Ilse Witch - Terry Brooks [137]
Aboard the Jerle Shannara, which hovered in a cloud of mist two clearings away, Bek Rowe was watching Rue Meridian tie off a fresh radian draw close by the horns of the bow when Walker’s voice cried out sharply in the silence of his mind.
Bek.‘ We’re under attack! Two canyons farther in! Have Alt Mer bring the airship! Drop the basket and pull us out! Quick, now!
Startled by the unexpected assault, the boy jumped at the sound of the Druid’s voice. Then he was racing for the pilot box. It never occurred to him to question whether he was being misled. It never occurred to him that the voice might not be real. The urgency it conveyed catapulted him across the decking in a rush, crying out to Big Red as if stung.
In moments, the airship was sailing skyward through the rugged peaks, lifting over the defiles it could not navigate to reach the beleaguered men.
Walker stared from the cavern entrance at the Elven Hunters marooned on the rocky rise. The entire floor of the canyon had risen up in a tangle of writhing vines and limbs, all of them grasping for anything that came within reach. They had gotten the Elven Hunter Brae before he could even defend himself, dragged him from the rise, and pulled him apart as he screamed for help. The other three had backed to the center of their island, swords drawn, and were striking frantically at the tentacles that snatched for them.
The Druid shoved the second key deep inside his robes and called up the Druid fire against the wall that had formed before him. Blue flames lanced into the tangle and burned everything they touched, momentarily clearing a path. Walker continued his assault, burning through the twisting mass of foliage toward the rise, seeking to reach his companions. But the jungle refused to give way, thrusting back at him from both sides, driving him back. An enormous, implacable weight settled on him, driving him to his knees. He backed from the entrance, recoiling from the assault, and the weight lessened. The key’s guardian could not reach him while he remained protected by the cave’s stone. But it would keep him there forever.
He realized then what had happened, both here and at Flay Creech. The guardians of the keys had been set at watch against any foreign presence and all threatened thefts of the keys. They were not thinking entities and did not rely on reason/ they acted out of pure instinct. Eels and jungle both had been conditioned to serve a single purpose. How that had been managed and by whom, Walker had no idea. But their power was enormous, and while probably confined to a small area, it was more than sufficient to subdue anyone who came within reach.
The jungle reached for him through the cavern entrance, and he responded with the Druid fire, charring vines and limbs, filling the air with clouds of smoke and ash. If Redden Alt Mer didn’t reach them soon, they were finished. The Elves could not hope to withstand a prolonged assault on the rise. And even a Druid’s magic had its limits.
A hint of desperation driving at him, he thrust his way forward, determined anew to break free. He beat back the jungle wall in an effort to reach the light beyond. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of the Jerk Shannara passing overhead and heard the shouts of her company. The Elves trapped on the rise glanced skyward, as well, momentarily distracted, and tall Dace paid the price. Knocked sprawling by a whiplash assault of grasses, his legs became tangled in their implacable weave. Kicking wildly, he fought in vain to break free. Patrinell and Kian reached for him instantly, but he had already been pulled from the rise to his death.
Then a torrent of liquid fire rained down about the rocky isle, encircling the trapped Elven Hunters. Poured from barrels stored aboard ship, it showered onto the vines and grasses and exploded into flame. Down came the winch basket in the fire’s wake, jerking up short just above Ard Patrinell and Kian. Breaking off their struggle with the jungle, they scrambled over