Ilse Witch - Terry Brooks [136]
A few moments later, the presence withdrew, sliding back into the earth, satisfied perhaps that it was not threatened.
Walker shook off the lingering effects of its touch and took a deep, steadying breath. The attack had shaken him badly. Whatever lived in this valley possessed power that dwarfed his own. It was old, he could tell, perhaps as old as the Faerie world. He signaled to the Elves that he was all right, then glanced around quickly. He did not want to stay where he was. A rise of barren, empty rock formed a smooth hump at the center of the canyon, a sun-drenched haven within the jungle gloom. Perhaps from there he could see better where to go next.
Beckoning to the Elven Hunters, he moved out of the undergrowth and gloom and climbed onto the stone rise. The last traces of the hateful presence faded as he did. Odd, he thought, and moved to the center of the rise. From this new elevation, he surveyed the canyon. There was not much to see. At its far end, the canyon broadened and rose in a long, winding slope that disappeared into mist and shadow. The Druid could not determine what lay beyond. He glanced around at the portion of the canyon in which he stood and saw nothing helpful.
Yet something tugged at him. Something close. He closed his eyes, cleared his mind, and began to probe gently outward with his senses. He found what he was looking for almost at once, and his eyes snapped open to confirm his vision.
He could just make out a darkening through the green of the jungle wall in a cliffside a hundred yards or so away. It was the cavern Truls Rohk had found the night before.
He stood looking at the darkness and did not move. The second key was in there, waiting. But the thing that guarded it was waiting, as well. He considered for a moment how best to approach the cavern. No solution presented itself. He turned to the Elven Hunters and gestured for them to remain where they were. Then he walked down off the jumble of rock toward the cave.
He felt the presence return almost instantly, but he had already turned his thoughts inward. He was nothing, an object without purpose, random and devoid of thought. He walled himself away before the sentry that guarded the key could read his intentions or discover his purpose and walked straight into the cavern.
Within, he stopped to collect his thoughts. He could no longer feel the presence shadowing him. It had left him at the entrance of the cave as it had left him at the foot of the rise. Rock did not offer it passage, he decided. Only the soil from which it drew its power. Could he use that to protect himself in some way?
He put the thought aside, and looked around carefully. The cavern opened into a series of chambers, which were dimly lit by splits in the rock that admitted small streamers of light from above the jungle canopy. Walker began to hunt for the key and found it almost immediately. It was sitting out in the open on a small rock shelf, unguarded and unwatched. Walker studied it for a moment before picking it up, then studied it some more. Its configuration was similar to the one he already had, with a flat power source and a blinking red light, but the ridged metal lines on this one formed different patterns.
Walker glanced about the cavern warily, searching for the key’s sentry, for some hint of an alarm, for anything dangerous or threatening, and found nothing.
He walked to the cave entrance once more and stood looking out at the clearing. Ard Patrinell and his Elven Hunters were clustered on the rocky mound, looking back at him. In the surrounding jungle, nothing moved. Walker stayed where he was. Something would try to stop him. Something had to. Whatever warded the key would not simply let him walk away. It was waiting for him, he sensed. Out there, in the trees. There, in the soil from which it drew its strength.
He was still debating