Терри Брукс - Jarka Ruus

She fought to break free, tearing at the netting, screaming in rage and frustration. But almost instantly fumes flooded her nostrils and mouth, thick, toxic and mind numbing.

Her last thought before she lapsed into unconsciousness was that she had been a fool.

* * *

She woke to a rolling, shaking motion that jerked her back and forth against the chains that secured her arms and legs to wooden walls and iron bars. The chains allowed her to move just enough to turn from side to side, but not completely around. Nor was there enough play in the lengths to allow her to reach her head or body. She rested on a bed of straw inside a wheeled wooden cage being pulled by two huge, broad–back horned animals that looked a little like bulls but were clearly something more. A second cage preceded her own and a third jolted along behind. There might have been more; she couldn't see.

Her joints ached and her head throbbed. When she tried to clear her mouth of its dryness, she found she was securely gagged.

She closed her eyes, gathering her strength, taking a moment to remember how she had come to this. The birdsong. Then the bird itself. A lure, she realized now, clever and seductive. She had let herself be trapped by one of the oldest tricks in the world. Her magic had failed to detect the snare. That was odd, but not impossible. The snare was sophisticated. Whoever had set it had taken great pains to hide it. That suggested that the trapper was expecting its prey to have the use of magic, which in turn suggested the trapper was looking for someone like her.

She opened her eyes and peered around. The landscape was blighted and gray with shadows, and the air smelled of deadwood and old earth. Through the bars, she could see a handful of lupine forms loping silently through the graying daylight, massive four–legged beasts with shaggy ruffs. Tongues lolled and breath steamed, even though the day was warm. When one of them caught her looking, it lunged at her, snapping at the iron bars and snarling furiously when it failed to reach her.

She lay back in the middle of the cage, shaken. She had neither weapons nor magic with which to protect herself or to get free. She must bide her time. She was at the mercy of whoever had seized her until the gag was removed. Then it would be a different story.

A tall, rawboned creature wearing leather half–pants and a tunic appeared suddenly at the side of the cage, peering in at her. Coarse black hair formed a topknot on a nearly pointed head, and a beard fringed a face that was as elongated and sharp–featured as a child's drawing of a Spider Gnome. It chattered at her with high–pitched sounds that reminded her vaguely of Weka Dart. But the language was different. She stared at it mutely, and the creature stared back. Then it was gone.

She glanced around, trying to get her bearings. To her dismay, she saw the Dragon Line fading into the gloom and mist behind her. She was headed south, away from her original destination.

Away from the mysterious boy who was coming to save her.

* * *

Here ends BOOK ONE of HIGH DRUID OF SHANNARA

In BOOK Two, Tanequil, Pen Ohmsford and his companions continue to search for the strange tree that will provide access to the Forbidding and a chance to rescue the increasingly threatened Ard Rhys, while on the Prekkendorran, the war between Free–born and Federation enters a dangerous new phase.