Leaving Redden Alt Mer to his cabin, they filed silently out, dispersing in the corridors belowdecks. As Bek followed Quentin, Walker stopped him with a light touch and took him aside. Quentin glanced back, then continued on without comment.
“Walk with me,” the Druid said to Bek, taking him down the corridor that led to the supply room. From there, they climbed topside and stood together at the portside railing, alone beneath a canopy of black sky and endless stars. A west wind brushed at their faces with a cool touch, and Bek thought he could smell the sea.
“Tell me what Ahren Elessedil had to say to you today,” Walker instructed softly, looking out into the night.
Bek did so, surprised the Druid had even noticed his conversation with the Elf. When he was finished, Walker did not speak again right away, continuing to stare off into the darkness, lost in thought. Bek waited, thinking that nothing he had repeated would be news to the Druid.
“Ahren Elessedil is made of tougher material than his brother knows,” was all the other said of the matter, when he finally spoke. Then his eyes shifted to find Bek’s. “Will you be his friend on this voyage?”
Bek considered the question, then nodded. “I will.”
Walker nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Keep your eyes and ears open, Bek. You will come to know things that I will not, and it will be important that you remember to tell me of them. It might not happen for a time, but eventually it will. One of those things might save my life.”
Bek blinked in surprise.
“Our young seer has already forecast that at some point I will be betrayed. She doesn’t know when or by whom. But she has seen that someone will try to kill me and someone else will try to lead me astray. Maybe they are the same person. Maybe it will be purposeful or maybe an accident. I have no way of knowing.”
Bek shook his head. “No one I’ve met aboard this ship seems disposed to wish you harm, Walker.”
The Druid nodded. “It may not be anyone aboard ship. It may be the enemy who tracks us, or it may be someone we will meet along the way. My point is that four eyes and ears are better than two. You still suspect you have no real function on this journey, Bek. I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice. But your importance to me—to all of us—is greater than you think. Believe in that. One day, when the time is right, I will explain it fully to you. For now, keep faith in my word and watch my back.”
He glided silently into the darkness, leaving Bek staring after him in confusion. The boy wanted to believe what the Druid had told him, but that he might have any real importance on their journey was inconceivable. He considered the matter in silence, unable to come to terms with the idea. He would watch Walker’s back because he believed it was right to do so. How successful he would be was another matter, one he did not care to look at too closely.
Then, suddenly, he was aware of being watched. The feeling came over him swiftly and unexpectedly, attacking, not stealing. The force of it stunned him. He scanned quickly across the empty decking from bow to stern, where at each end an Elven Hunter as still and dark as fixed shadow kept watch. Amidships, the burly figure of Furl Hawken steered the airship from the pilot box. None of them looked at him, and there was no one else to be seen.
Still, Bek could feel hidden eyes settled on him, their weight palpable.
Then, as suddenly as the feeling had swept over him, it disappeared. All about, the starfilled night was wrapped in deepest silence. He stood at the railing a few moments longer, regaining his equilibrium and screwing his courage back into place, then hurried quickly below.
TWENTY
Early the following afternoon, the Jerle Shannara arrived on the coast and swung out over the vast expanse of the Blue Divide into the unknown. Within moments Hunter Predd and two other Wing Riders soared skyward from the cliffs below the Irrybis to meet them. Hunter Predd glided close to the airship to offer greetings, then angled away to take up a flanking position. For the remainder of that day and for most of the days that followed, the Wing Riders flew in formation off the bow and stern of the ship, two forward and one aft, a silent and reassuring presence.