“Big surprise.”
Bek smiled. “I guess that Walker keeping secrets isn’t unusual, is it? Maybe there aren’t any surprises left for you and me. No real ones, I mean.”
Quentin exhaled a white plume that lofted into the chilly night. “I wouldn’t be so sure. I’d thought that earlier, and then I found you again. You never know.” He paused. “What do you think the chances are that anyone else is alive? Are they all dead, like Walker and Patrinell?”
Bek didn’t say anything for a moment. All of the Elves were gone, save Kian and perhaps Ahren Elessedil. Ryer Ord Star might still be alive. The Wing Riders might be out there somewhere. And, of course, there were the Rovers.
“We saw the Jerle Shannara fly into these mountains,” Bek ventured. “Maybe the Rovers are still searching for us.”
Quentin gave him a hard look. “Maybe. But if you were Redden Alt Mer in this situation, what would you do—come looking for us or fly straight back to where you came from?”
Bek thought about it a moment. “I don’t think Rue Meridian would leave us. I think she’d make her brother look.”
His cousin snorted. “For how long? Chased by those Mwellret vessels? Outnumbered twenty to one?” He shook his head. “We’d better be realistic about it. They don’t have any reason to think we’re still alive. They were prisoners themselves,—they won’t want to chance being made prisoners again. They would be fools not to run for it. I wouldn’t blame them. I would do the same thing.”
“They’ll look for us,” Bek insisted.
Quentin laughed. “I know better than to try to change your mind, cousin Bek. Funny, though. I’m supposed to be the optimist.”
“Things change.”
“Hard to argue with that.” The Highlander looked off into the falling snow and gestured vaguely. “I was supposed to look out for you, remember? I didn’t do much of a job of it. I let us get separated, and then I ran the other way. I didn’t even think of looking for you until it was too late. I want you to know how sorry I am that I didn’t do a better job of keeping my word.”
“What are you talking about?” Bek snapped, an edge to his voice. “What more were you supposed to do than what you did? You stayed alive, and that was difficult enough. Besides, I was supposed to look out for you, as well. Wasn’t that the bargain?”
They stared at each other in challenge for a moment. Then the tension drained away, and in the way of friends who have shared a lifetime of experiences and come to know each other better than anyone else ever could, they began to grin.
Bek laughed. “Coward.”
“Weakling,” Quentin shot back.
Bek extended his hand. “We’ll do better next time.”
Quentin took it. “Much better.”
The wind shifted momentarily, blowing snow flurries into their faces. They ducked their heads as it whipped about them, and the fire guttered beneath its rush. Then everything went still again, and they looked out into the darkness, feeling their efforts at getting through the day catching up to them, seeping away their wakefulness, nudging them toward sleep.
“I want to go home,” Quentin said softly. He looked over at Bek with a pale, worn sadness in his eyes. “I bet you never thought you’d hear me say that, did you?”
Bek shrugged.
“I’m worn out. I’ve seen too much. I’ve watched Tamis and Patrinell die right in front of me. Some of the other Elves, as well. I’ve fought so hard to stay alive that I can’t remember when anything else mattered. I’m sick of it. I don’t even want to feel the magic of the sword anymore. I was so hungry for it. The feel of it, like a fire rushing through me, burning everything away, feeding me.”
“I know,” Bek said.
Quentin looked at him. “I guess you do. It’s too much after a time. And not enough.” He looked around. “I thought this would be our great adventure, our rite of passage into manhood, a story we would remember all our lives, that we would tell to our friends and family. Now I don’t ever want to talk about it again. I want to forget it. I want to go back to the way things were. I want to go home and stay there.”