Morgawr

7

Rue Meridian flew Black Moclips through the last hours of night and into the first light of morning before beginning her search of Castledown’s ruins. She would have started sooner, but she was afraid to attempt anything complicated until it was light enough to see what she was doing. Airships were complex mechanisms, and flying one alone, even using the controls situated in the pilot box, was no mean feat. Just keeping the vessel airborne required all her concentration. To make out anything in the darkness, she would have had to place herself at the railing, outside the box and away from the controls. She would not have lasted long that way.

She still had Hunter Predd to help her, but the Wing Rider was not a sailor and knew almost nothing of how airships functioned. He could perform small tasks, but nothing on the order of what would be required if anything went wrong. Besides, he was needed aboard Obsidian if they were to have any real chance of finding the missing members of the company. The Roc’s eyes were better than their own, and it had been trained to search for what was lost and needed finding. For now, the giant bird was keeping pace with the airship, staying just off her sails as it wheeled back and forth across the skies, waiting for his master to rejoin him.

“No chance of persuading that Federation Commander or any of his crew to help us, I don’t suppose,” Hunter Predd ventured at one point, looking doubtful even as he voiced the possibility.

She shook her head. “He says he won’t do anything that contradicts his orders, and that includes helping us.” She brushed back stray strands of her long red hair. “You have to understand. Aden Kett is a soldier through and through, trained to follow orders, to accept the hierarchy of command. He isn’t a bad man, just a misguided one.”

They hadn’t heard anything from the imprisoned Federation crew since she had locked them away in the storeroom below. Twice she had sent the Wing Rider to check on them, and both times he had reported back that other than muffled conversation, there was nothing to be heard. Apparently the crew had decided that for the time being it was better to wait this business out. She was more than content to let them do so.

Still, it would have been nice to have help. As soon as it was light enough, she planned to send Hunter off on Obsidian in search of Walker, Bek, and the others. In a freewheeling search, he would have a better chance than she would of spotting something. If he was successful, she could bring Black Moclips close enough to pick them up. The risk to the airship was minimal. In daylight, from the safety of the skies, she would be able to see for miles. It was not likely that anything would be able to get close enough to threaten, especially now that she had control of the Ilse Witch’s vessel.

Of course, she could not discount the possibility that the witch had other weapons at her disposal, ones that could affect even an airship in flight. The witch was down there somewhere in the ruins, hunting Walker, and they might be unlucky enough to encounter her in their search. Rue Meridian had to hope that Obsidian would spy out any sign of the witch before they got close enough for her to do them any damage. She also had to hope that they would find Bek or Walker or any of the others who still lived before the witch did.

She yawned and flexed her gloved fingers where they gripped the flying levers. She had been awake for twenty-four hours, and she was beginning to feel the strain. Her wounds, even padded and sealed within her flying leathers, were throbbing painfully, and her eyes were heavy with the need for sleep. But there was no one to relieve her at the controls, so there was no point in dwelling on her deprivations. Maybe she would get lucky and find Bek at first light. Bek could fly Black Moclips. Big Red had taught him well enough. With Bek at the controls, she could get some sleep.

Her thoughts settled momentarily on the boy. No, he was not a boy, she corrected herself quickly. Bek wasn’t a boy—not in any way that mattered. He was young in years, but old already in life experience. Certainly he was more mature than those Federation fools she had been forced to suffer on the Prekkendorran. He was smart and funny, and he exuded genuine confidence. She thought back to their conversations on the flight out from the Four Lands, remembering how they had joked and laughed, how they had shared stories and confidences. Hawk and her brother both had been surprised. They didn’t understand the attraction. But her friendship with Bek was different from the ones she was accustomed to; it was grounded in their similar personalities. Bek was like a best friend. She felt she could trust him. She felt she could tell him anything.

She shook her head and smiled. Bek put her at ease, and that wasn’t something many men did. He didn’t invite her to be anyone other than who she really was. He didn’t expect anything from her. He wasn’t looking to compete, wasn’t trying to impress. He was a bit in awe of her, but she was used to that. The important thing was that he didn’t let it interfere with or intrude on their friendship.

She wondered where he was. She wondered what had happened to him. Somehow he had fallen into the hands of the Mwellrets and the Ilse Witch, been brought aboard Black Moclips and imprisoned. Then someone had rescued him. Who? Had he really lost his voice, as Aden Kett had said, or was he just pretending at it? She felt frustrated by her ignorance. She had so many questions and no way to determine the answers without finding Bek first. She did not like to think of him being hunted down there. But Bek was resourceful, able to find his way through dangers that would overwhelm other men. He would be all right until she found him.

Hawk would laugh at her, if he were there. He’s just a boy, he would say, not making the distinction she had. He’s not even one of us, not even a Rover.

But that didn’t matter, of course. Not to her, at least. What mattered was that Bek was her friend, and she could admit to herself, if to no one else, that she didn’t have many of these.

She brushed the matter aside and returned her attention to the task at hand. The first faint streaks of light were appearing in the east, sliding through gaps in the mountains. Within an hour, she would begin her search. By nightfall, perhaps they could be gone from this place.

Hunter Predd, who had been absent for a time, reappeared at her elbow. “I took a quick look below. Nothing happening. Some of them are asleep. There’s no sign of any attempt to break out. But I don’t like the situation anyway.”

“Nor do I.” She shifted her position to relieve her cramped and aching muscles. “Maybe Big Red will reach us before the day is out.”

“Maybe.” The Wing Rider looked east. “It’s growing light. I should start searching. Will you be all right alone?”

She nodded. “Let’s find them, Wing Rider. All of them we left behind. Bek, for one, is still alive—along with whoever saved him from the Mwellrets. We know that much, at least. Maybe a few of the others are down there, as well. Whatever happens, we can’t abandon them.”

Hunter Predd nodded. “We won’t.”

He went back down out of the pilot box and across the deck to the aft railing. She watched him signal into the night, then lower himself over the side on a rope. Moments later, he flew by aboard Obsidian, giving her a wave of reassurance before disappearing into the gloom. She could just make him out through the fading darkness. Wheeling Black Moclips in the direction he was taking, she moved out of the forested hill country and over the ravaged landscape of the ruins, the airship rocking gently in the wind.

She glanced down perfunctorily. Everything below looked flat and gray. It would have to grow much lighter before she could hope to see anyone. Even then, she doubted she would have much luck. Any rescue of the missing members of the company from the Jerle Shannara would rely almost entirely on the efforts of the Wing Rider and his Roc.

Don’t let us fail them, she thought. Not again.

She took a deep breath and put her back to the wind.

Hunter Predd swung down the rope from the airship railing, his keen eyes picking out Obsidian’s sleek shape moving up obediently through the darkness. The Roc drifted into place below him, then rose so that his rider could settle aboard. Once Hunter Predd felt the harness between his legs, he reached down for the grips, released the rope, and with a nudge of his knees sent his carrier winging away.

Dawn was a faint gray smudge to the east, but its light was beginning to creep over the landscape. Flying out over the ruins, he could already make out the shattered buildings and debris-strewn roadways, empty and silent. Obsidian would be seeing much more. Even so, this search would not be easy. He had a feeling that Rue Meridian believed that all they needed to do was complete a sweep of the city and they would find anyone who was still alive down there. But Castledown was huge, miles and miles of rubble, and there was every chance that they would fail in their efforts to unmask its secrets. Those they sought must find a way to make themselves known if they were to be discovered other than by chance. To do that, they must be looking skyward in order to see the Roc. It had been almost two weeks since the Jerle Shannara had deposited the missing company on the shores of that bay to make the journey inland. By now, they might well have given up hope of being found. They might not be looking for help at all. They might not be alive.

It did no good to speculate, of course. He had come with the Rover girl to find whoever still survived, so it was pointless to start throwing up obstacles to their search before they had even begun it. After all, Obsidian had found smaller specks in larger expanses against greater odds. The chances were there; he simply had to make the best of them.

He flew in widening circles for the duration of the sunrise, searching all the while for movement on the ground, for something that looked a little out of place, for anything that would indicate a foreign presence. As he did so, he found himself thinking back on his decision to make this journey and wondering if he would have been better off staying home. It wasn’t just that it had turned out so badly; it was that nothing much seemed to have been accomplished for the effort. If it turned out that Walker was dead, then following Kael Elessedil’s map would have been for nothing. Worse, it would have cost lives that could have been spared. Wing Riders were strong believers in letting well enough alone, in living their own lives and not messing in the lives of others. It had taken considerable compromise for him to come on this voyage, and it was taking considerable compromise now for him to stick things out. Common sense said he should turn around and fly home, that the longer he stayed, the shorter the odds grew that he would ever leave. Certainly the Rovers must feel the same way. Rovers and Wing Riders were alike, nomads by choice, mercenaries by profession. Their loyalty and sense of obligation could be bought and paid for, but they never let that get in the way of their common sense.

But he wouldn’t leave, of course. He wouldn’t abandon those on the ground, no matter the odds, if there was any chance at all that they were still alive. It was just that he couldn’t help second-guessing himself, even if it wouldn’t make any difference in what he perceived as his commitment to his missing comrades. What if this? What if that? It was the sort of game you played at if you spent enough time alone and in dangerous circumstances. But it was only a game.

The sun crested the horizon, daylight broke across the land, and the ruins stretched away as silent and empty as before. He glanced back to where Rue Meridian flew Black Moclips, a solitary figure in the pilot box. She was dangerously tired, and he wasn’t sure how much longer she could continue to fly the airship alone. It had been an inspired idea to steal the vessel from the Ilse Witch, but it was going to turn into a liability if she didn’t get help fast. He wasn’t sure at the moment where that help was going to come from. He would give it if he could, but he knew next to nothing about airships. The best he could do was to pluck her off the deck if things got out of hand.

He caught sight of something odd at the edge of the ruins north, and he swung down for a closer look. He discovered a scattering of bodies, but they were not the bodies of his companions from the Jerle Shannara or even the bodies of any people he had ever encountered. These people had burnished skin and red hair, and they were dressed like Gnomes. He had never seen their like, but they had a tribal look to their garb and he assumed they were an indigenous people. How they had come to this sorry end was a mystery, but it looked as if they had been ripped apart by something extraordinarily powerful. Creepers, perhaps.

He flew over the still forms for a few moments more, hoping he would spy something that would help him discover what had happened. He thought it might be worth setting down to see if there was any indication that members of the Jerle Shannara had been involved, but decided against it. The information wouldn’t do him any good unless he tried to follow up on foot, and that was too dangerous. He glanced over his shoulder to where Black Moclips hovered several hundred feet away, drifting in the wind. He signaled to Rue Meridian to swing by for a look, then began a slow sweep back out over the ruins. The Rover girl could make her own decision about what to do. He would continue on. If nothing else turned up, he would come back later.

He had barely settled into a fresh glide over the blasted expanse of the city when he caught sight of something flying toward them from the northeast. Obsidian saw it, as well, and gave a sharp cry of recognition.

It was Po Kelles aboard Niciannon.

Rue Meridian had just maneuvered Black Moclips over the collection of dead men at the edge of the ruins and was wondering what to make of it when she glanced back at Hunter Predd and saw the second Wing Rider. She knew it had to be Po Kelles, and she felt fresh hope that his arrival signaled the approach of her brother aboard the Jerle Shannara. With two airships searching, she would have a much better chance of finding Bek and the others. Perhaps she could take on a couple of Rovers to help her fly Black Moclips so that she could catch a few hours of sleep.

She watched the two riders circle in tandem, talking and gesturing from the backs of their Rocs. Holding her course, she peered back toward the coast, for some sign of the other ship. But there was nothing to be seen as yet, so she returned her attention to the Wing Riders. The discussion had become animated, and the first vague feelings of uneasiness crept through her. Something about the way they communicated, even from a distance, didn’t look right.

You’re imagining things, she thought.

Then Hunter Predd broke away from Po Kelles and flew back to where she waited, swinging about to come alongside before dropping down and below the aft railing. Taking hold of the line he had left dangling from before, the Wing Rider swung down off the bird and pulled himself up, hand over hand, until he was back on board. A hand signal to Obsidian sent the Roc wheeling away to take up a position beside them, flying to keep pace.

Rue Meridian waited as the Elf hurried over to the pilot box and climbed inside. Even in the faint new light, she could tell that he was upset.

“Listen to me, Little Red.” His weathered face was calm, but strained. “Your brother and the others are flying this way, but they are being chased. A fleet of enemy airships appeared off the coast yesterday at dawn. The Jerle Shannara barely got away from them. She’s been flying this way ever since, trying to shake them off. But fast as she is, she can’t seem to lose them. They tracked her all through the mountains, all the way inland, even after she’d changed course to go another way entirely, and now they’re almost here.”

Enemy airships? All the way out here, so far from the Four Lands? She took a moment to let the information sink in. “Who are they?”

He made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “I don’t know. No one does. They fly no flag, and their crews act like dead men. They walk around, but they don’t seem to see anything. Po Kelles got a close look late yesterday when the Rovers set down to rest, thinking they’d lost them. Not an hour passed, and there they were again. The ones he could see were men, but they didn’t act like men. They acted like machines. They didn’t look as if they were alive. They were all stiff and empty-eyed, not seeing anything. One thing is certain. They know where they’re going, and they don’t seem to need a map to find us.”

She glanced around at the brightening day and the ruins below, her hopes for continuing the search fading. “How far away are they?”

“Not half an hour. We have to fly out of here. If they catch you in Black Moclips by yourself, you won’t stand a chance.”

She stared at him without speaking for a moment, anger and frustration blooming inside. She understood the need for flight, but she had never been good at being forced to do anything. Her instincts were to stand and fight, not to run. She hated abandoning yet again those she was searching for, leaving them to an uncertain fate at the hands of not only the Mwellrets and the Ilse Witch, but now this new threat, as well. How long would they last on their own? How long would it be before she could come back and give them any help?

“How many of them are there?” she asked.

The Wing Rider shook his head. “More than twenty. Too many, Little Red, for us to face.”

He was right, of course. About everything. They should break off the search and flee before the intruders caught sight of them. But she could not help feeling that Bek and the others were down there, some of them at least, waiting for help. She could not shake off the suspicion that all that was needed was just a little more time. Even a few minutes might be enough.

“Tell Po Kelles to take up watch for us,” she ordered. “We can look just a little longer before giving up.”

He stared at her. She knew she had no right to give him orders, and he was debating whether or not to point that out. She knew, as well, that he understood what she was feeling.

“The weather is turning, too, Little Red,” he said softly, pointing.

Sure enough. Dark clouds were rolling in from the east, borne by coastal winds, and they looked menacing even from a distance. She was surprised she hadn’t noticed them. The air had grown colder, too. A front was moving through, and it was bringing a storm with it.

She looked back at him. “Let’s try, Wing Rider. For as long as we can. We owe them that much.”

Hunter Predd didn’t need to ask whom she was talking about. He nodded. “All right, Rover girl. But you watch yourself.”

He jumped down out of the pilot box and sprinted back across the decking to the aft railing and disappeared over the side. Obsidian was already in place, and in seconds they were winging off to warn Po Kelles. Rue Meridian swung the airship back around toward the ruins, heading in. Already she was searching the rubble.

Then it occurred to her, a sudden and quite startling revelation, that she was flying an enemy airship, and those on the ground wouldn’t know who she was. Rather than come out of hiding to reveal themselves, they would simply burrow deeper. Why hadn’t she realized this before? Had she done so, perhaps she could have devised a way to make her intentions known. But it was too late now. Maybe the presence of the Wing Rider would reassure anyone looking up that she wasn’t the Ilse Witch. Maybe they would understand what she was trying to do.

Just a few minutes more, she kept telling herself. Just give me a few minutes more.

She got those minutes and then some, but she saw no sign of anyone below. The clouds rolled in and blocked the sun, and the air turned so cold that even though she pulled her cloak tight about her, she was left shivering. The landscape was spotted with shadows, and everything looked the same. She was still searching, still insistent on not giving up, when Hunter Predd swung right in front of her and began to gesture.

She turned and looked. Two dozen airships had materialized from out of the gloom, black specks on the horizon. One led all the others, the one being chased, and she knew from its shape that it was the Jerle Shannara. Po Kelles was flying Niciannon toward it already, and Hunter Predd was calling to her to tack east and head for the mountains. With a final glance down, she did so. Black Moclips lurched in response to her hard wrench on the steering levers and the surge of full power from the radian draws she sent down to the parse tubes and their diapson crystals. The airship shuddered, straightened, and began to pick up speed. Rue Meridian could hear the shouts and cries of the imprisoned Federation crew, but she had no time for them just now. They had made their choice in this matter, and they were stuck with things as they were, like it or not.

“Shut up!” she shrieked, not so much at the men as at the wind that whipped past her ears, taunting and rough.

At full speed, her anger a catalyst that made her as ready to fight as to flee, she flew into the mountains.