re waiting on you. They want the Elves inside the Loden and the Loden under a demon’s control.”
Kirisin felt a chill run down the back of his neck all the way to his heels, the sort you have when you’ve encountered the freakishly impossible. He stiffened momentarily, then shook his head.
“They’ll wait a long time for that to happen,” he muttered. “I can promise you that!”
Simralin gave him a doubtful glance, but didn’t say anything more.
D EEP IN THE FORESTS OF THE CINTRA , in the midst of his army, the demon that called itself Findo Gask blinked twice as he caught the first whiff of the magic’s use. At first he thought he had been mistaken, that his senses were deceiving him, but as the magic steadied and sharpened, he could feel its proximity and recognize it for what it was. The sharp old eyes fixed on a point in space, and his senses drank in the full extent of what they were experiencing. He shut out everything happening around him—the noise, smell, and movement, and the creatures that generated them—and he began to search.
Quickly, quickly . . .
But he wasn’t quick enough. There wasn’t
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