Antrax took quick inventory of the still-unassembled parts. When it was complete, the wronk would be the most dangerous ever built, in no small part because the human from which it was being constructed was an excellent specimen with superb skills. To bring the other elements of power to bay and to overcome the humans that wielded them, it would have to be. But the technology of the Old World could accomplish anything. Antrax would have its sources of power in hand and working for its benefit before long.
Let the humans run as fast and far as they could manage, it thought. In the end, it would not matter. Castledown and its catacombs had been given to it to preserve and protect, but the world beyond, even that part so distant it was still a mystery, was not out of reach. The creators had given Antrax a directive, and there were no restrictions on the methods it could employ to fulfill it. If the power Antrax required lay elsewhere, it would find a way to bring it close. If the energy it needed must be obtained at the cost of human lives, so be it.
Antrax had been programmed to believe that nothing was more important than its survival. Nothing had happened to change that belief.
ELEVEN
The hand that clamped on his shoulder and shook Bek from his slumber was rough and urgent. “Wake up!” Truls Rohk hissed in his ear. “She’s found us!” Bek didn’t need to ask whom the shape-shifter was talking about. The Ilse Witch. His sister. His enemy. He lurched to his feet, still half-asleep. He blinked to get his bearings, to clear his head. He was only partially successful. He felt the other’s hand steady him, less compelling, almost gentle. “How close is she?” he managed.
“Close enough to hear you sneeze,” the other whispered, gesturing behind him into the dark.
It was still night, the sky a tapestry of stars against which thin strips of broken clouds floated like linen. The quarter-moon was a tipped crescent on the northern horizon. The woods about them were an impenetrable black. She was tracking them in the dark, Bek realized. How could she do that? Could she read the traces of their body heat and energy even at night? He supposed she could. There wasn’t much she couldn’t do with the magic of the wishsong to aid her. He had fallen asleep at sunset, certain they had lost her in the meadow, that they had left her far enough behind to ensure at least one good night’s sleep. So much for being certain.
“How could she find us so fast?” he whispered. He took a few deep breaths, shivering as a sudden gust of chill wind blew down off the mountains.
Truls Rohk’s face was unreadable within the shadows of his cowl. “Luck, I would guess. She shouldn’t have had any left after what we did to throw her off, but she’s resourceful enough that she makes her own. Start walking.”
Snatching up their few supplies, they departed their camp, heading inland once more, moving parallel to the base of the mountains. They made no effort to hide their passage out. If the Ilse Witch had tracked them that far, she would have no trouble discovering where they had spent the night. Bek was wondering if he had been saved by Truls Rohk’s instincts or by his foresight. Whichever it was, it gave Bek a renewed sense of dependence on him. Bek had slept, after all. If he had tried to flee alone from his sister, she would have had him already.
He shook his head. What would that mean for him, to be in her hands? When it finally happened, when she finally caught up to them, as he felt certain she must, what would transpire?
They slid down a steep hillside to a rocky flat and hurried across to a river. They waded in, moving upstream, crossing to the far side to make their way below the bank. The water was icy cold and swift, and Bek had to concentrate hard on keeping his feet planted solidly beneath him.
“Either she stumbled on our real trail and is relying still on her magic to track us or she’s found an ally who can read sign.” The shape-shifter’s voice was low and menacing, a whisper of dark anger above the soft gurgle of the water. His cloaked form seemed to glide through the shallows, his movements steady and deliberate against the current. “We’ll have to find out which.”