He smiled then and drew her close.
–Come away–
She did so, at rest and at peace, redeemed and forgiven, made whole by her sacrifice, and she did not look back.
26
When he went to look for the Ahren Elessedil shortly after dawn, Bek Ohmsford found him sitting at the stern of the Jerle Shannara. They had been airborne for more than three hours by then, flying south through heavy clouds and gray skies, intent on reaching the coast before nightfall.
The Elven Prince glanced up at him with tired eyes. He had been asleep for almost twelve hours, but looked haggard even so. “Hello, Bek,” he said.
“Hello, yourself.” He plopped down next to Ahren, resting his back against the ship’s railing. “It’s good to have you back. I thought we might have lost you.”
“I thought so, too. More than once.”
“You were lucky Hunter Predd found you when he did. I heard the story. I don’t know how you did it. I don’t think I could have. Flying all that way without food or rest.”
Ahren Elessedil’s smile was faint and sad. “You can do anything if you’re scared enough.”
They were silent then, sitting shoulder to shoulder, staring down the length of the airship as she nosed ahead through ragged wisps of cloud and mist. The air had a damp feel to it and smelled of the sea. Redden Alt Mer and his Rovers had cut short the repairs to the Jerle Shannara last night, installed the recovered diapson crystals early this morning, and lifted off at first light. The Rover Captain knew that the Morgawr had some control over the Shrikes that inhabited the coastal regions of Parkasia, and he was afraid that the birds that had attacked Ahren would alert the warlock and lead him to them. He could have used another day of work on his vessel, but the risk of staying on the ground any longer was too great. No one was upset with his decision. Memories of the Crake Rain Forest were fresh in everyone’s minds.
In the pilot box, Spanner Frew stood at the helm, his big frame blocking the movements of his hands as he worked the controls. Now and then he shouted orders to one of the Rovers walking the deck, his rough voice booming through the creaking of the rigging, his bearded face turning to reveal its fierce set. There weren’t all that many of them left to shout at, Bek thought. He numbered them in his head. Ten, counting himself. Twelve, if you added in the Wing Riders. Out of more than thirty who had started out all those months ago, that was all. Just twelve.
Make that thirteen, he corrected himself, adding in Grianne. Lucky thirteen.
“How is your sister?” Ahren asked him, as if reading his mind.
“Still the same. Doesn’t talk, doesn’t see me, doesn’t respond to anything, won’t eat or drink. Just sits there and stares at nothing.” He looked over at the Elf. “Except for two nights ago. The night you were rescued, she saved Quentin.”
He told Ahren the details as he had done for everyone else, aware that by doing so he was giving hope to himself as much as to them that Grianne might recover, and that when she did, she might not be the Ilse Witch anymore. It remained a faint hope, but he needed to believe that the losses suffered and the pain endured might count for something in the end. Ahren listened attentively, his young face expressionless, but his eyes distant and reflective.
When Bek was finished, he said quietly, “At least you were able to save someone other than yourself. I couldn’t even do that.”
Bek had heard the story of his escape from Black Moclips from Hunter Predd. He knew what the Elf was talking about.
“I don’t see what else you could have done,” Bek said, seeking words that would ease the other’s sense of guilt. “She didn’t want to come with you. She had already made up her mind to stay. You couldn’t have changed that.”
“Maybe. I wish I were sure. I was so eager to get away, to get off that ship, I didn’t even think to try. I just let her tell me what to do.”
Bek scuffed his boot against the deck. “Well, you don’t know. She might have gotten away. She might have done what she said she was going to do. The Wing Riders are out looking for her. Don’t give up yet.”
Ahren stared off into space, his eyes haunted. “They won’t find her, Bek. She’s dead. I knew it last night. I woke up for no reason, and I knew it. I think she realized what was going to happen when she sent me away, but she wouldn’t tell me because she knew that if she did, I wouldn’t go. She had promised Walker she would stay, and she refused to break her word, even at the cost of her life.”
He sounded bitter and confused, as if his realization of that premonition defied logical explanation.
“I hope you’re wrong,” Bek told him, not knowing what else to say.
Ahren kept his gaze directed out toward the misty horizon, above the sweep of the airship’s curved rams, and did not reply.
Redden Alt Mer walked down the main passageway belowdecks to the Captain’s quarters—his quarters, once upon a time—searching for his sister. He was pretty sure by now, having walked the upper decks without success, that she had retired once more to the temporary shelter assigned to the wounded Quentin Leah and the unresponsive Grianne Ohmsford. It was the witch Little Red would go to see, to look at and study, to contemplate in a way that bothered him more than he cared to admit. He was feeling better about himself since braving the horrors of the Crake to recover the lost diapson crystals, especially after hearing from Bek how the witch had wakened from her dead-eyed sleep long enough to do the unexpected and use her magic to help heal the Highlander. Big Red was feeling better, but not entirely well. His brush with death in the rain forest had left him hollowed out, and he wasn’t sure yet what it would take to fill him up again. Recovering the crystals was a start, but he was still entirely too conscious of his own mortality, and given the nature of his life, that wasn’t healthy.
But for the moment his concern was for his sister. Rue had always been more tightly wound than he was, the cautious one, the captain of her life, determined that she would decide what was best for those she felt responsible for, no matter the obstacles she faced. But, of late, she had begun to show signs of vacillation that had never been apparent before. It wasn’t that she seemed any less determined, but that she seemed uncertain what it was she should be determined about.
Her attitude toward the Ilse Witch was such a case. In the beginning, there had been no question in his mind that as soon as she could find a way to do so, Rue would dispose of her. She would do so in a way that would remove all suspicion from herself, especially because of how she felt about Bek, but do it she would. Hawk’s death demanded it. Yet something had happened to change her mind, something he had missed entirely, and it was impacting her in a way that suggested a major shift in her thinking.
He shook his head, wishing he understood what that something was. Since yesterday, when she had returned from the Crake with Bek after completing a mission he would have put a stop to in a minute had he known about it, she had come down here at every opportunity. She had taken up watch over the witch, as if to see what would happen when she woke, as if trying to ascertain what manner of creature she really was. At first, he had thought she was waiting for an opportunity to finish her off. But as time passed and opportunities came and went, he had begun to wonder. This wasn’t about revenge for Hawk and the others; this was about something else. Whatever it was, he was baffled.
He pushed open the door to his cabin, and there she was, sitting next to Bek’s sister, holding her hand and staring into her vacant eyes. It was such a strange scene that for a moment he simply stood there, speechless.