The Sword of Shannara

Chapter Ten

The morning came quickly for the small company, and the golden half–light of dawn found them preparing to begin their long journey with sleep–filled eyes. Balinor, Menion, and the Valemen waited for the appearance of Allanon and the cousins of Eventine. No one spoke, partly because each was still half asleep and had very little to recommend him in the way of good humor, and partly because each was inwardly thinking about the hazardous trip that lay ahead. Shea and Flick sat quietly on a small stone bench, not looking at each other as they considered the tale Allanon had related to them the previous night, wondering what possible chance they had of recovering the Sword of Shannara, using it against the Warlock Lord to destroy him, and still returning alive to their homeland. Shea, particularly, had passed the point where his chief emotion was fear; now he felt only a sense of numbness that dulled his mind into self–imposed surrender, a robot–like acceptance of the fact that he was being led to the proverbial slaughter. Yet in spite of this resigned attitude toward the journey to Paranor, somewhere in the back of his confused mind was the lingering belief that he could work out all of these seemingly insurmountable obstacles. He could feel it lurking there, waiting for a more opportune moment to arise and demand satisfaction. But for the moment he allowed, himself to lapse dutifully into numbed acquiescence.

The Valemen were dressed in woodsman garb provided by the Dwarf people, including warm half–cloaks in which they now wrapped themselves to ward off the chill of the early morning. In addition, they carried the short hunting knives they had brought with them from the Vale, tucked in their leather belts. Their packs were necessarily compact, in accord with the Valemen’s small size. The country they would pass through offered some of the best hunting in all the Southland, and there were several small communities friendly to Allanon and the Dwarfs. But it was also the home of the Gnome people, the longtime, bitter enemies of the Dwarfs. There was some hope the little band would be able to maintain an advantage of stealth and secrecy in their travel and avoid any confrontation with Gnome hunters. Shea had carefully packed away the Elfstones in their leather pouch, showing them to no one. Allanon had not mentioned them since he had arrived in Culhaven. Whether this was an oversight or not, Shea was not about to give up the one really potent weapon that he possessed and kept the pouch hidden within his tunic.

Menion Leah stood several yards away from the brothers, pacing idly. He wore particularly nondescript hunting clothes, loose–fitting and colored to blend with the land to make his task as tracker and huntsman as uncomplicated as possible. His shoes were soft leather, toughened by certain oils to enable him to stalk anything without being heard and still travel the toughest ground without injuring the soles of his feet. Strapped to his lean back was the great sword, sheathed now, its strong hilt glinting dully in the early light as he shifted restlessly about. Across his shoulder he carried the long ash bow and its arrows, his favorite weapon on hunting trips.

Balinor wore the familiar long hunting cloak wrapped closely about his tall, broad frame, the cowl pulled up around his head. Beneath the cloak was the chain mail which could be seen glinting sharply ever so often as his arms emerged in brief gestures from beneath the shielding of the garment. He carried in his belt a long hunting knife and the most enormous sword that the Valemen had ever seen. It was so huge that it appeared to them that one sweep of its great blade would cut through a man completely. It was hidden beneath the cloak at the moment, but the brothers had seen him strap it to his side as he came out to them earlier that morning.

Their waiting finally came to an end as Allanon approached from the assembly hall, accompanied by the lithe figures of the two Elves. Without stopping, he bade them all good morning and directed them to fall into line for the trip, warning sharply that once they crossed the Silver River several miles ahead, they would be in country traveled by Gnomes and that conversation must be kept to a minimum. Their route would take them from the river directly north through the Anar Forests into the mountains that lay beyond. There was less chance that they would be detected traveling through this rough country than across the plains that lay farther west, where the terrain was admittedly more even and accessible. Secrecy was the key to their success. If the purpose of their journey became known to the Warlock Lord, they were finished. Travel would be restricted to the daylight hours while they were camouflaged by the forests and mountains, and they would resort to night travel and risk detection by the searching Skull Bearers only when they were forced to cross the plains many miles to the north.

As their representative on the expedition, the Dwarf chieftain had chosen Hendel, the closemouthed Fellow who had saved Menion from the Siren. Hendel led the company out of Culhaven, since he was most familiar with this part of the country. At his side walked Menion, talking only occasionally, concentrating mostly on staying out of the sullen Dwarf’s way and trying to avoid drawing attention to his presence, something the Dwarf felt was totally unnecessary. Several paces back from them were the two Elves, their slim figures like brief shadows as they moved gracefully, effortlessly, speaking with each other in quiet musical voices that Shea found reassuring. Both carried long ash bows similar to Menion’s. They wore no cloaks — only the strange, close–fitting outfits they had worn at the council the night before. Shea and Flick followed them, and behind the Valemen walked the silent leader of the company, his long strides covering the ground with ease, his dark face lowered to the trail. Balinor brought up the rear. Both Shea and Flick were quick to realize that their position in the center of the company was to assure their maximum protection. Shea knew how valuable the others felt he was to the success of the mission, but he was also painfully aware that they considered him incapable of defending himself in case of any real danger.

The company reached the Silver River and crossed at a narrow spot where the winding thread of gleaming water was spanned by a sturdy wooden bridge. All talking ceased once the had passed over, and all eyes went to the dense rest about them, watching uneasily. The going was still relatively smooth; the ground was level as the path wound sharply through the great forest, leading them steadily northward. The light of the morning sun shone in long streamers through cracks in the heavy branches, occasionally cutting across their path and catching their faces as they walked, warming them briefly in the cool air of the forest. Beneath their feet, the fallen leaves and twigs were soaked with a heavy dew, making a cushion that masked the sound of their footsteps and helped to preserve the quiet of the day. All about them they could hear sounds of life, though they saw only multicolored birds and a few squirrels that scampered eagerly about their treetop domains, sometimes raining the travelers below with torrents of nuts and twigs as they leaped from branch to branch. The trees prevented the members of the company from seeing much of anything, their great girth ranging from three to ten feet in diameter, and their huge roots stretching out from the trunks like mammoth fingers, digging their way relentlessly into the earth of the forest floor. The view from every direction was masked, and the company had to content itself with relying on Hendel’s familiarity with the country and the pathfinding knowledge of Menion Leah to guide them through the maze of vegetation.

The first day passed without incident, and they spent the night beneath the giant trees, somewhere north of the Silver River and Culhaven. Hendel was apparently the only one who knew exactly where they were, though Allanon conversed briefly with the taciturn Dwarf concerning their whereabouts and the route they were taking. The company ate its dinner cold, fearing that a fire might attract attention. But the general mood was light and the conversation was enjoyable. Shea took this opportunity to speak with the two Elves. They were cousins of Eventine, chosen to accompany Allanon as representatives of the Elven kingdom and to aid him in his search for the Sword of Shannara. They were brothers, the elder called Durin, a slim, quiet Westlander who gave the instant impression to Shea and the ever–present Flick that he was a man to be trusted. The younger brother was Dayel, a shy, extremely likable fellow who was several years the junior of Shea. His boyish charm was strangely appealing to the elder members of the company, particularly Balinor and Hendel, battle–hardened veterans of so many years of protecting the frontiers of their homelands, who found his youth and fresh outlook on life almost like a second chance for them to regain something that had passed them by years before. Durin informed Shea that his brother had left their Elven home several days prior to his marriage to one of the most beautiful girls in that country. Shea would not have believed Dayel old enough to marry, and found it difficult to understand why anyone would leave on the eve of his marriage. Durin assured him that it had been his brother’s own choice, but Shea told Flick later that he believed that his relationship to the king had much to do with that decision. So now as the members of the company sat quietly and spoke in low tones to one another, all save the silent, aloof Hendel, Shea wondered how much the young Elf regretted his decision to leave his bride–to–be to come on this hazardous journey to Paranor. He found himself wishing inwardly that Dayel had not chosen to be a member of their party, but had remained safe within the protective confines of his own homeland.

Later that evening, Shea approached Balinor and asked him why Dayel had been allowed to come on such an expedition. The Prince of Callahorn smiled at the Valeman’s concern, thinking to himself that the difference in ages between the two was hardly noticeable to him. He told Shea that in a time when the homelands of so many people were threatened, no one stopped to question why another was there to aid them — it was merely accepted. Dayel had chosen to come because his King had asked it and because he would have felt less of a man in his own mind had he declined. Balinor explained that Hendel had been waging a constant battle with the Gnomes for years to protect his homeland. The responsibility was delegated to him because he was one of the most experienced and knowledgeable bordermen in the Eastland. He had a wife and family at home that he had seen once in the past eight weeks and could not expect to see again for many more. Everyone on the journey had a great deal to lose, he concluded, perhaps even more than Shea realized. Without explaining his final remark, the tall borderman moved off to speak with Allanon on other matters. Somewhat discontented by the abrupt finish to their conversation, Shea moved back to join Flick and the Elven brothers.

«What kind of person is Eventine?» Flick was asking as Shea joined the group. «I’ve always heard that he is considered the greatest of the Elven kings, respected by everyone. What is he really like?»

Durin smiled broadly and Dayel laughed merrily at the question, finding it somehow amusing and unexpected.

«What can we say about our own cousin?»

«He is a great King,” responded Durin seriously after a few moments. «Very young for a king, the other monarchs and leaders would say. But he has foresight, and most important of all, he gets things done before the time for doing them has passed. He holds the love and esteem of all the Elven people. They would follow him anywhere, do anything he asked, which is fortunate for all of us. The elders of our council would prefer to ignore the other lands, to try to remain isolated. Sheer foolishness, but they’re afraid of another war. Only Eventine stands against them and that policy. He knows that the only way to avoid the war they all fear is to strike first and cut off the head of the army which threatens. That is one reason why this mission is so important — to see that this invasion is checked before it has time to develop into a full–scale war.»

Menion had sauntered over from the other side of the small campsite and seated himself with them just in time to hear the last comment.

«What do you know of the Sword of Shannara?» he asked curiously.

«Very little actually,” admitted Dayel, «although for us it’s a matter of history rather than legend. The Sword has always represented a promise to the Elven people that they need never again fear the creatures from the spirit world. It was always assumed that the threat was finished with the conclusion of the Second War of the Races, so no one really concerned himself with the fact that the entire House of Shannara died out over the years, except for a few such as Shea whom no one knew about. Eventine’s family, our family, became rulers almost a hundred years ago — the Elessedils. The Sword remained at Paranor, forgotten by nearly everyone until now.»

«What is the power of the Sword?» persisted Menion, a little too eagerly to suit Flick, who shot Shea a warning glance.

«I don’t know the answer to that question,” Dayel admitted and looked to Durin who shrugged in response and shook his head. «Only Allanon seems to know that.»

They all looked momentarily toward the tall figure seated in earnest conversation with Balinor across the clearing. Then Durin turned to the others.

«It is fortunate that we have Shea, a son of the House of Shannara. He will be able to unlock the secret of the Sword’s power once we have it in our possession, and with that power we can strike at the Dark Lord before he can create the war that would destroy us.»

«If we get the Sword, you mean,” corrected Shea quickly. Durin acknowledged this comment with a short laugh of agreement and a reassuring nod.

«There s still something about all this that doesn’t set right,” Menion declared quietly, rising abruptly and moving off to find a place to sleep. Shea watched him go and found himself in agreement with the highlander, but was unable to see what they could hope to do about their dissatisfaction. Right now he felt that there was so little hope of their succeeding in their quest to regain the sword that for the moment he would concentrate on simply completing the journey to Paranor. For now, he did not even want to think about what might happen after that.

The company was awake and back on the winding path with the breaking of the dawn, led by a watchful Hendel. The Dwarf moved them along at a rapid pace through the mass of great trees and heavy foliage that had grown increasingly dense as they penetrated deeper into the Anar. The trail was beginning to slope upward, an indication that they were approaching the mountains that ran the length of the central Anar. At some point farther north they would be forced to cross these broad peaks in order to reach the plains to the west that lay between them and the halls of Paranor. Tension began to mount as they moved more deeply into the domain of the Gnome people. They began to experience the unpleasant sensation that someone was constantly watching them, hidden in the denseness of the forest, waiting for the right moment to strike. Only Hendel seemed unconcerned as he led them, his own fears apparently eased by his familiarity with the terrain. No one spoke as they marched, all eyes searching the silent forest about them.

About midday, the path turned sharply upward and the company began to climb. The trees now grew farther apart and the scrub foliage was less congested. The sky became clearly visible through the trees, a deep blue unbroken by even the faintest trace of a cloud wisp. The sun was warm and bright, shining bravely through the scattered trees to light the whole of the forest. Rocks began to appear in small dusters and they could see the land ahead rise in tall peaks and jutting ridges that signaled the beginning of the southern sector of the mountains in the central Anar. The air became steadily cooler as they climbed and breathing became more difficult. After several hours, the company reached the edge of a very dense forest of dead pines, clustered so closely that it was impossible to see for more than twenty or thirty feet ahead at any one place. On both sides of their path, tall, slab–rock cliffs rose hundreds of feet into the air and peaked against the blueness of the afternoon sky. The forest stretched several hundred yards in either direction, ending at the cliff walls. At the edge of the pines, Hendel called a brief halt and spoke for several minutes with Menion, pointing to the forest and then the cliffs, apparently questioning something. Allanon joined them, then motioned the remainder of the company to gather around in a close circle.

«The mountains we are about to cross into are the Wolfsktaag, a no–man’s–land for both Dwarf and Gnome,” Hendel explained quietly. «We chose this way because there was less chance of meeting up with a Gnome hunting patrol, something that would certainly result in a pitched battle. The Wolfsktaag Mountains are said to be inhabited by creatures from another world — a good joke, isn’t it?»

«Get to the point,” Allanon broke in.

«The point is,” Hendel continued, seemingly oblivious of the dark historian, «we were spotted about fifteen minutes back by one or possibly two Gnome scouts. There may be more around, we can’t be certain — the highlander says he saw signs of a large party. In any event, the scouts will report us and bring back help in a hurry, so we’ll have to move fast.»

«Worse than that!» declared Menion quickly. «Those signs said there are Gnomes ahead of us somewhere — through those trees or in them.»

«Maybe so, maybe not, highlander,” Hendel cut back in sharply. «These trees run like this for almost a mile and the cliffs continue on both sides, but narrow sharply beyond the forest to form the Pass of Noose, the entrance to the Wolfsktaag. That is the way we have to go. To try any other route would cost us two more days, and we would be risking an almost certain run–in with Gnomes.»

«Enough debate,” Allanon said fiercely. «Let’s move out quickly. Once we reach the other side of the pass, we’ll be in the mountains. The Gnomes will not follow us there.»

«Encouraging, I’m sure,” muttered Flick under his breath.

The company moved into the thickly clustered trees of the pine forest, following one another in single file, weaving among the rough, disjointed trunks. Dead needles lay in heaps over the whole of the earthen forest floor, creating a soft matting on which the passing of feet made no sound. The white–bark trees rose tall and lean, touching near their skeletal tops like some intricate spider web, lacing the blueness of the clear sky in fascinating designs. The party wound steadily forward through the maze of trunks and limbs behind Hendel, who chose their route quickly and without hesitation. They had not gone more than several hundred yards when Durin brought them up sharply and motioned for silence, looking questioningly about, apparently searching the air for something.

«Smoke!» he exclaimed suddenly. «They’ve set fire to the forest!»

«I don’t smell any smoke,” declared Menion, sniffing the air tentatively.

«You don’t have the sharpened senses of an Elf either,” Allanon. stated flatly. He turned to Durin. «Can you tell where they’ve fired it?»

«I smell smoke, too,” declared Shea absently, amazed that his own senses were as sharp as those of the Elves.

Durin cast about for a minute, trying to catch the scent of smoke from one particular direction.

«Can’t tell, but it appears that they’ve fired it in more than one place. If they have, the forest will go up in a matter of minutes!»

Allanon hesitated for one brief second, then motioned for them to continue toward the Pass of Noose. The pace picked up considerably as they hastened to reach the other side of the firetrap in which they were encased. A blaze in those dry woods would quickly cut off any chance of escape once it spread through the treetops. The long strides of Allanon and the borderman forced Shea and Flick to run to keep from falling behind. Allanon shouted something to Balinor at one point in the race, and the broad figure dropped back into the trees and was lost from sight. Ahead of them, Menion and Hendel had disappeared, and there were only fleeting glimpses of the Even brothers dashing smoothly between the leaning pines. Only Allanon stayed clearly in view, a few paces behind, calling to them to run faster. Thick clouds of heavy white smoke were beginning to seep between the closely bunched trunks like a heavy fog, obscuring the path ahead and making it steadily more difficult to breathe. There was still no sign of the actual fire. It had not yet grown strong enough to spread through the intertwining boughs and cut them off. The smoke was everywhere in a matter of minutes, and both Shea and Flick coughed heavily with every breath, their eyes beginning to sting from the heat and irritation. Suddenly Allanon called to them to halt. Reluctantly they stopped and waited for the order to continue, but Allanon appeared to be looking back for something, his lean, dark face strangely ashen in the thick white smoke. Soon the broad figure of Balinor reappeared from the forest behind them, wrapped tightly in the long hunting cloak.

«You were right, they’re behind us,” he informed the historian, gasping out the words as he fought for breath. «They’ve fired the forest all along our backs. It looks like a trap to drive us into the Pass of Noose.»

«Stay with them,” Allanon ordered quickly, pointing to the frightened Valemen. «I’ve got to catch the others before they reach the pass!»

With incredible speed for a man so big, the tall leader leaped away and dashed into the trees ahead, disappearing almost immediately. Balinor motioned for the Valemen to follow him, and they proceeded at a rapid pace in the same direction, fighting to see and to breathe in the choking smoke. Then, with frightening suddenness, they heard the sharp crackle of burning wood and the smoke began to billow past them in huge, blinding clouds of white heat. The fire was overtaking them. In a few minutes it would reach them and they would be burned alive! Coughing furiously, the three crashed heedlessly through the pines, desperate to escape the inferno in which they had been caught. Shea shot a quick glance skyward, and to his horror saw the flames leaping madly from the tops of the tall pines above and beyond them, burning their glowing way steadily down the long trunks.

Then abruptly, the impenetrable stone wall of the cliffs appeared through the smoke and the trees, and Balinor motioned them in that direction. Minutes later, as they groped their way along the cliff face, they saw the remainder of the company crouched in a clearing beyond the fringe of the burning trees. Ahead lay an open trail that wound upward into the rocks between the cliffs and disappeared into the Pass of Noose. The three quickly joined the others as the entire forest was enveloped in flames.

«They’re trying to force us to choose between roasting in that pine forest or trying to get through the pass,” shouted Allanon over the crackle of burning wood, looking anxiously toward the trail ahead. «They know we have only two ways to go, but they’re facing the same choice and that’s where they lose the advantage. Durin, go on ahead into the pass a little way and see if the Gnomes have set an ambush»

The Elf darted away without a sound, crouching low and keeping close to the cliff wall. They watched him until he had disappeared farther up the trail into the rocks. Shea huddled with the others, wishing that there was something he could do to help.

«The Gnomes are not fools.» Allanon’s voice cut into his thoughts abruptly. «Those in the pass know that they are cut off from those who fired the forest unless they can get by us first. They wouldn’t risk having to retreat back through the Wolfsktaag Mountains for any reason. Either there is a large force of Gnomes in the pass ahead, which Durin should be able to tell us, or they’ve got something else in mind.»

«Whatever it is, they’ll probably try it in the section called the Knot,” Hendel informed them. «At that point the trail narrows so that only one man at a time can get through the path formed by the converging cliff sides.» He paused and appeared to be considering something further.

«I don’t understand how they plan to stop us,” Balinor cut in quickly. «These cliffs are almost vertical — no one could scale them without a long and hazardous climb. The Gnomes haven’t had time to get up there since they spotted us!»

Allanon nodded thoughtfully, obviously in agreement with the borderman and unable to see what the Gnomes had in store for them. Menion Leah spoke quietly to Balinor, then abruptly left the group and moved ahead to the entrance of the pass where the cliff walls began to narrow sharply, scanning the ground intently. The heat of the burning woods had become so intense that they were forced to move farther into the mouth of the pass. Everything was still obscured by the clouds of white smoke which rolled out of the dying woods like a wall and dispersed sluggishly into the air. Long moments passed while the six awaited the return of Menion and Durin. They could still see the lean highlander studying the ground at the entrance to the pass, his tall form shadowy in the smoke–filled air. Finally, he stood up and moved back to them, joined almost immediately by the returning Elf.

«There were footprints, but no other sign of life in the pass ahead,” Durin reported. «Everything is apparently undisturbed up to the narrowest point. I didn’t go beyond.»

«There is something else,” Menion cut in quickly. «At the entrance to the pass, I found two clear sets of footprints leading in and two sets out — Gnome feet.»

«They must have slipped in ahead of us and then, out again by staying close to the cliff walls while we blundered up the middle,” Balinor said angrily. «But if they were in there ahead of us, what…?»

«We won’t find out by sitting here and discussing it!» Allanon concluded in disgust. «We would only be guessing. Hendel, take the lead with the highlander and watch yourself. The rest stay in formation as before.»

The stocky Dwarf moved out with Menion at his side, their sharp eyes keyed in on every boulder that lined the winding path as it narrowed into the Pass of Noose. The others followed several paces back, casting apprehensive glances at the rugged terrain surrounding them. Shea risked one quick look behind him and noticed that, while Allanon was close on his heels, Balinor was nowhere in sight. Apparently, Allanon had again left the borderman to act as a rear guard at the edge of the burning pine forest, to watch for the inevitable approach of the Gnome hunters lurking somewhere beyond. Shea knew instinctively that they were caught in a trap carefully arranged for them by the furtive Gnomes, and all that remained was to discover what form it would take.

The path ahead rose sharply for the first hundred yards or so, then tapered off gradually and narrowed to such an extent that there was only enough room for one person to pass between the cliff sides. The pass was no more than a deep niche in the face of the cliff, the sides slanting inward and almost closing far above them. Only a thin ribbon of light from the blue sky streamed downward to reach them, faintly lighting the winding, boulder–laden path ahead. Their progress slowed perceptibly as the lead men searched for traps left by the Gnomes. Shea had no idea how far Durin had gone in his scouting mission, but apparently he had not ventured into what Hendel had referred to as the Knot. He could guess where the name had originated. The narrowness of the passage left the sharp impression of being drawn through the knot of a hangman’s noose to the same fate as that which awaited the condemned. He could hear Flick’s labored breathing almost in his ear and experienced an unpleasant feeling of suffocation at the closeness of the rock walls. The group moved slowly onward, slightly bent to avoid the narrowed cliff sides and their razor–sharp stone projections.

Suddenly, the pace slowed further and the whole line crowded together. Behind him, Shea heard the deep voice of Allanon muttering angrily, demanding to know what had happened, asking excitedly to be let to the front. But in these close quarters it was impossible for anyone to give way. Shea peered ahead and noticed a sharp ray of light beyond the leaders. Apparently the path was widening at last. They were nearly free of the Pass of Noose. But then, just as Shea felt they had reached the safety of the other end, there were loud exclamations and the entire line came to a complete stop. Menion’s voice cut through the semidarkness in surprise and anger, causing Allanon to mutter a low oath of fury and order the company to move ahead. For a moment nothing happened. Then slowly the company began to inch forward, moving into a wide clearing shadowed by the cliff sides as they parted abruptly into a sky of sunshine.

«I was afraid of this,” Hendel was muttering to himself as Shea followed Dayel out of the niche. «I had hoped that the Gnomes had failed to explore this far into their taboo land. It appears, highlander, that they have us trapped.»

Shea stepped out into the light on a level rock shelf where the others in the company stood talking in hushed tones of anger and frustration. Allanon emerged at almost the same moment, and together they surveyed the scene before them. The rock shelf on which they stood extended out from the opening of the Pass of Noose about fifteen feet to form a small ledge that dropped abruptly into a yawning chasm hundreds of feet deep. Even in the bright sunlight, it appeared to be bottomless. The cliff walls spread outward from their backs to form a half circle around the chasm and then slanted away brokenly, giving way to the heavy forests that began several hundred yards beyond. The chasm, a trick of nature by all appearances, bore the distinct shape of a jagged noose. There was no way around it. On the other side of the fissure dangled the remains of what had previously been some sort of rope and wood bridge which had served as the only means by which travelers could cross. Eight pairs of eyes scanned the sheer walls of the cliffs, seeking a means to scale their slick surfaces. But it was all too apparent that the only way to the other side was directly across the open pit before them.

«The Gnomes knew what they were doing when they destroyed the bridge!» Menion fumed to no one in particular. «They’ve left us trapped between them and this bottomless hole. They don’t even have to come in after us. They can wait until we starve to death. How stupid…»

He trailed off in fury. They all knew they had been foolish in allowing themselves to be tricked into entering such a simple, but effective trap. Allanon moved to the edge of the chasm, peered intently into its depths and then scanned the terrain on the other side, searching for a means to cross.

«If it were a bit more narrow or if I had a little more running room, I might be able to jump it,” volunteered Durin hopefully. Shea estimated the distance across to be easily thirty–five feet. He shook his head doubtfully. Even if Durin had been the best jumper in the world, he would have questioned such an attempt under these conditions.

«Wait a minute!» Menion cried suddenly, leaping to Allanon’s side and pointing off to the north. «How about that old tree hanging off the cliff side on the left?»

Everyone looked eagerly, unable to understand what the highlander was suggesting. The tree of which he spoke grew embedded in the cliff face to the left almost a hundred and fifty yards away from them. Its gray shape hung starkly against the clear sky, its branches leafless and bare, dipping heavily downward like the tired limbs of some weary giant frozen in midstride. It was the only tree that anyone could see on the rock–strewn path that led away from the chasm and disappeared below the cliff sides into the forests beyond. Shea looked with the others but could see no help from that corner.

«If I could put an arrow into that tree with a line tied to it, someone light could go across hand over hand and secure the rope for the rest of us,” the Prince of Leah suggested, gripping in his left hand the great ash bow.

«That shot is over a hundred yards,” replied Allanon testily. «With the added weight of a line tied to the arrow, you would have to make the world’s greatest shot just to get it there, not to mention embedding it in the tree deep enough to hold a man’s weight. I don’t think it can be done.»

«Well, we had better come up with something or we can forget the Sword of Shannara and everything else,” growled Hendel, his craggy face flushed with anger.

«I have an idea,” Flick ventured suddenly, taking a step forward as he spoke. Everyone looked at the stocky Valeman as if they were just seeing him for the first time and had forgotten that he was even along.

«Well, all right, don’t keep it to yourself!» exclaimed Menion impatiently. «What is it, Flick?»

«If there were an expert bowman in the group —” Flick shot Menion a venomous look “— he might be able to put an arrow with a line into the wood fragments of the bridge hanging on the other side and pull it back across to this side.»

«That is an idea worth trying!» agreed Allanon quickly. «Now who…»

«I can handle it,” Menion said quickly, glaring at Flick.

Allanon nodded shortly, and Hendel produced a stout cord which Menion Leah fastened securely about the tip of an arrow, tying the loose end to his wide leather belt. He fitted the arrow to the great ash bow and sighted. All eyes peered across the chasm to the length of rope secured at the edge on the other side. Menion followed the length of rope downward into the darkness of the pit until he spotted a piece of wood hanging about thirty feet below, still fastened to the broken bridge tie. The company watched breathlessly as he drew back the great ash bow, sighted quickly, surely, and released the arrow with a sharp snap. The arrow shot into the cavern and embedded itself in the wood, the cord dangling limply from the tip.

«Nice shooting, Menion,” Durin approved at his shoulder, and the lean highlander smiled.

Carefully, the bridge was pulled back across until the severed rope ends were gathered in. Allanon looked in vain for something to secure it, but the spikes that had held it had been removed by the Gnomes. Finally, Hendel and Allanon braced themselves at the edge of the chasm and pulled the bridge rope taut while Dayel worked his way hand over hand across the yawning pit, carrying a second rope at his; waist. There were a few anxious moments as the, black–robed giant and the silent Dwarf held firm against the strain, but in the end Dayel stood safely on the other side. Balinor reappeared and informed them that the fire was beginning to burn itself out and the Gnome hunters would soon be making their way into the Pass of Noose. Hastily, the rope that Dayel carried was thrown back across after he had finished securing, his end, and its longer length was run back into the jutting rocks at the entrance of the pass and fastened in place; The remaining members of the company proceeded to cross the chasm in the same fashion as Dayel, one by one, hand over hand in succession, until all stood safely on the far side. Then the rope was cut and dropped into the pit along with the remainder of the old bridge, to make certain that they could not be followed.

Allanon ordered the company to move out quietly to avoid warning the approaching Gnomes that they had made good their escape from the carefully laid trap. Before they left, however, the tall historian approached Flick, placed a lean, dark hand on his shoulder, and smiled grimly.

«Today, my friend, you have earned the right to be a member of this company — a right above and beyond your kinship for your brother.»

He turned away abruptly and signaled Hendel to take the lead. Shea looked at Flick’s flushed and happy face; and clapped his brother warmly on the back. He had indeed earned the right to stand along with the others — a right that Shea had perhaps not yet acquired.