Sagging, Lorn sunk back slowly against Herewiss. Then there was a deeper darkness, and the two of them stood to-gether before a Door in which burned the stars that would never go out. Freelorn, his face in shadow, was pulling his hand gently out of Herewiss's grasp, turning away toward death's Door. .No!Do what you must to come to the full of your Power. There's no time! Her voice was almost frightened. Herewiss had never be-lieved She could sound that way. But if I do — and we get there — then Lorn— It must not be prevented. But—You must not attempt to prevent it! /— Hurry! NO!!The scream tore through her throat as she sat bolt upright in the bedroll, sweating — still seeing against the darkness the long ruinous fall of an entire mountain, still hearing the crash of it, first note in a song of disaster.In the great main hall of the old Hold, people fumbled frantically for their swords — the memory of the hralcins' sud-den arrival the nightbefore was very fresh. The fire in the firepit rose up too, putting several broad curves of flame over the edge and leaning anxiously out to see what was the mat-ter. As a fire elemental, Sunspark had not had much experi-ence with fear, but after last night it was apparently taking no chances.Segnbora lifted a hand to her pounding head and found that she was holding her sword, Charriselm. Evidently she had drawn it while she was still half-sleeping. Beside her in the bedroll, blond Lang was still blanket-wrapped, but neverthe-less he had found his graceknife in a hurry. Lying propped on one elbow with the knife in one ham of a hand, he blinked at her like an anxious owl. A few feet away, big swarthy Dritt and lanky Moris were sitting up back to back, looking as panicked as Segnbora felt. On the other side of the firepit, Harald was attempting simultaneously to string his bow and brush the brown hair out of his eyes. All of these looked at Segnbora as if they thought she was crazy. "A bad dream?" Lang said.
