The First King of Shannara - Terry Brooks [94]
Jerle beckoned to him, and together they made their way back along the ditch and through the fields, leaving the outpost and its inhabitants, living and dead, behind.
It took them the better part of an hour to reach their comrades.
By now it was nearing mid-aftemoon, and the sun was lowering toward the jagged tips of the Breakline. They walked into its burning glare, half-blind when they were forced to move out of the shadow of the fields and hills and along the flats. Tay continued to lead, his magic spread out before them in a wide net, searching. He had checked for pursuit after their return from the farmhouse, but found none. Ahead, however, there were hints of Gnome Hunters at almost every turn. He could not tell how strong the parties were, but there were several. They had discussed waiting until dark before proceeding, but had decided it was more dangerous to remain in one place than to go on. Jerle stayed close, guiding him toward the secondary outpost that lay a few miles farther on, hopeful that this one might not have been discovered. Neither spoke. All about them, the others of the company scanned the countryside for enemies.
Then suddenly Vree Erreden was at Tay’s elbow, his small, slight form pressing close, his pinched face eager. “There!” He pointed sharply left. “Horses, a dozen or more, hidden in that draw!”
Tay and Jerle stopped and stared, seeing nothing beyond a line of fields planted thick with early corn.
The locat’s eyes darted from one face to the other, his impatience obvious. “Don’t waste your time looking! You can’t see them from here!”
“Then how do you know?” Jerle asked quickly.
“Intuition!” the other snapped. “How else?”
The big man glanced over doubtfully. “The outpost we seek lies just ahead. Are there horses there as well?”
Vree Erreden’s voice was sharp with urgency. “I only know what my intuition tells me! There are horses left, in a draw beyond those hills!” He pointed again for emphasis.
Jerle Shannara frowned, irritated by the other’s insistence.
“What if you are wrong, locat? How far is it to this draw that none of us can see?”
Tay held up his hand quickly to forestall Vree Erreden’s angry reply. He stood silent a moment, weighing the choice, then gazed out across the fields one final time. “Are you sure about the horses?” he asked the small man quietly.
The look the other gave him was withering. Tay’s smile cocked slightly, and he nodded. “I think we should see what lies left.”
Despite Jerle’s continued misgivings, they changed course, making their way across the flats. The central bowl of the Sarandanon spread away before them, the planting fields a sprawling patchwork quilt of raw earth and new crops. They were out in the open now and clearly visible to whoever might be looking for them. There was no help for it. Whichever way they traveled they were exposed, and Tay took what comfort he could from that, because they were moving away from the outpost and if Vree Erreden was mistaken or had somehow been misled, their chances of escape were diminished considerably. Tay tried not to worry. It was for this that he had brought the locat — his ability to sense what even Druid magic could not. The little man would not have said anything if his instincts were not strong. He knew the risks of their situation as well as Tay.
Tay’s net of magic spread wider in search of enemies, and now he found them. They came swiftly from the north, a Gnome patrol on horseback, still some distance away, but racing across the flats.
He could not see them yet, but there was no mistaking their intent.
He shouted a quick warning to Jerle, and the members of the little company began to run. Ahead, the fields abutted a line of low hills. The draw must lie beyond, Tay thought. And the horses as well, he prayed, for they were too far now from the outpost to escape any