worst of the heat. She found some berries that were more bit.
than sweet and a gum root that gave her something to chi
on. She stripped the horse of his saddle and tethered him. Re –
ing back within the trees, she watched the river flow past, ? ,1
though she did not mean to do so she fell asleep.
It was late in the afternoon when she woke again, start -;
out of a restless doze by the soft whicker of her horse. £,’. –
came to her feet instantly, seeing its shaggy head point M
south, and she looked off across the plains and river to f.;,1
horsemen coming toward her from several miles off—black
cloaked, hooded horsemen, whose identity was no secret.
She saddled her mount and was off. She rode several miles
along the riverbank at a quick trot, glancing back to see if her
pursuers were following. They were, of course, and she had
the feeling that more might be waiting ahead at Tyrsis. The
light faded west, turning silver, then rose, then gray, and when
the haze of early twilight set in, she turned away from the river
and headed west onto the plains. She would have a better
chance of losing her pursuit there, she reasoned. She was a
Rover, after all. Once it was dark, no one would be able to
track her. All she needed was a little time and luck.
She found neither. Shortly after, her horse began to falter
She urged him on with whispered promises and encouraging
pats about the neck and ears, but he was played out. Behind
her pursuers had fanned out across the horizon, distant still, bu
coming on. The haze was deepening, but the moon and firs
stars were out, and there would be light enough for a hunter t(
see by. She stiffened her resolve and rode on.
When her horse stumbled and went down, she rolled free
rose, went back to him, got him to his feet again, unstrappen
his saddle and bridle, and set him free. She began walking
limping because her injuries were sdll painful and inhibiting
angry and tired and determined not to be taken again. Sh-
The Talismans of Shannara -^
walked without looking back for a long time, until the night
had settled in completely, and the whole of the plains were
bathed in white light. The plains were silent and empty, and
she knew her pursuers were not close enough yet to worry
about or she would have heard them, and so she concentrated
on putting one foot in front of the other and simply going on.
When she finally did look back, no one was there.
She stared in disbelief. There wasn’t one rider, not a single
horse, no one afoot, nothing. She took a deep breath to calm
herself and looked again—not just east, but all about this time,
thinking in sudden fear that she had been flanked. But there
was no one out there. She was alone.
She smiled in bewilderment.
And then she saw the dark shadow high overhead winging
its way toward her, slow and lazy and as inevitable as winter
cold. Her heart lurched in dismay as she watched it take shape.
Not for a second did she think it was one of the Wing Riders
come in search of her. Not for an instant did she mistake it for
a friend. It was Gloon she was seeing. She knew him instantly.
She recognized the blocky muscled body, the jut of the war
shrike’s fierce crested head, the sharp hook of the broad wings.
She swallowed against her fear. No wonder the Seekers had
fallen back. There was no need to hurry with Gloon to hunt
her down.
Tib Ame would be riding him, of course. In her mind she
saw the boy’s chameleon face, first friend, then foe; human,
then Shadowen. She could hear his grating laughter, feel the
heat of his breath on her face as he struck her, taste the blood
in her mouth from the blows …
She looked about for a place to hide and quickly discarded
the idea. She was already seen, and wherever she hid she