Terry Brooks: Antrax

Bek stared. “I was using the wishsong?”

“Not consciously, but it was slipping out of you even while you tried to tell her about it.” Truls Rohk paused. “When she sensed its presence, she felt threatened. She thought you were about to attack her. Or she just decided it was all too much to deal with and she should put an end to you.”

He turned and walked away a few steps, looking back the way they had come. “All quiet for now. But I don’t know that it’s finished yet.” He turned back. “You surprised her, boy, and that’s dangerous with someone so powerful. You gave her too much all at once, too much she didn’t want to hear, that would impact her in ways she couldn’t manage so quickly.” He grunted. “It couldn’t be helped, I imagine. She appeared and found you. What were you supposed to do?”

Bek stood silently before him, thinking it through. Truls Rohk was right. He had been so caught up in persuading Grianne he was her brother that he had paid almost no attention to what she was doing. It was possible she had not believed him, could not have for that matter, given the suddenness and surprise of it. Just because he believed didn’t mean she would. She’d had much longer to live with the lie than he’d had to live with the truth. She was less likely to be swayed as easily.

“Sit down, boy,” Truls Rohk said, and moved over to join him. “Time for a few more revelations. You were wrong about how well you were doing convincing your sister of who you were. You’re wrong about no one asking me to interfere in your life, as well.”

Bek looked at him. “Walker?”

“What I told you before, on Mephitic, was true. I pulled you from the ashes of your parents’ home. Aware that your family was in danger, I was keeping watch at the Druid’s request. The Morgawr’s Mwellrets, shape-shifters of a sort, were prowling about your home in Jentsen Close. You lived not far from the Wolfsktaag, there at a corner of the Rainbow Lake, amid a community of isolated homes occupied mostly by farmers. You were vulnerable, and Walker was looking for a way to keep you safe.”

He shook his head within its cowl, his face layered in shadow. “I warned him to act quickly, but he was too slow. Or perhaps he tried, and your father would not listen to him. They talked infrequently and were not close friends. Your father was a scholar and did not believe in violence. In his mind, the Druids represented violence. But violence doesn’t care anything about whether or not you believe in it. It comes looking for you regardless. It came for your family just before dawn on a day when I was absent. Mwellrets, there on the orders of the Morgawr. They killed your parents and burned your home to the ground, making it appear as if it were the work of Gnome raiders. They thought you had perished in the blaze, not realizing your sister had hidden you in the cold cellar. They were in a hurry, having taken her, whom the Morgawr coveted most, and so did not search as carefully as I did when I came later. I found you in the cellar, tucked carefully away, crying, hungry, chilled, and frightened. I took you from the ashes and gave you to Walker.”

Bek looked away from him, thinking it through. “Why didn’t he tell me any of this before he sent me to you with Quentin?”

The other laughed. “Why doesn’t he ever tell any of us anything? He told me a boy and his cousin were coming, that I should look for them, that I should test them to see if they had merit and heart.” He shook his head. “He left it to me to realize that it was you, the boy I had saved all those years ago. He left it to me to determine what I was meant to do. Do you see?”

Bek shook his head, not entirely certain he did.

“You were told to ask me to come with you on this voyage. You were given a message to deliver, one that I was to interpret in whatever way I chose. I realized what he hadn’t told you, what he was asking of me. It was clear enough. He wanted me to be your protector, your defender when danger threatened. But I was to monitor the progress of your magic’s development, as well. He knew it would begin to surface, and when it did you would have to be told the truth about who you really were. He did not want to rush things, though; he wanted to keep you in the dark as long as possible so that you would not be overwhelmed by the enormity of it all. But I knew that the sooner you discovered you had the use of magic, the sooner you could find a way to come to terms with it. We differ in our approach to things, the Druid and I, and I imagine he was not happy at all with what I did to you on Mephitic.”

“He was furious.” Bek hesitated. “But I’m glad you took a chance on me. That you showed me what I could do. That you gave me a chance to prove myself.”

The shape-shifter nodded, eyes a flicker of brightness in the shadows. “You saved us in those ruins. You have heart and strength of mind and body, boy—tools you need to manage the wishsong’s power. But your skills are still raw and untried. You need time and experience before you will be the equal of your sister.”

Bek studied him a moment in the ensuing silence. “Tell me the truth. You’re not deceiving me about any of this, are you? Because I’ve been deceived more than once already on this journey.”

The other grunted. “By the Druid. Not by me.”

“Grianne really is my sister, isn’t she? The Ilse Witch is my sister? I need to hear you say it.”

The bright eyes glimmered fierce and sharp within the cowl, all that was visible of the other’s face. “She is your sister. Why would I tell you otherwise? Do you think I am the Druid’s tool, as the witch would have you be?”

Bek shook his head. “I had to ask.”

The shape-shifter grunted, not entirely mollified. “Don’t ask such questions again. Not of me.” He folded his arms into his cloak. “Enough of this. What’s happened to the others who went ashore with you? I’ve had no chance to search for them. I boarded the witch’s airship during the collision off Mephitic because I thought I would be more useful there and might learn something that would help us gain an advantage. But she almost found me out, and I was forced to hide myself carefully, to wait for a chance to make my escape. She came alone in search of Walker, so I followed. She led me to that clearing and to you. But not to Walker. What’s become of him?”

Swiftly, Bek filled him in on the disastrous events of the past day, of the attempt to penetrate the ruins, of the traps found waiting, of the company’s decimation and the scattering of its members. With Ryer Ord Star and the Elven Tracker Tamis he had fled to the clearing where the Ilse Witch had found him. Of the fates of Quentin, Panax, Ahren Elessedil, and Ard Patrinell, he could not be certain. Tamis had gone looking for them, but she had not come back. Walker had disappeared into the black tower that dominated the center of the ruins and had not come out.

“We’ll need help to search for them,” Bek said. “Especially if the Ilse Witch and the Mwellrets are looking, too.”

Truls Rohk rocked back slightly on his heels and gave an audible sigh. “We’ll have some difficulty finding any. There’s bad news everywhere in this business. Your sister used her magic to immobilize the Jerle Shannara’s crew. She boarded the ship and took them all prisoner. She has locked them belowdecks, and she controls both ships. Black Moclips is anchored in the bay, where you went ashore. The Jerle Shannara is downriver, closer to the ice gates. There’s no help to be had from either.”

Bek felt as if the ground had fallen away beneath his feet. Whatever else had been taken from them, at least they’d had the Jerle Shannara to retreat to. Now that haven was lost, as well. They were trapped on Ice Henge. They couldn’t even get word of where they were to the Wing Riders.