would be found. She could either run or fight—and she was
tired of running.
She reached down into her tunic and took out the Elfstones.
She balanced them in her hand, as if the weight of their magic
could be determined and so the outcome of her battle decided
early. She glanced west to the horizon, but there was nothing
to see, the forests still lost below the horizon. No one would
be searching for her anyway—not this far out and not at night.
She gritted her teeth, thinking of Garth again, wondering what
336 The Talismans of Shannara
he would do. She watched Gloon wing his way closer, taking
his time, riding the wind currents smoothly, easily, confident in
his power and skill, in what he could do. The war shrike
would try to take her on his first pass, she thought—quick and
decisive, before she could bring the magic of the Elfstones to
bear. And it would not be easy using the Elfstones against a
moving target.
She edged across the plains to put a small rise at her back.
Better than nothing, she told herself, keeping her eyes on
Gloon. She thought of what the war shrike had done to Grayl.
She felt small and cold and vulnerable, alone in the vastness of
the grasslands, nothing for as far as she could see, no one to
help her. No Morgan Leah this time. No reprieve from an un-
expected source. She would fight on her own, and how well
she fought—and how lucky she was—would determine
whether she lived or died.
Her hand tightened on the Etfstones. Come see me, Gloon.
Come see what I have for you. The war shrike soared and
dipped, sweeping out and back again, rising and falling in
careless disregard, a dark motion against the sky’s blue velvet.
Wren waited impatiently. Come on! Come on!
Then abruptly Gloon dropped Hke a stone and was gone.
Wren jerked forward, startled. The night spread away before
her, vast and dark and empty. What had happened? She felt
sweat run down her back. Where had the shrike gone? Not into
the earth, it wouldn’t have driven itself into the earth, that
didn’t make any sense …
And then she realized what was happening. Gloon was at-
tacking. He had dropped level with the ground so that his
shadow could no longer be seen, and he was coming at her.
How fast? How soon? She panicked, staggering backward in
fear. She couldn’t see him! She tried to pick out the shrike
against the dark horizon, but could see nothing. She tried to
hear him, but there was only silence.
Where is it? Where … ?
Instinct alone saved her. She threw herself aside on impulse
and felt the massive weight of the shrike rip past her, talons
tearing at the air inches away. She struck and rolled wildly,
tasting dust and blood in her mouth, feeling the pain of her in-
jured body rush through her anew.
The Talismans of Shannara 337
She came back to her feet instantly, whirled in the direction
she thought the shrike had gone, summoned the magic of the
Elfstones, and sent it careening out into the night in a fan of
blue fire. But the fire blazed into the void and struck nothing.
Wren dropped into a crouch, desperately scanning the moonlit
blackness. It would be coming back—but she couldn’t see it!
She had lost it! Below the horizon it was invisible. Despair
raced through her. Which way was it coming? Which way?
She struck out blindly, right and then left, and threw herself
down, rolling, coming up and striking out again. She heard the
magic collide with something. There was a shriek, followed by
Gloon’s heavy passage as the shrike winged off to her left,
hissing like steam. She peered after the sound, wiping at the
dust in her eyes. Nothing.
She got up and ran. Forcing down all thoughts of pain, she
sprinted across the empty grasslands to a wash that lay some
hundred feet away. She reached it and dove into it on a dead
run. There was the now-familiar rush of wind and the passing
of something dark overhead. Gloon had just missed her again.