Triss rose early the next morning, having slept for a whole day, but starving.  He changed into uniform and departed for the dining room to find something to eat.  Gavilan joined him a few minutes later, stretching before sitting down comfortably next to his friend.  He watched Triss stuffing food in his mouth ravenously, smiling at his behavior.  “Hungry, aren’t you?” the prince said after a while.  Ellenroh Elessedil was now queen, therefore making Alleyne princess and Gavilan prince.  Alleyne, however, knew nothing of this; she was in the Four Lands, bound to stay there due to Eowen’s vision.  Upon becoming the most powerful member in the monarchy of Arborlon, Ellenroh did two things: she replaced the elderly First Minister with a younger one, a man named Eton Shart, and doubled the watch around the Keel.  She would be a good ruler, although not as good as Jerle Shannara or Eventine Elessedil.
    Triss nodded stupidly, his mouth too full to answer Gavilan’s remark verbally.
    “So what were you doing that other night?” the prince asked causally.  “I looked out the window, and, what do you know, you and Dilia were alone.”  Gavilan grinned.
    Hastily swallowing his food and putting more on his fork at the same time, Triss said, reddening, “We weren’t doing anything!  Just—just making sure the Keel was closed for good!  Honestly, holding a high office really does things to you!”
    Gavilan laughed.  “Okay, I won’t pursue the matter anymore.  But if you need someone to talk to, I’m the person to ask.”  He winked.
    Triss pointedly ignored Gavilan, still as red as ever, and continued to eat with his head lowered.
    The queen, Ellenroh, joined the two a few moments later.  She looked older than her fifty-odd years, but both knew that it was due to the Rukh Staff.
    “Aunt Ell!” Gavilan exclaimed happily.
    Ellenroh looked around smiling, and said, “Watch where you call me that, Gavilan.  You don’t want to embarrass me in front of members from the High Council, do you?”
    “No, not really,” he said, smiling now as well.
 Triss grinned at this strange conversation between the queen and the prince.  “Do you know where Dilia is?” he asked Ellenroh.  “I haven’t seen her.”
    “Well, of course you haven’t seen her,” Gavilan retorted.  “You’ve been sleeping the whole time.  And my, you really should hear yourself.  I thought the palace would collapse!”
    Ellenroh placed a hand on Gavilan’s shoulder, stopping him from poking more fun at the disgruntled Triss.  “Dilia is in the courtyard.”
    The Captain of the Home Guard swallowed one last bite, carefully averting his eyes from Gavilan.  “I haven’t trained in a while,” he said, rather lamely.  The queen and prince smirked.
    “Yes, go pursue your love, dear,” Ellenroh said absently.
 Triss made a face and left the dining room, heading for the courtyard.  Reaching it, he watched Dilia shoot an arrow, then, almost in the same movement, launch another one, to have it strike the first.  She’s so talented, he thought, almost giddily.  Triss was certainly no archer.  He was better at cavalry and swordsmanship.  The Captain of the Home Guard paused, reflecting on that one challenge with Dilia, which had ended with a loss on his part.  Triss wondered if he had improved since then.  Certainly Gavilan’s cousin had.  He watched her repeat her exercises again, never faltering once, the second arrow always hitting the first at such an angle that it split into two.  The Captain picked up a sword and weighed it absently, trying out a few moves.  I wonder if I could ever beat her.  The thought came into his mind and stayed.  Maybe I should challenge her again. He began to practice in earnest, feeling leaden at first, but more flexible later.  Triss then began to walk down the corridor leading to Dilia, his toes touching lightly on the ground like every Elf in the Home Guard.  So intent he was on surprising her that he was surprised when he found himself face-to-face with an arrow pointed directly at him.  Triss jerked back instinctively, feeling like a fool.  He wiped the look of shock off his face instantly before Dilia could laugh, bringing the broadsword in a position where it covered most of his features.  “Remember that challenge we had a few years back?” he asked quickly.  “Well, I’d like to have a rematch.”
    Dilia Noh nodded silently and selected a weapon, and the two prepared to begin.
 
 

Alleyne Elessedil looked back wistfully at the Wing Hove, a small island where the Sky Elves and their flying Rocs lived.  She was aboard Errata, her husband’s Roc.  Her husband himself, Kyrran, was aboard as well.  They were flying back to Arborlon, just for a visit, despite Eowen’s numerous premonitions about danger, for Alleyne was terribly homesick.  She wanted to see her mother, Ellenroh, and her grandfather and king, Anloren.  Gavilan she wanted to pay a visit to as well.  Alleyne yearned to look at her daughter, Wren Elessedil, but knew that it wasn’t possible.  The princess paused to think about her only child.  Wren.
    Nearly twenty years ago, when Wren was born, Alleyne already had plans to visit her home again, which hadn’t come into effect until now.  Not wanting to put her daughter in danger, she left her in a small village called Shady Vale with a family named the Ohmsfords.  The only thing that would help Wren remember her parents was contained in a small leather pouch, the legendary blue Elfstones, which appeared to be only painted rocks.  Wren Elessedil, the daughter of a princess, was to be raised as Wren Ohmsford.  When she became five, she was taken to a Rover named Garth, a deaf but an exceptionally good tracker, to be trained by him.  Alleyne would have only the best, for she knew that if Wren were to go to Arborlon like the vision said, she would need the skills to survive.  Garth would train Wren until that time, for Wren supposedly would know when to begin the journey.  Perhaps they would meet in Arborlon.  Alleyne knew that Kyrran wanted to hold Wren also, seeing her last as a baby.  If only…
    There was a sudden gust of wind, and Alleyne shivered.  Kyrran steered the great bird west, heading towards Morrowindl.  The large island was coming into view, the In Ju’s murky stench reaching their noses even from this distance.  Errata winced, her sharp hawk’s eyes picking out the black creatures that lived within.  Kyrran whispered a few words to his Roc, and all was well again.
    Seeing Morrowindl again after so many years caused Alleyne to suddenly panic.  What was she doing here?  She had held out for twenty years, why not a few years more?  How long could it possibly be until Wren saved the Elves?  A million questions crowded into her mind, demanding answers that she did not have.  Here she was, on this wild gamble of seeing her family again, knowing the dangers yet putting herself, Kyrran, Errata, and probably countless others into peril, all for a visit.  A visit that could easily take place a few years later if Wren succeeded in bringing the Elves from Morrowindl back to the Four Lands.  But Alleyne’s patience was finally running out, and she had to see her kind again before she went mad.  The princess must reunite with her family for at least a few brief minutes, whether Eowen’s vision wanted her to or not.
    Something shifted in the darkness ahead, and Alleyne froze in shock and fear.
    “Are you sure you want to do this?” Kyrran asked, his voice soft.
    Alleyne nodded, then remembering that he couldn’t see her, whispered, “Yes.”
    The city of Arborlon came into view, and the princess felt tears spring instantly to her eyes.  I’ve come back, she thought. I’m here.
    The Sky Elf pulled on Errata’s harness, preparing for a landing, when something small and vicious leaped out from a tree and onto the Roc’s face.
 
 

Triss braced himself, making sure his sword was in the best possible position.  He was facing east, and therefore the sun, giving him a significant disadvantage.  The Captain of the Home Guard squinted at the ball of fire, trying in vain to find out how to block it from view, when suddenly a giant creature that vaguely resembled a thrashing, pained bird obscured it.  “Dilia!” he shouted over the horrified squawks, pointing behind her.  Dilia turned, squinting as well.
    “I think it’s a Roc!” she yelled back.  “There—there’s something on it!  It looks like—” Dilia squinted some more, before stepping back involuntarily.  “Shadowen!  Shadowen are attacking it!  And there are people on it also!”
    “But who would come to Arborlon on a Roc?” Triss asked, looking at Dilia.
    They both understood at the same time.  “Alleyne!”
    “She went against the vision!” Dilia gasped.  “We have to get Ellenroh!”  With that, she flung aside her sword with a loud clatter, then ran off towards the palace.
    Alone again, Triss ran to the Keel to assess the situation.
 
 

Errata’s lifeless body careened towards the earth with breakneck speed, blowing back Alleyne’s long hair back in clouds of gold.  Kyrran was slumped on his mount bleeding and unconscious, being ahead of Alleyne and taking most of the blow.  The princess was the only one awake, the only one able to do anything.  Hurriedly she brought Kyrran back to consciousness, slapping him sharply, and motioned for him to jump off from the Roc.  The Sky Elf shook his head, but realizing that Errata, his beloved Roc, which had belonged to him for nearly ten years, was dead, he agreed and grabbed Alleyne’s hand.  There was nothing he could do to save the giant bird.
    The two leaped off Errata, about fifteen yards from the canopy, and landed painfully in a clump of branches.  They got up at once, searching for the city of Arborlon, then began to run.
    Kyrran, weakened from loss of blood, was set upon instantly by a group of Drakuls, the Shadowen having smelled the human essence even from a few miles away.  They began to feed, and Alleyne froze in terror as she watched the man she loved being used, used to become something so evil that it was unexplainable…  “Kyrran!” she screamed in despair and fury.  She brought up her hand, as if to use the Elfstones, but they were with Wren, all the way back in the Four Lands.
    The Sky Elf looked up, his eyes saying that he still loved her.  Kyrran used what remained of his strength to push off a Drakul attached to his arm and pulled out a pouch, tossing it weakly to her.  “I would have given this to you during another time, but…” he nodded wearily at the ignorant Drakuls, who were quickly sapping away his strength.  “Go on,” he managed to rasp, before his eyes rolled back and his skin changed from a tanned brown to a deathly white.
    Alleyne stood rooted in place for a moment longer, clutching the precious bag, then fulfilling Kyrran’s last wish, she sprinted off, tears streaming down her face, her breathing harsh and ragged.  Why?
    The question repeated itself in her mind, each time showing her that image of Kyrran’s last moments, of him tossing her the pouch, then turning deathly pale.  Alleyne felt like a fool.  How could she have done this to him?  Yet he had known the dangers involved in making this one flight to Morrowindl, and he had willingly obliged.  He had sacrificed himself for her.  Alleyne ran faster, planning to make use of this sacrifice as well as she could, bent on surviving.  She would never forget Kyrran.  Never.  But when Arborlon did not come into view, she knew that it was all for nothing.  Errata and Kyrran were now dead, and she would be too in a few minutes.  No one could survive on Morrowindl alone without magic.
    Alleyne couldn’t believe herself, the fact that she had let all this happen because of self-indulgence.  She would never succumb to it again, not ever, especially after seeing the dead Errata and the Shadowen Kyrran result from it.
    Realizing that she had slowed down while she was thinking, she picked up her pace and banished the hateful thoughts from her mind.  Finally, the sought-after Arborlon came into view, a single guard patrolling the Keel.  Alleyne shouted, and the figure turned.  It looked vaguely like Triss, though she couldn’t tell.
    “Alleyne!” Triss shouted back.
    “Triss?” Alleyne replied, stopping for a moment.
    “Yes, it’s me!”  The Captain of the Home Guard disappeared, and Ellenroh’s daughter realized that he was opening the gates.  Triss rushed out, his mouth open in surprise.  “How did you get here?  What happened?  Where’s the Roc?”  The questions streamed out, and Alleyne answered back hastily, neither thinking to go inside the city.
    A bush moved slightly, and Triss jerked away.  “A Darter!” he yelled in warning.
    But Alleyne, overcome with grief and not caring about her life any longer, did not respond quickly enough.  The Darter revealed the poisonous needles beneath the harmless looking leaves, and bristled.  The prickles shot out suddenly, hitting Alleyne, and she collapsed.  Triss staggered to the wall, watching.
  I was so close, Alleyne Elessedil thought ironically.  But I didn’t make it.  I disobeyed the vision, and this is the price.  She faded into death; her hands clasped onto the pouch that Kyrran had given her; her eyes closing forever.  I never even opened the pouch.  Triss could only gaze at her in shock as Dilia Noh arrived, come too late.