Panamon remained on his knees. His piked hand pointed to the pass behind them. Shea glanced anxiously past him. To his dismay, he caught sight of a misshapen, lumbering creature slowly bearing down on them from out of the rising clouds of dust. A Muten! The formless, plastic face was turned toward them and the monster shuffled steadily forward. Panamon looked up at Shea and smiled grimly.

“He’s been with us all the way from the other end. I thought we might lose him in the rocks, but he’s persistent.”

He rose slowly and drew free the long broadsword.

“Get going, Shea. I’ll catch up shortly.”

The startled Valeman shook his head speechlessly. He must have misunderstood.

“We can outrun him,” he burst out finally. “We’ve almost reached the end of the pass anyway. We can fight him there-together!”

Panamon shook his head and smiled sadly.

“Not this time, I’m afraid. I’ve done something to my leg. I can’t run anymore.” He shook his head as Shea opened his mouth to speak. “I don’t want to hear it, Shea. Now run-and keep running!”

Tears were streaming down the Valeman’s face as he stared at the man.

“I can’t do that!”

A sudden rumble shook the Knife Edge, throwing Panamon and Shea to their knees again. Boulders crashed down the crumbling mountainside as the heavy convulsions continued to build from deep within the earth. The Muten lumbered mindlessly toward them, unaffected by the tremors. Panamon climbed shakenly to his feet, pulling Shea after him.

“The whole pass is coming down,” lie stated quietly. “We don’t have time to argue. I can take care of myself-just as I did long before I met you or Keltset. Now I want you to run-get clear of this pass!”

He put one hand on the Valeman’s slim shoulder and gently shoved him away. Shea took several steps backward and hesitated, bringing the Sword of Shannara up almost threateningly. Panamon Creel’s broad face showed a flicker of surprise, and then the familiar devilish grin appeared and the eyes turned to fire.

“We’ll meet again, Shea Ohmsford. You watch for me.”

He waved the piked hand once in farewell, and turned to meet the advancing Muten. Shea stared after him momentarily. His fading eyesight must be fooling him-for an instant it seemed that the scarlet thief was not limping after all. Then the heavy tremors rippled through the mountain pass still another time, and the Valeman broke for the safety of the foothills. Slipping and stumbling through the loose rock and earth, dodging the cascade of stone and debris that tumbled from the heights of the Knife Edge into the narrow canyon, he ran on alone.

XXXIV

The afternoon was almost gone. Sunlight slipped in long, hazy streamers through the drifting white clouds, settling with warm touches over the barren, empty Northland terrain. Here and there the light fell providently on small patches of green-the first signs of a permanent life that one day soon would flourish in this earth that had lain parched and desolate for so many years. In the distance, the blunted tips of the shattered Knife Edge broke starkly against the northern horizon, and from the devastated valley beyond, the dust still hung suspended above the ruins of the Skull Kingdom.