The Sword of Shannara - Terry Brooks [77]
“Encouraging, I’m sure,” muttered Flick under his breath.
The company moved into the thickly clustered trees of the pine forest, following one another in single file, weaving among the rough, disjointed trunks. Dead needles lay in heaps over the whole of the earthen forest floor, creating a soft matting on which the passing of feet made no sound. The white-bark trees rose tall and lean, touching near their skeletal tops like some intricate spider web, lacing the blueness of the clear sky in fascinating designs. The party wound steadily forward through the maze of trunks and limbs behind Hendel, who chose their route quickly and without hesitation. They had not gone more than several hundred yards when Durin brought them up sharply and motioned for silence, looking questioningly about, apparently searching the air for something.
“Smoke!” he exclaimed suddenly. “They’ve set fire to the forest!”
“I don’t smell any smoke,” declared Menion, sniffing the air tentatively.
“You don’t have the sharpened senses of an Elf either,” Allanon. stated flatly. He turned to Durin. “Can you tell where they’ve fired it?”
“I smell smoke, too,” declared Shea absently, amazed that his own senses were as sharp as those of the Elves.
Durin cast about for a minute, trying to catch the scent of smoke from one particular direction.
“Can’t tell, but it appears that they’ve fired it in more than one place. If they have, the forest will go up in a matter of minutes!”
Allanon hesitated for one brief second, then motioned for them to continue toward the Pass of Noose. The pace picked up considerably as they hastened to reach the other side of the firetrap in which they were encased. A blaze in those dry woods would quickly cut off any chance of escape once it spread through the treetops. The long strides of Allanon and the borderman forced Shea and Flick to run to keep from falling behind. Allanon shouted something to Balinor at one point in the race, and the broad figure dropped back into the trees and was lost from sight. Ahead of them, Menion and Hendel had disappeared, and there were only fleeting glimpses of the Even brothers dashing smoothly between the leaning pines. Only Allanon stayed clearly in view, a few paces behind, calling to them to run faster. Thick clouds of heavy white smoke were beginning to seep between the closely bunched trunks like a heavy fog, obscuring the path ahead and making it steadily more difficult to breathe. There was still no sign of the actual fire. It had not yet grown strong enough to spread through the intertwining boughs and cut them off. The smoke was everywhere in a matter of minutes, and both Shea and Flick coughed heavily with every breath, their eyes beginning to sting from the heat and irritation. Suddenly Allanon called to them to halt. Reluctantly they stopped and waited for the order to continue, but Allanon appeared to be looking back for something, his lean, dark face strangely ashen in the thick white smoke. Soon the broad figure of Balinor reappeared from the forest behind them, wrapped tightly in the long hunting cloak.
“You were right, they’re behind us,” he informed the historian, gasping out the words as he fought for breath. “They’ve fired the forest all along our backs. It looks like a trap to drive us into the Pass of Noose.”
“Stay with them,” Allanon ordered quickly, pointing to the frightened Valemen. “I’ve got to catch the others before they reach the pass!”
With incredible speed for a man so big, the tall leader leaped away and dashed into the trees ahead, disappearing almost immediately. Balinor motioned for the Valemen to follow him, and they proceeded at a rapid pace in the same direction, fighting to see and to breathe in the choking smoke. Then, with frightening suddenness, they heard the sharp crackle of burning wood and the smoke began to billow past them in huge, blinding clouds of white heat. The fire was overtaking them. In a few minutes it would reach them and they would