Witches’ Brew by Terry Brooks

“The title of the book is Monsters of Man & Myth,” Ben told Willow, speaking directly into her ear.

They rode double atop a still-skittish Jurisdiction, Willow in front, Ben behind. Bunion had retrieved the horse after a lengthy chase, and now they were traveling west again toward the Greensward. Ahead rose the black wall of an approaching thunderstorm. Behind lay the remains of the wurm and the sulfurous stench of ash and gases from the Fire Springs. Overhead, the sun beat down mercilessly, a blinding white-hot flame that turned the arid emptiness of the Eastern Wastelands into a furnace.

Rain will come as a welcome relief, Ben thought wearily, trying to distance himself from his growing thirst.

“And Rydall’s creatures were in this book?” Willow asked in response, half turning to catch a glimpse of his face.

He nodded into her emerald hair, breathing the dusty scent of it. “A giant that gained strength from its contact with the earth, a demon that could mimic the look and abilities of whatever foe it faced, and a robotic machine man, armored and indestructible.” He looked off into the sweltering distance, trying to make out the geography of the land against the blackness of the storm. “I don’t remember the specific stories so much as the picture of the robot. It’s right on the cover, and it’s exactly the same as Rydall’s. But they’re all there. It’s as if Rydall read the book!”

“But that isn’t possible, is it?”

Ben sighed. “You wouldn’t think so.”

Willow looked forward again. The land shimmered with heat and dust. Bunion was out there somewhere, scouting for further dangers. If he found any, he would try to find a way around them. Another confrontation in their present condition was unthinkable. “Where is this book?” Willow asked.

“In the library with the others,” Ben answered. “It’s one of several I brought over with me from my old life, books that I thought I might like to have. I remember why I picked that one in particular. I’ve had it since I was a boy, and it seemed to represent something of what I was hoping to find here in Landover—as if what wasn’t real in my old life might be real in this one.” He shook his head. “I got my wish, didn’t I?”

Willow was silent for a moment. “But how would Rydall know about it?”

Ben shrugged. “I can’t imagine. It doesn’t make sense. Why would he know about this book as opposed to any other book? Has he read through my whole library? Does his magic enable him to search out any book at random and read through it without even being there?” He swallowed against the dryness in his throat and kept his temper tightly in check. “What I keep coming back to, Willow, is how personal this all feels. Rydall using my own things against me; striking out at my family and friends; kidnapping Mistaya, Questor, and Abernathy; attacking you and me, chasing us all over the place with this business of pitting his monsters against the Paladin; coming after me over and over again—I just don’t get it. Supposedly it’s about surrendering the throne to Landover, but it doesn’t feel like Landover’s got all that much to do with it.”

Willow nodded without looking at him. “No,” she agreed, and was silent again.

They rode on through the afternoon until the storm met them as they approached the edge of the Greensward. Black clouds swept past, blotting out the sun and blue sky, and a driving, blinding rain enveloped and soaked them to the skin in moments. The dust and grime of their travel were washed from their bodies, and the air about them was cooled. Jurisdiction plodded on, head lowered against the sheets of rain and swirling wind, and soon Bunion reappeared to lead them down into a grove of maple trees that provided good shelter from the damp. They dismounted, stripped off their clothing, wrung it out, and hung it to dry by a fire that Bunion had somehow managed to start. Sitting cross-legged in a soft patch of grass beneath the canopy of the trees, they watched the storm swirl around them and pass on. Darkness descended, and the world beyond their encampment disappeared. They dressed again, chewed halfheartedly on stalks of Bonnie Blue, rolled into their travel cloaks, and quickly fell asleep.