“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 portent it foreshadowed 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 they were 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.
