Ilse Witch - Terry Brooks [194]
They passed through a cluster of large empty warehouses into a section of low, flat platforms that might have been buildings or something else entirely. Windowless and sealed all about, they appeared to lack any purpose. Pitted with rust and streaked with patches of moss and lichen, they shimmered in the rain like huge ruined mirrors. Walker took a moment to study one, placing his hands on its surface, closing his eyes in concentration. After a moment he stepped away, shook his head at the others, and motioned for them to continue on.
The platform buildings disappeared behind them in the mist. Ahead, a broad metal-carpeted clearing that was studded with odd-shaped walls and partitions materialized out of the gloom. The clearing stretched away for hundreds of yards in all directions, and dominated the surrounding buildings by virtue of its size alone. The walls and partitions ranged in height from five to ten feet and ran in length anywhere from twenty to thirty more. They were unconnected to each other, seemingly placed at random, seemingly constructed without purpose. They did not form rooms. They did not contain furniture or even machinery. Here, unlike the surrounding warehouses, there was no rubble. Or plants, grasses, and scrub. Everything was swept clean and smooth.
At the center of the square, barely visible through the gloom, an obelisk rose more than a hundred feet. A single door opened into it, massive and recessed, but the door was sealed. Above this entryway, a red light blinked on and off in steady sequence.
Walker brought them to a halt with a hand signal and stood staring into the tangle of half walls and partitions to where the obelisk sat like a watchtower, its blinking light a vigilant eye. Bek searched the ruins about them, his uneasiness newly heightened. Nothing moved. He turned back to Walker. The Druid was still studying the obelisk. It was clear that he sensed the possibility of a trap, but equally clear that he believed he must step into it.
Ryer Ord Star bent close to Bek. “It is the entrance we seek,” she whispered. Her breathing was quick and anxious. “The door to the tower opens into Castledown. The keys he carries fit the door’s lock.”
Bek stared at her, wondering how she knew this, but she was staring at the Druid, the boy already forgotten.
Walker turned. His eyes were troubled and his face bore a resigned look. “Wait here for me.” His voice was so low that Bek could barely hear him. He gestured at the Given Hunters. “All of you.”
He straightened and signaled to Quentin and Panax on his left and Ard Patrinell on his right to remain where they were.
Alone, he started toward the tower.
The Ilse Witch walked the deck of the Jerk Shannara, making certain all of the Rovers were asleep. One by one, she checked them, then signaled for Cree Bega to come aboard and ordered him to send one of his Mwellrets below to search for anyone she might have missed. The chosen ret disappeared down the hatchway and returned again in only moments, shaking his head.
She nodded, satisfied. It had been easier than she had thought. “Take them below and lock them in the storerooms,” she ordered, dismissing Cree Bega with a gesture. “Separate them.”
She walked to the pilot box and climbed up to stand next to the big Rover slumped over the controls. She stood in the box and stared out over the length and breadth of the captured airship, taking in its look and feel. A sleek and able vessel, she saw. Quicker and more maneuverable than her own. Mwellrets