As if reading his mind, the shape-shifter materialized across the way, sliding into the light like a phantasm, blacker than the shadows out of which he came. Concealing cloak swirling gently with the movement of his body, he crouched next to the boy.
"We have fresh trouble," he announced. "The airships are commanded by the Morgawr. He's brought Mwellrets, caulls, and some men who look as if they have been turned into wooden toys. Besides the airships we see, at least a dozen more have gone off in pursuit of the Jerle Shannara and Black Moclips."
" Black Moclips?" Bek shook his head in confusion.
"Don't ask me, boy. I don't know what happened aboard ship after we escaped, but it seems the rets managed to lose control of her. Someone else got aboard and took her over, sent her skyward, and sailed her right out from under their noses. Good news for us, perhaps. But not soon enough to make a difference just now."
The sounds of their pursuit broke into Bek's thoughts, but he forced himself to stay calm. "So now they're hunting us, following our tracks or our scent, using these fresh caulk?"
Truls Rohk laughed. "You couldn't be more wrong. They don't care about us! It's the witch they're looking for! She's done something to convince the Morgawr she wants the magic for herself—or at least convinced him she's too dangerous to trust anymore. He's come to take possession of the magic and do away with her. He doesn't realize there isn't any magic to take possession of and the witch has already done away with herself! It's a good joke on him. He's wasting his time and he doesn't even realize it."
The cowled head turned in the direction of Grianne. "Look at her. She's as dead as if she'd quit breathing. The Druid thinks she has a purpose in all this, but I think his dying blinded him. He wanted something useful to come of all this, something that would give meaning to the lives wasted and the chances lost. But wishing doesn't make it so. When he destroyed Antrax, he destroyed what he had come to find. The Old World books are lost. There isn't anything else- Nothing!"
"Maybe we just don't see it," Bek ventured quietly. He heard snarls and growls from the approaching caull. "Look, we have to get out of here.'
"Yes, boy, we do." The hard eyes peered out from the shadows, reflective stone amid a sea of shifting mist and bits of matter "But we don't need to take her." He gestured at Grianne. "Leave her for the Morgawr. Let them do with her what they choose. They won't bother with us if we do. She's what they want."
"No," Bek said at once.
"If we take her, they will keep after us, all the way inland to wherever we run, to wherever we hide. If she could find us earlier, they can find us now. Sooner or later. She's a weight around our necks and not one we need carry."
"We promised Walker we would protect her!"
"We promised it so that the Druid could die at peace." Tails Rohk spit. "But it was a fool's promise and given without any cause beyond that. We don't need her. We don't want her. She serves no purpose now and never will. What she is has destroyed her. She isn't coming back, newly born, your sister returned; you're not going to he a happy family reunited. Thinking otherwise is foolish."
Bek shook his head. "I'm not leaving her. You do what you want."
For just an instant, Bek thought that Truls Rohk was going to do just that. The shape-shifter went as still as the shadows on a windless night, all dark presence and hidden danger. Bek could feel the tension in him, a sort of singing sound that was more vibration than noise, a cord become taut on a bow drawn back.
"You persist in being troublesome,' Truls Rohk whispered. "Have you no capacity for rational behavior?"
Bek almost laughed at the words, spoken with such seriousness but rife with irony. He shook his head slowly. "She is my sister, Truls. She doesn't have anyone else to help her"
"She's going to disappoint you. This isn't going to turn out like you think."
Bek nodded. "1 don't suppose it will. It hasn't so far.' He kept his eyes locked on the shape-shifter as the sounds of approach intensified.
"Can we go now?"
Truls Rohk stared at him a moment longer, as if trying to decide. Then he came forward, all blackness even in the early morning light, picked up Grianne like a rag doll, and tucked her under his arm.
"Try to keep up with me, boy," he said. "Carrying one of you is load enough."
He sprang atop the nearest remnant of wall and began to navigate its length like a tightrope walker in a street fair, crouched low and moving swiftly. The feel of his sister's hand in his a lingering warmth, Bek watched him for a moment, then hurried alter.
Ahren Elessedil listened with growing concern as the snarls of the caull leading the Morgawr's party deeper into the ruins grew more anxious. Clearly, it had come across something, tracks or scent that it recognized and wanted to pursue. Its handlers had not released it, however. Nor was the Morgawr giving it much attention, his focus was on Ryer Ord Star as they walked next to each other, engaged once again in close conversation. What was it she was telling him? The boy was encouraged by her whispered words. but suspicious of her actions. She was asking him to trust her, but doing nothing to warrant it. He had thought she might at least try leading their captors in the wrong direction; instead she was taking them the way she had come, directly toward the entrance that fed underground to where they had left Walker.
It appeared she had become the Morgawr's ally in his business, and the Elf was having trouble convincing himself that he should trust her at all.
They moved more quickly now, navigating the rubble to where the opening led downward into Castledown. Judging from the sounds emanating from the caull, its snout lowered to the ground as it tugged and pulled its handlers ahead, whomever they were tracking had come this way recently. He wondered briefly if it might be their own scent the caull had come across, but that would make the beast a good deal more stupid than the Elf was prepared to believe. Since it was the Isle Witch the Morgawr was seeking, Ahren had to assume the caull had been given her scent. She could easily have come the same way they had and still managed to miss them in the catacombs.
They passed through the entry in a cautious knot. Creepers lay in heaps just inside, unmoving. Flameless lamps still burned, casting a weak yellow glow from the passage walls, but the Mwellrets lit torches anyway. The smoky light lent the empty corridors an eerie, shadowy look as the group moved downward into the earth.
Several times Ahren thought to make a break for freedom, but fear and common sense kept him from acting on his impulse. He needed a better opportunity, and he needed to know more about what Ryer Ord Star was doing. He needed, as well, to know who had the Elfstones so that he could try to find a way lo get them back. He hadn't made a conscious decision on the matter before this, but he knew now, thinking about it, that he wasn't going back to the Four Lands without them. It was ambitious for him to think about getting home at all, but at this point, he couldn't help himself. Thinking about it was all he had to keep his mind off his current predicament, and if he didn't concentrate on something, he was afraid his dwindling courage would collapse completely.
They walked a long time, back the way Ryer and he had come, following the very same passageways down into the bowels of Castledown. Sporadic sounds rose in the distance, but nothing solid appeared to hinder them. Antrax and Castledown had gone back into time to join the rest of the Old World, dead and lost.
When they reached the cavernous chamber where Antrax had housed its power, they found it empty. Walker was gone, though pools of his blood had dried dark and sticky on the metal floor. Twisted chunks of metal and broken cables littered the landscape, and fluids had begun leaking from tanks and lines, cloudy and thick. Excited by the blood and the lingering smells, the caull lunged this way and that, but there were no people to be found. The Morgawr walked around, looking at everything carefully, distancing himself from the rest of the party as he did so. He poked at the creepers, stood close to the massive twin cylinders, and entered the extraction chamber, where he remained alone for a long time. Ahren watched everyone,
but particularly Ryer Ord Star. She stood only yards from him, staring off into space. She never glanced in his direction.
If she sensed him looking at her, she kept it to herself.
When the Morgawr was finished with his examination, he emerged from the extraction chamber, brushing aside Cree Bega with a hiss of impatience. The caull leading the way, its massive body jerking at its chains in frustration, they set off in a new direction.
The Ilse Witch had been here, Ahren knew. No one had said so, but the behavior of the Morgawr as he plunged ahead down this new passageway made the conclusion unavoidable. Perhaps they had just missed her. He found himself wondering what had become of Walker. Even if the witch had found him, she wasn't strong enough to move him herself.
He had his answer not long afterwards. They navigated the maze of empty, ruined corridors until they came to a vast cavern housing an underground lake. Illuminated by the dim phosphorescence that streaked the cavern's rocky walls, a trail of blood led down to the edge of the water, pooled anew on the rocky shore, and disappeared. The surface of the lake was still and perfectly smooth. There was no sign of Walker.
The Morgawr stood staring out across the lake for a moment, black cloak drawn close about him. No one tried to approach him or dared to speak.
"Get back from me," he told them finally.
They did so, and Ahren watched as scaly arms emerged from the Morgawr's cloak and began to weave in quick motions, drawing pictures or symbols on the air. A greenish light emanated from the fingertips, leaving trails of emerald fire in their wake. The hush of the empty cavern filled with a whisper of phantom wind, and from the depths of the lake rose a deep, ugly hiss that seemed as much a warning as a response to the Morgawr's conjuring. Still, the warlock continued his efforts, robes whipping about his dark body, spray bursting from the waters in sudden explosions. Faint images began to appear, shades cast upon the darkness by his magic's light, there one moment and gone the next. Ahren could not tell who they were meant to be, he could not even be sure of what his senses were telling him. Once, he thought he heard voices, rough whispers that rose and fell like the lake's dark spray. Once, he was sure he heard screams.
Then the wind increased, and the torches blew out. The Mwellrets dropped back a few paces, closer to the entrance to the cavern. Ahren went with them. Only Ryer Ord Star stood her ground, head lifted, a fierce look on her childlike face as she stared out across the lake into the darkness beyond. She was seeing something, as well,
Ahren thought—maybe the strange images, maybe something eke entirely.
Finally, the Morgawr's hands stopped moving, the wind and noise died away, and the lake went still. The Morgawr stepped back from the water's edge and walked to where his rets crouched watchfully at the cavern entrance, motioning for the seer to come with him as he passed her. Dutifully, she turned and followed.
"The Druid is dead," he declared as he came up to them.
Hearing someone speak the words gave their truth fresh impact. Ahren caught his breath in spite of himself, and it suddenly felt to him as if whatever hopes he had harbored that a way out of this terrible place, this savage land, might be found, had just been stolen away.
The Morgawr was looking at him, assessing his reaction. "Our little Isle Witch, however, is alive." He kept his dangerous eyes fixed on Ahren. "She's come and gone, and she's not alone She's with that boy you let escape from Black Moclips, Cree Bega—and someone else, someone I can't put a name to." He paused. "Can you, Elven Prince?'
Ahren shook his head. He had no idea who Bek might be with if it wasn't Tamis or one of the other Elves.
The Morgawr came forward and reached out to touch his cheek. The cavern air turned colder with that touch, and its silence deepened. Ahren forced himself to stand his ground, to repress the repulsion and fear that the touch invoked in him. The touch lingered a moment and then withdrew like the sliding away of sweat.
"They brought the Druid here, down to the water's edge, and left him for the shades of his ancestors to carry off." The Morgawr's satisfaction was palpable. "And so they did, it seems. They bore his corpse away with them, down into the waters of that lake. Walker is gone. All the Druids are gone. After all these years. All of them."
His gaze shifted from Ahren. "Which leaves us with the witch," he whispered, almost to himself. "She may not he as formidable as she once was, however. There is something wrong with her. I sense it in the way she moves, in the way she lets the other two lead her.
She isn't what she was. It fell to me, as I studied the traces of her passing, as if she was asleep."
"Sshe dissembless," Cree Bega offered softly. "Sshe sseekss to confusseuss."
The Morgawr nodded. "Perhaps. She is clever. But what reason does she have to do so? She docs not know of my presence yet. She does not know I've come for her. She has no reason to pretend at anything. Nor any reason to flee. Yet she is gone. Where?"
No one said anything for a moment. Even the caull had gone silent, crouched on the cavern floor, big head lowered, savage eyes gone to narrow slits as it waited to be told what to do.
"Perhapss sshe iss aboard the airsship," Cree Bega suggested.
"Our enemies control Black Moclips," the Morgawr replied. "They would seek to avoid her, Cree Bega. Besides, there was no time for her to reach them before they fled from us. No, she is afoot with the boy and whoever goes with him—his rescuer, from the ship. She is afoot and not far ahead of us."
Suddenly he turned again to Ahren, and this time the sense of menace in his voice was so overpowering that it froze the boy where he was.
"Where are the Elfstones, Elven Prince?' the warlock whispered.
The question caught Ahren completely by surprise. He stared at the other wordlessly
"You had them earlier, didn't you?" The words pressed down against the boy like stones. "You used them back there in that chamber where the Druid was mortally wounded. You were there, trying to save him. Did you think I wouldn't know? I sensed the Elf-stone magic at once, found traces of its residue in the smells and tastes of the air. What happened to them, little boy?"
"I don't know," Ahren answered, unable to come up with anything better.
The Morgawr smiled at Cree Rega. "You searched him?"
"Yess, of coursse," the Mwellrel answered with a shrug. "Little Elvess did not have them."
"Perhaps he hid them from you?"
"There wass no time for him to hide them. Hssst. Losst them, perhapss."
The Morgawr took a moment to consider "No. Someone else has them." His gaze shifted quickly to Ryer Ord Star. "Our quiet little seer, perhaps?"
Cree Bega grunted. "Sscarched her, alsso. No sstoness.'
"Then our little witch has them. Or that boy she is with." He paused. "Or the Druid carried them down with him into the netherworld, and no one will ever see them again."
He did not seem bothered by that. He did not seem concerned at all. Ahren watched his flat, empty face look off a final time toward the underground lake. Then the sharp eyes flicked back to his.
"Boy, I have no further need of you."
The chamber went so still that there might have been no one left alive, that even those who stood waiting to see what would happen next had been turned to stone. Ahren could feel the beating of his heart in his chest and the pulsing of his blood in his veins, he could hear the rasp of his breathing in his throat.
"Perhaps you do," Ryer Ord Star said suddenly. They all turned to look at her, but her eyes were fixed on the Morgawr. "The Druid brought the prince on the journey because his brother the King insisted, but also because the Druid knew something of the prince's worth beyond that I have seen it in a vision. One day, Ahren Elessedil will be King of the Hives."
She paused. "Perhaps, with training, he could learn to become your King."
Ahren had never heard any such speculation, and he certainly didn't like hearing it now, particularly given the twist that the seer was putting to it. He was so shocked he just stared at he
r, not trying to hide anything of what he was feeling, a mix of emotions so powerful he could barely contain them. Trust me, she had urged him. But what reason did he have for doing so now?
The Morgawr seemed to consider this, and then he nodded.
"Perhaps." He gestured vaguely toward the girl. "You seek to demonstrate your worth by sharing what you know, little seer. I approve."
His eyes flicked back to Ahren. "You will come with me. You will do what you can to help me in my search. Together, we will track our little witch. Wherever she goes, we will find her. This will be over soon enough, and then I will decide what to do with you."
He looked at Cree Bega. "Bring him."
Then he motioned the caull to its feet, gave orders to its handlers, and sent them away into the tunnels once more. He took Ryer Ord Star by the arm and followed, ignoring Ahren. Seeing him rooted in place, Cree Bega clipped the boy across the back of his head and sent him stumbling after the warlock.
"Little Elvess musst do ass they arc toldl' he hissed balefully.
Ahren Elessedil. saying nothing, trudged ahead in a sullen rage.
XI
Aboard the Jerle Shannara, Redden Alt Mer paused at the aft railing of the airship and looked back at Black Moclips. She was laboring heavily as she tried to outrun the approaching storm, her armored hull tossing and slewing like a heavy branch caught in rapids. The storm was a black wall coming inland off the eastern coast, a towering mass of lightning-laced clouds riding the back of winds gusting at more than fifty knots. Little Red was doing the best she could to sail the airship alone, but it would have been a difficult task under ordinary circumstances. It was an impossible one here. Even if she reached the relative safety of the mountains ahead, there was no guarantee she would be able to find shelter until the storm passed. Landing an airship in the middle of a mountain range, with cliffs and downdrafts to contend with, was tricky business in any case. In the teeth of a storm like this one, it would be extremely dangerous.
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