Tanequil

by Terry Brooks

The Dwarf heaved to his knees, looked over the side, and saw the dark thing below, one hand gripping the ladder, the other the strange knife. Grunting with the effort, he began yanking on the brace of wooden pins that held the ladder in place. Below, the creature swayed in the wind, got a better grip on the rope, and began to climb. One of the pins came free, and Tagwen threw it aside. The ladder dropped to an unnatural angle, and the creature spit out something so terrifying that for a moment the Dwarf froze in place.

  “Tagwen, the other pin!” Khyber howled at him, crawling across the listing deck.

  The creature had both hands back in place now and was climbing swiftly. At what might have been the last possible moment, the Elven girl shouted out something in Elfish and flung out both hands in a warding gesture. The last pin erupted from its seating in an explosion of wooden splinters and flew off into the night.

  The rope ladder and the creature fell away without a sound.

  Tagwen and Khyber peered over the side, searching. The landscape below had turned to forest and hills that were dark and shadowy. There was no sign of the creature.

  In the meadow farther back, Bandit’s still form was a dark stain on the silvery grasses.

  As soon as they were safely airborne and the airship was flying at a steady rate of speed, Pen asked Tagwen to take over the controls. “Just keep her sailing as she is and you won’t have any trouble. I have to take a look below.”

  Tagwen nodded without comment. “I can go with you,” Khyber offered quickly. “It might be better—”

  Pen held up his hand to stop her from saying any more. “No, Khyber. I need to do this by myself.”

  Without looking at her, he climbed out of the pilot box and walked to the rear hatchway. The door was open, and moonlight brightened the stairs leading down into the shadowed corridor below. All he could see in his mind was Bandit’s bloodstained body, an indelible image that dominated every possibility he could imagine for Cinnaminson’s fate. He purposely had not looked again on the corpses of Gar Hatch and his crewmen, trying to hold himself together against what he might find.

  He paused at the top of the stairs, listened to the silence, then took a deep breath and started down.

  At the bottom of the steps he stopped again, peering ahead into the gloom. Nothing moved. No sound reached his ears. He fought back against the panic rising inside, determined not to give way to it. He moved ahead cautiously, the sound of his own breathing so loud that it felt as if every other possible sound was blocked away. At each door, he paused long enough to look inside before continuing on. There was no one in the storerooms or sleeping chambers that the members of the little company had occupied on their journey out of Syioned.

  The door to the Captain’s quarters stood ajar at the end of the corridor. It was the only place left to look. Pen couldn’t decide at this point if he wanted to do so or not. He couldn’t decide which was worse—knowing or not knowing.

  He pushed the door open and stepped through. Shadows cloaked the chamber in layers of blackness, concealing and disguising in equal measure. Pen stared around blindly, searching the inky gloom.

  Then he saw her. She lay stretched on the bed, bound hand and foot with ropes and chained to the wall. Her face was turned away, and her pale blond hair spilled across the bedding like scattered silk.

  “Cinnaminson,” he whispered.

  He went to her quickly, turned her over, and took away the gag that covered her mouth. “Cinnaminson,” he repeated, more urgently this time.

  Her milky eyes opened, and she exhaled softly. “I knew you would come,” she whispered.

  On deck, Khyber stood next to Tagwen in the pilot box. She had thought to take down the bodies of the Rovers, then decided to leave that job for later. The night air was cool and clear, and it felt good on her face as the airship sailed the feather-soft skies.

  “You should go see if he’s all right,” Tagwen said.

  She shook her head, brushing away strands of her dark hair. “I should stay right where I am.”

  “I don’t hear anything. Do you?”

  She shook her head a second time. “Nothing.”

  They were silent again for a moment, then Tagwen said, “Did you see what happened back there in the meadow?”

  She nodded. “I saw. I don’t understand it, though. That cat must have tracked us all the way out of the Slags. Why would it do that? Moor cats don’t like high country like this. They don’t ever come up here. But that one did. Because of Pen, I think. Because of the way he spoke to it back there, or how he connected to it, or something.”

  Tagwen snorted. “That’s not the strangest part. It’s what happened afterwards, when it attacked that creature. It gave up its life to save the boy. To save all of us. Why would it do that?”

  She touched the controls lightly, fingering without adjusting, needing to make contact with the metal. “I don’t know.” She glanced over at him. “Maybe Pen’s magic does more than he realizes. If it moved that cat the way it seems to have, it isn’t just a way of communicating or of reading behavior.”

  “Doesn’t seem so.”

  Again they fell silent. Ahead, stars filled the horizon with diamondlike brilliance, myriads spread across the dark firmament, numbers beyond imagining.

  “I don’t think we killed it,” she said finally.

  Tagwen nodded slowly. “I don’t think so, either.”

  “It will come after us. It won’t give up.”

  “I don’t suppose it will.”

  She looked out into the night. “It’s probably already tracking us.”

  Tagwen snorted and rubbed at his beard irritably. “I hope it has a long walk ahead of it.”

  Pen could feel Cinnaminson trembling as she told him the story. “They caught us coming back across the Slags. They were in a Druid ship, the Galaphile, and they snared us with grappling hooks and came aboard. One of them was a Dwarf; I could tell by his voice and movements. He wanted to know where you were, what we had done with you. Papa was terrified. I could feel it. I knew from what had happened in the swamp how frightened he was of them. He didn’t even try to lie. He told them he had abandoned you after finding out who you really were. He gave them your descriptions and identities. I couldn’t do anything about it.”

  She took a deep breath and pressed him closer. “I couldn’t do anything about any of it!” she whispered and began to cry again.

  He had freed her hands and feet, and he was sitting with her on the bed, holding her, stroking her hair, waiting for her to stop shaking. He let her cry now, knowing she needed the release, that it would help to calm her. She seemed to be all right physically, but emotionally she was close to collapse.

  “They left as soon as they got directions from my father on where to find you. The other one must have come aboard while this was happening. We never saw it until they left, and then all of a sudden it was there. It didn’t say anything and we couldn’t see who it was, wrapped in that cloak and hood. It didn’t look or move like a human, but I think it is. It spoke to me a few times, a strange voice, hoarse and rough, like someone talking through heavy cloth. I don’t know its name; it never gave it.”

  He touched her face. “We dropped whoever it was over the side of the Skatelow as she was rising. We tricked it off, and it was trying to get back aboard, but we managed to cut the ladder loose as it was climbing up. I think it might be dead.”

  She shook her head at once, her face rigid with terror. “It isn’t dead. It isn’t. I would know. I would feel it! You haven’t spent three days with it like I did, Penderrin. You haven’t felt it touch you. You haven’t heard that voice. You haven’t been through what I’ve been through. You don’t know!”

  He pressed her close again. “Tell me, then. Tell me everything.”

  “It made us prisoners. I don’t know how it managed, but I never heard anything. No one even had a chance to struggle. I was locked away below, but I heard everything. It tortured Papa and the others and then it killed them. It
took a long time. I could hear them screaming, could hear the sounds of—”

  She broke off, gasping. “I’ll never forget. Never. I can still hear it.” Her fingers were digging into Pen’s arms. She took a deep breath. “When it was over, the . . . thing came for me. I thought I was next. But it knew about my sight, about how I could see things in my mind. That was what it wanted. It told me to find you. I was so afraid that I did what I was told because I didn’t want to die. I did everything right up until I found you, and then I turned us another way. I don’t know why. I don’t know how I found the courage. I thought I was dead, then.”

  “We saw you lead it away,” Pen whispered. “We knew what you had done. So we came after you.”

  “If you hadn’t . . .”

  She shuddered once and began to cry again. “I can’t believe Papa is gone.”

  Pen thought of Gar Hatch and his cousins hanging from the rigging like scarecrows, food for scavengers. He’dhave to cut them down and dispose of them before she was allowed on deck. Maybe she couldn’t see with her eyes, but she could see in other ways. He didn’t want that to happen.

  “Tell me what this is all about,” she whispered. “Please, Pen. I need to know why Papa’s gone.”

  Pen told her, starting at the beginning with the disappearance of the Ard Rhys, detailing his own flight west to find Ahren Elessedil and their journey before they had found Gar Hatch and the Skatelow. He told her how he had come to be in this situation, what he was expected to do and why, and where they were heading now. He confided his doubts and fears to her, admitted his sense of inadequacy, and revealed his reasons for continuing on nevertheless. As he spoke, she stopped shaking and grew quiet in his arms. Her horror of what had happened seemed to drain away, and the calmness he had been awaiting settled over her.

  When he was finished, she lifted her head from his shoulder. “You are much braver than I am,” she said. “I am ashamed of myself.”

  He didn’t know what to say. “I think we take our courage from each other.”

  She nodded and closed her eyes. “I want to sleep awhile, Pen. I haven’t slept in three days. Would it be all right if I did?”

  He covered her with blankets, kissed her on the forehead, and waited for her to fall asleep. It only took a few minutes. He stood looking down at her afterwards, thinking that finding her alive was the most precious gift he had ever received and he must find a way to protect it. He had lost her once; he would not do so again.

  His resolve on that point would be tested at some time, he knew. What would he do when that happened? Would he give up his life for her as Bandit had for him? Did he love her enough to do that? There was no way to know until he was faced with the choice. He could tell himself anything, make any promise he wished, but promises were only words until more than words were required.

  He paused at the doorway and stared into space. He knew how much she would depend on him. She would need him to be there for her. But that worked both ways. Because of how he felt about her, he depended on her to be there for him, too. He might be only a boy and she even younger than Khyber, but that didn’t change the truth of things.

  They would need to be strong for each other if they were to keep each other safe.

  He closed the door softly behind him as he went out.

  FIVE

  The day’s heat still clung to the foothills below the Ravenshorn, sultry and thick in the waning of the afternoon light, when Rue Meridian said in a surprised voice, “That looks like an airship coming toward us.”

  Bek Ohmsford turned and caught sight of the black dot out on the western horizon, backlit by the deep glow of the setting sun. Even though he wasn’t sure what he was looking at, he took her at her word. Her eyes had always been better than his.

  He glanced at her admiringly. He couldn’t help himself. He still loved her as much now as he had when he had met her some twenty years earlier. He had been just an impressionable boy back then, and she, older by several years and a good deal of life experience, a woman. Circumstances and events had contrived to make falling in love the inevitable result of their meeting, and all these years later that surprised him still.

  She remained strong and beautiful, undiminished in any way by time’s passing, a rare and impossibly wondrous treasure. Blessed with dark red hair and bright green eyes, a tall rangy body, and a personality that was famously mercurial, she constantly surprised him with her contradictions. Born a Rover girl, she had flown airships with her brother, fought on the Prekkendorran, journeyed to the then unknown continent of Parkasia, and returned to marry and stay with a man whose world was so different from hers that he could not begin to measure the gap between them. She might have chosen another way, something closer to the life she had abandoned for him, but she had not done so, nor voiced a moment’s regret. As wild and free as her life had been, it seemed impossible to him that she had given it up, but she had done so in a heartbeat.

  Together, they had settled in Patch Run and started their airship exploration business. They had wanted a son, and one had been born to them within the first year. Penderrin to her, Pen to him, Little Red to his footloose Rover uncle, Redden Alt Mer, he was everything they had hoped for. Having Pen in her life changed Rue noticeably, and all for the good. She became more grounded and settled. She found greater pleasure in her home and its comforts. Always ready to sail away, she nevertheless wanted time with her baby, her son, to prepare him to face the larger world. She taught him, played with him, and loved him better than anyone or anything but Bek. As a consequence, Bek loved her better, as well.

  She caught him looking at her and smiled. “I love you, too,” she said.

  Bound to each other initially by the experiences they had shared during their journey aboard the Jerle Shannara, they discovered that they also shared an important similarity in their otherwise disparate backgrounds: Both had lost their parents young. Bek had been raised by Coran and Liria Leah, Quentin’s parents, and Rue by her brother. It was their mutual decision that Pen would know his parents better than they had known theirs. From the beginning it was their intention that he should share in all aspects of their life together, including their business. He became a part of it early, learning to fly airships, to maintain and repair them, to understand their components and the functions they served. Pen was a quick study, and it was no stretch for him to master the intricacies of navigation and aerodynamics. By the time he was twelve, he was already designing airships as a hobby. By the time he was fourteen, he had built his first vessel.

  He wanted to fly with them on their trips, of course, but he was not yet ready for that. It was a source of great disappointment to him. But he was young, and disappointments didn’t last.

  Bek shaded his eyes with his hand to cut the glare of the setting sun. He was of medium height, not as tall as she was, but broader through the shoulders, his hair and eyes dark and his skin browned by the sun. Always quick and agile, he was nevertheless beginning to feel the inevitable effects of sliding into his middle years. His less-than-perfect eyesight, he thought, was the first indication of what lay ahead.

  “I think that’s a Druid ship,” Rue said quietly.

  He peered at what was now definitely identifiable as an airship, but he still couldn’t tell what sort it was. “What would a Druid airship be doing out here?”

  She glanced at him, and he could tell that whatever she was thinking, it wasn’t good. They were miles into the Central Anar, in wilderness that few ventured into who weren’t in the trapping, trading, or exploration business. The Ravenshorn Mountains were mostly unsettled and infrequently traveled other than by the Gnome tribes that called them home. A Druid airship so far out would be coming for a very definite purpose and on business that couldn’t wait.

  Bek looked at their passengers, who were sitting around a map, talking about where they wanted to go next. Two from the Borderlands, three from the deep Southland, and a Dwarf—all had signed on to see country that they had only heard about
. They were five weeks out of Patch Run, where Bek and Rue had begun a series of stops to pick up their customers and take on supplies. They had three weeks left in the Eastland before they started back.

  “Your sister?” Rue suggested, nodding toward the airship.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  He didn’t want to voice what worried him most. One of the reasons a Druid airship would come for them was that something had happened to Pen. Word would reach Grianne, and she would come to tell him herself. But he wouldn’t let himself think like that, not just yet. This probably had something to do with the Ard Rhys or the state of the Four Lands.

  They kept watch as the airship sailed toward them through the fading afternoon sunlight, moving unerringly toward their campsite. How it had located them was a mystery, since few knew of their intended destination. A Druid could find them with help, but only Bek’s sister possessed sufficient magic to track them with no help at all. He could see now that it was indeed a Druid airship that approached, so he began to suspect that she was aboard.

  The other members of the expedition had seen the ship and come over to stand with their guides. A few asked what she was doing there, but Bek just shrugged and said he had no idea. Then he asked them to move back into the campsite and closer to where Swift Sure was anchored, a precaution he would have taken in any event.

  “Are you expecting trouble?” Rue asked him, cocking one eyebrow.

  “No. I just want to be ready.”

  “We’re always ready,” she said.

  “You are, at least.”

  She smiled. “That’s why you were attracted to me. Don’t you remember?”

  The big airship eased out of the sky to the grassy shelf that fronted the encampment and overlooked the woodland country west. Anchor lines were dropped fore and aft, and a rope ladder was thrown over the side. Bek recognized the Athabasca, one of four ships-of-the-line in the Druid fleet, capable of great speed and power. He was impressed by her look. But not even a Druid ship could match the speed of Swift Sure.