Ilse Witch - Terry Brooks [124]
Flay Creech was not a welcoming sight. The island was gray and barren, a collection of mostly smooth mounds irrigated by an irregular patchwork of deep gullies that deposited seawater in shallow ponds all across its surface. Save for clusters of scrub trees and heavy weed patches, nothing grew. The island was small, barely a half mile across, and marked by a rocky outcropping just off the coast to the south that bore a distinct resemblance to a lizard’s head with its mouth agape and its crest lifted in warning. On the map that Walker had drawn for the ship’s company, the lizard’s head was the landmark that identified the island.
Redden Alt Mer took the Jerle Shannara slowly around the island, keeping several hundred feet above its surface, while the ship’s company gathered at the railings to survey the forbidding terrain. Bek looked downward with the others, but saw nothing of interest. There was no sign of life and no movement of any kind. The island appeared deserted.
When they had completed several passes, Walker signaled to Hunter Predd, who with his complement of Wing Riders had been gliding silently overhead. The grizzled rider swung close aboard Obsidian and shook his head. They had seen nothing either. But they would not descend to the island for a closer look, Bek knew, because they were under orders from the Druid not to land on any of the three islands where the talismans were hidden until a party from the airship had gone down first. The Rocs and their riders were too valuable to risk, — if lost, they could not be replaced.
Walker called Redden Alt Mer and Ard Patrinell to his side, and Bek and Quentin eased nearer to listen to what was being said.
“What do you see?” the Druid was asking the Rover Captain as they drew close enough to hear.
“The same as you. Nothing. But there’s something not right about the look of the island. What made those gullies that crisscross everything?”
However unhappy Redden Alt Mer was, Ard Patrinell was even more so. “I don’t like what I’m seeing at all. The terrain of this island doesn’t fit with anything I’ve ever come across. It’s the shape of it. False, somehow. Unnatural.”
Walker nodded. Bek could tell that he was troubled, too. There was something odd about the formation of the gullies and the smoothness of the island.
The Druid walked over to where Ryer Ord Star stood watching and bent down to speak softly with her. The seer listened carefully, then pressed her thin, small hands against her breast, closed her eyes and went completely still. Bek watched with the others, wondering what was happening. Then her eyes opened, and she began to speak to the Druid in rapid, breathless sentences. When she was finished, he held her gaze for a moment, squeezed her hand, and turned away.
He came back to where Ard Patrinell and Redden Alt Mer stood waiting. “I’m going down for a closer look,” he said quietly. “Lower me in the basket and stand ready to bring me up again when I signal. Don’t come down for me with either the ship or the Rocs if anything goes wrong.”
“I don’t think you should go alone,” Ard Patrinell said at once.
Walker smiled. “All right. I’ll take one man with me.”
Leaving them, he walked over to Quentin Leah. “Highlander, I need a swift, sure blade to protect me. Are you interested in the job?”
Quentin nodded instantly, a grin breaking out on his sun-browned face. He hitched up the Sword of Leah, where it was strapped across his back, and gave Bek a wink before hastening to follow the Druid, who was already