She breathed sharply through her nose, fighting to clear the
blood and dust, struggling to stay conscious.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you uncomfortable? ” He slapped her
lightly on one cheek and then the other. “There! Is that bet-
ter? ” He laughed. “Where was I? Oh, yes—waiting. And to-
day marks the end of that, doesn’t it? You turned your back, I
whistled in Gloon to finish the Roc, kept your attention fixed
on the Creepers while I stabbed the Wing Rider, then knocked
you out. So quick, so easy. Over and done with in seconds.”
He released her and stood up. Wren slumped but refused to
fall, to give him the satisfaction. Her own rage was building,
fighting through the weariness and pain, giving her strength
enough to focus on the boy.
The Shadowen.
316 The Talismans of Shannon’
Tib Ame snickered. “No hope for you now, is there, Queen
of the Elves? Not the least. They’ll hunt for you, but they
won’t find you. Not you, not the Wing Rider, not the Roc. You
will all simply disappear.” He smiled. “Want to know where?
Of course you do. Doesn’t matter with the other two, but
you …”
He put his hands on his hips and cocked his head, his casual
stance betrayed by the hardness in his eyes and the malice in
his voice. “You will go to Southwatch and Rimmer Dall—with
these!”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the leather pouch
that held the Elfstones. Her heart lurched. The Elfstones, her
only weapon against the Shadowen.
“We’ve known about them since you killed our brother at
the Wing Hove. Such power—but it is no longer yours. It be-
longs to the First Seeker now. And so will you, my lady. Until
he’s done with you, and then I’ll ask that you be given back
to me!”
He shoved the pouch back into his pocket. “You should
have let things be. Elf Queen. It would have been better for
you if you had. You should have remembered that we are all
of a common origin—Elves, come out of the old world where
we were kings You should have asked to be one of us. Your
magic would have let you. Shadowen are what Elves were des-
tined to become. Some of us knew. Some of us listened to the
earth’s whisper!”
What is he talking about? she wondered. But her thinking
was muddled and dull.
He turned away, watched Gloon eat for a time, then whistled
the war shrike over. Gloon came reluctantly, pieces of Grayl
still clutched in his hooked beak. Tib Ame patted and soothed
the giant bird, talking quietly with it, laughing and joking.
Gloon listened intently, eyes fixed on the boy, head dipped
obediently. Wren stayed where she was, trying to think what
she might do to help herself.
Then Tib came for her, picked her up easily, slung her over
Gloon’s slate-gray back like a sack of grain, and strapped her in
place. The boy went back for Ernng Rift, and threw the Wing
Rider’s body from the bluff into the dense thickets below. On
command, Gloon buried his blood-streaked yellow beak in
The Talismans of Shannara 317
Gravl dragged the unfortunate Roc to the edge, and dropped
him after. Wren closed her eyes against what she was feeling.
Tib Arne was right; she had been stupid beyond reason.
The boy came back to her then and pulled himself aboard
Gloon.
“You see, the magic allows us anything. Elf Queen,” he
snapped over his shoulder as he settled himself in place. “Gloon
can make himself large or small as he chooses, cloaked in the
shrike’s feathers, come out of the Shadowen form he took when
he embraced the magic. And I can be the son you’ll never have.
Have I been a good son, mother? Have I? ” He laughed. “You
never suspected, did you? Rimmer Dall said you wouldn’t. He
said you’d want to like and trust me, that you needed someone
after losing your big friend on Morrowindl.”
Wren felt bitterness rise within to mix with humiliation and
despair. Tib Ame watched her for a moment and laughed.
Then Gloon spread his wings and they were flying east