I can't believe this is happening, was his first thought. Ard had been equipped with a newer, more hard body, two swords, and shields all around. He was being provided a way of escape. He could return to the Jerle Shannara and from there, back to Arborlon. He could do all this and more.
That is, if he had been able to control his own body.
It moved by itself, he discovered after leaving the room he had been confined in. Each foot lifted ponderously, slowly, crashing down onto the metal floor in front of it. This was not how Ard Patrinell walked.
The pads kept the metal parts on the feet from clanking so that it would not make too much noise. What resulted was a heavy thudding. He had never walked like that before.
He continued into the tunnel unwillingly, watching as his body thumped on by itself. The tunnel branched into opposite directions; Ard went into one without hesitation. What's going on? he thought frantically. I don't even know this place!
Ard thudded along, going towards something specific yet unknown to him, listening as his footfalls made echoes along the narrow passageway.
An hour came and went, and Patrinell was still walking along the catacombs of Castledown. He had no idea that the ruins were this big. He was not tired; the metal parts of him could not feel exhaustion. Ard did not know if that was good or bad.
Suddenly, he heard voices. It was faint at first, hindered by the clear shield around his head, but sharpened as he got closer. If I can hear them, then they can hear me, he thought in dismay. But who are they? Friend or foe?
Figures materialized in the strange light, and Ard breathed in sharply as he realized who they were. It can't be.
The two people standing in front of him were Tamis and Quentin Leah.
Three more shapes appeared behind the Highlander and the Tracker. Panax, Kian, and Wye, Ard mouthed. The Dwarf and the two Elven Hunters, along with Tamis and Quentin, gaped at him in shock. Ard felt himself lift up his weapons to strike.
No!
He did not want to slay them. But he started for them automatically, a killing machine constructed by Antrax, caring for no one. Run! he howled inside his mind, for he had no voice to talk with.
The five people continued to stand there, still frozen in surprise, until Tamis shouted, "No! Get out of here!"
Get out!
They backed away slowly, but when Ard picked up speed, they broke into a run, headed in the opposite direction. He continued after them, wishing that he could just stop and die, but his wishes counted for next to nothing. Everyone was yelling now, shouting things to each other, words that Patrinell could not make out. He felt strangely alone.
There was a split in the passageway, and he watched Kian and Wye sprint into the left tunnel. Tamis and Panax followed, but Quentin turned around, bringing forth the Sword of Leah. The magic flared to life, and the Highlander swung his sword at him.
Ard deflected the blow easily, having been Quentin's teacher in fighting tricks and maneuvers, knowing almost always what Quentin would try. The force of the impact nearly knocked the Highlander over, but he regained his footing, trying not to slip on the smooth metal floor.
Patrinell was afraid. He was not only afraid for himself but for Quentin Leah as well, his student aboard the Jerle Shannara. He was good, but not as good as Ard, and he wasn't completely sure if the Highlander would survive the battle.
He swung his long knife at Quentin, but the other seized his metal arm in an attempt to keep it back. The effort did nothing more than slow him, and the knife sliced through thin air as Quentin spun away.
The Sword of Leah, pulsating with its magic, came around again with a blow aimed at Ard's neck. Ard brought up his broadsword in self-defense, only partially deflecting it, but the invisible shield around his head stopped it altogether.
Quentin's mouth widened in astonishment and he backed away a second time. Tamis appeared at his side, Tamis, the woman Ard Patrinell had loved and still did, and, at a nod from Quentin, began hacking at his sides along with the Highlander, trying to break something, anything. Patrinell repelled Quentin's attacks effortlessly, but for Tamis, who had known him and his tactics longer, was harder to fight against. He didn't feel any pain at his sides, which were all metal. Antrax had built him well, and nothing broke down.
Ard sidestepped one of Quentin's blows, taking up a new position as a barrier between Highlander and Tracker. Tamis shrieked in fury and hacked at his back, but Patrinell was pinning Quentin to the wall, feeling nothing. He watched as the Sword of Leah continued to hammer at his faceplate, not even cracking it. Ard felt a strange sense of invincibility, but it was quickly washed away by the other feelings that conflicted inside of him. He felt trapped, forced to fight his friends and students, trying his best not to harm them but failing miserably. His eyes abruptly locked with Quentin's, and he saw the magic inside.
Horror replaced the other emotions on the Highlander's face as he cried out in shock and broke away using some hidden reserve of strength.
What had he seen?
"Run!" Quentin shouted to the Elven Tracker, and they fled down the tunnel, back towards wherever they had come from. Ard followed, pondering the look of shock that had crossed Quentin's face when they had faced each other.
What did Antrax really do to him?
As usual, there were no answers, and he continued on.
A few minutes later, he arrived at a ventilation shaft. Quentin and Tamis had escaped through here. The sunlight filtered in from the narrow slits, a promise of life and hope.
But not for him. Never for him.
Ard charged through the shaft, barreling into it, gathering speed all the while. He emerged into a world of light and color, blinding him temporarily as his eyes adjusted from the grays to the reds, greens, and blues, from the mysterious, non-burning light to the pure, real daylight. Patrinell assessed the situation quickly, running all the while. Quentin, Tamis, Panax, Kian, and Wye were off to one side, but directly in front of him were others, their skin colored red. They were organized into rows and columns, spears bristling, blowguns lifted.
What are they?
A charge would be the easiest way to finish them off, he thought, his mind lurching as he felt his body respond. He went straight into the red-skinned people, never stopping, knocking them and their weapons aside easily. Ard's weapons were up and ready in an offensive position, and before he knew it, three of the strangers were withering on the ground, dead and dying.
"Wronk!" he heard the others cry in fear and horror, before they fled against the onslaught. Now only the three Elves, the Dwarf, the Highlander, and a handful of the strangers remained, their weapons lifted up futilely.
Ard Patrinell's thoughts raced. Is that what I am now?
A wronk?
The word had an unpleasant ring to it, but it only made sense that it was so.
If what he had become had a name, then that would mean that others had met up with the same end as he. The thought made him feel better marginally, but was quickly replaced with anger as Ard realized that Antrax had made a tool out of so many.
How many from the Jerle Shannara have met up with this fate?
The thought scared him. What had happened to Ahren Elessedil after he had run off? Had he, too, been captured by Antrax and made into this thing, this wronk?
Why was he here in the first place? What was his purpose?
How could his metal body know what he was thinking?
Ard Patrinell forced his questions and thoughts away from him. He had no answers. He did not know a thing about Old World technology. He did not know a thing about anything. Everything he had known had been stripped from him.
Patrinell concentrated himself on the figures ahead of him. He did not want to hurt them. They were innocent people, some that he had never even seen before, and they had done nothing to make him hate them. But he did not have a choice.
The sunlight reflected off the long knife menacingly as he brought it up. His human arm shifted ever so slightly. Everyone stepped back. They knew what he could do. They were afraid.
He was afraid as well. Ard wanted to retch over what had been done to him. It was disgusting.
No, he thought. Disgusting was a gross understatement. What he was feeling was ten times worse. Ard could not even begin to describe the repulsion that he felt. It threatened to overwhelm him.
Quentin Leah came up to meet him, and Ard parried his blows easily. He knew what Quentin was going to do, and he knew how to stop it. The Elves, Panax, and the unknown people rushed to help the Highlander, and one more went down, ripped into shreds. The two strangers left turned and fled, leaving Patrinell alone face-to-face with his students and friends. One foot lifted ponderously and started for them, weapons raised and ready. Then another.
They know they aren't going to make it, he thought in despair. I'm going to kill them all. The thought saddened him, and Ard picked up the pace.
Quentin's band backed away another step and exchanged glances.
Ard pressed the attack, and not seeing where he was stepping, got tangled up in a dead man's legs. He lost his footing and went down, but was up again almost instantly. However, one of the man's limbs had lodged itself in his metal body's joints, and he had to take a few moments to free himself. Tamis pointed into the forests behind her and everyone fled. He started after them at once, thinking all the while.
Obviously, the body that he was attached to could read his thoughts and respond accordingly. It could feed off his mind, searching for the best way to destroy the enemy, and then employ the tactic. That was how Ard had responded to Quentin's attacks. Although he couldn't control his own body to do as he wished, his mind could—in a more subconscious way, albeit. He would never be able to keep Quentin and Tamis safe from the danger he presented unless he were to lose his memories, which was highly unlikely. He would continue to hunt them down. He would never be free until they were all dead. And maybe not even then.
Ard Patrinell bent down to read the signs. They had went north, it seemed. They were going to try to outrun him.
Except that they wouldn't be able to. Ard already knew that instinctively. They were still normal human beings, not yet mutilated by Antrax, and they would tire like everyone else. He would catch up with them sooner or later.
Mutilated by Antrax. Patrinell's thoughts froze. What if he had been sent to gather more pieces of human flesh for Antrax? What if his purpose in becoming a wronk was to help Antrax make more wronks?
An image appeared in his mind, a picture of a creature that was human in shape yet wasn't entirely, a fusing of metal and flesh. Like him.
The image danced at the edge of his subconsciousness, the face always in shadow. Then it lifted.
That thing was Tamis.
Ard's mind jerked, and he clamped a mental vise around it, sheathing it in iron, banning it from his thoughts. He straightened from his bending position and the hunt continued on.
Ard was trundling through the forest, heedless of the vines that sought to entangle him, cutting them away effortlessly and continuing on, when he saw a flash of red among the greenery. It was one of the people that had come with Quentin and Tamis, he knew, sent to see if they were still being followed. Patrinell picked up his pace and started towards where he had saw the other person.
He burst into a clearing, finding everyone not poised and ready to attack, but panicked and fleeing. Two of the strangers and Wye were trapped, and he killed them instantly. Ard forced himself not to think of what he was doing and stared at nothing. Kian and Panax fled one way while Quentin and Tamis fled another. He went after the Highlander without knowing why, fighting down people all the while. Screams sounded everywhere, speaking of pain and horror. What am I doing? Ard thought frantically.
No answers presented themselves. He allowed himself to think of what he just did, killing three innocent people that sought only to escape from him, one of them an Elven Hunter. What he had just done repulsed him. Ard had killed Wye, an Elf, someone that had served in his service for over five years. Elves did not kill other Elves. Not on purpose. Unless they had been mind-altered by something, like the Elves that had assassinated Allardon Elessedil.
Mind-altered. Patrinell supposed that something similar had happened to him. The worst part, however, was that he was aware of all the horrible things he was doing. He knew that he was killing people for no clear reason. He knew that he was Antrax's slave. He knew that his life would continue forever like this if someone did not save him. He knew that he was doomed.
I'm sorry, Wye, he mouthed soundlessly. I've failed you all.
Ard looked up at the setting sun, remembering times that had long since passed. The faces of the dead loomed before him, everyone from Joad Rish to Wye. It was his fault that they had died. If he had only been more careful…
He stepped down into a ravine, crushing any would-be obstacles, following Quentin and Tamis' trail. He was hunting them down, much like how a hound hunted a raccoon. Patrinell was the predator, and the Highlander and the Tracker were the prey. When he caught up to them, they would both die or have their body parts harvested for Antrax. Strange how fitting the analogy was, Ard mused. He was the hound, Antrax the master, and Tamis and Quentin the raccoons.
Ard Patrinell began to despair. What have I become?
Note: No, this is not done. And no, I do not own Shannara in any way. I am just a very aviant fan. And yes, thank you for all your nice comments saying that I'm a good writer. You motivate me! :D
