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

Obat came up to Panax and began talking to him immediately. Panax listened, then replied, using the ancient Dwarf tongue he had employed successfully when they had first met. Obat listened and shook his head no. Panax tried again, pointing back in the direction from which they had come. It was clear to Quentin that he was telling Obat about the intruders from the airships. But Obat didn’t like what he was hearing.

Exasperation written all over his face, Panax turned to the Highlander. “I told him we have to move quickly, that the belongings must be left behind. As it is, it will take everything we have to move this bunch to safety without having to deal with all this stuff. But Obat says this is all his people have left. They won’t leave it.”

He turned to Kian. “Go back up the trail with a couple of the Rindge and keep watch.”

The Elven Hunter turned without a word, beckoned a couple of the Rindge to come with him, and disappeared into the trees at a quick trot.

Panax turned back to Obat and tried again. This time he made unmistakable gestures indicating what would happen if the Rindge were too slow in the attempt to escape. His broad face was flushed and angry, and his voice was raised. Obat stared at him, impassive.

We’re wasting time, Quentin thought suddenly. Time we don’t have.

“Panax,” he said. The Dwarf turned. “Tell them to pick up their things and start walking. We can’t take time to argue about this any longer. Let them find out for themselves whether or not it’s worth it to haul their possessions. Set a pace the women and children can follow and go. Leave me a dozen Rindge. I’ll see what I can do to slow our pursuers down.”

The Dwarf gave him a hard look and then nodded. “All right, Highlander. But I’m staying, as well. Don’t argue the matter. As you say, we don’t have time for it.”

He spoke quickly to Obat, who turned to his people and began shouting orders. The Rindge assembled at once, belongings in place. Led by a handful of armed men, they set out along a narrow forest path into the hills, moving silently and purposefully. Quentin was surprised at how swiftly they got going. There was no hesitation, no confusion. Everyone seemed to know what to do. Perhaps they had done it before. Perhaps they were better prepared for the move than Panax thought.

In seconds, the clearing was empty of everyone but Quentin, Panax, and a dozen or so Rindge warriors. Obat had chosen to stay, as well. Quentin wasn’t sure this was a good idea, since Obat was clearly the leader of the tribe and losing him might prove disastrous. But it wasn’t his decision to make, so he left it alone.

He turned to look off in the direction of the ruins, wondering how much time they had before the Mwellrets and those hunched creatures discovered them. Perhaps it wouldn’t happen as quickly as he feared. There would be other tracks to distract them, other trails to follow. They might choose one that would lead them in another direction entirely. But he didn’t believe that for a minute.

He thought about his failures on his journey from the Highlands of Leah, of his missed opportunities and questionable choices. He had set out with such high hopes. He had thought himself capable of dictating the direction of his life. He had been wrong. In the end, it had been all he could do to stay afloat in the sea of confusion that surrounded him. He could not even determine whom he would use the magic of his vaunted sword to protect. He could use it to help only those whom fate placed within his reach, and maybe not even those.

The Rindge were among them. He could leave them and go on, because in the end they didn’t really have anything to do with him, his reasons for coming to Parkasia, or his promise to Bek. If anything, they were a hindrance. If he was to have any chance at all of catching up to one of the airships and finding a way out of this land, speed might make the difference. But in the wake of his failure to save Tamis or Ard Patrinell or to find Bek, he felt a compelling need to succeed in helping someone. The Rindge were giving him that opportunity. He could not make himself walk away from it. He could not let anyone else be hurt because of him.

He would do what he could for those he was in a position to help. If helping the Rindge was what fate had given him the chance to do, that would have to be enough.

Panax walked up beside him. “What happens now, Quentin Leah? How do we stop those things back there from catching up to Obat’s people?”

The Highlander only wished he knew.





Nine


When Ahren Elessedil regained consciousness, he found himself lying on his side in Castledown’s rubble looking at the boots of his captors. His hands were tied behind his back, and his head ached from the blow he had received. Even without having witnessed the particulars, he knew at once what had happened and was awash in despair and frustration. He had stumbled into a Mwellret trap, one set for him as he tried to move through the ruins with Ryer Ord Star. How could he have been so stupid? After what he had gone through to retrieve the Elfstones and escape Castledown, how could he have allowed himself to be caught so completely unawares?