Then the channel narrowed once more, this time clogged by pillars of ice so huge they blocked the way completely, crystal towers that rose out of the bay’s liquid floor like spikes. Through gaps in the pillars Bek could see a brightening of the light and a lessening of the mist, as if the weather and geography might be different on the other side. Walker, standing close, touched his shoulder and nodded. Then he turned to Redden Alt Mer and told him to hold the airship where it was.
Hovering before the pillars of ice, clustered at the railings in silent groups, the ship’s company stood waiting. The cold air shimmered and seabirds glided in silence. Through the deep mist, the ice continued to rumble and crack, the reverberations distant and ominous.
Then abruptly the pillars began to shift, tilting in a series of thrusts and twists that mimicked the closing of jaws and the grinding of teeth. As the awestruck company watched, the icy towers came together in a series of grating collisions, smashing into each other with booming explosions, closing off the channel’s entry and clogging all passage through. Shards of ice catapulted through the air and into the bay’s waters, and new cracks opened along the huge towers as they collided then retreated, shifting leviathans hammering at each other in mindless fury. Waves surged and the bay boiled with the force of the furious movement.
Minutes later, the pillars retreated once more, backing away from each other, taking new positions, bobbing gently in the dying swells.
“That,” the Druid whispered in Bek’s ear, “is called the Squirm.
That is what the Sword of Shannara must overcome.”
On the Druid’s orders, they sailed back out of the bay and down the coast to the atoll where the Wing Riders waited. It was almost dark by then, and Redden Alt Mer had his crew secure the Jerle Shannara for the night. Bek was still pondering the Druid’s words, trying to figure out how the magic of the Sword of Shannara was supposed to find a way through those shifting icebergs, unable to see how the talisman could help. Walker had left him almost immediately to confer with the Rover Captain, and Ahren had come over to occupy his attention, so there was nothing further he could do to find out right away. Mostly, he had to trust that the Druid knew what he was talking about.
When they were anchored and had eaten dinner, Walker called his council of eight together for a final conference. This time Hunter Predd was included to bring the number to nine. They gathered in Redden Alt Mer’s cabin—the Druid, the Rover Captain and his sister, Ard Patrinell and Ahren, Quentin and Bek, Ryer Ord Star, and the Wing Rider. The sky was overcast and the night so black that it was impossible to see either the ocean or the atoll to which they were anchored.
“Tomorrow we will pass through the pillars of the Squirm,” Walker advised when they were all gathered and settled. “Captain Alt Mer will command from the pilot box. I will stand on the deck in front of the foremast and call out directions. Bek will help me. Everyone else will take their normal stations and stand ready. No one is to go forward until we are through—not one step beyond me.”
He looked at Big Red. “Adjustments will have to be made swiftly and accurately, Captain. The ice will not forgive us our mistakes. Listen carefully to what I call out. Do exactly as I tell you. Trust my directions, even if they seem wrong. Do not try to second-guess me or anticipate my wishes. This one time, I must be in command.”
He waited for the Rover to acknowledge him. Redden Alt Mer glanced at his sister, then nodded his agreement.
“Hunter Predd,” Walker continued. “The Wing Riders must re main behind. The Shrikes are numerous and the winds and fog treacherous. Fly down the coast and try to find a better place than this atoll to await our return. If we can, we will come back for you or at least get word to you. But it may take time. We may be gone for as long as several months “He paused. “Maybe longer”