Walker was aware of Ryer Ord Star pressing close to him, enough so that they were almost touching. Last night, when the others were asleep, she had come to him and told him what had frightened her so. In the hushed darkness of a moonless night, she had knelt beside him and whispered in a voice so soft that he could barely make her out.
“The ruins are the maze I saw in my vision.”
He touched her thin shoulder. “Are you certain?”
Her eyes were bright and staring. “I felt the presence of the other two, as well. As I stood on the rim of the valley and looked down into the maze, I felt them. The ribbons of fire and the metal dogs. They are here, waiting for me. For all of us.”
“Then we will be ready for them.” She was shaking again, and he put his arm about her to keep her from her fear, which he could feel through her clothing as if it were alive. “Don’t be afraid, Ryer. Your warnings keep us safe. They did so on Flay Creech, on Shatterstone, and on Mephitic. They will do so here.”
But she shrank from the words. “No, Walker. What waits for us here is much bigger and stronger. It is embedded in the ruins and in the earth on which they rest. Old and hungry and evil, it waits for us. I can feel it breathing. I feel its pulse in the movement of the air and the rise and fall of the temperature. It is too much for us. Too much.”
He held her quietly in the velvet darkness, trying to comfort her, listening to the sound of her breathing as it steadied and slowed. Finally, she rose and began to move away.
“I will die here, Walker,” she whispered back to him.
She believed it, he knew, and perhaps she had seen something in her visions that gave her cause to do so. Perhaps she only sensed it might be so, but sometimes even that was enough to make something happen. He would watch out for her, would try to keep her from harm. It was what he would have done anyway. It was what he would do for all of them, if it was within his power. But even a Druid could do no more than try.
He glanced over his shoulder. She had dropped back to walk with Bek, keeping pace with the boy, as if finding some comfort in his silent presence. Fair enough. She could do worse than stay close to him.
He looked ahead into the gloom, into the maze of the ruins, and he could feel the seer’s vision, mysterious and dark, drawing them on like bait on a hook.
Miles away, back toward the channel’s headwaters, but well clear of the Squirm, Redden Alt Mer stood at the bow railing of the Jerle Shannara and looked off into the gloom. The weather was impossible. If anything, it was worse now than when they had sailed inland two days ago. Yesterday had started out fine, but the sunshine and clear skies had gradually given way to heavy mist and clouds on the journey downriver. They had anchored the airship several miles from the ice, safely back from the clashing pillars and the bitter cold, and had gone to sleep, hoping to continue on this morning as Walker had wanted.
But the haze was so thick now that Alt Mer could barely make out the cliffs to either side and could not see the sky overhead at all. Worse, the mist was shifting in a steady wind, swirling so badly that it cast shadows everywhere and rendered it virtually impossible to navigate safely. In these narrow confines, with treacherous peaks, glaciers, and winds all around, it would be foolhardy to attempt to venture out of the channel when they could not see where they were going. Like it or not, they would have to wait for the weather to clear, even if it meant delaying their departure a day or two.
Rue Meridian came up beside him, long red hair as darkened by the damp as his own. It wasn’t raining, but a fine mist settled over them like gauze. She looked out over the railing at the fog and shook her head. “Soup.”
“Soup that Mother Nature feels a need to stir,” he amended with a weary sigh. “All for the purpose of keeping us locked down for the foreseeable future, I expect.”
“We could sail back up the channel and hope for a break in the clouds. Inland, it might be better.”
He nodded. “It might, but the farther back up the channel we go, the harder it becomes to track our course. Better to do it from as close to the coastline as possible.”
She snorted. “Have you forgotten who you have as your navigator?”
“Not likely. Anyway, a day of waiting won’t hurt us. We’ll lie to until tomorrow. If it doesn’t clear up by then, we’ll do as you say and sail back up the channel and try to find a cloud break.”
Her eyes found his momentarily. “No one much cares for this sitting around, Big Red.” She glanced off into the haze. “If you listen closely, you can hear those pillars clashing. You can hear the ice crack and the glaciers shift. Far away, off in the haze.” She shook her head. “It’s spooky.”
“Don’t listen, then.”
She stood with him a moment longer, then moved off. He didn’t care for the waiting either or their proximity to the Squirm or anything about their situation, but he knew better than to overreact. He would be patient if he must.
After a few minutes, he walked back to where Spanner Frew sat working on a diapson crystal that had been damaged in their collision with Black Moclips. The Rover Captain was still perplexed at the appearance of the ship. In all likelihood it meant she was being sailed by a Federation crew. That gave Alt Mer a distinct advantage with his Rover crew, but not one he was eager to test. Black Moclips was much bigger and stronger than the Jerle Shannara, and in close quarters could probably reduce it to kindling. It would be strange in any case to do battle with a ship he had flown for so long and of which he had grown so fond.
“Making any progress?” he asked the shipwright.
The big man scowled. “I’d make more if people didn’t distract me with foolish questions. This is delicate work.”
Alt Mer watched him for a moment. “Did you get a good look at that other airship when she rammed us?”
“As good as your own.”
“Did you recognize her?”
“Black Moclips. Hard to mistake her. Doesn’t give me a good feeling to know she’s the one chasing us, but on the other hand this ship’s quicker and more responsive.” He paused to hold the crystal up to the pale light, squinting as he examined it. “Just keep her from getting too close to us, and we’ll be fine.”
The Rover Captain folded his arms within his cloak. “Can’t be sure of doing anything on a hunt like this. We may have to stand and face her at some point. I don’t relish that happening, I can tell you.”
Spanner Frew stood up, gave the crystal a final check, then grunted in satisfaction. “Won’t be a problem today, at least. Nothing can sail in this.”
“Not safely, anyway,” Alt Mer amended. He resumed staring out into the gloom. The wind had picked up, and the airship was rocking with its sudden gusts. The Rover Captain walked slowly across the deck, checking things in a perfunctory manner, giving himself something to do besides think about their predicament. A low whistle had begun to develop, faint and distant still, but unmistakable. He glanced in its direction, back toward the Squirm. Maybe he should move the Jerle Shannara farther upriver. Maybe they should find a cove in which to take shelter.
He walked the aft railing, the sound of the wind enveloping him like a shroud, strangely warm and comforting. He stopped to listen to it, amazed at its appeal. Winds of this sort were rare in a sailor’s life and as out of place to this land as yesterday’s weather. They belonged in another climate and another part of the world. How could glaciers and snowpacks exist in such close proximity to warm air and green trees?