Armageddon's Children (56 page)
He took a deep breath. No rescue was at hand. No one was coming. To one side, four of the guards were clustered around the compound Chairman, a man named Cole who had told Hawk earlier that he was sorry about what was going to happen, but hadn’t meant it. The men were whispering and glances were being cast in their direction. They were getting ready to carry out the sentence.
He looked back at Tessa. “Now,” he said.
Her hand locked tight on his wrist. “I can’t.”
“I love you, Tessa,” he said.
“I love you, too.” Her head lowered into shadow. “But I can’t.”
“Just don’t look. Just hold on to me.”
They were too late. The guards were coming toward them, grim-faced in the failing light. Hawk started to his feet, tried to pull Tessa up with him, but she refused to follow, sitting where she was, crying softly. The guards seized them by their shoulders, yanked them to their feet, and began walking them forward.
“Don’t do this,” Hawk pleaded, glancing from face to face, and then in desperation back at Cole, who stood watching impassively. “Cowards!” he screamed at them.
No one responded to him. He looked around wildly. Was there really no one coming? His mother’s words recalled themselves anew.
Trust in me.
His free hand went to his pocket and closed about the bones.
Then they were at the edge of the wall, the world spread away below them in a vast, shadow-streaked carpet, the distant horizon crimson with the sunset. Behind them, Cole spoke sharply, words that sounded more guttural than human. Hawk tried to break free, then tried to reach Tessa, but his captors held him tightly. He caught a quick glimpse of her stricken face as she sagged against the hands holding her. He tried to speak her name, but the word lodged in his throat.
Then the hands gave them a hard shove and together they went tumbling into the void.
ON THE ROOFTOP
of the building the Ghosts once had called home, Sparrow took a last look around. Acting as the legs and eyes of Owl, she performed a quick check of the catchments to make certain the necessary pieces had been dismantled and carried away. The others were down in the street and heading for the freeway, Bear pulling the heavy cart, Chalk and Fixit carrying the Weatherman on a litter, River pushing Owl in her wheelchair, Candle and Squirrel carrying packs and armfuls of supplies, and Cheney watching over them all.
She had volunteered to stay behind for a last look around and would catch up to them when she was satisfied.
She brushed at her ragged thatch of hair and looked south toward the compound, wondering if the Knight of the Word had reached Hawk yet. Somehow, she believed, he would find a way. She searched for movement through the shadows that draped the dark structure and listened for revealing sounds. But she saw and heard nothing. The sunset splashed across the metal and stone surfaces of the compound, a vivid and garish crimson. She didn’t like the look of that light. She didn’t like how it made her feel.
Then, suddenly, there was a bright flash near the top of the walls, a soundless explosion that she would have missed entirely had she blinked. She stared fixedly, searching for its source, waiting for it to reappear, but nothing else happened. Had she imagined it?
Her brow furrowed. She didn’t think so. She didn’t make those kinds of mistakes.
She turned away, finished her survey of the dismantled catchments and pilfered purification supplies, decided she was done, and moved toward the stairs. She was almost there when something out on the water caught her eye. She stopped where she was and stared. Hundreds of small lights had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, all across the mouth of the bay, drifting in off the sound. For a second she didn’t know what she was looking at, and then suddenly it registered.
Lights. Torches and lamps were burning on the decks and masts of hundreds of boats.
She blinked. Why were all these boats here?
Then, as she puzzled it through, she heard the first faint booming of the drums, a steady cadence that signaled clearly the purpose of the inhabitants of the boats.
It was an invasion.
She took only a moment more to let the realization of what was happening sink in, and then she began to run.
A
BOUT THE
A
UTHOR
T
ERRY
B
ROOKS
is the
New York Times
bestselling author of more than twenty books, including
The Sword of Shannara;
the High Druid of Shannara trilogy, which includes
Jarka Ruus, Tanequil,
and
Straken;
the nonfiction book
Sometimes the Magic Works: Lessons from a Writing Life;
and the novel based upon the screenplay and story by George Lucas,
Star Wars
®: Episode I
The Phantom Menace
™. His novels
Running with the Demon
and
A Knight of the Word
were selected by the
Rocky Mountain News
as two of the best science fiction/fantasy novels of the twentieth century.
The author was a practicing attorney for many years but now writes full-time. He lives with his wife, Judine, in the Pacific Northwest and Hawaii.
B
Y
T
ERRY
B
ROOKS
S
HANNARA
First King of Shannara
The Sword of Shannara
The Elfstones of Shannara
The Wishsong of Shannara
T
HE
H
ERITAGE OF
S
HANNARA
The Scions of Shannara
The Druid of Shannara
The Elf Queen of Shannara
The Talismans of Shannara
T
HE
V
OYAGE OF THE
J
ERLE
S
HANNARA
Ilse Witch
Antrax
Morgawr
H
IGH
D
RUID OF
S
HANNARA
Jarka Ruus
Tanequil
Straken
The World of Shannara
T
HE
M
AGIC
K
INGDOM OF
L
ANDOVER
Magic Kingdom for Sale—Sold!
The Black Unicorn
Wizard at Large
The Tangle Box
Witches’ Brew
W
ORD AND
V
OID
Running with the Demon
A Knight of the Word
Angel Fire East
Sometimes the Magic Works: Lessons from a Writing Life
Armageddon’s Children
is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2006 by Terry Brooks
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Del Rey Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
D
EL
R
EY
is a registered trademark and the Del Rey colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Brooks, Terry.
Armageddon’s children / Terry Brooks.
p. cm.
eISBN-13: 978-0-345-49553-2
eISBN-10: 0-345-49553-5
I. Title.
PS3552.R6596B67 2006
813'.54—dc22 2006040423
v1.0
