been freed of her fears when she had accepted her birthright as
Queen of the Elves and brought her people out of Morrowindl.
The magic now was an extension of herself, a part of the trust
bequeathed to her by her grandmother, the fire come from the
blood of her ancestors to shield her against whatever threat-
ened. If she was strong, she beneved, she could not be harmed.
The day brightened and eased toward noon. They ate and
drank when they could, mostly when they paused in their
flight, brief stops to listen and make certain of their pursuit.
The Brakes thickened in a morass of tangled roots, trees whose
branches hung dowa like corpses, still, depthless waters, and
372 The Talismans of Shannara
quicksand that would swallow you in an instant. Stresa chose
their path carefully, finding the solid ground, moving steadily
ahead. Twice the Creepers caught up with them unexpectedly,
once on a flanking maneuver that almost trapped them, the
second time in a rush that brought the iron-clad horrors barrel-
ing through the trees so quickly mat they barely escaped being
trampled. The swamp seemed to offer no deterrent; the Creep-
ers crossed it as if it were all solid ground. Wren could not tell
if any had been lost or had turned back. She hoped not. She
hoped she had them all with her still, hunting. They were
formed for that purpose and no other, and she prayed that their
instinct for it would lead them on when more reasonable, less
powerful creatures would turn back.
It was just after midday when they reached the lake.
They slowed as they came up to it, changing their move-
ments so that they approached with as little noise as possible.
Behind, the sounds of pursuit echoed through the cavernous
trees, rough and heedless, closing rapidly. The lake was huge
and stagnant green and as silent as a tomb. It stretched away
into a cloud of mist that hung across it like a shroud. The near
shoreline faded to either side into the mist. The far shoreline
was hidden entirely. Vines and moss hung from the surround-
ing trees in curtains of lacy green, and roots tangled and
twisted down into the waters Hke feeding snakes. Everywhere
there was silence; no birds, no insects, no fish, not even me
whisper of a breeze to disturb the hush. There was me sense
of time having come to a standstill here, of life having frozen
in place, of everything waiting expectantly.
Here, Wren thought, catching her breath involuntarily. Here
is where it will end.
But there was no time to contemplate further. The Creepers
were coming, rolling on through the swamp, slashing and
hacking and crushing what would not give way. Stresa was al-
ready moving right, down the shoreline to a narrow strip of
land formed of earth and roots that angled its way out into the
center of the vast lake. Wren and Triss hurried after. They
turned onto the bridge and began moving toward the wall of
mist. Wren glanced skyward once, allowing herself to do so
for the first time since they had begun running. But the sky
was empty. Too soon yet. They hurried on, stepping lightly, si-
The Talismans of Shannara 373
lendy, listening to the sound of the Creepers. She looked out
across the lake, looking for the Things, but there was nothing
to be seen but the flat, opaque surface of the frozen waters.
They were almost into the mist when the Creepers appeared
from out of the trees, lurching to a stop, their iron-plated bod-
ies trailing vines and branches and steaming with the heat.
They flattened everything close to them as they pushed to-
gether at the lake’s edge. The Seekers were with them. Catch-
ing sight of Wren, they moved swiftly to follow after her.
“There,” Stresa hissed suddenly, head swinging left.
She looked and saw the ridge that lay within the waters—
what appeared to be crusted rock grown thick with moss and
lichen until you saw the twin jets of steam that rose from one
end and realized you were looking at breathing holes. There
were two of them, and beyond, almost lost in the haze, an-
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