The Talismans of Shannara

by Terry Brooks

  Wren smiled back. “Gloon.”

  He nodded, then stuck his fingers in the corners of his mouth and gave a shrill whistle that silenced everything about them. Up came his right arm, and now Wren saw that he wore a thick leather glove that ran to his elbow.

  Then down out of the darkness hurtled a shadow that was darker still, a whistle of sound and fury that sliced through the air like black lightning. It landed on the boy’s glove with an audible thud, wings spread and cocked, feathers jutting out like spikes. In spite of herself, Wren shrank away. It was a bird, but a bird like no other she had ever seen. It was big, larger than a hawk or even an owl, its feathers slate gray with red brows and a crest that bristled menacingly. Its beak was yellow and sharply hooked. Its claws were two sizes too large for the rest of its body, and its body was squat and blocky, all sinew and muscle beneath its feathers. It hunched its head down into its shoulders like a fighter and stared at Wren through hard, wicked eyes.

  “What is that?” she asked the boy, wondering suddenly where Faun was hiding—hoping she was hiding well.

  “Gloon? He’s a war shrike, a breed of hunting bird that comes out of the Troll country. I found him as a baby and raised him. Trained him to hunt.” Tib seemed quite proud. “He makes sure nothing happens to me.”

  Wren believed it. She didn’t like the look of the bird one bit. She forced her eyes away from it and fixed on the boy. “You must eat and rest here for tonight, Tib,” she offered. “But shouldn’t you go back in the morning and let the free-born know where we are? We need them to get here as quickly as they can.”

  He shook his head. “They come already and nothing I can do will move them along any quicker. When they get closer, they will send a message—another bird. Then I will send Gloon.” He smiled. “They will find us, don’t worry. But I am to stay with you, my queen. I am to serve you here.”

  “You might serve best by going back,” the implacable Desidio observed.

  Tib blinked and looked confused. “But … but I don’t want to go back!” he blurted out impulsively. He suddenly seemed as young as he looked. “I want to stay here. Something is going to happen, isn’t it? I want to be part of it.” He glanced quickly at Wren. “You’re Elves, my queen, and no one has seen Elves before, ever! I … I wasn’t the first choice for this journey. I had to argue a long time to win the job. Don’t make me leave right away. I can help in some way, I know I can. Please, my queen? I’ve come a long way to find you. Let me stay awhile.”

  “And Gloon as well, I suppose?” She smiled.

  He smiled back instantaneously. “Oh, Gloon will stay hidden until he is called.” He threw up his hand, and the war shrike streaked upward and disappeared. Tib watched him go, saying, “He looks after himself, mostly.”

  Wren glanced at Desidio, who shook his head doubtfully. Tib didn’t seem to see, his eyes still directed skyward.

  “Tib, why don’t you get something to eat and then go to bed,” Wren advised. “We’ll talk about the rest of it in the morning.”

  The boy looked at her, blinked, stifled a yawn, nodded, and trotted off dutifully behind Desidio. Tiger Ty passed them coming up from the cooking fire with a plate of food and cast a sharp glance back at the boy on reaching Wren.

  “Was that a war shrike I saw?” he growled. “Nasty bird, those. Hard to believe that boy could train one. Most of them would as soon take your head off as look at you.”

  “That dangerous?” Wren asked, interested.

  “Killers,” the Wing Rider answered. “Hunt anything, even a moor cat. Don’t know how to quit once they’ve started something. It’s rumored that in the old days they were used to hunt men—sent out like assassins. Smart and cruel.” He shook his head. “Nasty, like I said.”

  She glanced at Triss. “Maybe we don’t want it around, then.”

  Tiger Ty started away. “I wouldn’t.” He stretched. “Time for sleep. The others flew in an hour ago, in case you didn’t see. We’ll scout things out again tomorrow morning. Night.”

  He ambled off into the dark, gnarled, bowlegged, rocking from side to side like some old piece of furniture that had been jostled in passing. Wren and Triss watched him go without comment. When he was gone, they looked at each other.

  “I’m sending Tib back,” she said.

  Triss nodded. Neither of them spoke after that.

  Wren slept, curled into her light woolen blanket at the edge of the firelight, dreaming of things that were forgotten as quickly as they were gone. Twice she woke to the sounds of the night, tiny chirpings and buzzings, small movements in the brush, and the rustle of things unseen far overhead in the branches of the trees. It was warm and the air was still, and the combination did not make for a sound sleep. Home Guard slept around her; Triss was less than a dozen feet away. At the edges of her vision she saw others on patrol, vague shadows against the darkness. Curled in the crook of her arm, Faun stirred fitfully. The night edged away in a crawl, and she swam listlessly through sleep and waking.

  She was just settling in for yet another try, the deepest part of the night reached, when a prickly face poked into view directly in front of her. She jumped in fright.

  “Hssst! Easy, Wren Elessedil!” said a familiar voice.

  Hurriedly she pushed herself up on one elbow. “Stresa!”

  Faun squeaked in recognition, and the Splinterscat hissed it into silence. Lumbering close, it sat back on its haunches and regarded her with those strange blue eyes. “It didn’t seem phhttt a good idea to let you go off on your own.”

  She smiled in spite of herself. “You nearly scared me to death! How did you get past the guards?”

  The Splinterscat’s tongue licked out, and she could have sworn that it smiled. “Really, now, Elf girl. They are only men. Sssstt! If you want to give me a challenge phffttt put me back on Morrowindl.” The eyes blinked, luminous. “On second thought, don’t. I like it here, in your world.”

  Wren hugged Faun into her body as the Tree Squeak tried to squirm away. “I’m glad you’re here,” she told Stresa. “I worry about you sometimes.”

  “Worry about me. Phaagg! Whatever for? After Morrowindl, nothing much frightens me. This is a good world you live in, Wren of the Elves.”

  “But not so good where we’re going. Do you know?”

  “Hsssttt. I heard. More of the dark things, the same as Morrowindl’s. But how bad are these, Elf girl? Are they things like the rrowwwll Wisteron?”

  The Splinterscat’s nose was damp and glistening in the starlight. “No,” she answered. “Not yet, at least. These are men, but many more than we are and determined to destroy us.”

  Stresa thought about it for a moment. “Still, better than the monsters.”

  “Yes, better.” She breathed the hot night air in a sigh. “But some of these men make monsters, too.”

  “So nothing changes, does it?” The Splinterscat ruffled its quills and rose. “I’ll be close to you hssttt but you won’t see me. If you need me, though phhfftt I’ll be there.”

  “You could stay,” she suggested.

  Stresa spit. “I’m happier in the forest. Safer, too. Rowwlll. You’d be safer as well, but you won’t go. I’ll have to be your eyes. Hssstt! What I see, you’ll know about first.” The tongue licked out. “Watch yourself, Wren Elessedil. Don’t forget the lessons of Morrowindl.”

  She nodded. “I won’t.”

  Stresa turned and started away. “Send the Squeak ssttt if you need me,” he whispered back, and then was gone.

  She stared after him into the darkness for a time, Faun cradled in her arms, small and warm. Finally she lay back again, smiled, and closed her eyes. She felt better for knowing that the Splinterscat was there for her.

  In seconds she was asleep once more. She did not wake again until morning.

  XVII

  At daybreak, the vanguard of the Elven army prepared to set out again. Wren summoned Tib Arne and advised him that she was sending him back to the free-born to make certain that they kn
ew he had found them and to urge them to come as quickly as possible. She assured him that it was important that he go or she would have honored his request to stay. She told him he was welcome to return when the message was delivered. Tib pouted a bit and expressed his disappointment, but in the end he agreed that she was right and promised to do his best to hurry the free-born to their aid. Desidio gave him a pair of Elven Hunters to act as escorts and protectors—despite his repeated protests that he needed no one—and the trio set out through the valley to the Streleheim Plains. Gloon did not make an appearance, and Wren was just as glad.

  It took the Elves the better part of two days to close the gap between themselves and the Federation. They traveled swiftly and steadily, using the open grasslands to speed their passage, relying on the Wing Riders and the cavalry scouts to keep from being discovered. The Wing Riders brought back regular reports of the Southland army’s progress, which had slowed. One day had been used in crossing the Mermidon and a second in repairs to equipment caused by water damage. The Federation had not traveled far beyond the north bank of the Mermidon when, by midafternoon of the second day, the Elves found themselves within striking distance.

  The Wing Riders brought word of the contact, two of them, speeding out of the sun where it hung against the sky in a blazing white heat. The Elves were spread out along the edges of the Westland forests not far from where the Mermidon bent back upon itself coming out of the Pykon. When Wren was informed that the approaching army was no more than five miles distant and closing, she had Desidio order the Elves back into the shelter of the trees to wait for nightfall. There, in the cool of the shade, she called together the expedition’s commanders.

  “We have a choice to make,” she informed them.

  They were five in all, Triss, Desidio, Tiger Ty, Erring Rift, and herself. Rift was a tall, stoop-shouldered Elf with a shaggy black beard and thinning hair and eyes like chips of obsidian. As the leader of the Wing Riders, his presence was essential. Tiger Ty was there as a personal courtesy and because Wren trusted his judgment. They were gathered in a loose circle under an aging shagbark hickory, nudging at nut shells and twigs with their boots as they listened to her speak.

  “We’ve found them,” she continued, “but that’s not enough. Now we have to decide what to do about it. I think we all realize what sort of progress they are making. A massive army, but moving at a decent rate of speed—much quicker than we had anticipated. Five days, and they have already crossed the Mermidon and gotten here. Our own army is at least a week away from where we sit. The Federation is not going to wait on us. Left alone, they will reach the Rhenn in that week’s time, and we will be making our first stand in the place where we had hoped to make our last.”

  “The heat might slow them some on these open grasslands,” Desidio observed.

  “A fire would slow them worse,” Rift suggested. He rubbed at his beard. “Set properly, the wind would carry it right into them.”

  “And right into the Westland forests as well,” Triss finished.

  “Or the wind could shift it into us,” Wren shook her head. “Too risky, except as a last resort. No, I think we have a better choice.”

  “An engagement,” Desidio declared quietly. “What you have planned for all along, my lady. What I am forbidden by order of the general to do.”

  Wren smiled and faced him squarely. “I told you there would come a time when it was necessary for you to hear me out. The time is now, Commander. I know what your orders are. I know what I promised General Oridio. I also know what I didn’t promise him.”

  She shifted her weight and leaned forward. “If we sit here and do nothing, the Federation will reach the Rhenn before we do and bottle us up. Arborlon will be finished. There will be no time for anyone to come to our aid, free-born or otherwise. We need to slow this army down, to give our own time to come forward where it can be effective. Orders are orders, Commander, but in the field events dictate how closely those orders must be adhered to.”

  Desidio said nothing.

  “We both promised that the vanguard would not be taken into battle against the Federation army until General Oridio arrived. Very well, we’ll keep that promise. But nothing binds the actions of the Home Guard, which I command, or the Wing Riders, who are free to act on their own. I think we should consider ways in which they might be used against this enemy.”

  “A dozen Wing Riders and a hundred Home Guard?” Desidio raised his eyebrows questioningly.

  “More than enough for what I think she’s got in mind,” Tiger Ty interjected defensively. “Let’s hear her out.”

  Desidio nodded. Erring Rift was rubbing his chin harder, eyes intent. Triss looked as if they were discussing the weather.

  “We are too small to engage the Federation army openly,” she said, her eyes sweeping their faces. “But we have speed and quickness and surprise on our side, and these could be valuable weapons in a night attack designed to disrupt and confuse. Wing Riders can strike from anywhere, and the Home Guard are trained to be present without being seen. What if we were to come at them in the dark, when they do not expect it? What if we strike at them where they are vulnerable?”

  Triss nodded. “Their wagons and supplies.”

  Erring Rift clapped his hands. “Their siege machines!”

  “Set fire to them,” Tiger Ty whispered eagerly. “Burn them to the ground while they sleep!”

  “More than that,” Wren interjected quickly, drawing them back to her. “Confuse them. Frighten them. At night, they cannot see. Let’s take advantage of that. Do all you’ve suggested, but make them think there is an entire army out there doing it. Come at them all at once from a dozen directions and be gone again before they can determine what has happened. Leave them with the impression that they are besieged on all sides. They won’t proceed so quickly after that. Even after they repair the damage, they will be working harder at looking for us and that will slow them down.”

  Erring Rift laughed. “Spoken like a true Rover girl!” he exclaimed enthusiastically, then added, rather quickly, “My lady.”

  “And what is to be my part in this?” Desidio asked quietly. “And that of the vanguard?”

  Wren might have been mistaken, but she thought she caught a hint of anticipation in the other’s voice, as if perhaps he was actually hoping she had something in mind. She did not wish to disappoint him.

  “Supplies and siege machines will be kept to the army’s rear. The Wing Riders and Home Guard will come from that direction. If you can see your way clear, Commander, a strike by your archers and cavalry along the front and flank would provide no small amount of additional confusion.”

  Desidio considered. “They may be more awake than you think. They may be better prepared.”

  “Within the borders of their own protectorate? Without having seen a single Elf during the entire course of their march north?” She shook her head. “By now, they are wondering if there is anyone at all to find.”

  “There may be Shadowen,” Triss said quietly.

  Wren nodded. “But the Shadowen will be disguised as men and will not wish to reveal themselves to the army. Remember, Triss—they manipulate by staying hidden. If they show themselves, they lose their anonymity and panic their army. I don’t think they will risk it. I don’t think they will have time even to think about it if we catch them off guard.”

  “We will only be able to do that once.”

  She smiled faintly. “So we had better make the most of it, hadn’t we?” She looked at Desidio. “Can you help us?”

  He gave her a rueful look. “What you mean is, can I go against my orders from General Oridio?” He sighed. “They are explicit, but then there is a certain amount of independent thinking permitted a commander in the field. Besides, you are correct in your assessment of how matters stand if we do nothing.”

  He looked to the others. “You are all committed to this?” They nodded, each of them. He looked back again at Wren. “Then I must do what I can t
o save you from yourselves, even if it means taking the field. The general will not approve, but he will accept the logic, I hope. He knows I have no authority over the Wing Riders or the Home Guard and certainly none over you, my lady.” He paused, then added ruefully, “I confess I am surprised at how easily I am persuaded by you.”

  “You are persuaded by reason, Commander,” she corrected. “There is a difference.”

  There was an exchange of looks. “Is the matter settled?” Tiger Ty asked gruffly.

  “Except for strategy,” Wren, replied. “I leave that to you. But understand that I will be going with you. No, Tiger Ty, no arguments. Look to Triss—he doesn’t even bother trying anymore.”

  The Wing Rider gave her a black look and bit back whatever objection he had been about to make.

  “When do we do it, my lady?” Erring Rift asked. His black eyes sparkled.

  Wren came to her feet. “Tonight, of course. As soon as they are sleeping.” She stepped around them and began walking away. “I’m going to wash up and have something to eat. Let me know when your plan is in place.”

  She smiled in satisfaction at the silence that followed after her and did not look back.

  The day closed with the western horizon colored red and purple and the clouds forming and reforming in a slowly changing panorama. The heat lingered on as the sun disappeared and the colors faded, a fetid dampness in the windless air that caused clothes to stick and skin to itch. The Elves ate early and tried to sleep, but even in the shade of the forests there was little comfort to be found. As midnight approached, Desidio’s Elven Hunters were awakened, told to dress and arm, and taken from the trees onto the grasslands, slipping silently toward the rise north that overlooked the sleeping Federation army.

  Wren went with them, anxious for a look at ground level before she took to the air with the Wing Riders. She went out with a detachment of Home Guard, Desidio and Triss leading, all of them dressed for concealment in green and brown forest colors with high boots, belts, and gloves for protection against brush and scrub. She was wearing a backpack to carry Faun (who would not be left behind) and had strung a leather pouch about her neck to keep the Elfstones close. A brace of long knives were strapped about her waist and a dagger was in one boot. Armed for anything, she thought. They rode a short distance onto the plains, then dismounted and made their way on foot to where the forward lines of Elven Hunters crouched in the dark.