Jerle Shannara 03 - Morgaw

by Brooks, Terry

  Mwellrets and airships. He couldn't understand it. Where had they come from, all at once like this? Had the Ilse Witch brought them, keeping them back from Black Moclips, hiding them until they were needed? He tried to reason it through and failed.

  He glanced again at Ryer Ord Star. The seer still hadn't looked up, hadn't changed position, hadn't done anything to evidence that she was even conscious. He wondered suddenly if perhaps she was in a trance, trying to connect to Walker. But the Druid had to be dead by now. He had been dying back there in the extraction chamber, his blood everywhere. Walker had sacrificed himself to destroy Antrax. Even Ryer must realize that she could no longer reach him.

  So what was she doing?

  Why wasn't she tied up like he was?

  He waited for the answers to come, for her to respond to his mental summons, for something to happen that would reveal her condition—without success.

  All of a sudden, he remembered the Elfstones. He was astonished that he had forgotten about them, that he had somehow failed to remember the one weapon he still had at his disposal. Maybe. He had tucked them into his tunic on fleeing the ruins, in a pocket near his waist. Were they still there? He didn't think he could reach them with his hands tied, but he could at least determine if he had them. The Mwellrets would have searched him for weapons, not for the Stones. They wouldn't even know what they were.

  He glanced about quickly, but no one was looking at him. He rolled onto his other side, moving slowly, trying not to attract attention. He squirmed down against the hard earth, searching for the feel of the Elfstones against his body. He could not find them. His hopes sank. He shifted positions, trying to see if they were somewhere else, but he could not feel them anywhere.

  He was still searching when he heard a mix of heavy footfalls, rough voices, and deep growls. The Mwellret who had pushed him down came over at once and hauled him to his feet with a Jerle, standing him upright and propping him against a section of wall.

  "Sseess now what becomess of you, little Elvess," he muttered before turning away.

  Ahren glanced over at Ryer Ord Star. She was on her feet, as well, still alone and still not looking at him. She stood with her arms wrapped about her slender body, looking frail and tiny Something was going on with her that he didn't understand, and she wasn't doing anything to let him know what it was.

  A clutch of Mwellrets strode into the clearing. Two of the burliest held the ends of chains that were fastened to a collar strapped about the neck of one of the most terrifying creatures Ahren had ever seen. The creature tugged and twisted against the collar like a huge dog, grunts and growls emanating from deep within its throat as it did so. Its body was hunched over and heavily muscled. Four human limbs that ended in clawed fingers and massive shoulders were covered in thick black hair. Its torso was so long and sinuous that it allowed the creature to almost double back on itself as it twisted about angrily, trying to bite at the chains. Its head was wolfish, its jaws huge, and its teeth long and dark. It had the look of something bred not just to hunt, but to destroy.

  When it saw Ahrenv it lunged for him, and the Elf pressed back against the building wall in fear.

  A tall, black-cloaked figure stepped forward, blocking the creature's path. The beast cringed and backed away.

  The cloaked figure turned and looked at him. Ahren could just make out the other's face. It might have been human once, but now it was covered with gray scales like the rets, flat and expressionless, its green eyes compressed into narrow slits that regarded him with such coldness that he forgot all about the wolf creature.

  "Cree Bega," the cloaked figure called, still watching Ahren.

  The Mwellret who had been standing guard over him came at once. Big as he was, he looked small next to the newcomer. Even so, he did not do anything to acknowledge the other's authority, neither bowing nor nodding. He simply stood there, his gaze level and fixed.

  "Cree Bega," the other repeated, and this time there was a hint of menace in his voice. "Why is this Elf still alive?"

  "He iss an Elesssedil. He hass the power to ssummon the magic of the Elfsstoness.'

  "You have seen this for yourself?"

  Cree Bega shook his head. "But the sseer tellss me thiss iss sso."

  Ahren felt as if the ground had dropped away beneath him. He glanced quickly at Ryer, but she was still staring blankly

  "She is the witch's tool," the cloaked figure declared softly, looking over at the seer.

  "Her eyess and earss aboard little Elvess sship." Cree Bega glanced at Ahren. "Not anymore. Belongss to uss now. Sservess uss."

  Ahren refused to believe what he was hearing. Ryer Ord Star would never go back to serving their enemies, not after what she had gone through, not after breaking free of the Ilse Witch. She had said she was finished with that. She had sworn it.

  Stunned, he watched as his captors turned away from him and walked to where the seer stood. Bent close, the cloaked one began speaking to her. The words were too faint for Ahren to hear, but Ryer Ord Star nodded and then replied. The conversation lasted just minutes, but it was clear that some sort of agreement had been reached.

  He moved his elbows down close to his sides, pressing them against his ribs, shifting first one way and then the other, straining at the cords that bound his wrists as he tried to determine if the Elf stones were indeed gone. It seemed they were,- he could find no trace of their presence.

  Close by, the chained beast growled and snapped at him again, trying to break free, all size and teeth and claws as it fought against its restraints. Ahren quit moving and stood as still as he could manage, staring into the creature's eyes. He was surprised to find that they were almost human.

  The cloaked figure walked back across the clearing and stood looking down at him. "I am the Morgawr," he said, his voice soft and strangely warm, as if he sought to reassure Ahren of his friendship. "Do you know of me?"

  Ahren nodded.

  "What is your name?"

  "Ahren Elessedil," he answered, deciding there was no reason to hide it.

  "Youngest son of Allardon Elessedil? Why isn't your brother here?"

  "My brother wanted me to come instead. He wanted an Elessedil presence, but not his own."

  The flat face nodded-" I am told you can invoke the power of the Elfstones, the ones Kael Elessedil carried on his voyage thirty years ago. Is that so?"

  Ahren nodded, disappointment welling up inside him. Ryer Ord Star had betrayed him. He wished he had never trusted her. He wished he had left her behind in the catacombs of Castledown.

  "Where are the Stones now?" the Morgawr asked.

  Ahren was so surprised by the question that for a moment he just stared- He had assumed that the Mwellrets had taken them from him when he was captured. Had they failed to do so? Was he mistaken about having them still?

  He had to say something right away, so he said, "I don't know where they are "

  It was the truth, which was all to the good because he could see the Morgawr reading his eyes. The Morgawr knew about the Elfstones, but didn't know where they were. How could that be? Ahren had carried them out of Castledown They were hidden inside his tunic when he was knocked unconscious. Could Cree Bega have taken them for himself? Could one of the other rets? Would any of them dare to do that?

  The Morgawr touched his face with one scaly finger. "I am keeping you alive because the seer assures me you will use the Elfstones once I find them. She does not lie, does she?"

  Ahren took a deep breath, fighting down his fear and anger. "No."

  "1 am mentor to the Isle Witch. I trained her and schooled her and gave her my protection. But she betrays me. She seeks the magic of Castledown for herself. So I have come to eliminate her. You and the seer will help me find her. She is talented, but she cannot escape the seeking light of the Elfstones. Nor can she avoid her connection to the seer. She established it for the purpose of tracking the Druid and his airship, now we will use it, in turn, to track her One or the other of
you will reveal the witch to me. If you provide your help, I will set you free when I am done with her."

  Ahren didn't believe this for a minute, but he held his tongue.

  The gimlet eyes fixed on him. "You should welcome this offer."

  Ahren nodded As confused as he was about the disappearance of the Elfstones, he knew what to say. "I will do what I can."

  The Morgawr's finger slid away. "Good. The Ilse Witch has gone underground to find the Druid. The seer says you left him there, dying What wards this safehold is dying, too, so we have nothing to fear. You will take us down there."

  A chill swept through Ahren. He did not want to go back into Castledown for any reason, least of all to help the Morgawr. But he knew that if he refused, he would be made to go anyway, and he would be watched afterwards all the more closely. If they didn't just kill him and have done with it. It was better to do what was asked of him for now, to go along with the Morgawr's wishes. Antrax was dying when Ryer and he had ascended the passageways and would be as dead as Walker by now. What could it hurt to go into the catacombs a final time?

  Even so, he was not comfortable with the idea. He glanced at Ryer Ord Star across the way, but she was looking down again, her face lost in the shadow of her long hair. She would have agreed already, of course. By making herself an ally to the Morgawr and the Mwellrets, she would have promised to help them track the Ilse

  Witch. She had good reason to hate the witch, but not reason enough to bring harm to Ahren and the others of the company of the Jerle Shannara. Didn't she realize that the Morgawr and Cree Bega were no more trustworthy than the witch? He could not believe she had compromised herself so completely.

  "Cut him loose," the Morgawr ordered Cree Bega, his silky voice a whisper of comfort and reassurance.

  The Mwellret severed the cords that bound Ahren's wrists, and the Elven Prince rubbed the circulation back into them. Straightening his clothes, he sought one final time to locate the Elfstones. Perhaps they were shoved way down inside his tunic. His hands and fingers ran swiftly down his sides. Nothing. The Elfstones were gone.

  The Morgawr moved away, beckoned for Ahren to follow, motioned Cree Bega toward Ryer, and called out instructions to the other Mwellrets. Ahren went without hesitating, still rubbing his wrists, already thinking of ways he might escape. He would find a way, he promised himself. He would not be part of this business for one moment longer than he had to. He would flee the Morgawr and his rets at the first opportunity and continue his search for his missing friends.

  He glanced wistfully at Ryer Ord Star, who was moving just ahead and still not looking at him. He tried to move over to her, but almost instantly the Morgawr blocked his way.

  "Don't think that because I have released you I am not watching you," he said softly, leaning close. "If you try to escape, if you attempt to flee, if you fail to do as I ask, I will set the caull on you."

  He motioned to the wolfish animal that had moved into the forefront of their party, tugging so hard on its chains that it dragged its handlers like dead weights behind it.

  "No secrets, no tricks, no foolish acts, Elven Prince," the Morgawr cautioned in his smooth, quiet voice. "Do you understand?"

  Ahren nodded, his eyes riveted on the caull.

  The Morgawr touched Ahren's cheek with that odd caressing motion. "You don't understand fully. Not yet. But you will. I will see to it that you do."

  He moved away again and Ahren rubbed at his cheek to erase the unpleasant feeling of the scaly touch. He had no idea what he was going to do to escape. Whatever it was, it had better work because he would get only one chance. But he could not imagine where that chance would come from if he did not regain possession of the Elfstones His memory of what it had been like to wield the magic was still strong Finding them and invoking their power had transformed him. He had redeemed himself in his own eyes, at least, from his cowardice in the ruins, and in doing so had discovered something of the man he had hoped to become. He had evidenced courage and strength of will, and he did not want to lose those. But without the Elfstones, he was afraid he might.

  His eyes drifted skyward, to where the airships still hovered against the horizon. West, the sky was black and thick with rolling clouds. The temperature was dropping, as well. A storm was coming, and it looked to be severe.

  They were moving deeper into the ruins, back the way they had come. The caull and its handlers led, but Ryer Ord Star and the Morgawr were close behind, whispering back and forth as if kindred with a common goal. Cree Bega shoved at Ahren, urging him to catch up to them, to lend whatever input he might have to give. The Elven Prince put aside his thinking and increased his pace until he was right behind the seer, following in her footsteps, close enough to reach out and touch her,

  Look at me, he thought. Say something!

  She did neither. He might not have been there at all, for all the difference his presence made to her. He could not escape the feeling that she was ignoring him deliberately. Was her sense of guilt at betraying him so strong? It seemed as if she was rejecting everything she had tried to become since finding him and was reverting to the creature she had been when in the service of the witch. It felt as if her sense of loyalty had died with Walker. He could not understand that.

  Then she was pointing out something in the ruins to the Morgawr, and as the warlock turned to look, she lost her footing and stumbled, careening backwards into Ahren. He caught her without thinking, holding her upright. Without looking at him, she straightened and pushed him away.

  It was over in seconds, and they were moving ahead once more, Ryer Ord Star back beside the Morgawr. Cree Bega and his Mwellrets all about. But in those seconds, when she was pressed up against him, she whispered, so clearly he could not mistake what she said, two words.

  Trust me.

  X

  Less than a quarter of a mile away Bek Ohmsford crouched in a pool of deep shadows formed by the juncture of two broken walls and waited for Truls Rohk to return. He heard the approach of the Mwellrets and whoever was with them, the sound of their voices and the scrape of their boots carrying clearly in the early morning silence He had already seen the airships hanging in the distance over the ruins, dark hulls and masts empty of insignia or flags. He had watched them disgorge their Mwdlrel passengers and creatures like the caull his sister had used to track the shapeshifter and himself He knew they were in trouble.

  Truls Rohk had gone to investigate. He Had not returned. Bek's hand tightened about Grianne's, and he glanced over at her to reassure himself that she was all right. Well, to reassure himself that nothing had changed, at least. She was hunched down next to him in the darkness, staring at nothing. He had pulled back her hood to let the light find her lace. Her pale skin looked ghostly in the shadows, and her strange blue eyes were empty and fixed. She was compliant to his directions, but unresponsive to anything around her She did not speak, did not look at him, and did not react to what was happening- He did not know much about the catatonic state, about what it would take to release her from it, but he supposed she was in a great deal of emotional or psychological pain and that was the reason for her condition. She would regain consciousness when she was ready, Walker had said. But after several hours of traveling with and watching her, he was not sure he believed it.

  "Grianne," he said softly.

  He reached over with his free hand and touched her cheek, running his finger over her smooth skin. There was no reaction. He wished there was something he could do for her. He could only imagine what it must have been like for her to confront the truth about herself. The magic of the Sword of Shannara had drawn back the veil of lies and deception, letting in the light she had kept out for so many years. To be made to see yourself as you really were when you had committed so many atrocities, so many ugly and terrible acts, would be unbearable. No wonder she had retreated so far into herself. But how were they to help her if she remained there?

  Not that Tails Rohk believed they should. The shape-shifter sa
w her as no different from before, save for the fact that she was helpless and at present not a danger to them. But he also saw her as a sleeping beast. When, she awoke, she could easily erupt into a frenzy of murderous rage. There was nothing to say that the magic of the talisman would prevent it, nothing to say that she was any different now from what she had been before. There was no guarantee she would not revert to form. In fact, there was every reason to believe she would.

  Bek had chosen not to argue the point. On their trek out, winding their way back up the passageways of Castledown to the surface of the ruins, he had kept silent on the matter. Walker had given them their charge—to care for Grianne at any cost, to sec her safely home again, to accept that she was important in some still unknowable way. It didn't matter what Toils Rohk thought of her,- it didn't matter what he really believed. The Druid had made them promise lo ward her, and the shape-shifter had sworn that promise alongside Bek. Like it or not, Truls Rohk was bound by his word.

  In any case, Bek thought it better to let the matter alone. If the Druid, even while dying, had been unable to convince the shapeshifter of Grianne's worth, there was little chance that Bek could now Not right away, at least. Perhaps time would provide him with a way to do so. Perhaps Meanwhile, he would have to find a way to stay alive.

  He took a steadying breath and tried to fight down the panic he felt at his dwindling prospects of being able to do so. They had fought their way clear of one trap and now found themselves facing another. Antrax and the creepers and fire threads might be gone, but now a mix of enemy airships and Mwellrets confronted them. That they were allied in some way with his sister was an unavoidable conclusion. It was too big a coincidence to believe they had come all this way for any other reason. Cree Bega would have linked up with the newcomers and advised them of his presence. They would be looking for Bek and for whoever had helped him escape from Black Moclips. If he stayed where he was for much longer, they would find him. Truls had better hurry.