Bearers of the Black Staff - Terry Brooks [94]
The smile dropped from Pan’s face. “No,” he said at once. “We both go. Both of us. If not, I don’t go, either. Tell him that!”
But the Troll was already shaking his head. “Then you will both die. Taureq has decided. No argument is allowed. You will go, the girl stays.” He hesitated. “I will be going with you. To make sure you keep your word. Taureq says I must.”
Pan shook his head in disbelief. He didn’t mind if Sarn came along, but to leave Prue was unthinkable. “She’s only fifteen,” he hissed at the Troll. “She can’t be left here—”
“Pan!” she interrupted quickly, grabbing his arm. “Stop. Don’t demean me by arguing that I am a child. I am not. I haven’t been since I became a Tracker. I am as grown-up as you are and in some ways more so. There’s no point in arguing about this. Taureq has decided. You heard. I would have decided it the same way. He would be a fool to let us both go.”
Arik Sarn was nodding. “Listen. She knows.”
“You have to do this for both of us,” Prue continued. “If we both die here, nothing will have been accomplished. If you are free, at least you can warn everyone about what is happening, and maybe you can find a way to come back for me.” Her grip on his arm tightened. “I know you can do this, Pan. I believe in you.”
Panterra dropped his head, running his hand across his brow and through his hair in an unmistakable gesture of dismay. “I should never have suggested going back,” he muttered. “What a fool!”
Prue was having none of it. “You did the right thing and probably saved both our lives. Nothing else we said or did was going to make things any better. You can see that as well as I. This is the best way. I can wait for you; I won’t be hurt. They won’t do anything to me. Not until they know what’s going to happen with the meeting you suggested.”
Arik Sarn leaned forward. “We will come back for her,” he said. “You and I. I promise. We will come.”
Panterra Qu looked at them in turn, wishing he could think of something else to say, something that would change what was happening. But there was nothing to say, nothing to do. He knew that as well as they did. He took a deep breath. “They won’t hurt her?” he asked the Troll. “Are you certain of this?”
The other nodded. “I am certain.”
Pan shook his head one final time. “I don’t know. I just don’t.”
But he did know, and the matter was decided by then. Sarn had fresh clothes brought for him, released him from his chains, and gave him time to dress. When the Troll returned with packs of supplies for them, Pan could barely make himself look at Prue, still clothed in rags, still chained in place.
He knelt next to her and hugged her close. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
She hugged him back. “You do what’s needed. I’ll be waiting for you. I’ll be ready when you come.”
He didn’t even consider mentioning the obvious, although they were both thinking it. If he did come; if he would come at all. But he had said he would, she was expecting him to keep his word, and so he had to. Nothing less was acceptable. It didn’t matter what obstacles he faced. He would not leave her here to die.
He rose and gave her a long look. He wanted to say more, couldn’t think what it should be, and so managed only a quick smile and good-bye before turning away so he wouldn’t see her cry. Or, if he were honest about it, so that she wouldn’t see him.
Arik Sarn led him through the tent flaps and back outside. He went obediently, as if walking in a dream. He could not seem to focus his thoughts, to gather his scattered wits. Everything felt surreal and disconnected. The day was winding down, the light gone gray and hazy east, the sunshine fading rapidly west, the surrounding land layered in shadows. He stood in the midst of the tents and the Trolls, a stranger in a hostile land, wondering how in the world he had gotten there. Sarn took his arm, guiding him through the tents, through a sea of watchful eyes and pointing fingers, the sounds of guttural Troll voices trailing after them, guilt and fear riddling him with wormholes