The Wishsong of Shannara

by Terry Brooks

  The Dwarf seemed lost in thought. “When it’s dark, work your way east along the heights. That should keep you above the Gnome encampment. Once past the Cillidellan, come down to the river and cross. Then turn north. You should be safe enough then.” He straightened and extended his hand. “Luck to you, Garet.”

  The Weapons Master stiffened. “Luck? You’re not thinking of staying, are you?”

  The other shrugged. “I’m not thinking of anything. It’s decided.”

  Garet Jax stared. “You can’t do any good here, Elb.”

  Foraker shook his head slowly. “Someone has to warn the garrison that the bridge at the Wedge has been dropped. Otherwise, if the worst happens and Capaal falls, they might try to escape back through the mountains and be trapped there.” He shrugged. “Besides, Helt can lead you in the dark better than I. And after Capaal, I don’t know the country anyway. The Gnome will have to guide you.”

  “We made a pact—the six of us.” The voice of the Weapons Master had gone cold. “No one goes his own way. We need you.”

  The Dwarf’s jaw tightened stubbornly. “They need me, too.”

  An unpleasant silence descended over the group as the two faced each other. Neither showed any intention of backing away.

  “Let him go,” Helt rumbled softly. “He has a right to choose.”

  “The choice was made at Culhaven.” Garet Jax gave the Borderman an icy stare.

  Jair’s throat tightened. He wanted to say something—anything—to break the tension between the Dwarf and the Weapons Master, but he couldn’t think of what it should be. He glanced at Slanter to see what the Gnome was thinking, but Slanter was ignoring them all.

  “I have an idea.” It was Edain Elessedil who spoke. All eyes shifted toward him. “Maybe this won’t work, but it might be worth a try.” He bent forward. “If I could get close enough to the fortress, I could tie a message to an arrow and shoot it in. That would let the defenders know about the Wedge.”

  Garet Jax turned to Foraker. “What do you think?”

  The Dwarf frowned. “It will be dangerous. You’ll have to get much closer than you’d like. Much.”

  “Then I’ll go,” Helt announced.

  “It was my idea,” Edain Elessedil insisted. “I’ll go.”

  Garet Jax held up his hands. “If one goes, we all go. If we become separated in these mountains, we’ll never find each other again.” He glanced at Jair. “Agreed?”

  Jair nodded at once. “Agreed.”

  “And you, Elb?” The Weapons Master faced the Dwarf once more.

  Elb Foraker nodded slowly. “Agreed.”

  “And if we can get the message to the garrison?”

  The other nodded again. “We go north.”

  Garet Jax took a final look down at the battle between Gnome and Dwarf armies, then motioned for the others to follow him back into the rocks. “We’ll sit it out here until nightfall,” he called back over his shoulder.

  Jair turned to follow and found Slanter at his elbow. “Didn’t notice him bothering to ask me if I agreed,” the Gnome muttered and shouldered his way past.

  The little company slipped down into a cluster of boulders, passing into the shadow of their concealment to wait until dark. Seated about the rocks, the six consumed a cold meal, wrapped themselves in their cloaks and settled back in silence. After a time, Foraker and Garet Jax left the cover of the rocks and disappeared down the slide for a closer look at the passage east. Edain Elessedil took the watch, and Helt stretched out comfortably on the rocky ground and was asleep almost at once. Jair sat alone for a few moments, then got up and walked over to where Slanter sat staring out into the empty dusk.

  “I appreciate what you did for me back at the Wedge,” he said quietly.

  Slanter didn’t turn. “Forget it.”

  “I can’t. That’s three times now that you’ve saved my life.”

  The Gnome’s laugh was brittle. “That many, is it?”

  “That many.”

  “Well, maybe next time I won’t be there, boy. What will you do then?”

  Jair shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence. Slanter continued to ignore the Valeman. Jair almost turned away again, but then his stubbornness got the better of him and he forced himself to remain. Deliberately, he took a seat next to the Gnome.

  “He should have asked you,” he said quietly.

  “Who? Asked me what?”

  “Garet Jax—he should have asked you if you were willing to go down to the fortress with us.”

  Now Slanter turned. “Hasn’t asked me anything before, has he? Why should he start now?”

  “Maybe if you . . .”

  “Maybe if I sprout wings I’ll be able to fly out of this place!” The Gnome’s face flushed with anger. “In any case, what do you care?”

  “I care.”

  “About what? That I’m here? Do you care about that? You tell me, boy—what am I doing here?”

  Jair looked away uncomfortably, but Slanter gripped his arm and brought him about with a jerk.

  “Look at me! What am I doing here? What has any of this got to do with me? Nothing, that’s what! The only reason I’m here is because I was foolish enough to agree to guide you as far as Culhaven—that’s the only reason! Help us get past the black walker, you asked! Help us get to the Eastland! You can do it because you’re a tracker! Hah!”

  The rough yellow face thrust forward. “And that stupid dream! That’s all it was, boy—just a dream! There isn’t any King of the Silver River, and this whole trek east is a waste of time! Ah, but here I am anyway, aren’t I? I don’t want to be here; there isn’t any reason for me to be here—but here I am anyway!” He shook his head bitterly. “And it’s all because of you!”

  Jair pulled free, angry now himself. “Maybe that’s so. Maybe it is my fault that you’re here. But the dream was real, Slanter. And you’re wrong when you say that none of this has anything to do with you. You call me ‘boy’ but you’re the one who acts as if he hasn’t grown up!”

  Slanter stared at him. “Well, you are a wolf’s cub, aren’t you?”

  “Whatever you want to call me, that’s fine.” Jair flushed. “But you better start thinking about who you are, too.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that you can’t go on telling yourself that what happens to other people doesn’t have anything to do with you—because it does, Slanter!”

  Wordlessly they stared at each other. Darkness had fallen now, deep-shadowed and windless. It was strangely still, the booming of the Gnome drums and the clamor of the battle for Capaal silenced.

  “Don’t think much of me, do you?” Slanter said finally.

  Jair sighed wearily. “As a matter of fact, that’s not so. I think a lot of you.”

  The other studied him for a moment, then looked down. “I like you, too. Told you before—you got sand. You remind me of me in my better moments.” He laughed softly, a hollow chuckle, then looked up again. “But you listen to me now because I’m not going to repeat this again. I don’t belong in this. This isn’t my fight. And whether I like you or not, I’m getting out of it the first chance I get.”

  He waited a moment as if to be certain that what he said had the intended effect, then turned away. “Now shove off and leave me be.”

  Jair hesitated, trying to decide if he should pursue the matter, then reluctantly climbed to his feet and walked away.

  He was passing close to the sleeping Helt when he heard the Borderman murmur, “I told you he cares.”

  Jair Ohmsford glanced down in surprise, then smiled and continued on. “I know,” he whispered back.

  It was drawing toward midnight when Garet Jax took the company out from the sheltering cluster of boulders and back onto the slide. Below, hundreds of Gnome watchfires ringed the fortress of Capaal, spread out across the cliffs on either side of the besieged locks and dams. The six began their descent, Elb Fora
ker in the lead. They proceeded down along the slide, then turned onto a narrow trail that ran forward into a series of defiles and rocky shelves. Cautiously, they worked their way ahead, silent shadows passing through the night.

  It took them better than an hour to reach the perimeter of the watchfires on the near side of the encampment. Here the Gnomes were fewer in number; most were settled close to the edge of the Dwarf battlements. On the trails leading in, the fires were few and scattered. Beyond the siege lines on these southern slopes, a gathering of peaks thrust skyward, bunched at their base like bound and broken fingers, crooking from out of the earth. The six knew that beyond the peaks could be found a scattering of low hills that flanked the southern shores of the Cillidellan, and beyond these was the shelter of the forests that spread east. Once there, they could melt into the night and slip north without risk of being seen.

  But first they must work their way close enough to the battlements of Capaal to permit Helt to use the ash bow so that Foraker’s message could be delivered to the Dwarf defenders. It had been decided earlier that the Borderman would attempt the shot, for while the idea had been Edain Elessedil’s, Helt was by far the stronger of the two. With the great ash bow to aid him, he need get no closer than two hundred yards from the fortress walls in order to place the arrow and its message within.

  Step by step, the six made their way down from the mountam heights through the lines of the Gnome watch. Stretched upward along the broader paths from where the main encampment ringed the battlements of the fortress, the Gnomes gave little attention to the smaller trails and ledges that crisscrossed the cliff face. It was down these smaller trails and ledges that Foraker took his little group in a slow, cautious descent where the footing was treacherous and the cover thin. Pieces of soft leather bound each booted foot, and charcoal blackened each face. No one spoke. Hands and feet picked their way carefully, wary of loose rock or of any sound that would call attention to their passage.

  Two hundred yards from the walls of the fortress, they were still just back of the forward siege lines of the Gnome army. Watchfires burned all about them—all along the trails leading back. Silently, they hunched down within a small gathering of scrub and waited for Helt. The giant Borderman removed the arrow with its message from his quiver, fitted it to the ash bow and slipped forward into the night. Several dozen yards ahead, at the edge of the scrub, he rose to a kneeling position, pulled back the bowstring, held it momentarily to his cheek and released it.

  A sharp twang shattered the silence of the little company’s shelter, yet beyond where they hid, the sound was lost in the routine clamor of the Gnome camp. Nevertheless, the six flattened themselves within the brush for long minutes, waiting and listening for any indication that they had been discovered. There was none. Helt slipped back through the darkness and nodded briefly to Foraker. The message had been delivered.

  The little company crept back through the night and the lines of watchfires and Gnomes, this time working its way eastward about the dark girth of the peaks toward where the waters of the Cillidellan shimmered with the moon’s soft light. Far away across the lake, where the dam joined with the broad slope of the mountains north, Gnome fires burned fiercely about the encircled locks and dams and along the shoreline of the Cillidellan. Jair glanced at the mass of watchfires and went cold. How many thousands of Gnomes had been brought to besiege this fortress? he wondered dismally. So many, it seemed. Too many. The fires reflected on the waters of the lake with a reddish glow, bits and pieces of flame dancing across the mirrored surface like droplets of blood.

  Time slipped away. Stars winked into view far north, scattered and lost somehow in the vastness of the night. The company had gone back above the watchfires on the southern slope once more and worked its way south of where the Gnomes laid siege. High upon the cliff face, they were almost to where they might view the lowlands that flanked the southern bank of the Cillidellan—almost to where they could begin their descent into the forests below, Jair felt a distinct sense of relief. He felt uncomfortably exposed, caught like this upon the open slopes of the cliffs. They would be far better off when they could rely once more upon the concealment of the forestland.

  Then they turned the corner of the cliff face, slipped downward through a mass of giant boulders, and came to an abrupt and startled halt.

  Before them, the slope broadened toward the banks of the Cillidellan in a meandering passage through rock and cliff face. A mass of watchfires lay spread out across its entire length and breadth. Jair felt his throat tighten with fear. A second Gnome army blocked the way forward.

  Garet Jax glanced quickly at Foraker, and the Dwarf disappeared ahead into the night. The five who remained crouched down within the shelter of the boulders to wait.

  It was a long, tense wait. Half an hour passed before Foraker reappeared, slipping from the darkness as silently as he had gone. Hurriedly, he drew the others close about him.

  “They’re all across the cliff face!” he whispered. “We can’t get through!”

  In the next instant, they heard the sound of booted feet and voices on the trail behind them.

  XVIII

  They froze for a single instant where they were, staring back in startled silence into the dark. Sudden laughter blended with the approaching voices, sharp and raucous, and a flicker of torchlight appeared from out of the rocks.

  “Hide!” Garet Jax whispered, dragging Jair with him into the shadows.

  They scattered at once, swift and silent as they bolted into the rocks. Pushed roughly to the ground by the Weapons Master, Jair lifted his head and peered out into the night. Torchlight reflected off the dark surface of the boulders and the voices grew distinct. Gnomes. At least half a dozen. Booted feet scraped against the stone of the pathway and leather harness creaked. Jair flattened himself against the earth and quit breathing.

  A squad of Gnome Hunters marched into the cluster of boulders, eight strong, torches held before them to light their path down out of the cliffs. Laughing and joking in their rough, garbled tongue, they sauntered unseeing into the midst of the hidden members of the company from Culhaven. Torchlight flooded the little clearing, chasing shadows and night, brightening even the deepest recesses of the company’s concealment. Jair went cold. Even from where he lay, he could see the shadowed form of Helt pressed against the rocks. Surely there was no way that they could avoid being discovered.

  But the Gnomes did not slow. Oblivious to the figures that crouched about them, the members of the squad continued on. The foremost were already past the front line of boulders, their eyes drawn to the lights of the encampment below. Jair took a slow, cautious breath. Perhaps . . .

  Then one of those who trailed slowed suddenly and turned toward the rocks. A sharp exclamation broke from his lips, and he reached quickly for his sword. The others in the squad turned, laughter dying into startled grunts.

  Already Garet Jax was moving. He sprang from the concealing shadows, daggers in both hands. He caught the two members of the squad nearest him and killed both with a single pass. The others whirled, weapons coming up defensively, still confused by the unexpected attack. But by now Helt and Foraker had appeared as well, and three more fell without a sound. The Gnomes who remained bolted down the pathway onto the slide, yelling wildly. Springing onto the rocks, Edain Elessedil brought up his bow. The bowstring hummed twice and two more died. The final Hunter scrambled wildly from sight and was gone.

  Quickly the members of the little company rushed to the edge of the boulders. Shouts of alarm had already begun to ring out from the mass of watchfires below.

  “Well, we’re in for it now!” Foraker snapped angrily. “Every Gnome on both sides of these cliffs will be looking for us in the next few minutes!”

  Garet Jax calmly slipped the daggers back beneath the black cloak and turned to the Dwarf. “Which way do we run?”

  Foraker hesitated. “Back the way we came. The heights, if we can gain them in time; if not, we find one of the
tunnels into Capaal.”

  “You lead.” Garet Jax motioned swiftly. “Remember—stay together. If we become separated, try to stay with someone. Now, go!”

  They raced back up the narrow trail into the night. Behind them, the shouts and cries of the Gnome watch continued to sound, spreading across the whole of the slide. Ignoring the pursuit, the six scrambled along the empty pathway until they had rounded once more the side of the peak and the lights of the encampment behind them were lost in the dark.

  Ahead, the watchfires of the siege flickered into view. Still far below the trail they followed, the main body of the Gnome army had not yet had time to discover what was happening. Torches wavered in the darkness as sentries scrambled up from their watchfires and began to spread out onto the cliffs, but the hunt was still well below the six.

  Foraker took them swiftly along the darkened ledge, down slides and drops, and through shadowed defiles. If they were quick enough, they might yet escape back the way they had come, through the peaks about Capaal. If they were not, the search to find them would spread upward into the rocks, and they would find themselves trapped between the two armies.

  Shouts of alarm broke suddenly from somewhere ahead, lost in the darkness of the rocks. Foraker muttered a low oath, but didn’t slow, Jair stumbled, sprawling wildly onto the rocks, scraping arms and legs. From behind, Helt lifted him back to his feet and pulled him roughly on.

  Then they burst from the concealment of a defile onto a broad trail atop a slide directly into the path of an entire Gnome watch. Gnomes came at them from everywhere, swords and spears glinting in the firelight. Garet Jax spun into them, short sword and long knife cutting a path for the others. Gnomes fell dying all about the Weapons Master, and for an instant the entire watch shrank from the fury of this dark attacker. Desperately, the little company tried to force passage through, Elb Foraker and Edain Elessedil leading the way. But there were too many Gnomes. Rallying, they closed off the trail ahead and counterattacked. They surged down the cliff face, howling in rage. Foraker and Edain Elessedil disappeared from view. Helt stood against the assault for just an instant, his giant form flinging Gnomes aside as they sought to pull him down. But even the Borderman could not withstand so many. Sheer numbers forced him from the ledge, and he tumbled from sight.