On setting out that morning, Rue Meridian had braided her long red hair and tied it back with a length of brightly colored cord. She tightened the cord now, checked the daggers in her belt and boot, and swung aboard Obsidian. Hunter Predd took a seat in front of her, spoke softly to the Roc, and they lifted off. Gliding skyward into the black, they rose until the dark silhouette of the airship melted into the surface of the bay so completely that Rue Meridian could no longer see it. She was still trying to make it out, when Hunter Predd signaled to her over his shoulder that they were there.
Hand over hand, they slid from their seats down the pickup rope, a thick, knotted stretch of rough hemp that fell away into blackness. From high above everything, the entire world looked like a black hole save where the horizon could be glimpsed. Little Red felt her heart stop and her stomach clench as she went down the rope. She was unable to see anything, even Hunter Predd, who was descending below her. She felt herself swaying, and she couldn't tell if Obsidian was moving or not. Could Rocs hover? She would have given anything for a glimpse of something solid, but there was nothing to see.
Below, all was silent, even the Wing Rider in his descent. She listened carefully for her own sounds, working to muffle everything, but the silence only added to her sense of isolation and helplessness.
She had to fight to keep from panicking when the rope ran out and Hunter Predd wasn't there. Then a gloved hand gripped her boot and pulled her into the rigging of Black Mo-dips. She seized the cluster of draws and stays, pulling herself in tightly, and released the pickup rope. In an instant, it was gone, and Obsidian with it.
Clinging to the rigging of the airship, Hunter Predd so close she could hear him breathing, she took a moment to orient herself. After her eyes adjusted, she concluded that they were hanging from high on the rear mast, rocking gently with the slow sway of the airship. They could not stay there because the moment the clouds broke and the moon reappeared, they would be silhouetted clearly against the night sky to the watch below.
Drawing Hunter Predd close, she gestured downward, indicating what they must do. Slowly, but steadily, pressing herself close to the mast to stay hidden, she found the first of the iron rungs that formed hand-and footholds, then began her descent. The climb down took an enormous amount of time and energy, more of the latter than it would have taken had she been whole. Her wounds ached, irritated by the strain of physical exertion and mental concentration alike. She looked up and saw Hunter Predd directly above her, following her down. His descent was noiseless and smooth. He was better equipped for it than she.
When she got close enough to the deck to see who was set at watch, she paused. She found a pair of guards fore and aft-by their build and carriage, Federation soldiers. There was no one in the pilot box, but a third man paced the decks, moving back and forth between the pontoons and the masts, a restless, uneasy shadow. She caught a momentary glimpse of his whipcord frame and gaunt face as he passed through a sliver of starlight, and she started in surprise. Did she know him? She thought so. She glanced upward to where Hunter Predd clung to the iron rungs and motioned for him to stay put.
Then she descended another few feet and dropped softly to the decking, sliding into the shadow of a weapons rack. The guards never even looked her way. She watched the pacer a few moments longer, waiting for him to pass close, for his back to be turned; then she straightened and walked directly toward him. She was almost on top of him before he sensed her presence and turned.
By then she had a dagger at his throat and was standing close enough to see who he was.
"Well met, Donell Brae," she said quietly, her free hand taking a firm grip on his arm. "No loud noises, please. No sudden moves."
His seamed, weathered face broke into an ironic grin. "I told them it was a bad idea to leave you on your own ship, captive or no."
"Someone should have listened to you. So now you listen to me. The Jerle Shannara's mine again, Big Red's and mine. But we lost Hawk, and I'm looking to pay someone back for that. Is she here?"
He blinked. "The witch? She's ashore, looking for the Druid." The washed-out blue eyes, so familiar, gave her a considering look. "Stay away from her, Little Red. She's poison."
Rue Meridian gave his throat a nudge with the dagger's tip, and he grunted. "She hasn't discovered what real poison is yet. Who else is here? Does Aden Kett command?"
Donell Brae nodded.
"Stupid choice for both of you."
"Not always a matter of choice, Little Red."
"Fair enough. But you have one now. Do what I tell you, and you can stay alive." She nudged him again with the dagger, forcing his head all the way back. "I always liked you, Donell. I wouldn't want our friendship to end badly."
He swallowed against the dagger tip. "What do you want?"
"Who's aboard besides you?"
"If you don't move that dagger away, I'll cut my own throat trying to answer."
She moved the blade down to his sternum. "Keep your hands at your sides. Any weapons on you?"