“If the books are numerous and have retained their original look, it will take a large building to house them,” Bek offered quietly.
Walker nodded. “We begin our search with that in mind. We search for anything that might serve as a safehold, a container, or a storehouse. We might not know it when we see it. We will have to be open-minded. Remember, too, that we’ve come here to discover what became of Kael Elessedil’s expedition and the Elfstones he carried with him.”
No one said anything. After a moment, Quentin adjusted the Sword of Leah where it was strapped across his back and glanced at the sky. “Looks like the rain’s letting up,” he advised to no one in particular.
“Let’s get on with it,” Panax added with a grunt.
They set out then, crossing the open ground between the forested valley slope and the ruins, a line of dark ghosts approaching through the haze. They entered the city in three loosely knit groups set about fifty yards apart. They moved swiftly at first, finding mostly rubble amid the shells of smaller buildings that contained machines and apparatuses that sat rusted and dead. They had no idea what they were looking at for the most part, although some of the equipment had the look of weapons. A thick layer of dust had settled over everything, and there was no indication that anyone had come this way recently. Nothing had been disturbed or changed with the passing of the years. Everything was frozen in time.
Walker was aware of Ryer Ord Star pressing close to him, enough so that they were almost touching. Last night, when the others were asleep, she had come to him and told him what had frightened her so. In the hushed darkness of a moonless night, she had knelt beside him and whispered in a voice so soft that he could barely make her out.
“The ruins are the maze I saw in my vision.”
He touched her thin shoulder. “Are you certain?”
Her eyes were bright and staring. “I felt the presence of the other two, as well. As I stood on the rim of the valley and looked down into the maze, I felt them. The ribbons of fire and the metal dogs. They are here, waiting for me. For all of us.”
“Then we will be ready for them.” She was shaking again, and he put his arm about her to keep her from her fear, which he could feel through her clothing as if it were alive. “Don’t be afraid, Ryer. Your warnings keep us safe. They did so on Flay Creech, on Shatterstone, and on Mephitic. They will do so here.”
But she shrank from the words. “No, Walker. What waits for us here is much bigger and stronger. It is embedded in the ruins and in the earth on which they rest. Old and hungry and evil, it waits for us. I can feel it breathing. I feel its pulse in the movement of the air and the rise and fall of the temperature. It is too much for us. Too much.”
He held her quietly in the velvet darkness, trying to comfort her, listening to the sound of her breathing as it steadied and slowed. Finally, she rose and began to move away.
“I will die here, Walker,” she whispered back to him.
She believed it, he knew, and perhaps she had seen something in her visions that gave her cause to do so. Perhaps she only sensed it might be so, but sometimes even that was enough to make something happen. He would watch out for her, would try to keep her from harm. It was what he would have done anyway. It was what he would do for all of them, if it was within his power. But even a Druid could do no more than try.
He glanced over his shoulder. She had dropped back to walk with Bek, keeping pace with the boy, as if finding some comfort in his silent presence. Fair enough. She could do worse than stay close to him.
He looked ahead into the gloom, into the maze of the ruins, and he could feel the seer’s vision, mysterious and dark, drawing them on like bait on a hook.