Bek stared at the scene in horror. He could not help what he was thinking. Walker was dead and Grianne had killed him.
To one side, a blade’s sharp edge flashed momentarily in the shadows, and from the gathered gloom a deeper darkness eased silently forward.
Truls Rohk had reached the same conclusion.
5
Hugging each other like frightened children, Ahren Elessedil and Ryer Ord Star made their way through the silent, dust-choked passageways of Castledown toward the city ruins above. The seer was still sobbing uncontrollably, her head bent into the Elven Prince’s shoulder, her arms clinging as if she was afraid she might lose him. Leaving Walker had undone her completely, and though Ahren whispered reassurances to her as they went, trying to bring her back to herself, she seemed not to hear him. It was as if by leaving the Druid, she had left the better part of herself. The only indication she gave that she was still present was in the way she flinched when fresh chunks of wall or ceiling gave way or something exploded in the darkening recesses through which they fled.
“It will be all right, Ryer,” Ahren kept repeating, even long after it was clear the words had no meaning for her.
Stirred by the events of the past few hours, his thoughts were jumbled and uncertain. The effects of the Elfstone magic had worn off, leaving him quieted and at peace again, no longer filled with fire and white rage. He had tucked the stones safely away inside his tunic pocket for when they would be needed again. A part of him anticipated such use, but another part hoped it might never happen. He felt vindicated and satisfied at having recovered them, having successfully summoned up their magic, and having used the blue fire against the hateful machines that had destroyed so many of his friends and companions from the Jerle Shannara. He felt renewed within, as if he had undergone a rite of passage and survived. He had come on this journey not much more than a boy, and now he was a man. It was his odyssey in gaining possession of the Elfstones that lent him this feeling of fresh identity, of new confidence. The experience had been horrific but empowering.
None of which made him feel any better about what had happened to Walker or what was likely to happen now to them. That Walker was dying when they left him was indisputable. Not even a Druid could survive the sort of wounds he had received. He might last a few minutes more, but there was no chance for him. So now the company, or what remained of it, must continue on without him. But continue to where? Continue for what reason? Walker himself had said that with the death of Antrax the knowledge of the books of magic was lost to them. He had made a choice in destroying the machine, and the choice had cost them any chance of recovering what they had come to find. It was an admission of failure. It was an acknowledgment that their journey had been for nothing.
Yet he could not help feeling that somehow this wasn’t so, that there was something more to what had transpired than what was immediately obvious.
He wondered about the others of the company. He knew Bek had been alive when Ryer had fled the Ilse Witch and come back into the ruins to find Walker. The Elven Tracker Tamis had escaped, too. There would be others, somewhere. What must he do to find them? Find them he must, he knew, because without an airship and a crew, they were stranded indefinitely. With the Ilse Witch and her Mwellrets hunting them.
But he knew what he could do to gain help. He could use the Elfstones, the seeking stones of legend, to find a way to the others. The problem was that using the magic would alert the Ilse Witch to their presence. It would tell her exactly where they were, and she would come for them at once. They couldn’t afford to have that happen. Ahren didn’t think for a moment that he was a match for the Witch, even with the magic of the Elfstones to aid him. Stealth and secrecy were better weapons to employ just now. But he wasn’t sure that stealth and secrecy would be enough.
He had been navigating the passageways for several hours, lost in his thoughts, when he became aware of the fact that Ryer had stopped crying. He glanced down at her in surprise, but she kept her face buried in his shoulder, pressed against his chest, concealed in the curtain of her long silvery hair. He thought that she might be working her way through her grief and should not be disturbed. He let her be. Instead, he concentrated anew on regaining the surface. The debris that had clogged the lower corridors was not so much in evidence here, as if the explosions had been centered more deeply. The air seemed fresher, and he thought they must be close to breaking free.
He found he was right. Within only minutes they passed through a pair of metal doors that stood unhinged and ajar, ducked under the collapsed framework, and stepped out into the open. They emerged from the tower into which Walker had disappeared days earlier, there in the center of the deadly maze that had ravaged the remainder of the company. It was night still, but dawn’s approach was signaled by a faint lightening along the eastern horizon. Overhead, moonlight flooded out of a cloudless, starlit sky.
Ahren stopped just outside the tower entry and looked around cautiously. He could trace the outline of the walls of the maze and discern the clutter of broken creepers and weapons. Beyond, the ruins of the city spread away in a jumble of shattered buildings. No sounds came from that wasteland. It felt as if they were the only living creatures in the world.
But that was deceptive, he knew. The Mwellrets were still out there, searching for them. He must be very careful.
With Ryer still clinging to him, he knelt and put his mouth to her ear. “Listen to me,” he whispered.
She went still, then nodded slowly. “We have to try to find the others—Bek and Tamis and Quentin. But we have to be very quiet. The Mwellrets and the Ilse Witch will be hunting us. At least, that’s what we have to assume. We can’t afford to let them catch us. We have to get out of these ruins and into the cover of the trees. Quickly. Can you help me?”
“We shouldn’t have left him,” she replied so softly he could barely make out the words. Her fingers tightened on his arms. “We should have stayed.”
“No, Ryer,” he said. “He told us to go. He told us there was nothing else we could do for him. He told us to find the others. Remember?”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. We should have stayed. He was dying.”
“If we fail to do what he asked of us, if we allow ourselves to be captured or killed, we will have failed him. That makes his dying an even bigger waste.” His voice was low, but fierce. “That isn’t what he expects of us. That isn’t why he sent us away.”
“I betrayed him.” She sobbed.
“We all betrayed each other at some point on this voyage.” He forced her head out from his shoulder and lifted her chin so that she was looking at him. “He isn’t dying because of anything we did or failed to do. He is dying because he chose to give up his life to destroy Antrax. He made that choice.”
He took a deep breath to calm himself. “Listen to me. We serve him best now by honoring his last wishes. I don’t know what he intended for us, what he thought would happen now that he is gone. I don’t know what we’ve accomplished. But there’s nothing more we can do for him beyond getting ourselves out of here and back to the Four Lands.”
Her pale, drawn face tightened at the harshness of his words, then crumpled like old parchment. “I cannot survive without him, Ahren. I don’t want to.”
The Elven Prince reached out impulsively and stroked her fine hair. “He said he would see you again. He promised. Maybe you should give him the chance to keep that promise.” He paused, then bent forward and kissed her forehead. “You say you can’t survive without him. If it makes any difference, I don’t think I can survive without you. I wouldn’t have gotten this far if it hadn’t been for you. Don’t abandon me now.”