other. Still here, just as they had been in the time of Wil
Ohmsford, monsters from the deep waters of the Matted
Brakes, the Things.
Stresa was moving again, and she hurried after, trying to
keep from rushing, trying to keep her passage as silent as that
of a cloud across the sky. Do nothing to disturb them, she told
herself. Let them sleep a little while more. The haze billowed
about, but it was not thick enough to hide them from the crea-
tures following. The Creepers were on the bridge as well, she
saw, glancing hurriedly back.
But only two of them!
She stopped abruptly, hissing Stresa and Triss to a stop with
her. Two were not enough! She needed them all! She wheeled
back, brought out the Elfstones, and held them forth. ‘Wo/”
she heard Stresa cry out harshly, hissing the word. But she sent
the fire forth anyway, flying over the still swamp waters, lanc-
ing into the Creepers that hunched down upon the shores, scat-
tering flames into them like arrows, burning and singeing. The
Creepers reared back, tearing at the earth. She felt something
in the lake stir. Not yet! The Creepers on the shore milled
about, their black-cloaked tenders trying to calm them. One of
the Seekers disappeared under a flurry of iron claws, scream-
ing.
Ripples spread slowly across the mirrored green waters.
Wren took a deep breath. Steady, steady.
The Talismans of Shannara
Then she struck again, the Elven fire exploding into the
Creepers, and this time they all came for her, thundering onto
the bridge in a furious rush.
There was movement everywhere in the lake now, a slow
shifting of the ridges, a gathering of dark shapes. She saw it
out of the comer of her eye as she raced on behind Triss and
Stresa—saw it on either side and then ahead and behind, too,
and she realized the danger she was in. If the Things attacked
now, none of them would escape. Monsters of the swamp,
older than the Snadowen spawn and as implacable as time,
these were what she had brought the Creepers to face. They
had been there when Wil Ohmsford and Amberle Elessedil had
passed through the Brakes more than three hundred years
earlier in search of the Bloodfire. They had devoured two of
the Elven Hunters sent to keep the Valeman and the Chosen
safe. She hoped now they would devour the Creepers as well.
Ahead, there was an island, little more than a flat stretch of
rock-encrusted earth dotted with scrub and a small stand of cy-
press. The bridge ran to it and then wound away again beyond.
It stood alone in the haze, empty of life.
“Hurry!” she heard Stresa hiss.
She looked back again and saw the Creepers, all eight of
them, clawing their way across the root-entangled strip of land
that stretched away behind her. The Seekers ran after, some
crying out, most struggling to keep from being crushed. The
Creepers were out of control, seeing their prey so close at
hand, sensing that they would have them in moments. They
were closing quickly, heedless of me dangers about, confident
of their strength and armor. The Elven magic might bum, but
it could not destroy. Hunters, they thought only to hunt, never
to hide, never to turn back. One slipped and fell, floundering
momentarily in the stagnant lake waters before struggling back
out again.
Come after me, she hissed soundlessly at them. Come see
what I have planned for you.
Then she was on the island and turning back once more, me
fire from the Elfstones already building in her hand. She went
cold as she realized that she might have waited too long, that
the closest of the Creepers was less than fifty yards away. She
willed forth the magic quickly, and sent the fire not into the
The Talismans of Shannara 375
Creepers but into the lake about them, into the ridges with
their breathing holes, into the Things.
The lake exploded in geysers that shot hundreds of feet
into the air as dark shapes lifted skyward like whales breach-
ing. On the bridge, the Creepers slowed, confused by what was