Antrax-Voyage of the Jerle Shannara, Book 2, Terry Brooks

She forced her legs from under the covers and tried to stand, but her efforts failed, and she knocked the cup of water flying as she grasped the table for support before falling back again. The clatter echoed loudly, and moments later Big Red appeared, bare-chested and, clearly, roused from sleep.

“Some of us are trying to get our rest, Sister Rue,” he muttered, helping her back beneath the covers. “What do you think you are doing anyway? You’re a day or two away from walking around and maybe not then.”

She nodded. “I’m weaker than I thought.”

“You lost a lot of blood, if I’m any judge of wounds. You won’t replace it all right away. Nor will you be healing up overnight. So let’s try to be reasonable about what you can and can’t do for the immediate future.”

“I need a bath. I smell pretty bad.”

He grinned, seating himself on a three-legged stool. “I can help you with that. But no one was going to attempt it while you were unconscious, let me tell you. Not even Spanner Frew. They know how you feel about being touched.”

She tightened her lips. “They don’t know anything about me. They just think they do.” The words were sharp, bitter. She forced the sudden anger away. “Go back to bed. I’m sorry I woke you.”

He shrugged, his red hair glistening in the candlelight, loose and unruly as it hung about his strong face. “Well, I’m up now, so maybe I’ll stay up and talk with you awhile. The bath can wait until morning, can’t it? I don’t much want to haul a tub and water in here in the dark.”

She grinned faintly. “It can wait.” She regretted her anger; it was misdirected and inappropriate. Her brother was only trying to help. “I feel better tonight.”

“You look better. Everyone was worried.”

“How long have I been in this bed?”

“Two days.”

She was surprised. “That long? It doesn’t feel like it.” She exhaled sharply. “Where are we now? How close to where we left the others? We’ve gone back for them, haven’t we? We have to warn them about the Ilse Witch.”

He smiled. “You are better. Ready to get up and fight another battle, aren’t you?” He shook his head, then turned suddenly sober. “Listen carefully, Little Red. Things aren’t so simple. We’re not headed inland to the Druid’s shore party. We’re headed for the coast and the Wing Riders. We’re doing just what we were told to do.”

He must have seen the anger flare in her eyes. “Don’t say something you’ll live to regret. I didn’t make this choice because it was the one I favored. I made it because it was the only one that made sense. Don’t you think I want to square accounts with the witch? Don’t you think I want to lock up those Mwellrets the same way they locked us up? I don’t like leaving any of them running around loose any more than you do. I don’t for a minute like abandoning Walker and the others. But the Jerle Shannara is in tatters. We can replace the light sheaths and radian draws, repair the parse tubes, and readjust the diapson crystals to suit our needs. We can manage to sail at maybe three-quarters power and efficiency. But we’ve lost spars and damaged two of the masts. We’re all beaten up. We can’t fight a battle, especially against Black Mo-dips. We can’t even outrun her, if she should catch sight of us. Going inland now would be foolhardy. We wouldn’t be of much use to anyone if we got ourselves knocked out of the sky or captured a second time, would we?”

The glare had not faded from her eyes. “So we just abandon them?” she snapped back.

“We were already abandoning them when the Druid ordered us out of that bay. Walker knew the risks when he sent us away. If we’d gotten clear of the channel before Black Moclips found us, she still would have sailed on up the river to the bay. Walker understood that. He wasn’t thinking it couldn’t happen.”

She shook her head stubbornly. “We’re their lifeline! They can’t survive without us! What if anything goes wrong?”

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