and very fair-skinned beneath the browning from sun and
wind. He was small and quick-looking, compact without being
heavily muscled. He smiled and bowed rather awkwardly.
“I am Tib Ame,” he announced. “I have been sent by
Padishar Creel and the free-bom to give greetings to the Elven
people and to offer support in the struggle against the Federa-
tion.” His speech sounded very rehearsed.
“I am Wren Elessedil,” she replied, and offered her hand.
He took it, held it uncertainly for a moment, and released it.
“How did you find us, Tib? ”
He laughed. “You found me. I came west out of Callahom
in search of the Elves, but you made my job easy. Your scouts
were waiting at the mouth of the valley when I entered.” He
glanced about. “It seems I have arrived just in time for some-
thing.”
“What sort of help do the free-bom offer? ” she asked, ig-
noring his observation. He was too quick by half.
“Me, for starters. I am to be your ready and willing servant,
your link to the others until they arrive. The free-bom assem-
ble in the Dragon’s Teeth for a march west. They should be
here within the week. Five thousand or more with their allies,
my queen.”
90 The Talismans of Shannara
Wren saw Triss lift his eyebrows. “Five thousand strong? ”
she repeated.
Tib shrugged. “So I was told. I’m just a messenger.”
“And a rather young one at that,” she observed.
His smile was quick and reassuring. “Oh, not so young as
I look. And I do not travel alone. I have Gloon for protection.”
Wren smiled back. “Gloon.”,
He nodded, then stuck his fingers in the comers of his
mouth and gave a shrill whistle that silenced everything about
them. Up came his right arm, and now Wren saw that he wore
a thick leather glove that ran to his elbow.
Then down out of the darkness hurtled a shadow that was
darker still, a whistle of sound and fury that sliced through the
air like black lightning. It landed on the boy’s glove with an
audible thud, wings spread and cocked, feathers jutting out like
spikes. In spite of herself. Wren shrank away. It was a bird, but
a bird like no other she had ever seen. It was big, larger than
a hawk or even an owl, its feathers slate gray with red brows
and a crest that bristled menacingly. Its beak was yellow and
sharply hooked. Its claws were two sizes too large for the rest
of its body, and its body was squat and blocky, all sinew and
muscle beneath its feathers. It hunched its head down into its
shoulders like a fighter and stared at Wren through hard,
wicked eyes.
“What is that?” she asked the boy, wondering suddenly
where Faun was hiding—hoping she was hiding well.
“Gloon? He’s a war shrike, a breed of hunting bird that
comes out of the Troll country. I found him as a baby and
raised him. Trained him to hunt.” Tib seemed quite proud. “He
makes sure nothing happens to me.”
Wren believed it. She didn’t like the look of the bird one bit.
She forced her eyes away from it and fixed on the boy. “You
must eat and rest here for tonight, Tib,” she offered. “But
shouldn’t you go back in the morning and let the free-bom
know where we are? We need them to get here as quickly as
they can.”
He shook his head. “They come already and nothing I can
do will move them along any quicker. When they get closer,
they will send a message—another bird. Then I will send
The Talismans of Shannara 191
Gloon.” He smiled. ‘They will find us, don’t worry. But I am
to stay with you, my queen. I am to serve you here.”
“You might serve best by going back,” the implacable
Desidio observed.
Tib blinked and looked confused. “But … but I don’t want
to go back!” he blurted out impulsively. He suddenly seemed
as young as he looked. “I want to stay here. Something is go-
ing to happen, isn’t it? I want to be part of it.” He glanced