By darkness, he was convinced of it. A tree had been cut down very recently, and shavings indicated that something had been shaped from it. A mast, the Morgawr guessed. A broken mast would explain why they had been forced to slow and why he had been able to catch up to them. The Mwellrets found tracks, as well, deeper into the trees where damp grasses and soft earth left imprints. There were fresh gouges on the plains across from the castle, as well, where an airship might have been moored.
Now there was no doubt in the Morgawr’s mind that the Jerle Shannara and her company had been on Mephitic less than a day ago, and unless he was completely mistaken, they were still here.
But where were they hiding?
It took him only a moment to decide. They were inside the castle. There was nowhere else they could be.
He sent his searchers back aboard their ships and had them make a final pass over the dusk-shrouded island before moving back out to sea to drop anchor just offshore. There he set the watch, and while the Mwellrets went about the business of shutting down the airships and settling in for the night, he stood alone in the prow of Black Moclips, thinking.
He did not yet know what had happened to reunite the Ilse Witch with her brother. He did not know if she was now her brother’s ally or simply his prisoner. He had to assume she was the former, although he had no idea how that could have happened. That meant she would have the support of not only her brother, but also the young Elessedil Prince and whoever else was still alive, as well. But she would not have the Druid to protect her, and the Druid was the only one who might have stood a chance against him. The others, even fighting together, were not strong enough. The Morgawr had been alive a long time, and he had fought hard to stay that way. The power of his magic was terrifying, and his skill at wielding it more than sufficient to overcome these children.
Still, he would be careful. They would know he was there by now, and they would be waiting for him. They would try to defend themselves, but that would be hopeless. Most of them would die quickly at the hands of his Mwellrets, leaving the few who possessed the use of magic for him to deal with. A few quick strikes, and it would be over.
Yet he wanted his little Ilse Witch alive, so that he could feed on her, so that he could feel her life drain away through his fingertips. He had trained her to be his successor, a mirror image of himself. She had become that, her magic fed by rage and despair. But her ambition and her willfulness had outstripped her caution, and so she was no longer reliable. Better to have done with her than to risk her treachery. Better to make an example of her, one that no one could possibly mistake. Cree Bega and his Mwellrets wanted her gone anyway. They had always hated her. Perhaps they had understood her better than he had.
His gaze lifted. Tomorrow, he would watch her die in the way of so many others. It would give him much satisfaction.
Radiating black venom and hunger, he stood motionless at the railing and imagined how it would be.
Crouched in the shadow of the crumbling castle walls, only a dozen yards from where the Jerle Shannara lay concealed, Bek Ohmsford watched the dark bulk of an airship pass directly overhead, then swing around and pass back again. It floated over the ruins like a storm cloud.
“That’s Black Moclips,” Rue whispered in his ear, pressing up against him, her words barely more than a breath of air in the silence.
He nodded without offering a reply, waiting until the vessel was far enough away that it felt safe to speak. “He knows we’re here,” he said.
“Maybe not.”
“He knows. He would have moved on by now if he didn’t. He searched the entire island and didn’t find us, but he knows we’re here. He senses it somehow. Tomorrow, he’ll search these ruins.”
They had been in hiding all day, ever since Redden Alt Mer had taken the Jerle Shannara inside the castle walls. It was a bold gamble, but one that the Rover Captain thought would work. If the creature that lived in the ruins had not bothered with them when they had searched for the key, it might not bother with them now, even if they set the Jerle Shannara down inside one of its numerous courtyards. So long as they did not try to take anything out, it might tolerate their presence long enough for them to deceive the Morgawr.
There was time to try his plan out before the warlock reached them, and so they did. They had been able to fly the Jerle Shannara into the ruins and set her down in a deeply shadowed cluster of walls and towers. Once anchored, they had stripped her of sails and masts and rigging, leaving her decks bare. When that was done, they had covered her over with rocks and dirt and grasses until from the air, astride a Roc, they could not see her at all and would not have known she was there.
Alt Mer knew they were taking a big chance. If they were discovered, they would have no chance of getting aloft with the masts and rigging and sails dismantled. They would be trapped and most probably killed or captured. But the Rover Captain was counting on something else, as well. When they had tried to penetrate the ruins on their way to Parkasia, the castle’s spirit dweller had used its magic to turn them aside. Each new foray took them down blind alleys and dead ends and eventually back outside. If that magic was still in place, it ought to work in the same way against the Morgawr and his rets. When they tried to come inside, they would be led astray and never get past the perimeter walls.
With luck, it should not come to that. With luck, the Morgawr should determine after a careful sweep of the island that his quarry had eluded him. There should be no reason to search the ruins from the ground if nothing was visible from the air.
But Bek knew it wasn’t going to work out that way. Their concealment had been perfect, but the Morgawr’s instincts were telling him that they were still on the island. They were whispering to him that he was missing something, and it wouldn’t take him long to determine what it was. He would decide that they must be hiding in the ruins. Tomorrow, he would search them. It might not yield him anything, but if it did, the company of the Jerle Shannara was finished.
With Rue still pressing close, he leaned back against the cool stone of the old wall. Black Moclips had not returned, and the sky was left bright and open in its wake, a trail of glittering stars shining down through a wash of moonlight. The others of the company were inside the Jerle Shannara, kept there by Redden Alt Mer’s strict order not to venture out for any reason. Bek was the sole exception, because an outside perspective was needed in case of an attempted ground approach and Bek was best able to conceal himself from the spirit dweller, should the need arise. Rue was with him because it was understood that wherever Bek went, she went, as well. They had been out there, hiding in the shadows, since early morning. It was time to go inside and get some sleep.
But Bek’s mind was running too fast and too hard to permit him to sleep, his thoughts skipping from consideration of one obstacle to the next, from one concern to another, everything tied up with the dangerous situation facing them and what they might try to do to avoid it.
One concern, in particular, outstripped the rest.
He bent close to Rue. “I don’t know what to do about Grianne.” His lips pressed against her ear, his words a hushed whisper. Voices carried in the empty silence of ruins such as these, beyond even walls of mortar and stone. “If the Morgawr comes for her, she will have no way to protect herself. She will be helpless.”