Big Red looked at his sister. Rue Meridian shrugged. “I don’t like the idea of splitting up,” he said. “I understand the reason for it, but it puts you and those with you at great risk if something goes wrong. You will be marooned if we can’t find you.”
Walker nodded. “Then we’ll have to make sure you can.”
“Or if we can’t find the Wing Riders,” Little Red added. “The Wing Riders will find you. They will be looking for you, for the airship. Just be certain you map your route out and back carefully.”
“I’ll see that I do.” Rue Meridian held his gaze.
Bek glanced from Quentin to Ahren Elessedil to Ard Patrinell and finally to the wan, youthful face of Ryer Ord Star. There was determination and acceptance on each, but the seer’s face showed apprehension and conflict, as well. She knew something she was not telling them. Bek sensed it instinctively, as if he still held the Sword of Shannara and had brought its magic to bear, seeking out the truth, drawing back the veil of concealment the young woman held in place.
What was it she was hiding? Something of their fate? Something of what waited inland? Bek studied her surreptitiously. Had she told Walker everything? Or was she holding something back? He didn’t have any reason to ask himself that question, no cause to believe that she would conceal anything from the Druid.
But there was something in the way she distanced herself from him, from everyone…
“Let’s finish our preparations and have something to eat,” Walker said, breaking into his thoughts. “Tomorrow we set out at sunrise.”
“Good luck to you, Walker,” Rue Meridian said.
He gave her a wry smile. “Good luck to us all, Little Red.”
Then he gathered in his black robes and walked from the room.
TWENTYNINE
Anchored well offshore and forty feet above the water, the company of the Jerle Shannara spent the night in the treesheltered bay. Taking no chances, Walker set a full watch—one man forward, one aft, and one in the pilot box—using Rovers so that the Elven Hunters could get a full night’s sleep and be fresh for the morning’s search. Even so, the Druid suspected that sleep was an elusive quantity that night. He slept little himself, and while pacing the corridors and decks he encountered, at one time or another, almost everyone else doing the same. Anticipation kept them all on edge and restless, and even the absence of wind and surf did nothing to ease their discomfort.
Dawn arrived in a flare of golden light that burst through the trees and across the horizon, brightening a clear blue sky and heralding a weatherperfect day. The members of the company were up and moving about almost instantly, grateful for any excuse to quit pretending that sleep might somehow come. Breakfast was consumed and weapons and provisions were gathered up. The search party gathered on deck in the early light, grimfaced and resolved, no one saying much, everyone waiting for the order to depart. Walker did not give it at once. He spent a long time conversing with Redden Alt Mer and Rue Meridian, then with Spanner Frew. They walked the length and breadth of the airship while they spoke, one or the other gesturing now and then at the ship or the surrounding forest. Bek watched them from where he sat crosslegged against the port railing, running through a list of what he carried, checking it off mentally against the list he had prepared last night. He bore virtually no weapons—a dagger and a sling—and he was less than comfortable with having only those for protection. But Walker had insisted they were all he would need or could carry, and no amount of protesting on his part had changed the Druid’s mind.
“This would be a good day for hunting,” Quentin, who was seated beside him, his gear at his feet, observed.
Bek nodded. Quentin carried a short sword at his belt, a bow and arrows over his shoulder, and the Sword of Leah strapped across his back in the Highland style. Bek supposed that if they encountered anything really dangerous, he could rely on his cousin to come to his aid.