He burst out of the tower, leapt aboard the Jerle Shannara, and headed directly for Spanner Frew. The shipwright looked up from his work, doubt clouding his dark features as he saw the look on the other’s face. “What is it?” he asked.
“You’re not doing anything important, are you?” Alt Mer replied, reaching for his sword and buckling it on.
Spanner Frew stared at him. “Everything I do is important. What do you want?”
“I want you to go with me to steal back Black Moclips.”
The shipwright grunted in disgust. “That didn’t work so well for Little Red, as I recall.”
“Little Red didn’t have a good plan. I do. Come along and find out. We’ll take Britt and Kelson for company. It should be fun, Black Beard.”
Spanner Frew folded his burly arms across his chest. “It sounds dangerous to me.”
Alt Mer grinned. “You didn’t think you were going to live forever, did you?” he asked.
Then, seeing the other man’s dark brow furrow in response, he laughed.
He left Ahren Elessedil and Kian to keep watch over the Jerle Shannara and set out with Spanner Frew, Kelson Riat, and Britt Rill for the outside wall of the castle. It didn’t occur to him until he was well away from the airship that he might have trouble finding his way back. Not only were the ruins a confusing maze to begin with, but the spirit creature’s magic was designed to keep intruders from penetrating beyond the perimeter. But there was no help for it now, and besides, he didn’t think he would be coming back anyway.
He told his companions what he thought they needed to know and no more. He told them that they were going to skirt the ruins to their most inland point, well away from the view of those aboard Black Moclips, then sneak around to the far side of the airship, get aboard, and steal her away. If they could manage it, they would have a fully operational airship in which to make their escape. With luck, the Morgawr would not be able to give chase, and without him, the rest of the fleet would lack the necessary leadership to act.
It was all an incredible bunch of nonsense, if he thought it through, but since they were already moving to do what he had suggested, there wasn’t enough time for much thought on the part of anyone.
He took them directly to the outer wall, then east and north along their perimeter to a gate that opened almost directly into a heavy stand of trees. He was moving quickly, aware of the fact that the Morgawr could encounter Grianne or Bek and Rue at any time, and once that happened, it might be too late for him to succeed in what he intended. Scooting out from the cover of the walls, the four Rovers gained the trees and worked their way through them until they were across the flats. From there, they followed a shallow ravine that allowed them to creep through the tall grasses until they were less than a hundred yards from their target.
Spanner Frew was huffing noticeably from the effort, but Kelson and Britt were barely winded. Alt Mer lifted his head for a quick look around. They were behind Black Moclips, and the Mwellrets he could see were all facing toward the ruins.
“Black Beard,” he said to Spanner Frew, keeping his voice soft. “Wait here for us. If we don’t make it, get back to the airship and warn the others. If we get aboard, come join us.”
Without waiting for a response, he slithered out of the ravine into the cover of the grasses and began to crawl toward the airship. Kelson and Britt followed, all of them experienced at sneaking into places they weren’t supposed to be. They crossed the open ground quickly, easing through gullies and shallow depressions, pressed close to the ground.
When Alt Mer could see the hull of the airship without lifting his head, he paused. The pontoon closest to him blocked their view of the rets on the main deck, but it blocked the rets’ view of them, as well. Unless one of the rets came down into the fighting stations and peered over the side, the Rovers were safe. All they had to do now was to find a way to get aboard.
Alt Mer stood up carefully, signaled to the other two men to follow, and started toward the rope ladder. He passed under the hull of the airship, which, anchored by ropes tied fore and aft, floated perhaps two dozen feet off the ground. He paused to study the rope ladder, the easiest way onto the ship, but the one the rets would be quickest to defend. Beckoning Britt and Kelson to him, he whispered for them to move as close to the ladder as they could without being seen and to stand ready to board when he called for them.
Then moving to the bow of the airship, he took hold of the anchor rope and, hand over hand, began to haul himself up.
He reached the prow at the curve of the rams and peeked over the railing. There were four rets, two at the railing by the rope ladder, one in the pilot box and one aft. The hapless Federation crew stood around like sleepwalkers, staring at nothing, arms hanging limp at their sides. He felt a momentary pang of regret at what had to happen, but there was no way anyone could save them now.
He took a deep breath, heaved himself over the side, and charged across the deck toward the two closest Mwellrets. He killed the first with a single pass of his long knife, yelling for Britt and Kelson as he engaged the second. Both Rovers appeared up the ladder almost at once, grabbing his antagonist from behind and throwing him down. Alt Mer rushed the pilot box as the third ret snatched up a pike and launched it at him. The pike passed so close to his head that he heard the air vibrate, but he didn’t slow. He went up the front of the box with a single bound, vaulted the shield, and was inside before the ret could escape. The ret swung at him with his broadsword in a desperate effort to stop him, but Alt Mer blocked the blow, slid inside the ret’s guard, and buried the long knife in his chest.
The last ret tried to go over the side, but Kelson caught him halfway over the rail and finished him.
That wasn’t so difficult after all, Alt Mer decided, aware that he had been injured in the struggle, both arms bleeding from slashes, his ribs bruised on his left side, and his head light with the blow it had taken from the first ret. He went back down to the deck, hiding the wounds as best he could. He ordered his men to throw the dead rets over the side, then go down the ladder and hide the bodies in the grass. It was a strange order, and they glanced at each other questioningly, but they didn’t argue. They were used to doing what he told them to do, and they did so now.
As soon as they were safely over the side and on the ground, he pulled up the ladder. Then he walked quickly to the anchor ropes, passing the dead-eyed Federation crew, who made no effort to stop him or even to look at him, and cut them both. As the ropes fell away, Black Moclips began to rise.
“Big Red!” he heard Spanner Frew call after him, lumbering across the grasslands in a futile effort to catch up. Below, Kelson Riat and Britt Rill were calling up to him, as well, shouting that the ropes were gone, that they couldn’t reach him.
That was the general idea, of course. He didn’t need any help with what he intended to do next. The sacrifice of his own life in furtherance of this wild scheme was more than enough.
Redden Alt Mer leaned over the side and waved good-bye.
31
She could hear them coming now, the scrape of their footfalls, the hiss of their breathing, and the rustle of their heavy cloaks, the echoes reaching out to her through the silence. Grianne slowed to where her own sounds disappeared completely, lost in the concealment of her wishsong’s magic. She disappeared into the stone walls and floors of the ruins, into its towers and parapets. She completed the transformation she had begun earlier, taking on the look and feel of the castle. She disappeared in plain sight.