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

Ahren shook his head. He had no idea who Bek might be with if it wasn’t Tamis or one of the other Elves.

The Morgawr came forward and reached out to touch his cheek. The cavern air turned colder with that touch, and its silence deepened. Ahren forced himself to stand his ground, to repress the repulsion and fear that the touch invoked in him. The touch lingered a moment and then withdrew like the sliding away of sweat.

“They brought the Druid here, down to the water’s edge, and left him for the shades of his ancestors to carry off.” The Morgawr’s satisfaction was palpable. “And so they did, it seems. They bore his corpse away with them, down into the waters of that lake. Walker is gone. All the Druids are gone. After all these years. All of them.”

His gaze shifted from Ahren. “Which leaves us with the witch,” he whispered, almost to himself. “She may not be as formidable as she once was, however. There is something wrong with her. I sense it in the way she moves, in the way she lets the other two lead her. She isn’t what she was. It felt to me, as I studied the traces of her passing, as if she was asleep.”

“Sshe dissembless,” Cree Bega offered softly. “Sshe sseekss to confusse uss.”

The Morgawr nodded. “Perhaps. She is clever. But what reason does she have to do so? She does not know of my presence yet. She does not know I’ve come for her. She has no reason to pretend at anything. Nor any reason to flee. Yet she is gone. Where?”

No one said anything for a moment. Even the caull had gone silent, crouched on the cavern floor, big head lowered, savage eyes gone to narrow slits as it waited to be told what to do.

“Perhapss sshe iss aboard the airsship,” Cree Bega suggested.

“Our enemies control Black Moclips,” the Morgawr replied. “They would seek to avoid her, Cree Bega. Besides, there was no time for her to reach them before they fled from us. No, she is afoot with the boy and whoever goes with him—his rescuer, from the ship. She is afoot and not far ahead of us.”

Suddenly he turned again to Ahren, and this time the sense of menace in his voice was so overpowering that it froze the boy where he was.

“Where are the Elfstones, Elven Prince?” the warlock whispered.

The question caught Ahren completely by surprise. He stared at the other wordlessly.

“You had them earlier, didn’t you?” The words pressed down against the boy like stones. “You used them back there in that chamber where the Druid was mortally wounded. You were there, trying to save him. Did you think I wouldn’t know? I sensed the Elfstone magic at once, found traces of its residue in the smells and tastes of the air. What happened to them, little boy?”

“I don’t know,” Ahren answered, unable to come up with anything better.

The Morgawr smiled at Cree Bega. “You searched him?”

“Yess, of coursse,” the Mwellret answered with a shrug. “Little Elvess did not have them.”

“Perhaps he hid them from you?”

“There wass no time for him to hide them. Hssst. Losst them, perhapss.”

The Morgawr took a moment to consider. “No. Someone else has them.” His gaze shifted quickly to Ryer Ord Star. “Our quiet little seer, perhaps?”

Cree Bega grunted. “Ssearched her, alsso. No sstoness.”

“Then our little witch has them. Or that boy she is with.” He paused. “Or the Druid carried them down with him into the netherworld, and no one will ever see them again.”

He did not seem bothered by that. He did not seem concerned at all. Ahren watched his flat, empty face look off a final time toward the underground lake. Then the sharp eyes flicked back to his.

“Boy, I have no further need of you.”

The chamber went so still that there might have been no one left alive, that even those who stood waiting to see what would happen next had been turned to stone. Ahren could feel the beating of his heart in his chest and the pulsing of his blood in his veins; he could hear the rasp of his breathing in his throat.

“Perhaps you do,” Ryer Ord Star said suddenly. They all turned to look at her, but her eyes were fixed on the Morgawr. “The Druid brought the prince on the journey because his brother the King insisted, but also because the Druid knew something of the prince’s worth beyond that. I have seen it in a vision. One day, Ahren Elessedil will be King of the Elves.”

She paused. “Perhaps, with training, he could learn to become your King.”

Ahren had never heard any such speculation, and he certainly didn’t like hearing it now, particularly given the twist that the seer was putting to it. He was so shocked he just stared at her, not trying to hide anything of what he was feeling, a mix of emotions so powerful he could barely contain them. Trust me, she had urged him. But what reason did he have for doing so now?