Revelations surfaced like the ocean's dead, stark and bare. She saw a battle within Old World ruins, a battle in which the Druid and his company were assaulted on all sides by lines of red fire that burned and seared. Walls shifted, raising from and lowering into smooth metal floors. Creepers appeared from nowhere, metal monsters on skittering legs with claws that rent and tore. Men fought and died in a swirl of thick smoke and spurts of fire. Seen through Ryer Ord Star's eyes, filtered through her emotions, everything was chaotic and awash in fear and desperation.
Amid the madness, the Druid advanced past lines of attack and changes in terrain, his steady, deliberate progress aided by his magic and buttressed by his courage and determination. Say what you would, the Druid had never been a coward. He fought his way into the heart of the ruins, shouting in vain for the others of his company to fall back, to flee, trying to keep them alive. At last he gained the doorway to a black tower, forced an entry, and disappeared inside.
Ryer Ord Star screamed and started after him, then was struck by the fire and sent pinwheeling into a wall. Her thoughts of the Druid faded, then went black.
The Ilse Witch took her fingers from the seer's temples and sat back on her heels, perplexed. Interesting. The communication had come without words of any sort and with no resistance at all. Was this the nature of empaths, that they could neither dissemble nor conceal? She found herself wondering at the girl's pursuit of the Druid, galvanized by the latter's disappearance into the tower. Why would she risk herself so? The girl had been instructed to stay close to the Druid at all times, to make herself indispensable to him, to gain his confidence and his ear. Clearly she had done so. But was there something more between them, something that went beyond the charge she had been given as the Ilse Witch's spy?
There was no way to know. Not without damaging the girl, and she wasn't prepared to go to that length just yet. She had what she wanted for now-a clear picture of what had befallen those from the company of the Jerle Shannara who had gone inland with the Druid. She could not be certain of the Druid's fate, however. Perhaps he was dead. Perhaps he was trapped beneath the ruins. Whatever the case, he did not present any danger to her. Without an airship to carry him off and with most of his company dead or imprisoned, he could do little harm.
She had time for the boy, then. Enough, that she did not need to consider the matter further.
No more than a handful of minutes passed before Cree Bega and his company of Mwellrets appeared out of the gloom, heavy bodies trudging warily through the forest dark, slitted eyes glittering as they caught sight of her. Repulsive creatures! she thought, but she kept her face expressionless. She rose to meet them and stood waiting on their approach.
"Misstress," their leader, her designated protector, hissed, bowing obsequiously. "Have you found the little peopless?"
"I have decided to leave that to you, Cree Bega. To you and your companions. There has been a battle in the ruins ahead, and those of the Druid's company who are not dead are scattered. Find them and make them your prisoners. That includes the Druid, should you come upon him and find him helpless enough to subdue."
"Misstress, I thinkss-"
"Be careful otherwise, because he is more than a match for all of you put together." She ignored his attempt to speak. "Leave him to me if you find he is able to defend himself. Do not go into the ruins; they are well protected. Do not expose yourself or your men to the danger they pose. Keep a close watch over both airships and do not land them under any circumstances."
He was watching her closely now, realizing that she had already removed herself from everything she was instructing him to do.
"Something has come up that I must investigate." She held his reptilian eyes with her steady, calm gaze. "I will be gone for a time, and while I am gone, you will be in charge. Do not fail me."
For a moment there was no response and she thought he had not understood. "Am I clear on this?"
"Where iss it my misstress goess?" he asked softly. "Our mission iss here-"
"Our mission is where I say it is, Cree Bega."
Something in the Mwellret's cold gaze turned suddenly dangerous. "Your masster would not approve of thiss diverssion . . ."
Two quick steps placed her right in front of him. "My master?" There was an uncomfortable silence as she waited on his reply. He stared at her in silence. "I have no master, ret," she whispered. "You have a master, not I, and he is not here in any case. I am the one you must answer to. I am your mistress. Is there anything else that I need to explain?"
The Mwellret said nothing, but she did not care for what she found in his eyes. She gave him a moment more, then repeated softly, "Is there?"
He shook his head. "Ass you wissh, misstress. Little peopless will be our prissonerss on your return, I promiss. But what of the treassure?"