along the slope. Their path would take them below where he
hid—but across the trail he had left. He wanted to run, to fly
out of there as swiftly as the wind, but he knew he could not,
and forced himself to wait. The hunters were black-robed and
hooded and did not wear the emblem of Seekers. There was no
pretense here, and that meant they either did not feel threat-
ened or did not care. Neither prospect was reassuring.
Morgan watched them ease through the trees like bits of
coming night and disappear from view.
Instantly he was moving again, gliding forward quickly,
anxious to put as much distance as possible between himself
and the black-garbed hunters. Were they searching for him or
for someone else—for anyone, perhaps, after what had been
done to their patrol, worried that there were others in hiding?
It didn’t matter, he decided quickly. It was enough that they
were out there and that sooner or later they were likely to find
him.
He revised his previous plan, thinking on his feet, not slow-
ing for an instant He would not stay on this side of the
Mermidon. He would cross the river and wait on the far bank
where he could watch the shoreline and the lake for Damson
The Talismans of Shannara 347
and Matty to return, ft was unfortunate that he could not posi-
tion himself to keep an eye on Southwatch as well, but it was
too dangerous to sdck around. Best to wait for Damson to re-
port what the Skree had shown on her journey south. Let her
trv its magic out again if necessary then. That would have to
do.
He was very close to Southwatch now and saw that he could
not reach the Mermidon to try a crossing without coming
down out of the concealment of the trees. That meant he must
wait for darkness, and darkness was still several hours away.
Too long to stay in one place, he knew. He crouched in the
shadows and studied the land below, looking for a reason to re-
consider his assessment The trees thinned as they broke from
the Runne, melting away south so that there was no cover on
the plains that stretched east to the river. He ground his teeth
in frustration. It was too risky to try. He would have to back-
track into the mountains and try to find a pass leading east or
circle all the way back the way he had come. The latter was
impossible, the former chancy.
But as he pondered the alternatives, he caught sight of new
movement in the trees ahead. Again he froze, searching the
shadows. He might have been mistaken, he told himself. There
seemed to be nothing there.
Then the black-cloaked figure eased into the light momen-
tarily before fading away again.
Shadowen.
He scooted back into the deep cover, his mind made up for
him. He began to double back, working his way higher into the
rocks. He would look for a pass through the Runne and take
his chances with the river. If he failed to find a way through,
he would retrace his steps under cover of darkness. He did not
like the thought of being out there at night with the Shadowen
still searching for him, but his choices were being stripped
from him with alarming rapidity. He forced himself to breathe
deeply and slowly as he slipped back through me trees, trying
to stay calm. There were too many Shadowen hunting about
for it to be anything but a deliberate search. Somehow they
had found out where he was and were closing in. He felt his
throat tighten. He had survived one battle this day, but he did
348 The Talismans of Shannon
not feel comfortable with the prospect of having to survive an-
other.
Sunset was approaching, and the mountain forest was
cloaked in a windless hush. He kept his movements methodical
and noiseless, knowing that any small sound could give him
away. He felt the weight of the Sword of Leah pressing into
his back, and resisted the temptation to reach back for it. It
was there if he needed it, he told himself—and he’d better