The First King of Shannara - Terry Brooks [65]
It was midnight when the High Council adjourned. Tay stood outside the Assembly and clasped hands with Jerle Shannara in silent congratulation. The king brushed past them with a smile and was gone. Overhead, the sky was pinpricked with stars, and the air about them was sweet and warm. Success was a heady intoxicant.
Things had gone the way Tay had hoped, and he wished impulsively that he could get word of it to Bremen. Jerle was talking nonstop, flushed with excitement, anticipating the journey west, a new adventure to be undertaken, an escape from the boring routine of his court life in Arborlon.
In that moment of high jubilation, it felt to them both as if all things were possible and nothing could go wrong.
Chapter Ten
When the others had gone and they were all that were left, Tay and Jerle walked up together from the Assembly to the palace. They took their time, still caught up in the euphoria of their success before the High Council, neither of them ready for sleep. The night was still, the city about them at peace, the world a place of dreams and rest. Torches flickered in doorways and at the intersections of roads, beacons against the onslaught of shadows made deeper by the fading of the moon south below the horizon. Buildings loomed out of the darkness like great beasts curled up in sleep. The trees of the forest lined the walkways and surrounded the Elven homes, sentinels standing shoulder to shoulder, motionless in the dark. It gave Tay, as his gaze wandered idly across the open spaces and through the shadows, an odd sense of comfort, as if he were being watched over and protected. Jerle talked on, working his way from subject to subject in eager consideration of the events that lay ahead, arms gesturing, laugh booming out. Tay let him go, swept along in his wake, detached enough that he could listen and still let his thoughts wander, thinking of how his past had come around to his present, of how perhaps what had been left behind could be reclaimed again.
“We will need horses to cross the Sarandanon,” Jerle was musing. “But we can travel faster through the forest leading up to the valley, and then again once we are into the Breakline, if we are afoot. We’ll have to pack differently for each portion of the journey, carry different provisions.”
Tay nodded without answering. No answer was required.
“A dozen of us at the minimum, but perhaps two would be better. If we’re forced to stand and fight, we can’t be caught shorthanded.” His friend laughed. “I don’t know what I’m worried about. What would dare come against the two of us!”
Tay shrugged, looking down the walk to where the lights of the palace had come into view through the trees. “I am hopeful that we won’t have to find out.”
“Well, we’ll be cautious, you can be sure. Leave quietly, stick to the cover of the trees, — stay away from dangerous places. But...“ He stopped and brought Tay about to face him. ”Make no mistake — the Warlock Lord and his creatures will be hunting us. They know that even if Bremen did not escape the Druid’s Keep, a handful of his followers did. Quite possibly they suspect he penetrated their Northland safehold. They know we will be looking for the Black Elfstone.”
Tay thought it over. “Expect the worst. That way we won’t be surprised. Is that it?”
Jerle Shannara nodded, suddenly solemn. “That’s it.”
They started back up the path. “I’m not sleepy,” the big man complained. He stopped again. “Where can we go for a glass of ale? One, to celebrate.”
Tay shrugged. “The palace?”
“Not the palace! I hate the palace! All those parents and children rummaging about, family everywhere. No, not there. Your house?”
“My parents are asleep. Besides, I feel as much a stranger there as you do at the palace. How about the Home Guard barracks?”
Jerle beamed. “Done! A glass or two, then bed. We have much to talk about,