The Sentinel

CHAPTER 15

After three hours of work, the raft was coming along even better than Arietta had expected. Malik had floated ashore on a huge dead tree, which Kleef had hacked into a pair of pontoons that would provide enough buoyancy to keep them above water. Joelle was kneeling next to the raft, lashing the driftwood deck in place. Kleef was down at the river’s edge, using his dagger to put the final touches on a pair of oars. Arietta was atop the deck, peering down through a gap between logs as she tried to slide an oarlock post into place between two crossbars below.

For the fifth time in as many minutes, the bottom of the post missed the crossbars and dropped into the sand. Arietta sighed, then rose and turned toward a nearby tree, where Malik sat with his eyes closed and his back against the trunk. His sore arm was tucked back into its sling, but the elbow was no longer swollen, and twice Arietta had seen him use that hand to scratch his nose.

“Malik,” she said. “Didn’t you hear me ask for help?”

Malik opened a single eye. “And did you hear me agree?” He raised his sling. “I need to rest my elbow.”

“Perhaps you can rest it on the river.” Arietta had to fight to keep a civil tongue. “After the raft is built.”

Malik shook his head. “There’s no need for that. The satyr said we’d be safe on this island until the raft is built. Only a fool would rush to finish it.”

Arietta sighed in exasperation and started to pull the oarlock post back up-then saw Joelle rise and peer across the raft at Malik.

“Don’t be such a dolt, Malik,” the heartwarder said. “Theamont doesn’t know the Shadovar like we do.”

“And he doesn’t know about Kleef’s dreams,” Arietta added. Knowing how badly Kleef felt about revealing the Eye’s location to the enemy, she kept her voice low so it wouldn’t carry to the river’s edge. “If Yder can use them to discover the Eye’s hiding place, he can use them to find us.”

“Then we must use his dreams to draw the Shadovar off,” Malik said. “Take the oaf on the raft with you, and leave Joelle and me here to rest.”

“And you don’t think Yder would see where they left us in Kleef’s dreams?” Joelle asked. “You would only divide our strength, and the Shadovar would find us anyway.”

Malik thought for a moment, then conceded the point with a nod. “If the oaf has been tricked once, he will be tricked again.” He shot a spiteful glance in Arietta’s direction. “Do you see what you have done? Had you taken the oaf back to Marsember as I begged, the Shadovar would still be looking for us on the Lake of Dragons.”

Joelle’s brow shot up. “As you begged, Malik?” she asked. “You tried to make them leave-behind my back?”

“What else was I to do?” Malik answered. “You were convinced Sune had sent them to us-and if that is true, she did us no favors. Kleef is an oaf who cannot keep his own dreams to himself, and Arietta is a silly maiden who is no more a Chosen of Siamorphe than the orcs who have been chasing us.”

Too shocked to be angry, Arietta let her jaw fall. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“Because it is true,” Malik said, finally rising. “Joelle can charm with a smile and heal with a touch. I can always sense a lie and hide from those who wish me harm. Kleef can fight like a giant and tell when there are Shadovar near. What blessing has your god granted you?”

“Blessing?” Arietta could sense a trap in the question, but she couldn’t see its nature-or figure out what Malik hoped to accomplish. “Honestly, I give more thought to what I owe Siamorphe than what she owes me. I should think it’s the same with all Chosen.”

“Which only proves you understand nothing of being one,” Malik replied. “The gods chose us because we are useful to them, not because they wish to reward our devotion.”

“Malik, that’s enough.” Joelle’s tone was protective. “You know as well as I do that each god chooses differently.”

“But always for the same purpose-to serve them.” Malik continued to glare at Arietta. “And to serve them well, Chosen must have power. What power do you have, Arietta?”

More troubled by Joelle’s attempt to shield her than by Malik’s words themselves, Arietta glanced over at her friend and saw sympathy in her eyes. Not anger or doubt, but sympathy-as though she believed there was reason for Malik’s words to trouble her.

Arietta lifted her chin and turned to Malik. “You know very well what my blessing is,” she said. “Leadership. Perhaps you haven’t noticed because you’re busy hiding when a fight breaks out, but soldiers stand firm when I’m there. That was true back in Marsember, when I led my father’s men-at-arms onto Deepwater Bridge. It was true when Kleef’s watchmen volunteered to sail after the Shadovar with us. And it was true every time I helped Faroz’s caravan guards turn back an orc raid.”

Malik only smirked. “Are you such a ninny that you failed to notice who else was there?” He shot a defiant glance at Joelle, almost daring her to interrupt, then said, “Kleef. He is the one who has been inspiring the soldiers. You’ve only been one of the fools standing at his side, looking at his shadow and thinking it belongs to you.”

The smugness in Malik’s voice made Arietta’s blood boil, but her discourse tutor had taught her to always question her anger-that it was often a mask that disguised something she didn’t wish to face. She paused and thought back to all of the battles she had fought, and-with an growing sense of embarrassment-she realized that Malik was right. Kleef had always been there, too.

And most of the time, he had been the one leading the fight.

Finally, Arietta nodded. “You make a good point about Kleef,” she said, trying not to sound resentful. “It may be that the soldiers draw their inspiration from him.”

“Or from both of you,” Joelle said, sounding more supportive than convinced. “Why not? A woman charging into battle has a way of making men ignore their own fears.”

Arietta flashed a grateful smile. “Perhaps,” she said. “But Malik is right. It was foolish of me to assume the soldiers were responding to me, when Kleef has always been the one leading the fight.”

“It was?” Malik looked distressed rather than surprised. “And you are not troubled that you’ve been such a fool?”

“I’m a bit embarrassed, naturally,” Arietta admitted. “Perhaps inspiring soldiers isn’t one of my Chosen powers, after all. But better to have my error corrected than have my friends laughing at it behind my back.”

“No one was laughing,” Joelle said. “Because it doesn’t matter. You’re honest, devoted, and courageous. Those are the things that make you a worthy companion.”

As kind as they were, Joelle’s words hit Arietta like a kick to the stomach. She was trying to reassure Arietta about more than a mistaken assumption about her powers. Joelle was trying to tell her that she didn’t need powers-that she still mattered without any.

“You think Malik’s right, don’t you?” Arietta asked. “You think that I don’t have any other powers-that I’m not Chosen at all.”

“What I think is that we wouldn’t have made it this far without you,” Joelle said. She smiled, and that almost reversed the growing hollow in Arietta’s stomach-almost. “Besides, it’s not for me-or Malik-to say who Siamorphe’s Chosen are.”

“But we all know Siamorphe is the goddess of noble rule,” Malik said quickly. “So, would not her true Chosen be able to command obedience?”

Joelle scowled at Malik. “Since when do you know how gods think?”

“It is only common wisdom,” Malik said. Keeping his gaze fixed on Arietta, he raised the arm in the sling. “And you could not even stop the oaf from breaking my elbow.”

“I keep telling you it’s not broken,” Joelle said. “And, considering what you did to Arietta, you should consider yourself lucky.”

“What I did is of no concern,” Malik replied. “The oaf still attacked me, and Arietta could not command him to stop. If she is a Chosen of Siamorphe, then I am a Chosen of Tempus.”

Arietta barely heard the rest of their argument, for her head was spinning and her pulse was pounding in her ears like a drum. She had no doubt that, having failed to avenge himself by pushing her off the citadel walls, Malik was now trying to destroy her by other means.

But that didn’t make him wrong. Arietta should have been able to command Kleef to stand down after the attack, but it had been Joelle who had finally calmed him down. And Kleef was a loyal Cormyrean, dutiful to a fault. If she could not command him, even in the heat of the moment, then Malik was right-she did not carry the divine power of a Chosen.

Which shouldn’t have surprised her, really. Arietta had never received the kind of vision Joelle had described, or been charged by her god with some impossible mission the way Malik had, or even found herself in possession of unexpected blessings as Kleef had. She had simply been a dutiful young girl who embraced the worship of Siamorphe as the obligation of every Cormyrean noble, then done her best to live by the goddess’s teachings. After she revealed that she occasionally saw Siamorphe in her dreams, the temple priests began to flatter her and indulge her with special favors, which only increased in extravagance when her father rewarded their attention with frequent donations.

By the time she reached the age of eligibility, she believed only a Chosen of Siamorphe could be the subject of so much adoration and special treatment. When the temple priests did nothing to disabuse her of the notion, the rest of the congregation accepted the status as fact, and Arietta had begun to dispense wisdom and advice to her peers as though she were a true Chosen of Siamorphe.

What a fool.

Arietta could see now that the priests had only been afraid of losing her father’s lavish support, and they had been willing to let her deceive herself and the rest of the congregation rather than tell her the truth. She could not help imagining them in their opulent refectory, toasting her folly with free wine from her father’s vineyards. And that was not the worst of it. Surely, many of the other noble families had seen through the charade. How many of them had been snickering up their sleeves each time the priests mentioned her father’s latest gift, how many of her peers had been biting their cheeks as she held forth on their duty to Siamorphe?

More than she cared to know, Arietta was certain.

Realizing the argument had fallen silent, Arietta looked up to find the eyes of both Joelle and Malik fixed on her. Joelle’s brows were arched and her mouth drawn into a sympathetic smile. Malik looked smug and triumphant, as though he had just emerged victorious in the bitter rivalry that only he seemed to truly understand.

Arietta swallowed hard, then looked him in the eye and said, “It seems I find myself once again indebted to your candor, if not your tact. Thank you for dispelling my illusions.”

“Think nothing of it,” Malik said. “I’m only doing what is best for our mission.”

Arietta responded with a tight smile. “Rest assured I’ll do the same.” Hoping for some privacy to compose herself, she made a show of glancing at the leathra vines coiled in the sand next to Joelle, then said, “It looks as though we’re running low on lashing cord. I’ll go cut some more.”

No sooner had she stepped off the raft than Malik appeared in front of her.

“There is no need to trouble yourself.”

He reached inside his robe and withdrew a large coil of greasy gray cord. The stuff stank of death and decay, and it looked more like fish intestines than rope.

“A gift from Myrkul.” Malik tossed the coil on the pile of leathra vines, then sneered, “That is what a real Chosen can do.”

Joelle picked up the rope and made a sour face, but continued to hold it as she turned to Malik.

“You’ve made your point,” she said. “Now, either help finish the raft, or I’ll use this rope to drag you along behind it.”

Malik’s expression remained victorious. “There is no need for threats.” He withdrew his arm from the sling and said, “All you had to do was ask.”

He dropped onto his back and slinked under the deck to help Arietta place the oarlocks, and an hour later the raft was complete. They foraged an early highsunfeast of chufa roots and currants, made a set of long tridents for spearing fish, and then finally launched the raft.

Despite the crudeness of their materials, the raft was both stable and sturdy-due in no small part to the skills Arietta had developed as a ten-year-old, when her beleaguered father had finally assigned his best shipwright to help her build her own canal raft. That craft had been fitted with a great many luxuries that this one lacked, including a canopy, a rudder, and a foot-operated paddlewheel. But she had never forgotten the care the shipwright had taken in fitting each piece and making certain that the lashings were secure without being inflexible. By the time Arietta and her companions had been on the river twenty minutes, they felt secure enough in their work to take turns sleeping on the deck.

The river was gentle and swift. Aside from the occasional island or stretch of riverbank, the water filled the gorge from wall to wall. Occasionally, Kleef had to row them around an eddy or steer them away from a waterfall plunging down from above. But generally, the travel was easy, and Kleef had little to do but watch for river hazards and enemies skulking on the canyon rim.

Arietta passed much of the time sitting on the front edge of the raft, watching for fish and holding a trident poised to strike. But her mind was elsewhere, and she missed a chance at a big carp because her thoughts were consumed by Malik’s revelation that she was not Chosen. She was angry at the temple priests for encouraging her self-deception, angry at her father for using his wealth to encourage their behavior, angry at herself for being such a fool. But most of all, she was angry at Siamorphe for rewarding her unwavering faith with cruel mockery. Arietta had lived her entire life by the tenets of the church, donating vast sums to the local temple and refusing to consider any suitor who did not share her faith. She had preached the canon of noble obligation to her peers with a condescension that could only be described as overbearing, and she had imposed on her parents a code of behavior they clearly could not accept.

And how had Siamorphe responded? By allowing her priests to make Arietta the butt of jokes across all of Marsember-and probably the entire realm of Cormyr. She could not understand why Siamorphe would allow such a thing-why the goddess had deemed her unworthy of being one of her true Chosen. In Siamorphe’s name, Arietta had dragged her family into a fight they wanted no part of-a fight that had cost her mother a finger and her family its fortune. Her father had died for a cause he did not believe in, and Arietta was to blame. She felt cheated and angry and guilty.

Guilty-she felt that more than anything.

After several hours of brooding, Arietta finally began to calm down and turn her thoughts to her companions. Malik and Joelle were both sleeping on the deck, but Kleef had been at the oars since they’d launched at midday. He was a man of incredible strength and endurance, and Arietta suspected that Helm would sustain him far beyond what a normal person could abide. But he was still only human, and she knew that standing all that time could only be wearing him out faster.

Stepping past Malik’s sleeping form, Arietta rose and went aft to Kleef’s side. “How are you feeling?” she asked. “I can pilot the raft for a while, if you’d like to sit down.”

Kleef shook his head. “No sitting for me,” he said. “I’ll fall asleep.”

“And Yder will come?”

“Without a doubt.” Kleef began to row gently, moving them away from a ripple in the river that suggested a submerged rock. “And the last time he entered my dreams, we almost lost the Eye.”

“I know,” Arietta said. “But we have to think of something. You can’t stay awake forever.”

“I can stay awake for a while,” Kleef said.

“And if the Shadovar find us anyway, when you’re not rested?” she asked. “That would be just as bad. It could be worse.”

Kleef was silent for a moment, then said, “They won’t find us-not if I don’t fall asleep.”

“Because Theamont said so?” Arietta shook her head. “I’m sure he believed that, but the Shadovar are very resourceful-and very determined.”

Kleef stopped rowing and looked over. “Where’s this going?” he asked. “Are you telling me you have a better idea?”

Arietta paused, surprised by the note of desperation in Kleef’s voice. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might be worried, too, that his stoic demeanor might be no more than a mask hiding his own fears.

After a moment, she said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t have one. I was just hoping there might be a more workable solution.”

Kleef continued to study her for a moment, then said, “Maybe there is.” He turned back to the river. “It might be best for me to leave the group and climb out of the canyon.”

Arietta’s stomach clenched. “Kleef, forgive me for saying so, but that would be very stupid. How long do you think it would take Yder to locate the rest of us after he found you?”

“That depends on how long I can stay awake,” Kleef said. “If I can last three or four days-”

“Kleef, we built a raft,” Arietta interrupted. “We’re floating down a canyon. You don’t think Yder would see some hint of that in your dreams?”

Kleef clenched his jaw, then nodded. “I guess he would.”

“So there’s nothing to be gained by leaving.” Arietta laid a hand on his forearm and gave it a soft squeeze. “Everyone is better off with you here, believe me.”

Kleef looked at the hand on his arm, then smiled and dipped his head. “You leave me no choice, my lady,” he said. “I’ll stay.”

“Good. And thank you.” Arietta returned his smile, then realized that-no matter how angry she was with Siamorphe-it would be wrong to reward his loyalty by continuing to deceive him about who she was. “Kleef, there’s something you should know. I’m not exactly who I’ve been claiming.”

Kleef frowned. “I thought we’d been through that,” he said. “Are you not Arietta Seasilver after all?”

“No, I am Arietta,” she said. “But I’m afraid I’ve been fooling myself about being one of the Chosen. I’m sorry to have misled you.”

Kleef’s jaw dropped, and he stared at her without speaking a word.

After a moment, Arietta grew uncomfortable. She could not bear the thought of Kleef thinking of her as a self-deceiving fool, but it was better that he hear the truth from her than Malik.

“Is it really such a terrible mistake?” she asked. “I would have told you earlier, but I just discovered it myself.”

“Not so terrible,” Kleef said. “It’s just that you … well, you apologized.”

Arietta raised her brow. “Yes, I suppose I did.” She was as surprised as Kleef, for it was an unspoken rule of life in Marsember that a noble never apologized to a commoner. Fortunately, Arietta was no longer in Marsember. “And I meant it. I wouldn’t deceive you on purpose. Not again.”

A look of mock suspicion came to Kleef’s face. “Are you really Arietta Seasilver?”

Arietta smiled. “It’s hard to believe, I know,” she said. “I’m still a little stunned myself.”

“Well enough,” Kleef said, laughing. “Apology accepted-not that I needed one.”

Arietta did not find the remark reassuring. “Why not?” she asked. “Because you don’t care that I’m not Chosen? Or because you already knew? Please be honest.”

“Because what you call yourself isn’t as important as what you do,” Kleef said. “You’re here, trying to do right by your god and your realm. That’s all that matters to me.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“But it’s honest,” Kleef said. “That’s what you asked for-and it’s all you’re going to get from me.”

Arietta smiled wistfully. “Then I guess I have my answer.” She rose onto her toes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for being so gentle.”

Kleef’s jaw dropped in disbelief. He studied her openly for a moment, his expression slowly changing from surprise to delight, then he nodded to himself and, smiling, looked back to the river. Arietta returned to her perch at the front of the raft, took up the trident again, and they continued to float down the canyon.

Kleef’s pragmatic dodge had made her realize that she was behaving like the worst sort of noble, worrying about appearances rather than substance. Kleef and Joelle had never cared whether she was Chosen or not, only that she was there with an arrow when the need arose. And Malik had cared only because her delusion gave him a way to avenge his wounded pride.

But Kleef was right. The best thing she could do for her companions-and the mission-was to let go of her wounded pride. She had to accept herself for who she truly was, then do everything in her power to deliver the Eye to Grumbar’s Temple.

With her mind at ease, Arietta soon caught two large river gar that they roasted over the cooking fire that evening. Determined not to sleep, Kleef insisted on standing vigil all night, then rowing all day.

As incredible as Kleef’s stamina was, Arietta and Joelle knew it couldn’t last forever. By the third day, they’d thought of several ways to keep Yder away, such as asking Sune to guard Kleef in his sleep or allowing him to rest only during the day, when Yder might not be searching for a way into his dreams. But Kleef rejected them all, and in the end the two women resorted to simply keeping him company, maintaining a constant stream of chatter to make certain he did not fall asleep.

The gorge continued to deepen and darken, with waterfalls and tributaries feeding the river from both sides. The sky became a jagged band of light trapped between the rocky walls of the canyon. As often as not, the sky was filled with rippling fans of color-green and gold, sometimes even crimson and purple-but it was never blue. When the sun appeared at all, it was dim and mottled, or shaped like a sickle or a spider or a skull.

On the fifth day, Kleef said, “Someone’s watching us.”

Arietta grabbed her bow, then stood and followed his gaze down river. He seemed to be looking about fifty feet up the canyon wall, where a lone dragon tree clung to a small ledge.

“Where?” Arietta asked. “All I see is a tree.”

“Under the tree,” Kleef said. He had bags beneath his eyes the size of Arietta’s thumbs, and his posture was so slouched and awkward it looked as though he might collapse any moment. “There’s a man in a robe. Bald and thin, sunken gray eyes.”

Arietta stepped to Kleef’s side, then double-checked his line of sight and saw that he was still looking toward the ledge. She glanced back at Joelle, who had been seated next to her in the back of the raft, and gave her head a worried shake. Joelle nodded and stepped to Kleef’s other side.

“I don’t see him, either,” Joelle said. “Can you point him out?”

“No,” Kleef said. “Then he’ll know we’ve seen him.”

“He probably knows already.” Arietta waggled the tip of her bow. “I’m afraid I wasn’t very subtle when you said we were being watched.”

Kleef frowned, taking far longer to consider her words than he should have. Finally, he removed a hand from an oar and pointed at the tree.

“There,” Kleef said. “It’s the second time I’ve seen him.”

“When was the first time?” Arietta asked, trying not to show her growing concern. “And why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because I wasn’t sure,” Kleef snapped. “But I am now.”

“That’s good,” Joelle said, in a tone of exaggerated patience. “Where did you see him the first time?”

“In the mouth of that little cave we passed,” Kleef said. “I thought it was just a trick of the shadows-”

“Until you saw his eyes follow us down the river,” Malik finished. He was in the front of the raft, and had just sat up.

“You saw him, too.” Kleef looked toward the little man. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because then he raised his cowl and disappeared,” Malik said. “I thought my eyes were deceiving me.”

“They weren’t,” Kleef said. “I saw him pull his cowl up, too.”

“Perhaps the shadows were playing tricks on both of you,” Joelle suggested. “And even if you did see someone, wasn’t the cave on the other side of the river? How would he get across and up to that ledge?”

Kleef furrowed his brow and looked down river again, and his eyes grew doubtful.

Seeing that they were thirty paces from the ledge, Arietta said, “There’s an easy way to find out. Just move the raft closer to the cliff. If he’s there, maybe Joelle and I will see him, too.”

Kleef looked back down river, then shook his head. “It’s too late,” he said. “He’s gone.”

Arietta exchanged worried looks with Joelle and realized they had both come to the same conclusion. She tucked her bow back beneath the security line they had rigged to keep their equipment from falling off the raft, then returned to Kleef’s side.

“I’ll take the oars for a while,” she said. “You can rest, and Joelle will ask Sune to guard your dreams.”

Kleef refused to yield the oars. “I’m not imagining things.”

“All the more reason to get some sleep,” Joelle said. “If someone has been watching us, it may be that the Shadovar have found us on their own.”

“He didn’t look like a Shadovar,” Kleef said. “Too pale.”

“And yet, he emerges from the shadows on both sides of the canyon,” Joelle said. “Who else could cross the river and appear in front of us so easily?”

Kleef looked uncertain.

“Kleef, even Helm can sustain you only so long,” Arietta said. “Your thinking is clouded and slow, and you can barely stand. You are going to fall asleep.”

“And it’s better to do it now, when we can try to protect you,” Joelle said. “And when Yder may not be looking for your dreams.”

“Indeed,” Malik agreed. “It has been so long since you have dreamed that Yder may even believe you’ve finally figured out how to keep him away.”

“Finally?” Arietta asked. Fighting to keep the anger out of her voice, she turned toward the little man. “Are you saying you already know how to keep Yder away?”

Malik looked genuinely confused. “You do not?”

“No.” Joelle’s voice was seething. “If we knew, why wouldn’t we have tried it four days ago?”

Malik shrugged. “Because it is not for you to try.” He looked toward Kleef, then said, “And I can only believe the oaf has never tried it because it is easier to fight shades than to forsake his bitterness.”

“Bitterness?” Kleef asked. He leaned so far forward between the oars that Arietta reached out and caught him by the arm. “What does that have to do with my dreams?”

“You are angry at your god,” Malik said. “And that is what gives Shar power over you. Give up your anger, and we will all be the safer. Yder won’t be able to use his goddess’s power to enter your dreams.”

Kleef scowled and shook his head. “I’m not angry at Helm,” he said. “Why should I be? Helm’s been dead for the last hundred years.”

“And yet, you’ve spent your whole life serving him,” Arietta said. She was not happy to find herself agreeing with Malik, but her recent disappointment with Siamorphe gave her some insight into what Kleef must have been feeling all those years. “You’ve kept faith with Helm’s Law and honored your duty, all while watching your superiors profit outrageously by turning their backs on everything you stand for. Of course you’re angry. Who wouldn’t be?”

Kleef turned to her with a confused look. “You think Malik is right?”

“So do I,” Joelle said. She laid a hand on his arm and smiled. “And so do you, if you look inside yourself. Will you try to give up your anger? For us?”

“And for our quest,” Malik added. “After your mistake at the citadel, it is the least you can do to protect the Eye from our enemies.”

Kleef glowered at the little man for a moment, then finally nodded. “I’ll try.” He relinquished the oars to Arietta, then stepped to the back of raft and said, “If I start to talk or thrash around-”

“I’ll wake you,” Joelle promised. “But you won’t. Sune and I will be watching over your sleep, too.”

Kleef’s only response was an unintelligible grunt, then the raft rocked as he dropped onto the deck and stretched out. Arietta heard Joelle whisper a soft prayer to Sune, and two breaths later, Kleef was snoring. Instead of dropping back into his usual repose, Malik remained alert and anxious, scanning the canyon rims and studying every shadow they passed. Once, he raised his arm as though to point, but quickly lowered it again and announced that he was no better than Kleef. He thought he had seen the bald-headed man again, but it had only turned out to be a turtle resting on a boulder.

Arietta spent the rest of the day keeping them in the middle of the river, where it would be difficult for the Shadovar or anyone else to launch an attack. Then, toward the end of the afternoon, the current started to move much faster, and the gorge grew so deep that the bottom was cloaked in permanent twilight. They began to hear a faint whispering in the canyon ahead, and soon the whispering became a constant drone.

Finally, the drone became a steady thrum, and Arietta said, “We must be getting near the end. That’s beginning to sound like the waterfall Theamont warned us about.”

“I am sure it is.” Malik pointed toward a hanging ravine on the south wall of the gorge. “And there is our way out.”

Arietta barely glanced at it before shaking her head. Although there was a small gravel bank beneath the ravine where they could beach the raft, the mouth was nearly fifty feet up a sheer cliff.

“We’re not that close to the waterfall yet,” Arietta said. “There’s bound to be a bigger gulch or side canyon before we reach it.”

“Perhaps, but it is not the waterfall I am worried about,” Malik said. “It is that.”

He pointed again, this time straight down the canyon. At first, it was difficult for Arietta to identify the source of his concern. All she could see was the river disappearing into the gloom that filled the bottom of the gorge.

And then she realized that the gloom was his concern. It lay on the water like the approaching dusk, a gray dimness seeping into the air above, spreading upriver toward the raft, creeping along the canyon walls around them.

It was the Shadowfell, and it was coming for them.