Ilse Witch (35 page)

Bek nodded. “I suppose so.” He paused, thinking about the implications of it all. “It doesn’t make me feel very good about being part of the expedition, however.”

Ahren Elessedil cocked his head reflectively. “It’s not supposed to. On the other hand, maybe we’ll fool him. Maybe we’ll survive.”

That night, when dinner was complete, the airship coasting on ambient starlight, and crew and passengers alike beginning to settle into their quarters for sleep, Walker called together a small number of the ship’s company for a meeting. Bek and Quentin were among those summoned, which surprised both, since neither considered himself a part of the vessel’s leadership. By then Bek had shared with his cousin his conversation with Ahren Elessedil, and the two of them had debated at length how many others aboard ship understood as the young Elf did how expendable they were considered by the Elven King who had dispatched them. Certainly Walker appreciated the situation. Ard Patrinell probably understood it as well. That was about it. Everyone else would be operating under the assumption that Kylen Elessedil and the Elven High Council fully supported the expedition and anticipated its safe and successful return.

Except perhaps the Rovers, Bek added, almost as an
afterthought. Big Red and his sister seemed pretty quick, and it was common knowledge in the Four Lands that Rovers had ears everywhere.

Bek was of the opinion that he should tell all of this to Walker in any case, since the Druid wanted to know everything the boy saw or heard while aboard ship, but there had been no opportunity as yet to talk with him. Now they were gathered in Redden Alt Mer’s quarters below the aft decking for the meeting Walker had called, and Bek put the matter aside. In addition to the Druid and the Highland cousins, others present included Big Red and his sister, Ahren Elessedil and Ard Patrinell, and the frail-looking seer, Ryer Ord Star. As the others crowded close to Walker, who stood at a table with a hand-drawn chart spread out before him, the seer alone hung back in the shadows. Childlike and shy, her strange eyes luminescent and her skin as pale as parchment, she watched them as if she were a wild thing ready to bolt.

“Tomorrow midday we will reach the coast of the Blue Divide,” Walker began, looking at each of them in turn. “Once there, we meet up with Hunter Predd and two other Wing Riders who will accompany us on our voyage, serving as scouts and foragers. Our journey from there will take us west and north, where we will seek out three islands. Each requires a stop and a search for a talisman that we must claim in order to succeed in our quest. The islands are familiar to no one aboard, myself included. They lie beyond the regions explored either by airships or Rocs. They are named on the map we follow, but they are not well described.”

“Nor are we certain of the distances to each,” Redden Alt Mer added, drawing all eyes momentarily to him. “Headings are clearly marked, but distances are vague. Our progress may depend greatly on the weather we encounter.”

“Our Captain believes from the information I’ve been able to extract from the original map that the first island requires about a week’s travel,” Walker continued. He pointed at the map. “This copy is an approximation of the one we follow
and will be left out for anyone who wishes to view it during the course of our travels. I’ve made it larger so that it will be easier to see. The islands we seek lie here, here, and here.” He pointed to each. “Flay Creech is the first, Shatterstone the second, and Mephitic the third. They will have been chosen deliberately by whoever concealed the talismans we seek. Each talisman will be protected. Each island will be warded. Going ashore will be a dangerous business, and we will limit each search party to the smallest number possible.”

“What sort of talismans do we search for?” Ard Patrinell asked quietly, leaning forward for a better look at the map.

“Keys,” Walker said. “Of their size and shape, I can’t be sure. I think from the writing on the map they are all the same, but possibly they are not.”

“What do they do?” Ahren Elessedil asked boldly, his young face wearing its most determined look.

Walker smiled faintly. “What you might expect, Elven Prince. They open a door. When we have the keys in our possession, we will sail until we reach Ice Henge.” He pointed to a symbol drawn on the map. “Once there, we search for the safehold of Castledown. The keys will gain us entrance when we have found it.”

There was momentary silence as they studied the map in earnest. In the shadows, Ryer Ord Star’s eyes were locked on Walker’s dark face, an intense and feverish gaze, and it seemed to Bek, glancing over at her, as if she fed herself in some way by what she found there.

“How will you get ashore on these islands?” Rue Meridian asked, breaking the silence. “Will you use the ship or the Rocs?”

“The Rocs, when and where I can, because they are more mobile,” the Druid answered.

She shook her head slowly. “Reconsider your decision. If we use the ship, we can lower you by winch basket or ladder from the air. If you rely on the Rocs, they will have to land. When they are grounded, they are vulnerable.”

“Your point is well taken,” Walker said. He glanced around. “Does anyone else wish to speak?”

To Bek’s surprise, Quentin responded. “Does the Ilse Witch know all this, too?”

Walker paused to study the Highlander carefully, then nodded. “Most of it.”

“So we are engaged in a race of sorts?”

Walker seemed to consider his answer before giving it. “The Ilse Witch does not have a copy of the map. Nor has she had the opportunity to study its markings as I have. She has probably gleaned her information from the mind of the castaway who carried the map. Of our general purpose and route, she will have full knowledge, I think. But of the particulars, there is some doubt. The castaway’s mind was nearly gone, and I have reason to think he did not know all of what the map revealed.”

“But knowing what she does she will have left by now on an airship of her own,” Ard Patrinell interrupted. “She will be looking for us, either following behind or lying in wait ahead.”

He made it a statement of fact, and Walker did not contradict him. Instead, he looked around once more. “I think we all appreciate the dangers we face. It is important that we do. We must be ready to defend ourselves. That we will be required to do so, probably more than once, is almost certain. Whether or not we are successful depends on our preparation. Be alert, then. Wherever you are, look about you and keep careful watch. Surprise will undo us quicker than anything.”

He made a small gesture of dismissal. “I think we’ve talked enough about it for tonight. Go to your berths and sleep. We will meet again tomorrow night and each night hereafter to discuss our plans.”

Leaving Redden Alt Mer to his cabin, they filed silently out, dispersing in the corridors belowdecks. As Bek followed Quentin, Walker stopped him with a light touch and took
him aside. Quentin glanced back, then continued on without comment.

“Walk with me,” the Druid said to Bek, taking him down the corridor that led to the supply room. From there, they climbed topside and stood together at the portside railing, alone beneath a canopy of black sky and endless stars. A west wind brushed at their faces with a cool touch, and Bek thought he could smell the sea.

“Tell me what Ahren Elessedil had to say to you today,” Walker instructed softly, looking out into the night.

Bek did so, surprised the Druid had even noticed his conversation with the Elf. When he was finished, Walker did not speak again right away, continuing to stare off into the darkness, lost in thought. Bek waited, thinking that nothing he had repeated would be news to the Druid.

“Ahren Elessedil is made of tougher material than his brother knows,” was all the other said of the matter, when he finally spoke. Then his eyes shifted to find Bek’s. “Will you be his friend on this voyage?”

Bek considered the question, then nodded. “I will.”

Walker nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Keep your eyes and ears open, Bek. You will come to know things that I will not, and it will be important that you remember to tell me of them. It might not happen for a time, but eventually it will. One of those things might save my life.”

Bek blinked in surprise.

“Our young seer has already forecast that at some point I will be betrayed. She doesn’t know when or by whom. But she has seen that someone will try to kill me and someone else will try to lead me astray. Maybe they are the same person. Maybe it will be purposeful or maybe an accident. I have no way of knowing.”

Bek shook his head. “No one I’ve met aboard this ship seems disposed to wish you harm, Walker.”

The Druid nodded. “It may not be anyone aboard ship. It may be the enemy who tracks us, or it may be someone we
will meet along the way. My point is that four eyes and ears are better than two. You still suspect you have no real function on this journey, Bek. I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice. But your importance to me—to all of us—is greater than you think. Believe in that. One day, when the time is right, I will explain it fully to you. For now, keep faith in my word and watch my back.”

He glided silently into the darkness, leaving Bek staring after him in confusion. The boy wanted to believe what the Druid had told him, but that he might have any real importance on their journey was inconceivable. He considered the matter in silence, unable to come to terms with the idea. He would watch Walker’s back because he believed it was right to do so. How successful he would be was another matter, one he did not care to look at too closely.

Then, suddenly, he was aware of being watched. The feeling came over him swiftly and unexpectedly, attacking, not stealing. The force of it stunned him. He scanned quickly across the empty decking from bow to stern, where at each end an Elven Hunter as still and dark as fixed shadow kept watch. Amidships, the burly figure of Furl Hawken steered the airship from the pilot box. None of them looked at him, and there was no one else to be seen.

Still, Bek could feel hidden eyes settled on him, their weight palpable.

Then, as suddenly as the feeling had swept over him, it disappeared. All about, the star-filled night was wrapped in deepest silence. He stood at the railing a few moments longer, regaining his equilibrium and screwing his courage back into place, then hurried quickly below.

E
arly the following afternoon, the
Jerle Shannara
arrived on the coast and swung out over the vast expanse of the Blue Divide into the unknown. Within moments Hunter Predd and two other Wing Riders soared skyward from the cliffs below the Irrybis to meet them. Hunter Predd glided close to the airship to offer greetings, then angled away to take up a flanking position. For the remainder of that day and for most of the days that followed, the Wing Riders flew in formation off the bow and stern of the ship, two forward and one aft, a silent and reassuring presence.

When Bek asked Walker at one point what happened to them at night, the Druid told him it varied. Sometimes they flew right on through until daybreak, matching the slower pace that the airship set in darkness. Rocs were enormously strong and resilient, and they could fly without stopping for up to three days. Most of the time, however, the Wing Riders would take their Rocs ahead to an island or atoll and land long enough to feed, water, and rest the birds and their riders before continuing on. They worked mostly in shifts, with one Wing Rider always warding the ship, even at night, as a protective measure. With the Rocs on watch, nothing could approach without being detected.

They traveled without incident for ten days, the time sliding away for Bek Rowe in a slow, unchanging daily routine. Each morning he would rise and eat his breakfast with the Rovers, then follow Redden Alt Mer as he completed a
thorough inspection of the airship and its crew. After that, he would stand with the Rover Captain in the pilot box, sometimes just the two of them, sometimes with another Rover at the controls, and Bek would first recite what he knew about a particular function of the ship’s operating system and then be instructed in some further area or nuance. Later, he would operate the controls and rudders, drawing down power from the light sheaths or unhooding the crystals or tightening the radian draws.

Sometimes, when Big Red was busy elsewhere, Bek would be placed in the care of Little Red or Furl Hawken or even the burly Spanner Frew. The shipbuilder mostly yelled at him, driving him from pillar to post with his sharp tongue and acid criticism, forcing him to think harder and act faster than normal. It helped steady him, in an odd sort of way. After an hour or two of surviving Spanner Frew, he felt he was ready for anything.

Between sessions with the Rovers, he would perform a cabin boy’s chores, which included running messages from Captain to crew and back again, cleaning the Captain’s and his sister’s quarters, inventorying supplies every third day, and helping serve the meals and clear the dishes. Most of it wasn’t very pleasant or exciting, but it did put him in close proximity to almost everyone several times a day and gave him a chance to listen in on conversations and observe behavior. Nothing of what he saw seemed of much use, but he did as Walker had asked and kept his eyes and ears open.

He saw little of Quentin during the day, for the Highlander was constantly training with the Elven Hunters and learning combat skills and technique from Ard Patrinell. He saw more of Ahren Elessedil, who never trained with the others and was often at loose ends. Bek took it upon himself to include the young Elf in most of what he did, teaching him what little he knew of airships and how they flew and sharing confidences and stories. He did not tell Ahren any more than he told Quentin, but he told him almost as much. As they spent more
time together, he began to see what Walker had meant about Kylen Elessedil misjudging his brother. Ahren was young, but he had grown up in a family and political situation that did not foster or tolerate naïveté or weakness. Ahren was strong in ways that weren’t immediately apparent, and Bek gained a new measure of respect for him almost daily.