Ilse Witch - Terry Brooks [202]
Then the fire threads lanced from the walls through which they rushed, too, cutting into their unprotected bodies, slicing them apart. In horror, Bek watched one Elf disintegrate in a cross-hatching of threads, body parts and blood flying everywhere. Screams rent the misted air, mingling with smoke and the acrid stench of burning flesh. As the fire began to seek them out, trailing lines of red death, the Druid’s would-be rescuers flattened themselves against the metal floor of the maze and crawled swiftly into the protection of its closest walls. Bek saw one of the threads clip Ryer Ord Star, spinning her into a wall where she collapsed in a heap. The Elf who chased her was cut in half a dozen yards away.
Walker had regained his feet and was calling back to them, but his words were lost in the tumult. Without waiting for their response, he started ahead, a wraithlike figure in the gloom, his arm extended before him like a shield, swinging right and left to counterattack the fire threads with his magic as he fought his way toward the obelisk.
Bek exhaled sharply, a wave of despair sweeping through him, and turned to the Elves who held his arms. He was surprised to see that one was the tracker Tamis. “We have to go to him!” he snapped at her in frustration, renewing his struggle to break free.
“He told us to stay where we are, Bek,” she replied calmly, gray eyes sweeping the haze as she spoke. “It’s death to go in there.”
A scraping of metal on metal drew their attention to their left. From the low flat buildings they had passed coming in, a cluster of spidery forms skittered into view. Crooked-legged and squat, they spread out behind what remained of the flanking party led by Quentin and Panax.
“Creepers,” Tamis said softly.
Bek went cold. Ordinary men didn’t stand a chance against creepers. Even Quentin, with the magic of his sword, would be hard-pressed to stop so many. An endless maze, ribbons of fire, and now metal dogs—Ryer Ord Star’s horrific vision had come to pass.
“We’re getting out of here,” Tamis announced, pulling him back in the direction from which they had come.
“Wait!” He brought her up short with a jerk of his arm. He pointed into the maze. Ryer Ord Star was trying to rise, dragging herself to her knees. He looked at Tamis pleadingly. “We can’t just leave her! We have to try to help!”
Driven by a sudden wind, the taste and smell acrid, smoke roiled past them, and ash-clouded mist swept into their faces. The tracker stared at him a moment, then released his arm, leaving him in the grip of her companion. “Wait here.”
She sprinted into the maze without hesitating, the fire threads chasing after her, trying to cut her off, burning across the metal carpet in pursuit. Twice she went down in a long slide that took her under the threads, and once she barely cleared the edge of a wall before the fire scorched its smooth surface. Ahead, Ryer Ord Star was on her hands and knees, head bent, long silver hair hanging like a curtain across her face. Blood streaked one arm, soaking into the torn fabric of her tunic.
To Bek’s right, more creepers had emerged from the gloom and were descending on Ard Patrinell’s group.
Tamis reached Ryer Ord Star in a flying leap that sent both of them sprawling out of the sweeping path of a fire thread. Dragging the seer to her feet, the tracker led her back through the maze, running crouched along walls and across open spaces as the threads burned all around them.
They aren’t going to make it, Bek thought. It’s too far! The fire is everywhere!
He looked for Walker, but the Druid