by Terry Brooks
With Achen Wuhl in tow, he journeyed back through the Knife Edge, carefully avoiding the caves of the Mutens, until he was back within the ruins of the Skull Kingdom at the site where Grianne Ohmsford and he had encountered the strange fires and the apparition. Without revealing the involvement of the Ard Rhys, he recounted to Wuhl the events of his earlier visit, suggesting that the apparition had appeared unbidden and that he was searching for its source. Together, they combed the ground surrounding the cold and blackened fire pit that had given birth to the presence, looking for something that would reveal its source. They found nothing. As nightfall approached, Kermadec suggested they leave and come back in the morning. But Achen Wuhl insisted that they stay. Once it was dark, the shaman would try to summon the apparition himself.
Kermadec felt that was a dangerous undertaking and that he should put a stop to it. But he was desperate to discover what had become of the Ard Rhys, and the shaman was still the only chance he had to unlock the secret. Achen Wuhl was a skilled conjurer and an experienced shaman. He would not be careless in his efforts. He might accomplish what Kermadec could not: find a link between the apparition and the Ard Rhys. Ignoring his instincts, which were screaming at him to get out of there, Kermadec convinced himself that the risk was necessary.
So they sat together in the growing dark, the old Gnome and the Troll Maturen, watching and waiting for something to happen. Darkness fell, and nothing did. Midnight came and went. The mountains were still and deep and seemingly empty of life.
Finally, with the moon down and the stars layered across the black firmament like scattered grains of brilliant white sand, the shaman rose from his place in the rocks. Motioning for Kermadec to remain where he was, he moved forward to where the fires had appeared last.
“I had a bad feeling about it right away, but I kept still,” the big Troll told Pen and his companions. “I could still remember how that apparition made me feel, how dark and terrible was its visage, and I thought it would be better if we didn’t see it again, ever. But the little man was determined; he had courage. So I let him go. I was thinking that this was the way I would reach your aunt, Pen. I was thinking that this was how I would discover where she was.”
He shook his head at the memory. “Achen Wuhl brought up the fires right away, as if all he had to do was reach down to wherever they were hidden and summon them up. The fires flared and hissed right in front of him, bright flames burning with such intensity I could feel the heat from where I was sitting a dozen yards away. I heard the shaman muttering, saw the movement of his hands. I peered through the darkness to the flames, watching. This is what I’ve been hoping for, I kept thinking. I’m going to find her, after all.
“But then all of a sudden the flames just exploded. It was as if they found a fresh source of fuel, though there wasn’t anything but the darkness for them to feed on. They shot upward a hundred feet, maybe more, all brilliant orange and yellow-tipped, crackling and hissing. It surprised me so, I almost fell over. But here’s the odd thing. There wasn’t any new heat. The fire burned with the same intensity, at the same temperature as before. Like magic.”
He exhaled softly. “Something reached out of the flames and wrapped itself about the old man. I don’t know what it was. A part of the fire itself, I guess. It snatched him up and it pulled him in. He was gone in an instant, so fast I barely saw it happen. He never made a sound. He just disappeared. The flames consumed him. There was nothing left.
“Then I saw that face, the one the Ard Rhys and I had seen days earlier. I saw it in the fire, just for an instant. It was a dark and twisted thing, its eyes like a cat’s, only blue and freezing cold. Those eyes were searching the darkness beyond the fire, hunting. I stumbled over myself trying to hide from them. I flattened myself against the rocks the best way I could. I never thought to do anything else. It was instinct that drove me, that warned me that if the eyes found me, I would go the way of the old man.
“So I hid. The face was there, the eyes searching for a moment more, and then both were gone. A second later, the flames were gone, too, collapsed into a black smear of ash burned into the stone of the pit. The heat died with the flames, and the night turned still and empty again.
“I stayed where I was for a few minutes more, then came out to look around. In the starlight, I could see what was left. Nothing. Nothing at all.”
His voice trailed off and his gaze dropped to where his big hands knotted in his lap. In the silence, Pen could hear himself breathe.
“It was a trap,” Kermadec said quietly. “It was a trap set to snare anyone who dared to search for the Ard Rhys. It got the old man. It could have gotten me just as easily. I came back to Taupo Rough alone. I will never go back to that place again.”
“Does this mean you won’t help us?” Pen asked him, impatient to know where Kermadec stood on the matter.
“Did I say that?” the Rock Troll exclaimed. “Did I say I wouldn’t help you find this tree so that you can fashion your darkwand? Did I say I wouldn’t help you reach the Ard Rhys and bring her out of the Forbidding? Shades, young Penderrin! Of course, I will help you! If I have to carry you to Stridegate and back again on my own shoulders, I will do so! All the Rock Trolls of Taupo Rough will carry you, if that’s what’s needed. We owe more than a little to your aunt for bringing us back into the mainstream of the Four Lands. She gave us trust and recognition when no other would, and we won’t let that gift be for nothing. Whatever those black hearts at Paranor might pretend, we are still the Ard Rhys’ protectors, and we will see her safe again or know the reason why!”
He stood up suddenly. “But I need to think on this a bit. The country into which you must go is dangerous—not that the rest of the Four Lands isn’t, so long as Shadea a’Ru is acting Ard Rhys. But it’s treacherous country all on its own, made more so by the presence of Urdas and some other things that have no name. We must make certain we keep you safe in your travels, those of you who decide to go.”
He glanced sideways at Cinnaminson. “But there will be time for that later. For now, eat and rest. I’ll set sentries to keep watch for the dark things tracking you, and I’ll start the process of outfitting an expedition. But how will we travel? It’s safest if we go on foot. Airships have difficulty getting through these mountains. The winds are unpredictable; they can send airships into the rocks as if they were pesky insects. But time is important, too, and travel afoot is slow.”
He shook his head worriedly and went toward the door. “I’ll think it through. Just ask, if you need something. There’s plenty who speak the Dwarf tongue here. We’ll celebrate your safe arrival tonight.”
Then he was out the door and gone.
“I don’t want you to leave me behind, Pen,” Cinnaminson told him as soon as they were alone.
They had eaten, and Khyber and Tagwen had gone out to look around the village. The boy and the girl sat together in Kermadec’s home, the other members of the big Troll’s extended family coming and going silently about them, engaged in tasks of their own. It was after midday, and Pen was feeling the need to sleep again. But he couldn’t sleep until this conversation was finished.
“I can’t be responsible for putting you in any further danger,” he replied, deliberately keeping his voice down so as not to attract attention.
Her face was anguished. “The thing that killed Papa still tracks us. It didn’t die back there in that meadow. It will come after us. If it finds me, it will use me to find you—just like before. How can that be any less dangerous than what you might find where you are going?”
“You will be safe here,” he insisted. “Kermadec’s people are too well armed and this village too well fortified for anything to get to you. Even that thing we escaped. Besides, you don’t know that it’s still coming.”
She kept her empty eyes fixed on the sound of his voice, as if she could actually see him speaking. “Yes, I do. It’s coming.”
He rose and walked to the open doorway of the room, stood there
thinking, then came back to sit beside her.
“I’ll have you sent home aboard the Skatelow. Someone in this village must know how to fly an airship. They will take you back into the Westland, to wherever you need to go. Kermadec will arrange it. I’ll ask him to see that you are protected.”
She stared at him for a long time, as if perhaps she hadn’t heard right, then shook her head slowly. “Do you wish to be rid of me, Pen? Do you no longer need me in your life? I thought you said you cared about me. No, don’t speak. Listen to me. You cannot send me home. I don’t have a home to go back to. My home was with Papa, aboard the Skatelow. There isn’t anyone else who matters now. Only you. My home is with you.”
He looked down at his hands. “It’s too dangerous.”
She reached over and touched his cheek. “I know you are afraid for me. But you don’t need to be. I’m blind, but I’m not helpless. You’ve seen that for yourself. You don’t have to make me your responsibility. You only have to let me come with you.”
“If I let you come with me, I make you my responsibility whether I like it or not!” he snapped. “Can’t you see that?”
“What I see is that I can be of use to you.” Her voice was desperate, almost pleading. “You need me! I can guide you where you are going in the same way I guided you across the Lazareen and through the Slags. No one else can see in the dark the way I can. No one else has my sight. I can help, Penderrin. Please! Don’t leave me behind!”
“Of course, you’re coming,” Khyber Elessedil said quietly.
The Elven girl was standing in the doorway, watching them. They had been so wrapped up in their conversation, they hadn’t heard her come back in.
“Khyber, you’re not helping—”
“Don’t lecture me, Pen. We don’t need lectures, she and I. We share something that puts us in a better position to see what is needed here than you do. We’ve both lost someone important to us on this journey. We’ve lost a part of our family and, therefore, a part of ourselves. We could be diminished by this, but we won’t let that happen, will we, Cinnaminson? We will use it to make us stronger. Neither of us would consider for a moment being left behind. If you think that I am better equipped to handle what lies ahead because I have the use of the Elfstones or that Cinnaminson is less able because her talent lies only in her mind-sight, then you need to think again!”
She was so vehement that Pen was left speechless. Of all the people he had expected to agree with him on the matter, Khyber was at the top of the list.
“Get out of here, Pen,” the Elf girl ordered, gesturing toward the door. “Go find something to do. Cinnaminson and I need to talk. While we do, you think about what I just said. You think about whether what you are asking of her is reasonable or not. You think about everything that’s happened while you’re at it. Use your brain, if you can find a way to it through all your wrongheaded opinions.”
She was angry, her face flushed and her gestures curt and threatening. Pen stood up slowly and glanced down at Cinnaminson. She was staring straight ahead; tears were leaking from the corners of her eyes, streaking her smooth face. He started to say something, then stopped himself.
As he left the room, he felt Khyber Elessedil glaring at him. He walked through the house, past the surreptitious glances of the Trolls, his gaze directed straight ahead. When he was outside again, he stopped and stared into space, wondering exactly what had just happened.
THIRTEEN
Darkness had fallen over Paranor, deep and smothering, and the Druid’s Keep was wrapped in silence. Within the fortress halls, the Druids came and went like wraiths; cloaked in black and hooded, they passed down halls that echoed softly with the scrape of slippers and the rustle of robes. Some cradled books and loose-leaf writings in their arms. Some carried materials for the tasks they had been given in the cause of the Druid order.
One carried nothing but a second cloak, neatly folded over one arm, so preoccupied that not a glance was spared for those it passed.
Bek Ohmsford looked up as the cloaked figure entered the room, and it took him a moment to realize it wasn’t a Druid at all, but his wife. Rue Meridian came over to where he lay looking hot and feverish beneath his covers and laid the cloak at his feet.
She bent close to keep her voice a whisper. “I hope you don’t feel as bad as you look.”
He smiled. He was hot and sticky, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. “I look terrible, don’t I? That root you gave me really works. Traunt Rowan was here earlier to see how I was doing. I told him the fever had come back worse than before and was highly contagious. He was in and out of the room in seconds. No one has been back since. You found the robes, I see. No one saw you?”
She sat beside him, leaned over, and kissed his forehead. “Have a little faith, Bek. I am resourceful enough when it’s needed. I just asked for them. I told the Druid I stopped that we would feel more comfortable being here if we were dressed as they were. Besides, it isn’t me they’re interested in. They watch me from around corners and through cracks in doors, but they don’t pay close attention. You are the one who matters. So long as they think you intend to do what you were brought here to do, we won’t have any trouble.”
Bek nodded. “After tonight, we’ll be more trouble than they thought possible. Hand me a cold cloth and towel.”
She rose and did what he had asked. He sat up in the bed and began wiping himself down, washing away the sweat and grit, then drying off. The room was streaked with shadows, and the candles he had lit at sunset did little to chase the gloom. All the better, he thought, for what they had in mind.
“Did you have a chance to check out Swift Sure?”
She sat next to him again, keeping her voice low. There was still reason to worry that they were being listened to. “They cut loose the aft radian draws and locked down the thruster lever. I didn’t see anything else. I pretended not to notice even that. I thought it better for them to think us unaware of their efforts. It might take us three minutes to make the necessary repairs. We can get away easily enough when we need to.”
He finished cleaning himself, rose, and began to dress. He moved quickly and quietly, glancing over at the door every so often, listening to the silence that surrounded them. It was infectious, that silence. Everything about the Druid’s Keep was measured in layers of silence, as if sound were an unwelcome intrusion. Perhaps it was, where power resided in such quantity and struggles to control it were all done through secret machinations and subtle deceits.
“I won’t be sorry to be gone from here,” she said. “Everything about this place is oppressive. How your sister stands it is a mystery to me. I wish her well, once we have her safely back from wherever she’s gone, but mostly I wish her the wisdom to choose, then, to be somewhere else.”
“I know.” He glanced around. “I wish I had a weapon.”
She reached beneath her robes, brought out a long knife, and handed it to him. “I retrieved it from the ship. I have my throwing knives, as well. But I don’t think weapons are going to do us much good if we have to stand and fight.”
“They might against those Gnome Hunters.” He tucked the long knife into his belt, then reached for the other Druid robe. “Any sign of the young Druid?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
They hadn’t so much as caught a glimpse of him since he had slipped Bek the warning note on that first day. Bek had burned the note and had Rue scatter the ashes from one end of the Keep to the other, but he still didn’t know who had tried to warn them or why. Clearly, the young Druid knew something about what was going on. He might know something about Pen, as well. But it was too risky to try to find out who he was. The best they could do was to keep watch for him, and so far he hadn’t reappeared.
“You would think he would try to make further contact.” Bek tightened the sash that bound the robe. “If he went to the trouble to contact us in the first place, he must want to help. He must be on my sister’s side in all this.”
> “Maybe, but that doesn’t mean he knows where she is or what’s happened to her. He might not know anything other than what he’s told us—that Shadea and the others are responsible. Maybe warning us was all he ever intended to do. It was enough to put us on guard.”
Bek finished with his preparations and walked over to put his hands on her shoulders and draw her close. “You could wait for me aboard Swift Sure,” he said. “I can do this alone.”
“I think we had this discussion about twenty years ago, didn’t we?” She leaned into him and kissed his mouth. “Let’s just go.”
They moved to the door and stood there for a moment listening. The Gnome Hunters assigned to the task of keeping watch were still stationed across the hallway, but they had been there for three days, and they were bored. It wouldn’t take much effort to get past them.
Bek looked at his wife. “Ready?”
She nodded, pulling up the hood to her cloak. He did the same, then opened the door and stepped through. Already, he had the wishsong’s magic working, a soft low hum that carried no farther than the ears of the guards. It whispered purposefully to form images in their minds. It told them that the cloaked figures leaving the room were Druids, easily recognizable as such by their robes, that they needn’t bother with them and could look away.
By the time the guards looked back again, of course, the hallway was empty.
Bek and Rue moved swiftly to the stairs leading up to the cold chamber, turning into the stairwell before they could be seen. They had been fortunate in not encountering a single Druid on their way. If the Gnome Hunters at their sleeping room door didn’t realize they had been duped, they stood a good chance of reaching their destination unnoticed.
They climbed the stone stairs to the next floor, sliding through shadows and pools of light as soundless and stealthy as foxes at hunt. This was a dangerous business, and they knew it. If they were discovered, their duplicity would be revealed and there would no longer be any chance of using the Druid’s magic to find Pen. Worse, they probably would have to fight their way out of Paranor, and Bek wasn’t sure they were up to it. It was one thing to have survived while traveling aboard the Jerle Shannara, while they were still young. It was another to test themselves when they hadn’t fought a real battle in twenty years. Now was a poor time to find out if the magic of the wishsong could save them from the dangerous and experienced Shadea a’Ru.
