Terry Brooks - Antrax

“Do you think Tamis found any of the others?” he asked finally. “Did you see what became of them after we were attacked? What about Quentin Leah’s group?”

She shook her head wordlessly. Her eyes remained directed away from him, out toward the city. He studied her carefully. “They’re all dead, aren’t they? You’ve dreamed that, as well.”

“Not Walker Boh,” she said softly.

Before he could press her further, he caught sight of the Mwellrets moving through the ruins, dark forms sliding along walls and across empty spaces, little more than an extension of the shadows to which they clung. Ryer Ord Star gripped his arm anew, and she pressed against him in warning or, perhaps, in reassurance. He held himself still, his former composure regained at least in part from having survived yesterday’s attack and the return. He did not feel in the least invincible, but neither did he feel quite so vulnerable either. What he had lost in the attack that had claimed his friends had been restored in small part by his tightrope walk with the seer back through the maze to this hiding place. Before, he had thought that any kind of survival was momentary at best and undeserved. Now, he believed he might still be alive for a reason, that he might be alive because there was something he could accomplish.

Ryer Ord Star leaned close to him, her face almost touching his. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, as if to keep him calm and in place. “They won’t find us.”

The Mwellrets snaked through the city in increasing numbers, as many as twenty of them, appearing and disappearing like wraiths, cloaked forms blending with the shadows as they advanced. When they reached the maze, unaware of its dangers, they barely slowed. Using the walls for shelter in the same way the members of Walker’s company had done, they entered the square in ones and twos, hunched over and faceless within their robes and hoods, reptilian bodies easing ahead cautiously. Deeper and deeper into the maze they penetrated, and nothing happened.

Ahren glanced quickly at Ryer Ord Star, his brow creased in worry. How had they managed to get so far in? The seer’s gaze, calm and untroubled, remained fixed on the maze and the Mwellrets. Her fingers tightened on the Elven Prince’s arm.

All at once the maze exploded in a burst of fire threads, deadly red lines crisscrossing everywhere at once, catching the Mwellrets in a web of destruction. An odd mix of hisses and shrieks rose from the trapped creatures as they sought to evade the burning ropes and failed. A handful were sliced to ribbons in the first few seconds, robes catching fire as they twisted and turned in a futile effort to flee, scorching and burning bodies collapsing in lifeless heaps. The men and women from the Jerle Shannara had sought to go to Walker’s aid, but the Mwellrets simply abandoned their stricken companions, fleeing back through the maze in short bursts of dark robes and sudden movement. They were gone so quickly that in a matter of seconds they had vanished as if swallowed by the city.

Ahren and Ryer Ord Star remained where they were, motionless, eyes scanning the ruins in all directions. Perhaps six of the Mwellrets lay dead below them, their crumpled dark shapes visible within the maze of walls. Of those who had fled, there was no sign at all. The fire threads had ceased their deadly tracking, leaving behind smoke trails that rose from scarred ruts in the otherwise smooth metal surfaces of the walls and flooring. The creepers had never appeared at all.

Ryer Ord Star released her grip on Ahren’s wrist. “They won’t be back anytime soon,” she said softly.

He nodded in agreement. Not after that, they wouldn’t. They would wait for the Ilse Witch to return. “What do we do now?” he asked.

She rose without looking at him, her eyes shifting toward the dark tower at the center of the maze. “We begin looking for Walker.”

Ahren Elessedil stared at Ryer Ord Star with no small amount of incredulity. What in the name of everything sane was she talking about? Look for Walker? She’d said it as if it was the most obvious and reasonable suggestion in the world. But Ahren didn’t find it to be either. He thought she’d lost her mind.

“What are you saying?” was all he could manage.

The words came out in a sort of threatening hiss, and she turned to look at him at once. “I have to find him, Elven Prince,” she said, her own voice maddeningly calm and self-assured. “It’s where I was going when you found me.”

“But you don’t know where he is!” Ahren exclaimed in dismay. “You don’t even know where to look!”

She knelt again, facing him, her violet eyes boring into him him with a look of unmistakable determination and certainty. She looked so young, so impossibly vulnerable, that the idea of her undertaking so dangerous a task seemed at once preposterous and foolish.

“You may not have seen what happened to him during the attack,” she began quietly, “but I did. I ran into the ruins after him, knowing he was in danger from more than the creepers and the fire threads. The visions had warned me of this place, and I understood the threat to him better than any of you did. I was struck by one of the threads and prevented from reaching him, but I saw what happened. He went on alone, past fire threads and creepers, through all the smoke and confusion. He reached the tower at the center of the maze, found a doorway, and disappeared inside. He did not come out again. He is still in there somewhere.”

Ahren felt his exasperation building. “Maybe so. Maybe you saw everything you say. Maybe Walker is inside that tower. But how are we supposed to get to him? Fire threads and creepers attack everyone who tries to get close. There isn’t any way past those things! You’ve seen what happened to us and to the Mwellrets, as well! Besides, even if you somehow managed to get all the way up to that tower, how are you going to get in? You don’t have a Druid’s powers. Don’t tell me the door will just open for you. And if it did, that wouldn’t be good news either, would it? Why would you even think of doing something this … this ridiculous?”

He was almost shouting, and his breath was ragged as he cut himself off and rocked back on his heels. “You can’t do this!” A surge of fear washed through him as he imagined trying. “I won’t help you,” he finished in a rush.

She gave him such a patient, understanding look that he wanted to shake her. She hadn’t heard a word he’d said, or if she had, she hadn’t paid him the least attention.

But then she surprised him by saying, “Everything you say is true, Ahren Elessedil.”

He stared at her, not knowing what to say. “Then you’ll give up on this idea, won’t you? Come with me instead, back to the coast. We can wait for the Jerle Shannara there. We can hide until she returns. Maybe we can find Tamis again, maybe one or two others who might have escaped. They can’t all be dead, can they? What about Bek? Won’t he try to find his way back to that clearing?”

She brushed back her long hair and folded her hands into her lap, tucking them between her legs like a little girl. Her violet eyes were depthless and filled with pain as they fixed on him. He was suddenly certain that although she was no older than he was, her experience with life’s vicissitudes was far greater than his own.

“Let me tell you something about Walker and me,” she said quietly. “Something I haven’t told anyone. When we left the island of Shatterstone and he was sick from its poison, I sat with him in his cabin. Bek was there, as well. Joad Rish was doing everything he knew to help Walker, but nothing was working. After several days it became clear to all of us that Walker was dying. The poison was in too deep, and it was infused with the magic of that place and the spirit who warded it. Walker’s own magic could not give him sufficient protection against what was happening. He couldn’t make himself well again without help.”