His travel west had been uneventful. All four days had passed without incident. The Highland cousins and the Dwarf had come down out of the Wolfsktaag after their encounter with Truls Rohk, spent what remained of the night and the early morning hours sleeping at Panax’s cabin, then packed their gear, collected their horses, and set out for Arborlon at midday. They traveled light, choosing to forgo pack animals and supplies, foraging on the way. There were countless settlements scattered across the Borderlands, and they had little difficulty obtaining what they needed. Their passage west was straightforward and unobstructed. They crossed the Rabb Plains above the Silver River, followed the north shore of the Rainbow Lake below the Runne, bypassed Varfleet and Tyrsis through Callahorn’s hill country to the flats above the Tirfing, then angled north along the Mermidon River toward the Valley of Rhenn. They traveled steadily, but without haste, the days clear and sunny and pleasant, the nights cool and still.
Not once did they catch sight of or hear from Truls Rohk. Panax said they wouldn’t, and he turned out to be right.
Their encounter with the shadowy, formidable Truls had left both Bek and Quentin shaken, and it wasn’t until the next day, when they were well away from Depo Bent and the Wolfsktaag, that they had felt comfortable enough to pursue the subject. By then, Panax was ready to tell them the rest of what he knew.
“Of course, he’s a man, just like you or me,” he replied to Bek’s inevitable question regarding what sort of creature Truls Rohk really was. “Well, not just like you or me, I guess, or anyone else I’ve ever come across. But he’s a man, not some beast or wraith. He was a Southlander once, before he went into the mountains to live. He came out of the border country below Varfleet, somewhere in the Runne. His people were trappers, poor migrants who lived close to the bone. He told me this once, long time ago. Never spoke of it again, though. Especially not the part about the fire.”
They were somewhere out on the Rabb by then, chasing the sun west, the daylight beginning to fade to twilight. Neither cousin spoke as the Dwarf paused in his narration to gather his thoughts.
“When he was about twelve, I guess, there was a fire. The boy was sleeping with the men in a makeshift shelter of dried skins and it caught fire. The others got out, but the boy ran the wrong way and got tangled up in the tent folds and couldn’t get free. The fire burned him so badly he was unrecognizable afterwards. They thought he was going to die; I think they thought it would be better if he did. But they did what they could for him, and it turned out to be just enough. He says he was a big lad in any case, very strong even then, and some part of him fought back against the pain and misery and kept him alive.
“So he lived, but he was disfigured so badly even his family couldn’t stand to look at him. I can’t imagine what that must have been like. He says he couldn’t look at himself. He kept away from everyone after that, trapping and hunting in the woods, avoiding other people, other places. When he was old enough to manage it, he set out on his own, intending to live apart from everyone. He was bitter and ashamed, and he says that what he really wanted was to die. He went east into the Wolfsktaag, having heard the stories of what lived there, thinking no other man would try living in such a place, so he could at least be alone for whatever time he had left.
“But something happened to him in those mountains—he won’t say what, won’t talk about it. It changed his way of thinking. He decided he wanted to live. He decided he wanted to be healed. He went to the Stors for medicines and balms, for whatever treatments they could offer, then began some sort of self-healing ritual. He won’t talk about that, either. I don’t know whether it worked or not. He says it did, but he still hides himself in that cloak and hood. I’ve never seen him clearly. Not his face, not any part of his body. I don’t think anyone has.”
“But there’s something else about him,” Bek interjected quickly. “You say he’s human, that he’s a man underneath, a man like you and me, but he doesn’t seem so. He doesn’t seem like any man I’ve ever come across.”
“No,” Panax agreed, “he doesn’t. And for good reason. I say he’s a man like you and me mostly so you don’t think he was born anything else. But he’s become something more, and it’s difficult to say just what that something is. A little of it, I know, I understand. He’s found a way of assimilating with the things that live in the Wolfsktaag, a way of becoming like they are. He’s able to shape-shift; I know that for a fact. He can take on the look and feel of animals and spirit creatures; he can become like they are—or, when he chooses, like the things that frighten them. That’s what he did back there with those ur’wolves. That’s why they ran from him. He’s like some force of nature you don’t want to cross; he’s able to become anything he needs to become to kill you. He’s big and strong and quick and fast to begin with; the shape-shifting only enhances that. He’s feral and he’s instinctive; he knows how to fit in where you and I would only know enough to want to run. He’s at home in those mountains. He’s at home in places other men never will be. That’s why the Druid wants him along. Truls Rohk will get past obstacles no one else would dare even to challenge. He’ll solve problems that would leave others scratching their heads.”
“How did Walker meet him?” Quentin asked.
“Heard about him, I believe, rumors mostly, then tracked him down. He’s the only man I know who could do that.” Panax smiled. “I’m not sure he really did track Truls, only that he got close enough to attract his attention. There might not be anyone alive who can track Truls Rohk. But Walker found him somehow and talked him into coming with him on a journey. I’m not sure where they went that first time, but they formed some kind of a bond. Afterwards, Truls was more than willing to go with the Druid.”
He shook his head. “Still, you never know. No one really has his ear. He likes me, trusts me, as much as he likes or trusts anyone, but he doesn’t let me get too close.”
“He’s scary,” Bek offered quietly. “It’s more than how he hides himself or appears like a ghost out of nowhere or shape-shifts. It’s more than knowing what’s happened to him, too. It’s how he looks right through you and makes you feel like he sees things you don’t.”
“He was right about me and the sword,” Quentin agreed. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I was just fighting to keep the magic under control, to keep those wolves at bay. If he hadn’t come along, they probably would have had us.”
Truls Rohk had seen or recognized something about Bek, as well, but had chosen to keep it to himself. Bek wasn’t able to stop thinking about it. Trust no one, the shape-shifter had said, until you learn to see things better. It was an admonition that revealed Truls Rohk had gained an insight into him that he himself had not yet experienced. All the way down from the Wolfsktaag and on the journey across the Borderlands to Arborlon, he found himself remembering how it had been to have the shape-shifter looking at him, studying him, penetrating beyond what he could see. It was an old Druid trait, Bek knew. Allanon had been famous for the way his eyes looked right through you. There was something of that in Walker, as well. Truls Rohk was not a Druid, but when he looked at you, you felt as if you were being flayed alive.
The discussion of the shape-shifter pretty much died away after the first night, since Panax seemed to have exhausted his store of knowledge and Quentin and Bek chose to keep their thoughts to themselves. Conversation turned to other matters, particularly the journey ahead, of which the Dwarf was now part but knew little. He had been drafted into the cause because Walker had insisted he join them if Truls Rohk agreed to come. So Bek and Quentin filled Panax in on what little they knew, and the three spent much of their time tossing back and forth their ideas about exactly where they might be going and what they might be looking for.