The First King of Shannara - Terry Brooks [100]
Noon came, and they left the hills behind and wound their way up into the mountains. Jerle Shannara had already told the company that they would ride until dark, anxious to put distance between themselves and their pursuers, determined that before they stopped they would be on terrain that would not leave a trail that could be easily followed. No one argued the point. They rode obediently through the gloom and silence, watching as the mist cleared and the mountains rose before them. The Breakline was a wall of jagged rock, of peaks that soared skyward until they disappeared into the clouds, of cliffs that fell away in sheer drops of thousands of feet, of massive outcroppings and ragged splits formed by pressure in the earth from a time when the world was still forming. The mountains lifted to the heavens as if trying to climb free of the world, an outstretching of the arms of giants frozen by time. As far north and south as the Elves could see, the Breakline was visible against the sky, a barrier forbidding passage, a fortress against encroachment.
The Elves stared at the mountains in silence, and in the face of such permanence felt an unmistakable sense of their own mortality.
By nightfall, they had passed beyond the lower peaks and could no longer look back on either the foothills that had brought them up or the more distant valley of the Sai-andanon. They camped in a grove of spruce cradled in a narrow valley tucked between barren peaks on which snow glistened in a thin, white mantle.
There was fresh water and grass for the horses, and wood for a fire.
As soon as they were settled and had eaten, Preia Starle departed to backtrack their trail to determine if a pursuit had been mounted. While they waited for her return, Tay conferred with Jerle and Vree Erreden about the vision that had revealed the location of the Black Elfstone. Once more, he recounted its specifics, taking care to describe everything related to him by Bremen. Jerle Shannara listened carefully, his strong face intense, his gaze fixed and unwavering. Vree Erreden, on the other hand, seemed almost disinterested, his eyes straying frequently, looking off into the night in search of something beyond what Tay’s words could offer.
“I have never been to this part of the Westland,” he remarked when Tay had finished. “I know nothing of its geography. If I am to divine the hiding place we seek, I must first get closer to it.”
“How helpful,” Jerle ventured irritably. He had been watching the local’s eyes stray as well and was clearly displeased with his attitude. “Is that the best you can do?”
Vree Erreden shrugged.
Jerle was incensed. “Perhaps you could do better if you had paid closer attention to what Tay was saying!”
The locat looked at him, squinting myopically. A slow fire kindled in his eyes. “Let me tell you something. When Tay Trefenwyd came to me to ask my help, I read his mind. I can do that sometimes. I saw Bremen’s vision, the one Tay just described, and my memory of it is quite clear. That vision is real, my friend. If it were not, I would not be here. It is real, and the place it shows is real, and of that much I am certain. Even so, I cannot find it without more than what I know right now!”
“Jerle, you have traveled this country often,” Tay broke in quickly, anxious to avoid a confrontation. “Is there nothing of what I have described that is at all familiar?”
His friend shook his head, a disgruntled look settling over his broad features. “Most of my travel has been confined to the passes — to Halys Cut and Worl Run, and what lies beyond. This particular formation of mountains — the twin peaks split like two fingers, in particular — sounds like it could be any of a dozen pairs I have seen.”
“But you’re not sure which?”
“What does it sound like to you?” his friend snapped.
“Which way do you think we should go, then?” Tay pressed.
He could not understand the other’s uncharacteristic display of temper.
Jerle climbed to his feet. “How would I know? Ask ‘my friend’ the