Walker gave a grunt and uncoiled from his search in the rocks, swinging up to stand beside him. “I have it!” he shouted, jamming something into his robes. “Run now! This way!”
They leapt out from the rocks and raced toward an open flat that lay less than a hundred feet away, scrambling through the shallow, slippery ponds. The eels thrashed after them, their huge bodies twisting and squirming along the deep channels. Overhead, the Jerle Shannara was dropping swiftly, sails full and radian draws taut, her sleek dark form plummeting out of the gray sky. The eels were closing on Quentin and Walker, who turned to stand one final time, the Druid with his fire exploding from his extended arm, the Highlander with his sword’s magic flashing.
Then the shadow of the airship fell over them and a trailing rope ladder swung past, their lifeline to safety. They reached for it instinctively, grasped it, and were whisked off the ground and into the air as eel jaws snapped only inches away.
Seconds later, they were clear of the island once more and climbing the ladder to safety.
Bek was among those who helped pull the Druid and the Highlander back aboard the airship as it lifted high above Flay Creech and its twisting mass of frustrated, maddened eels. When he had his cousin standing before him, torn and bloodied, but smiling, as well, Bek tried to say something to him about agreeing to take risks and scaring him half to death, then gave it up and threw his arms about the other in a warm, grateful hug.
“Ouch, you’re hurting me!” Quentin yelped. When Bek hurriedly backed off, his cousin’s smile broadened. “Happy to see me safe, Bek? Never a moment’s doubt, was there? You could tell. We had a clear path all the way.”
Walker was at his elbow, fumbling in his robes for what he had recovered, and the rest of the ship’s company crowded close. What he produced was a flat metal rectangle with symmetrical ridges that connected in a geometrical pattern to a small raised square that vibrated softly. A red light embedded in the square blinked on and off. Everyone stared at it in wonder. Bek had never seen anything like it before.
“What is it?” Panax asked finally.
“A key,” Walker answered. “But not a key of the sort we know. This key belongs to the technology of the Old World, from before the Great Wars, from the old civilization of Man. It is a form of machine and has a life of its own.”
He let them study it a moment longer, then slipped it back into his robes. “It has secrets to tell us if we can unlock them,” he said quietly, then clasped Quentin’s shoulder in thanks, and walked away.
The remainder of the company dispersed to their stations and work, the adventure of Flay Creech behind them. Joad Rish was already stripping off the Highlander’s tunic to clean his wounds. Quentin accepted congratulations from a few of the ship’s company who lingered, then sat heavily on a barrel top and winced as the Healer began to work on him in earnest. Bek stayed close, silent company, and alone saw the hint of raw fear that flashed in his cousin’s green eyes as he looked down at his torn body and realized momentarily how close he had come to dying.
But then he was looking up again, himself once more, smiling rakishly as he held up a single finger.
One down, Quentin was saying.
Bek smiled back. One down, he was thinking in response, but two still to go.
21
It took two more months of travel to reach the island of Shatterstone. Bek had thought they would arrive more quickly since it had taken them only ten days to gain Flay Creech. But Walker’s rough-drawn map showed the distance to be considerably greater, and it was.
Nevertheless, the days between passed swiftly, eaten up by routine tasks and small crises. Bek continued to learn about airships—how they were constructed, why they flew, and what was needed to maintain them. He was given a chance to try his hand at almost everything, from polishing the diapson crystals to threading the radian draws. He was allowed to go topside to see how the draws were attached to the light sheaths so as to draw down their power. He was given time at the ship’s rudders and controls and a chance at plotting courses. By the end of the two months, Redden Alt Mer thought him competent enough to leave him alone in the pilot box for several hours at a stretch, allowing him to become accustomed to the feel of the airship and the ways she responded to his touch.
For the most part, the weather continued to favor them. There were storms, but they did not cause the ship damage or ship’s company to fear. A few were severe enough that ship and passengers sought shelter in an island’s protective cove or windward bluffs. Once or twice they were badly lashed by heavy winds and rain while still aloft, but the Jerle Shannara was well made and able to endure.
Certainly it helped having the ship’s builder aboard. If something malfunctioned or failed, Spanner Frew found the problem and fixed it almost instantly. He was ferociously loyal to and protective of his vessel, a mother hen with teeth, and he was quick to reprimand or even assault anyone who mistreated her. Once Bek watched him cuff one of the Rover crew so hard he knocked the man down, all because the crewman had removed a diapson crystal improperly.
The only one who seemed able to stand up to him was Rue Meridian, who was intimidated by no one. Of all aboard ship, save Walker, she was the coolest and calmest presence. Bek remained in awe of Little Red, and when he had the chance to do so, he watched her with an ache he could not quite manage to hide. If she noticed, she kept it to herself. She was kind to him and always helpful. She would tease him now and then, and she made him laugh with her surreptitious winks and clever asides. She was the airship’s navigator, but Bek soon discovered that she was much more. It was apparent from the beginning that she knew as much as her brother about flying airships and was his most valued adviser. She was also extremely dangerous. She carried knives everywhere she went, and she knew how to use them. Once, he watched her compete against the other Rovers in a throwing contest, and she bested them easily. Neither her brother nor Furl Hawken would throw against her, which told Bek something. He thought she might not be as skilled at the use of weapons as Ard Patrinell, but he would not have wanted to put it to a test.
Much of his time was spent with Ahren Elessedil. Together, they would walk the ship from end to end, discussing everything that interested them. Well, not quite everything. A few things, he did not share with anyone. He still hid, even from the Elf, the presence of the phoenix stone. He still told no one of his meeting with the King of the Silver River. But it was growing harder and harder to keep these secrets from Ahren. With time’s passage, he was becoming as close to the young Elf as to Quentin, and sometimes he thought that Ahren would have been his best friend if Quentin hadn’t claimed the position first.
“Tell me what you want to do with your life, Bek,” the Elf said one evening as they stood at the railing before sleep. “If you could do anything at all, what would it be?”
Bek answered without thinking. “I would find out the truth about myself.”
There it was, right out in the open without his meaning for it to happen. He would have swallowed the words if there had been a way, but it was too late.
“What do you mean?” Ahren looked sharply at him.
Bek hesitated, seeking a way to recover. “I mean, I was brought to Coran and Liria when I was a baby, given to them when my parents died. I don’t know anything about my real parents. I don’t have any family history of my own.”