But she was feeling at loose ends with herself, strangely dis-
connected from everything, and she needed to regain her per-
spective. Why not? she thought. Perhaps having Tib along
would help. Perhaps it would suggest something.
She nodded. “All right. You can come.”
Tib’s smile spread from ear to ear. It just about matched Err-
ing Rift’s scowl.
* * *
The Talismans of Shannara 309
They flew south against the backdrop of the mountains, the
Elf Queen, the leader of the Wing Riders, and the boy, staying
low and tight against the land. They passed the laboring Fed-
eration army, strung out across the empty plains in a massive
cloud of dust, and continued on past the bleak expanse of the
Matted Brakes toward the blue ribbon of the Mermidon. The
wind blew at them in soothing, cooling waves, and the land
spread away in a patchwork of earth colors dotted with bright
flashes of sunlight reflecting off ponds and streams. Wren sat
behind Erring Rift, and Tib Ame sat behind her. She could feel
the tension in the boy as he strained to look down past Grayl’s
wings, taking in the land below, seeking first to one side and
then to the other, small exclamations of excitement escaping
his Ups. She smiled, and lost herself in memories.
Only once did her thoughts stray back to the present. For the
second time in a row, she had not brought Faun with her on a
flight with Erring Rift. Faun had begged to go, and she had
refused. Maybe she was afraid for the Tree Squeak, frightened
that it would fall from the Roc’s back. Maybe it was some-
thing more. She really wasn’t sure.
The hours slipped away. They reached the Pykon, picked up
the winding channel of the Mermidon, and sped south. Still no
sign of the Creepers. Wren scanned the countryside, afraid that
the monsters had slipped into the trees where they could no
longer be followed. But seconds later a glint of metal flashed
out of the distance, and Erring Rift swung Grayl into a sweep-
ing loop that carried them away from the Mermidon and closer
to the mountains west. They hugged the rocks as they came up
on the Creepers, who were bunched east of the river, lurching
after the Federation army. Wren watched the insect things
move tirelessly through the heat and dust, monsters that served
inhuman masters and insupportable needs. She thought of the
things she had left behind on Morrowindl and realized that she
had not really left them behind after all. The dark creatures
that the Elven magic had created there had simply been recre-
ated here in another form. History repeating again, she thought.
So what were the lessons she needed to leam?
They flew past twice, and then Wren had Erring Rift land
them on a bluff amid a series of forested foothills backed up
against the Rock Spur. From there they could watch the prog-
310 The Talismans of Shannara
ress of the Creepers as they labored on across the grasslands,
disjointed legs rising and falling in steady cadence.
Wren seated herself without comment. Tib Ame sat next to
her, knees drawn up, arms wrapped about his legs, face intense
as he stared out at the Creepers. Creepers. She mouthed the
word without saying it. How could they be stopped? She dug at
the ground with the heels of her boots, thinking. Behind her,
Erring Rift was checking the harness straps on Grayl. Wind
blew gently through the trees, soothing and cool on her skin.
She thought of the Wisteron, a distant cousin to the Creepers,
sunk finally into the mire close to where it had made its lair.
Rift touched her shoulder, handing down a waterskin. She
took it, drank, and offered it to Tib, who declined. She rose
and walked with Rift to the edge of the rise, staring out again
at the Creepers. What was out there that could hurt these
things? Did they eat and sleep like other creatures? Did they
need water? Did they breathe air?
She brushed at the sweat on her face.
“We should start back,” Rift said quietly.
She nodded and didn’t move. Below, the Creepers lumbered