Ilse Witch-Voyage of the Jerle Shannara, Book 1, Terry Brooks

Then Walker saw the girl. She sat in the deep shadows of the porch stoop, perfectly still, at one with the darkness. When his eyes settled on her, she rose at once and stood watching his approach with Hunter Predd. Revealed more clearly by the light of moon and stars, she became older, less a girl, more a young woman. She wore her silver hair long and loose, and it fell about her pale, thin face in thick waves. She was rail thin, so insubstantial it seemed as if a strong wind might blow her away completely. She wore a plain wool dress cinched at her tiny waist by a strip of braided cloth. Sandals that were dusty and worn were strapped to her feet, and an odd collar of metal and leather was clasped about her neck.

He came up to her and stopped, Hunter Predd at his side. She never took her eyes from his, never even glanced at the Wing Rider.

“Are you the one they call Walker?” she asked in a soft, high voice.

Walker nodded. “I am called that.”

“I am Ryer Ord Star. I have been waiting for you.”

Walker studied her curiously. “How did you know I was

coming?”

“I saw you in a dream. We were flying far out over the Blue Divide in an airship. There were dark clouds all about, and thunder rolled across the skies. But within the dark clouds there was something darker still, and I was warning you to beware of it.” She paused. “When I had that dream, I knew you would be coming here and that when you did, I would be going with you.”

Walker hesitated. “I never intended to ask you to come with me, only to ask—“

“But I must come with you!” she insisted quickly, her hands making sudden, anxious gestures to emphasize her need. “There have been other dreams of you as well, more as time has passed. I am meant to go with you across the Blue Divide. It is my destiny to do so!”

She spoke with such conviction that Walker was momentarily taken aback. He glanced at Hunter Predd. Even the Wing Rider’s rugged face reflected surprise.

“See?” she inquired, gesturing down at a canvas bag that sat at her feet. “I am packed and ready to leave with you. I dreamed of you again last night, of your coming here. The dream was so strong it even told me when you would arrive. Such dreams do not come often, even to seers. They almost never come in such numbers. When they do, they must not be ignored. We are bound, you and I—our destinies intertwined in a way we cannot sever. What happens to one, happens to both.”

She regarded him solemnly, her thin, pale face questioning, as if she could not understand his inability to accept her words. Walker, for his part, was confounded by her determination.

“You apprenticed with the Addershag?” he inquired, turning the conversation another way. “Why did you leave?”

The thin hands gestured anew. “She was suspicious of what I was. She was distrustful of how I employed my gifts. I am a seer, but I am an empath, too. Both talents are strong within me, and I find the need to use them too compelling to ignore. On occasion, I used the one to alter the other, and the Addershag would scream at me. ‘Never do anything to change what is to be!’ she would shrill. But if I can take away another’s pain through divining the future, where is the harm? I saw nothing wrong in doing so. Such pain can be better borne by me than by most.”

Walker stared. “You read the future, determine that something bad will happen, then use your empathic skill to lessen the hurt that will result?” Walker tried to envision it and failed. “How often can you do this?”

“Only now and then. I can only do a little. Sometimes, the use of my gifts is reversed. Sometimes I come to those already in pain, see the future that pain will create, and act to change it. It is an imperfect skill, and I do not use it carelessly. But the Addershag distrusted my empathic side altogether, believing it affected my seer’s eyes. Perhaps she was right. The two are equal parts of me, and I cannot separate them out. Does this bother you?”

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