Morgawr by Terry Brooks

“I’ve scouted the cliff edge all the way out and back,” Panax informed them, oblivious to the Highlander’s look of warning. “There’s a trail further on, not much of one, but enough to give us a way down that doesn’t involve ropes. It opens onto a flat, so we’ll be able to see what’s waiting much better than Big Red could when he dropped into the trees.”

He glanced at Bek. “I forgot. You just woke up. You don’t know what’s happened.”

“About the Graak and the crystals?” Bek asked. “I know. I heard all about it on the walk down. When do we leave?”

“No!” Rue Meridian wheeled on him furiously. “You’re not going! You’re not healed yet!”

“She’s right,” Quentin Leah said, glaring at his cousin. “What’s wrong with you? I just spent weeks worrying that you were dead! I’m not going through that again! You stay up here. Big Red and I can handle this.”

“Wait a minute,” Panax growled. “What about me?”

“You’re not going either!” Quentin snapped. “Two of us is enough to risk.”

The Dwarf cocked one eyebrow. “Have you suddenly gotten so much better at staying alive than the rest of us?”

Bek glared at Quentin. “What makes you think you have the right to decide if I go or not? I decide what’s right for me, not you! Why would I agree to stay up here? What about our promise to look out for each other?”

“Well, I’m going if you’re going!” Rue Meridian spat out the words defiantly. “I’m the one who’s done the best job of looking out for everyone so far! You’re not leaving me behind! No one’s leaving me!” She shifted her angry gaze from one to the next. “Which one of you wants to try to stop me?”

They were face-to-face now, all of them, so angry they could barely make themselves stop shouting long enough to hear what anyone else was saying. Spanner Frew was quiet, his dark face lowered to hide the grin on his lips, his head shaking slowly from side to side. Alt Mer listened in dismay, wondering when to step in and if it would make any difference if he did.

Finally, he’d heard enough. “Stop shouting!” he roared.

They quit arguing and looked at him, faces red and sweating in the midday heat.

He shook his head slowly. “The Druid is dead, so I command this expedition. Both aboard ship and off. That means I decide who goes.”

His eyes settled momentarily on Bek—Bek, who looked taller and stronger than he remembered, more mature. He wasn’t a boy anymore, the Rover Captain realized in surprise. When had that happened? He glanced quickly at his sister, suddenly seeing things in a new light. She was staring at him as if she wanted to jump down his throat.

He looked away again quickly, out over the valley, out to where his fears were centered. He wondered again why he had come all this way. Money? Yes, that was a part of the agreement. But there had been a need to escape the Prekkendorran and the Federation, as well. There had been a need to see a new country, to journey to somewhere he hadn’t been. There had been a need for renewal.

“There’s not that many of us left,” he said, more quietly now. “Just a handful, and we have to look out for each other. Arguing is a waste of time and energy. Only one thing is important, and that’s getting back into the skies and flying out of here.”

He didn’t wait for their response. “Little Red, you stay here. If anything happens to me, you’re the only one who can fly the Jerle Shannara home again. Bek might try, but he doesn’t know how to navigate. Besides, you’re all beat up. Broken ribs, broken arm—if you have to defend yourself down there, you’ll be in trouble. I don’t want to have to worry about saving you. So you stay.”

She was furious. “You’re worried about saving me? Who was it who got you out of the Federation prison? Who was it who . . .”

“Rue.”

“. . . got Black Moclips back from the rets and would have kept her, too, with just a little help? What about Black Beard? Standing there with his head down and his mouth shut, hoping no one will remember he can sail an airship just as well as I can! Don’t say a word about it, Spanner! Don’t say anything that might help me!”

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