Maybe it was because the spirit reacted only to attempts to take things away, as it had with Bek and Truls. Maybe that was all it cared about—keeping possession of its treasures. Maybe the fact that the walls and towers that made up its domain were collapsing didn't mean anything to it, no more so than when they crumbled as a result of time's passage.
He had an idea then, sudden and unexpected, of how he might use his magic against the Morgawr. But he had to find him first, and he sensed that time was running out.
But finding the warlock did not take him as long as he had expected.
The silence was shattered moments later by a rough-edged sound that reverberated through the stone walls, a quick and sudden rending. He went toward it at once, following its echoes as they died away, hearing voices. He reached a break in the walls, and through it saw his sister and the Morgawr locked in combat. The warlock had trapped her and was holding her fast by the sheer force of his magic. She was fighting to break free—Bek could see the strain on her smooth face—but she could not seem to bring her magic to bear in a way that would allow her to do so. The Morgawr was squeezing her, crushing her, closing off air and space and light, the darkness he wielded a visible presence as it closed.
Bek saw the Morgawr's hand reach for Grianne, stretching the fabric of her protective magic to touch her face. Grianne's head snapped away, and she wrenched at the shackles that had trapped her. The Morgawr was too strong, Bek saw. Even for her, for the Ilse Witch, he was too powerful. His fingers extended, and Bek could see the sudden hunching of his shoulders as he forced his way closer His intent was unmistakable. He meant to feed on her.
Grianne!
There was no time left for Bek to think about what he wanted to do, no time for anything but doing it He threw out the magic of his wishsong in an enveloping cloak that settled over the Morgawr like spider webbing, a faint tickling that the warlock barely noticed. But deep within the heart of the ruins, where even the Morgawr could not penetrate, the castle's dweller stirred in recognition. Up from its slumber it surged, fully awake in seconds, sensing all at once that something it had thought lost for good was again within reach. It roared through its crumbling walls, down its debris-strewn corridors, and across its empty courtyards. It paid no heed to the Jerle Shannara or to the living or the dead men who surrounded her or to what was taking place just offshore over the Blue Divide. It paid no heed to anything but the creature that had roused it.
The Morgawr.
Except that it didn't see the warlock for what he was. It saw him for what Bek had used the magic of the wishsong to make him appear.
It saw him as the boy who had stolen its key weeks earlier, who had teased it with boldness and tricked it with magic.
Mostly, it saw him as a thief who still had that key.
The Morgawr had only a moment to look up from Grianne, to realize that something was terribly wrong, and then the spirit was upon him. It swept into the Morgawr like a whirlwind, ripping him away from his victim, bearing him backwards into the closest wall and pinning him there. The Morgawr shrieked in fury and fought back with his own magic, tearing at the wind, at the air, at the magic of the dweller, mad with rage. Bek screamed through the thunderous roar for Grianne to run, and she gathered herself and started toward him.
Then, almost inexplicably, she turned back.
Bracing herself, she threw her own magic at the Morgawr, lending strength to the castle dweller's efforts to crush him. The sound was so terrifying, so wrenchingly invasive, that Bek put his hands over his ears and scrunched up his face in pain. Reptilian face twisting with shock and fury, arms wind-milling to gain purchase where there was none to be had, the Morgawr Jerked upright as the combined magics ripped through him. For a moment, he held them at bay, girl and spirit both. his dark heart long since turned to stone, his mind to iron. He would not be beaten by such as these, the bright glare of his green eyes seemed to say, Not on this day.
Then the stone behind him cracked wide, and he was thrust inside the fissure. The opening ran deep and long, through multiple tiers of blocks set by its builders centuries ago to form a support wall for Lowers and ramparts now mostly gone. Thrashing against his imprisonment, the Morgawr fought to escape, but the pressure of the magics that held him fast was enormous.
He could not break free Bek could see it on his face and in his eyes. He was trapped.
Slowly, the stone began to seal again. The Morgawr shrieked, striking at it with his magic, chunks of it falling away beneath the sharp edges of his power But not enough stone could be shredded or slowed, and the gap narrowed. Bit by bit, he was squeezed as he had sought to squeeze Grianne. Little by little, he was crushed more tightly by the dwindling space. Now he could no longer move his arms to gesture, to invoke his spells, to trigger his magic's release. His body twisted frantically, and his shrieking rose to inhuman levels.
When the walls closed all the way, the fingers of one hand were still protruding from a tiny crack, They twitched momentarily in the fresh silence that settled over the ruins. When they finally went still, the crack had disappeared and the wall was leaking blood.
The explosions from land and sea had brought the Wing Riders out of hiding on the distant a toll. They flew their Rocs into the clear morning air and banked toward the dark smudges of smoke rising off the ruins of the ancient castle, then turned again at the sight of more smoke rolling over the waters of the Blue Divide. They caught a glimpse of the Morgawr's freshly smoldering airships and watched in shock as Black Moclips flew into them. Then everything disappeared in a massive explosion that filled the air with lire and smoke and created a shock wave so strong it could be felt miles away.
Hunter Predd could not tell what had transpired beyond the obvious.
Hiding from the Morgawr had clearly not worked, hut the nature of the battle being fought now was hard to judge. Catching sight of Spanner Frew and two of the Rover crew standing at the shore's edge, he banked Obsidian toward them, with Po Kelles and Niciannon following right behind. More explosions sounded, parse tubes giving way to the pressure of overheated diapson crystals as the destruction of the Morgawr's fleet continued. The Wing Riders swept downward to the island, landed close to the Rovers, jumped from their birds, and rushed over.
"What's happened?' Hunter Predd asked the shipwright. Seeing the other's dazed look, he took hold of his arm and turned him about forcibly. "Talk to me!"
Spanner Frew shook his head in disbelief. "He flew right into them, Wing Rider. He hooded the crystals, drew down enough power to destroy a dozen airships, and he flew right into them. All by himself, he destroyed them. I can't believe it!"
Hunter Predd knew without having to ask that the shipwright was talking about Redden Alt Mer. He looked out over the Blue Divide into the billowing clouds of smoke. Pieces of airships floated on the water, twisted and blackened. The water itself was on fire. There was no sign of an airship aloft and no sign of life in the water.
He stood with Po Kelles and the Rovers and stared in silence at the carnage. Big Red had found a way to stop them after all, he thought with a mix of admiration and sadness.
"Maybe he got out in time," he said quietly.
None of the others replied or even looked at him. They knew the truth of it. No one could survive an explosion like that. Even if you somehow managed to jump clear, the fall would kill you, the fire and the debris would finish you if it didn't.
They stared out into the heavy clouds of smoke, transfixed. None of them wanted to believe that Redden Alt Mer was really gone. None of them wanted to believe it could end like this.
It was quiet now, the morning gone still and peaceful. The explosions had stopped, even from the castle behind them. Whatever battles had been fought, they were over. Hunter Predd found himself wondering who had won, Or maybe if anyone had.
"We'd better see what's happened to the others," he said.
They were just turning away, when something appeared out of the roiling clouds of black smoke. At f
irst, the Wing Rider thought it was a Roc or a War Shrike and wondered where it had come from. But it wasn't the right size and it wasn't flying in the right way. It was something else altogether.
"Black Beard!' he whispered softly.
The flying object began to take shape as it emerged from the haze, slowly becoming recognizable for what it was, floundering badly, but staying aloft.
It was a single wing.
"Shades!" Spanner Frew hissed.
The man who flew it still had the luck.
XXXIII
A little more than five months later, the man with the luck and those he had sworn to protect were safely home again. Redden Alt Mer stood at the rail of" the Jerle Shannara and stared out into the misty twilight of the Dragon's Teeth, thinking for the first time in weeks of his harrowing escape from the destruction of the Morgawr's fleet, reminded of it suddenly by a hunting bird winging its way in slow spirals through the mist that drilled down out of the mountains. His thinking lasted only a moment. That he had found a way through the fire and smoke and explosive debris still amazed him and didn't hear looking at too closely. Life was a gift you accepted without questioning its generosity or reason.
Still, he would not want to risk his luck like that again. When he returned to the coast and March Brume, he would still fly airships, but he would fly them in safer places.
"What do you suppose they are talking about?" Rue asked, leaning close so that her words would not carry.
Some distance off in the gloom, Bek Ohmsford stood with his sister two solitary figures engaged in a taut, intense discussion. Their argument, pure and simple, transcended the parting that was taking place. Those who watched from the airship, those few who still remained—Ahren Elessedil, Quentin Leah, Spanner Frew, Kelson Riat, and Rritt Rill—waited patiently to see how it would end.
"They're talking about the choice she has* made," he answered quietly. "The choice Bek can't accept."
They had flown in from the coast yesterday, the Wing Riders Hunter Predd and Po Kelles leaving them there to return home to the Wing Hove, their mission complete, their pledge to provide scouting and foraging for the expedition fulfilled. How invaluable their help had been. It was hard to watch them make that final departure, hard to know they wouldn't still be warding the ship Some things he got so used to he couldn't imagine life without them. It was like that for Alt Mer with the Wing Riders.
Still, he would see them again. Out along the coast, over the Blue Divide, on calmer days and under better circumstances.
They would have returned Ahren Elessedil and the Blue Elfstones to Arborlon and the Elves, then flown the Elven Prince home to face his brother, but for the insistence of Grianne Ohmsford that they come first to the Dragon's Teeth, to the Valley of Shale and the Hadeshorn. She would hear no arguments against it. She owed something to Walker, she told them. She must come lo where the dead could be summoned and spoken with, to where the shade of the Druid could tell her the rest of what she must know.
When she had told them why, they were stunned into silence. Not even Bek could believe it. Not then and clearly not now.
"She might be mistaken about this," Rue continued obstinately. ''She might be taking on more than was ever intended of her,"
Alt Mer nodded. "She might. But none of us thinks so, not even Bek. She was saved for this, made whole by the Sword of Shannara and her brother's love.' He grimaced. '! sound almost poetic."
She smiled. "Almost."
They watched in silence again. Bek was gesturing furiously, but
Grianne was only standing there, weathering the storm of his anger, calm resolution reflected in her stance and lack of movement- She had made up her mind, Alt Mer knew, and she was not someone who could be persuaded to change it easily. It was more than stubbornness, of course. It was her certainty of her destiny, of what was needed of her, of what was expected. It was her understanding of what it would take for her to gain redemption for the damage she had done to so many lives in so many places for all those years that she had been the Ilse Witch.
When this is done, he thought, nothing will be the same again for any of us, our lives will be changed forever. Perhaps the lives of everyone in the Four Lands will be changed, as well What waited in the days ahead was that compelling—a new order, a fresh beginning, a reaching into the past to find hope for the future. All these would come about because of what happened here, on this night, in the mountains of the Dragon's Teeth, in the Valley of Shale, at the edge of the Hadeshorn, when Grianne Ohms-ford summoned the shade of Walker.
So she had promised them.
He found it hard to argue with someone who believed she was meant to be Walker Boh's successor and the next Druid to serve the Four Lands.
Bek was having none of it. He had gone through Too much in bringing his sister safely home again to let her wander off now, to place herself at risk once more—at greater risk perhaps than ever.
"You assume that you are meant to achieve something that even Walker could not!" he snapped, willing her to flinch in the face of his wrath. "He could not return for this, could not save himself to make the Druid order come alive. Why do you think it will be any different for you? At least he was not universally despised!"
He threw out the last few words in desperation and regretted them as soon as they were spoken. But Grianne did not seem bothered, and she reached out to touch his face gently.
"Don't be so angry, Bek. Your life does not lie with me in any case. It lies with her."
She glanced toward the Jerle Shannara and Rue Meridian. Stubbornly denying what he knew was true, Bek refused to look "My life is not the subject of this discussion" he insisted. "Yours is the one that's likely to be thrown away if you go through with this. Why can't you just come home with me, find a little peace and comfort for a change, not go out and try to do something impossible!''
"I don't know yet exactly what it is I am expected to do," she answered calmly. "I only know what was revealed to me through the magic of the Sword of Shannara—that I am to become the next Druid and will atone for my wrongs by accepting that trust. If through my efforts a Druid Council is formed, as Walker intended that it should be, then the Druids will have a strong presence again in the Four Lands. That was why I was saved, Bek. That was what Walker gave his life for, so that I could make possible the goals he had set for himself but knew he would not live to see fulfilled.''
She stepped close to him and placed her slender hands on his shoulders. "I don't do this out of foolish expectation or selfish need. I do this out of an obligation to make something worthwhile of a wasted life. Look at me, Bek. Look at what I have done. I can't ignore who I am. I can't walk away from a chance to redeem myself. Walker was counting on that. He knew me well enough to under stand how I would feel, once the truth was revealed to me. He trusted that I would do what was needed to atone for the harm I have visited on others. How wrong it would be for me to betray him now."
"You wouldn't betray him by becoming who you should have been in the first place if none of this had happened!'
She smiled sadly. "But it did happen. It did, and we can't change that. We have to live with it. I have to live with it."
She put her arm;, around him and hugged him. He stood rigid in her embrace for a few moments, then little by little, the tension and the anger drained away until at last he hugged her back.
''I love you, Bek," she said. "My little brother. I love you for what you did for me, for believing in me when no one else would, for seeing who I could be if I was free of the Morgawr and his lies. That won't change, even if everything else in the world does."
"I don't want you to go." His words were bitter with disappointment.
"It isn't fair."
She sighed softly, her breath a whisper in his ear. "I was never meant to come home with you, Bek, That isn't my life, it isn't the life I was meant to live. I wouldn't be happy, not after what I have been through. Coran and Liria are your parents, not mine. Their home is yours. Mine li
es elsewhere. You have to accept this. If I am to find peace, I have to make amends for the damage I have done and the hurt I have caused. I can do this by following the destiny Walker has set for me, A Druid can make a difference in the lives of so many. Perhaps becoming one will make a difference in mine, as well."
He hugged her tighter to him. I le sensed the inevitability of what she was saying, the certainty that no matter how hard he argued against it, no matter what obstacles he presented, she was not going to change her mind. He hated what that meant, the loss of any real chance at a life as brother and sister, as family. But he understood that he had lost most of that years ago, and he couldn't have it back the way it was or even the way it would have been. Life didn't allow for that.
"I just don't want to lose you again," he said.
She released him and stepped away, her strange blue eyes almost merry.
"You couldn't do that, little brother. I wouldn't allow it. Whatever I do, however this business tonight turns out,! won't ever be far away from you."
He nodded, feeling suddenly as if he were just a boy again, still small and in his sister's care. "Go on, then. Do what you need to do.' He gave her a quick smile, "I'm all argued out. All worn out." He looked off into the sunset, which had become a faint silver glow in the gathering dark, and fought back his tears. "I'm going home, now I need to go home. I need for this to be over."
She came close once more, so small and frail it seemed impossible that she could possess the kind of strength a Druid would need. "Then go, Bek. But know that a part of me goes with you. I will not forget you, nor my promise not ever to be too far away."
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