Ilse Witch - Terry Brooks [138]
The jungle turned now on Walker, vines and tall grasses, supple limbs and trunks, twisting and writhing in fury. Walker stood in the cavern opening and burned them with the Druid fire to prevent them from dragging him down. A few moments more and he would be free.
But the guardian of the key was determined to have him. A bramble limb snaked out of the shadows to one side, lashing at the Druid’s face. Two-inch needles bit into his flesh, raking his arm and side. Walker felt their poison enter him instantly, a cold fire. He ripped the bramble away, threw it on the ground, and turned it to ash.
Then the winch basket dropped in front of him, and he dragged himself over its side. Vines clutched frantically at him as he rose. With the last of his strength, Walker burned them away, fired them one by one, fighting to stay conscious. The basket lurched free and began to rise swiftly. The airship rose, as well, lifting away into the blue. Anxious faces peered down at him from the railing, blurred and fading quickly. He fought to keep them in focus and failed. Collapsing to the floor of the basket, he lost consciousness.
Below, the floor of the valley writhed in a fiery mass of shriveled limbs and then disappeared in black clouds of roiling smoke.
Chapter TWENTY-TWO
For six days and nights, Walker lay near death. A swift and deadly agent, the poison from the brambles had penetrated deep into his body. By the time he was brought back aboard the Jerk Shannara, he was already beginning to fail. The Elven Healer Joad Rish recognized his symptoms immediately and roused him long enough to swallow an antidote, then spent the next few anxious minutes applying baen-leaf compresses to his injuries to draw out the poison.
Although the Healer’s efforts slowed the poison and blunted its killing effects, they could not counteract it completely. At Redden Alt Mer’s insistence, Walker was carried below and placed in the Rover Captain’s cabin, and there Joad Rish wrapped the stricken Druid in blankets to keep him warm, gave him liquids to prevent dehydration, changed his dressings regularly, and sat back to wait. Walker’s own body was doing more than the Healer could to keep him alive. It waged a silent struggle that was apparent to him but that he could do little more to aid.
Bek Rowe was there for most of it. Since his summoning by Walker during the jungle attack, he felt tied to the Druid in a new and unexpected way. There was considerable wonder and confusion among the members of the ship’s company at the fact that he alone had heard Walker’s summons. No one had made much of it as yet, but Bek could tell what they were thinking. If the Druid could have summoned anyone, he would have summoned Redden Alt Mer, who piloted the airship and could respond more directly than Bek Rowe. But Big Red had heard nothing. Nor had Quentin or Panax or even Ryer Ord Star. Perhaps not even Truls Rohk had heard. Only Bek. How could that be? Why would Bek be able to receive a summons of that sort when no one else could? How had Walker known that Bek could hear and so chosen to call to him?
The questions plagued him, and there would be no answers unless the Druid recovered from his wounds. But it was not for that reason that Bek chose to keep watch over the Druid. It was because he was afraid that Walker, locked inside his body while unconscious and stricken, in need of help that he could communicate in no other way, would call to him again. Perhaps distance wasn’t a problem for the Druid when he was well, but what if it was while he was sick? If Bek were not close and listening, a cry for help might go unheard. Bek did not want that on his conscience. If there was a way to save the Druid’s life, he had to be there to provide it.
So he sat with Walker in Redden Alt Mer’s cabin and watched in silence while Joad Rish worked. He slept now and then, but only in short naps and never deeply. Ahren Elessedil brought him his meals, and Quentin and Panax came to visit. No effort was made to remove him from the cabin.