Terry Brooks - The Sword of Shannara

«There were footprints, but no other sign of life in the pass ahead,” Durin reported. «Everything is apparently undisturbed up to the narrowest point. I didn’t go beyond.»

«There is something else,” Menion cut in quickly. «At the entrance to the pass, I found two clear sets of footprints leading in and two sets out — Gnome feet.»

«They must have slipped in ahead of us and then, out again by staying close to the cliff walls while we blundered up the middle,” Balinor said angrily. «But if they were in there ahead of us, what…?»

«We won’t find out by sitting here and discussing it!» Allanon concluded in disgust. «We would only be guessing. Hendel, take the lead with the highlander and watch yourself. The rest stay in formation as before.»

The stocky Dwarf moved out with Menion at his side, their sharp eyes keyed in on every boulder that lined the winding path as it narrowed into the Pass of Noose. The others followed several paces back, casting apprehensive glances at the rugged terrain surrounding them. Shea risked one quick look behind him and noticed that, while Allanon was close on his heels, Balinor was nowhere in sight. Apparently, Allanon had again left the borderman to act as a rear guard at the edge of the burning pine forest, to watch for the inevitable approach of the Gnome hunters lurking somewhere beyond. Shea knew instinctively that they were caught in a trap carefully arranged for them by the furtive Gnomes, and all that remained was to discover what form it would take.

The path ahead rose sharply for the first hundred yards or so, then tapered off gradually and narrowed to such an extent that there was only enough room for one person to pass between the cliff sides. The pass was no more than a deep niche in the face of the cliff, the sides slanting inward and almost closing far above them. Only a thin ribbon of light from the blue sky streamed downward to reach them, faintly lighting the winding, boulder–laden path ahead. Their progress slowed perceptibly as the lead men searched for traps left by the Gnomes. Shea had no idea how far Durin had gone in his scouting mission, but apparently he had not ventured into what Hendel had referred to as the Knot. He could guess where the name had originated. The narrowness of the passage left the sharp impression of being drawn through the knot of a hangman’s noose to the same fate as that which awaited the condemned. He could hear Flick’s labored breathing almost in his ear and experienced an unpleasant feeling of suffocation at the closeness of the rock walls. The group moved slowly onward, slightly bent to avoid the narrowed cliff sides and their razor–sharp stone projections.

Suddenly, the pace slowed further and the whole line crowded together. Behind him, Shea heard the deep voice of Allanon muttering angrily, demanding to know what had happened, asking excitedly to be let to the front. But in these close quarters it was impossible for anyone to give way. Shea peered ahead and noticed a sharp ray of light beyond the leaders. Apparently the path was widening at last. They were nearly free of the Pass of Noose. But then, just as Shea felt they had reached the safety of the other end, there were loud exclamations and the entire line came to a complete stop. Menion’s voice cut through the semidarkness in surprise and anger, causing Allanon to mutter a low oath of fury and order the company to move ahead. For a moment nothing happened. Then slowly the company began to inch forward, moving into a wide clearing shadowed by the cliff sides as they parted abruptly into a sky of sunshine.

«I was afraid of this,” Hendel was muttering to himself as Shea followed Dayel out of the niche. «I had hoped that the Gnomes had failed to explore this far into their taboo land. It appears, highlander, that they have us trapped.»

Shea stepped out into the light on a level rock shelf where the others in the company stood talking in hushed tones of anger and frustration. Allanon emerged at almost the same moment, and together they surveyed the scene before them. The rock shelf on which they stood extended out from the opening of the Pass of Noose about fifteen feet to form a small ledge that dropped abruptly into a yawning chasm hundreds of feet deep. Even in the bright sunlight, it appeared to be bottomless. The cliff walls spread outward from their backs to form a half circle around the chasm and then slanted away brokenly, giving way to the heavy forests that began several hundred yards beyond. The chasm, a trick of nature by all appearances, bore the distinct shape of a jagged noose. There was no way around it. On the other side of the fissure dangled the remains of what had previously been some sort of rope and wood bridge which had served as the only means by which travelers could cross. Eight pairs of eyes scanned the sheer walls of the cliffs, seeking a means to scale their slick surfaces. But it was all too apparent that the only way to the other side was directly across the open pit before them.

«The Gnomes knew what they were doing when they destroyed the bridge!» Menion fumed to no one in particular. «They’ve left us trapped between them and this bottomless hole. They don’t even have to come in after us. They can wait until we starve to death. How stupid…»

He trailed off in fury. They all knew they had been foolish in allowing themselves to be tricked into entering such a simple, but effective trap. Allanon moved to the edge of the chasm, peered intently into its depths and then scanned the terrain on the other side, searching for a means to cross.

«If it were a bit more narrow or if I had a little more running room, I might be able to jump it,” volunteered Durin hopefully. Shea estimated the distance across to be easily thirty–five feet. He shook his head doubtfully. Even if Durin had been the best jumper in the world, he would have questioned such an attempt under these conditions.

«Wait a minute!» Menion cried suddenly, leaping to Allanon’s side and pointing off to the north. «How about that old tree hanging off the cliff side on the left?»

Everyone looked eagerly, unable to understand what the highlander was suggesting. The tree of which he spoke grew embedded in the cliff face to the left almost a hundred and fifty yards away from them. Its gray shape hung starkly against the clear sky, its branches leafless and bare, dipping heavily downward like the tired limbs of some weary giant frozen in midstride. It was the only tree that anyone could see on the rock–strewn path that led away from the chasm and disappeared below the cliff sides into the forests beyond. Shea looked with the others but could see no help from that corner.

«If I could put an arrow into that tree with a line tied to it, someone light could go across hand over hand and secure the rope for the rest of us,” the Prince of Leah suggested, gripping in his left hand the great ash bow.

«That shot is over a hundred yards,” replied Allanon testily. «With the added weight of a line tied to the arrow, you would have to make the world’s greatest shot just to get it there, not to mention embedding it in the tree deep enough to hold a man’s weight. I don’t think it can be done.»

«Well, we had better come up with something or we can forget the Sword of Shannara and everything else,” growled Hendel, his craggy face flushed with anger.

«I have an idea,” Flick ventured suddenly, taking a step forward as he spoke. Everyone looked at the stocky Valeman as if they were just seeing him for the first time and had forgotten that he was even along.

«Well, all right, don’t keep it to yourself!» exclaimed Menion impatiently. «What is it, Flick?»

«If there were an expert bowman in the group —” Flick shot Menion a venomous look “— he might be able to put an arrow with a line into the wood fragments of the bridge hanging on the other side and pull it back across to this side.»