THE VOYAGE OF THE JERLE SHANNARA : Morgawr (BOOK THREE)

“Maybe. Maybe not. They tracked us easily enough from home and then inland here. The only time they had any real trouble was after you crashed. That doesn’t sound like an evasion tactic you want to employ regularly.”


Alt Mer grunted noncommittally as he looked out over the railing at the darkness behind them, finding phantoms in the movement of the clouds against the mountains. The Wing Rider was right. He had no reason to think they could evade the Morgawr forever. Their best chance lay in putting as much distance between themselves and their pursuers as they could manage. Speed would make the difference as to whether they would escape or be forced to turn and fight. Speed was what the Jerle Shannara offered in quantities that not even Black Moclips could match.

“One other thing,” Hunter Predd said, taking his arm and leading him over to the far corner of the aft deck. There was no one else around now. Even Bek and the Elven Prince had gone below. “We found the seer’s body.”

Redden Alt Mer sighed. “Where?”

“Floating in the ocean some miles west of here. All broken up and cut to pieces. I wouldn’t have known she was down there if not for Obsidian. Rocs can see things men can’t.”

He looked at Alt Mer with his hard, weathered eyes and shook his head. “You tell young Elessedil about her, if you can manage it. I can’t. I’ve given out all the bad news I care to.”

He squeezed Alt Mer’s arm hard and walked away. Moments later, he was down the rope and back astride Obsidian, winging away into the darkness. Redden Alt Mer stood alone at the railing and wished he were going with him.





Twenty-seven

Flying through the night, the Jerle Shannara reached the tip of the peninsula at dawn. The Wing Riders had flown ahead to scout for resistance to her passage and had not encountered the Morgawr’s airships. With no sign of their pursuers to discourage them, they set out across the Blue Divide for home.

From the first, they knew the return would be a journey of more than six months, and that was only if everything went well. Any disruption of their flying schedule, anything that forced them to land, would extend the time of their flight accordingly. So a certain pacing was necessary, and Redden Alt Mer wasted no time in advising those aboard of what that meant. They were down to thirteen in number, and of those, two were incapable of helping the others. Nor could Rue Meridian be expected to do much in the way of physical labor for at least several more weeks. Nor were the Wing Riders of much use in flying the airship, since they were needed aboard their Rocs to forage for food and water and to scout for pursuers.

That left eight able-bodied men—Spanner Frew; the Rover crew members Kelson Riat, Britt Rill, and Jethen Amenades; the Elves Ahren Elessedil and Kian; Bek Ohmsford; and himself. While Bek would be of great help to the five Rovers in flying the airship, the Elves lacked the necessary skills and experience and would have to be relegated to basic tasks.

It was a small group to man an airship twenty-four hours a day for six months. For them to manage, they were going to have to be well organized and extraordinarily lucky. Alt Mer could do nothing about the latter, so he turned his attention to the former.

He set about his task by drawing up a duty roster for the eight men he could rely upon, splitting time between the Elves so that there would never be more than one of them on watch at a time. At least three men were needed to sail the Jerle Shannara safely, so he drew up a rotating schedule of eight-hour shifts, putting two men on the midnight-to-dawn shift when the airship would be mostly at rest. It was not a perfect solution, but it was the best he could come up with. Rue was the only one who complained, but he deflected her anger by telling her that she could handle the navigation, which would keep her involved with sailing the vessel and not relegate her to tender of the wounded.