The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

Nothing.

She nodded to Trefen Morys and motioned him ahead. He moved reluctantly, woodenly, and she seized his shoulder to make certain he wasn’t going into shock. He gasped in pain and glanced quickly at her, then took a deep breath and nodded that he was ready. She released him with a gentle shove and watched him start down.

She waited until he was out of sight around the bend in the stairs, then followed, creeping on cat’s paws along the rough expanse of the curved wall, one of the daggers out and resting loosely in her hand. Halfway there, she thought. But the second pair might pose more of a challenge. She would have to silence them one at a time, and that wouldn’t be easy. Bek might be ready or he might not, but the suddenness of a rescue like this one could throw your thinking off, no matter how formidable your skills. Bek was brave, but he did not have her experience at close combat. Though he had grown considerably during their journey to Parkasia, that had been twenty years ago and she was willing to bet that he had already forgotten much of what he had learned. Nor had he practiced with the wishsong in the intervening years. He had disdained to use it, preferring to leave that part of his life behind him. In spite of her own dislike and mistrust of the magic, she wished he had not been so insistent on ignoring his gift.

Well, that was the way of things, she supposed. Hindsight always suggested how you might have been better prepared.

She edged forward as the light grew slightly stronger near the bottom of the steps. Ahead, she heard Trefen Morys’s voice and the responding growl of the Gnome Hunter on watch. She slid around the curve in the wall so that she could see them. The Gnome had his back to her. So far, so good.

She came up behind him swiftly and killed him with a single thrust of the dagger.

At which point Trefen Morys threw up. The retching sound reverberated down the corridor and instantly brought a sharp query from the near darkness. Leaping past the young Druid, Rue raced ahead, sliding free the other dagger as she ran, no longer bothering with stealth; speed was all that mattered. Ahead, there was movement at the edge of the light, and she saw the final guard peering at her through the smoky torchlit gloom, crossbow at the ready. She threw herself flat as the weapon swung up and heard the whir of the bolt as it shot past her, ricocheted off the stone walls, and fell harmlessly to the floor farther on. She was up and running again, watching her adversary wind back the string and insert another bolt with quick, practiced movements. This one was well trained, dangerous.

The crossbow came up, and she threw herself down a second time. But this time the Gnome did not fire at her. Instead, as soon as she was down he wheeled toward the cell door in front of him, grappling to release the heavy locking bolt. Rue was on her feet instantly, realizing at once what he intended. His orders in this situation were clear. She heard the locking bolt slide free and the cell door swing open. The guard brought up the crossbow a second time. She was still too far away to stop him, so she screamed at him, then hurtled the dagger as hard as she could. There wasn’t enough force behind the throw to injure him, but the heavy blade ripped through his leather tunic, causing him to jerk back.

Then Bek Ohmsford was hurtling through the open cell door and slamming into the Gnome. The crossbow released, the bolt flew into the ceiling and dropped harmlessly. The Southlander and the Gnome went down in a heap, tumbling across the floor, arms and legs entangled. Rue put on a burst of speed, drawing the long knife from her belt. Ahead of her, the flat surface of a blade caught the light as it swept down. Someone cried out, and then she was on top of the fighters, screaming in rage, burying her own blade deep into the Gnome Hunter’s back, driving it all the way through him.

The Gnome Hunter fell away, dead before his hands released their grip. Rue threw the body aside and knelt next to her husband, already seeing the red stain spreading across his tunic front. “No!” she hissed, and began trying to sort through the tangle of his clothes for the wound.

“Stop it, Rue!” He pushed her hands away, shaking his head. There was pain and frustration in his voice. “There’s no time. We have to get out of here.” He was already struggling to his feet, clutching his midsection. “I’m all right. He only scraped my ribs.”

“It’s more than that!” she snapped back. “Look at the blood!” Trefen Morys came pounding up, his black robes flying out behind him. He looked at Bek and turned white. “How bad is it?”

Bek shook his head. “Not now. Which way out? Can you get us to Swift Sure?”