The Voyage of the Jerle Shannara: Morgawr
Author: Terry Brooks
Release: August 27, 2002
Publisher: Ballantine Books – Del Rey
Genre: Fantasy, Science Fiction, High Fantasy
Main Character(s): Bek Rowe, Ilse Witch, Quentin Leah, Walker Boh (Druid Walker), Ahren Elessedil, Panax, Cree Bega, Ryer Ord Star, Morgwar, Redden Alt Mer, Rue Meridian, Hunter Predd, Truls Rohk
Synopsis: With a fleet of airships and a crew of walking dead men at his command, the Morgawr is in relentless pursuit of the Jerle Shannara and the crew that mans her. For the Morgawr, the goal is two fold: to find and control the fabled ancient books of magic, and to destroy the dark disciple who betrayed him—the Ilse Witch. But the Ilse Witch is already a prisoner . . . of herself. Exposed to the awesome power of the Sword of Shannara, and forced to confront the truth of her horrifying deeds, she has fled deep into her own mind. Now at the mercy of those who seek vengeance against her, her only protector is her long-lost brother, Bek Ohmsford, who is determined to redeem his beloved sister . . . and deliver her to the destiny predicted for her by the Druid Walker Boh.
Declassified by Agent Palmer: Morgawr ends The Voyage of the Jerle Shannara Trilogy but The Four Lands Endures
Quotes and Lines
Yet the presence of Death was so overpowering that it transcended everything else in those terrible hours, paralyzing him.
The experience had been horrific but empowering.
What he felt for the girl was close to love. It had grown slowly, and he was only just beginning to recognize it for what it was. He was not certain how it would resolve itself or even if it would survive another day. But in a world of turmoil and uncertainty, of monsters and terrible danger, it was reassuring to have her close, to be able to ask her advice, just to touch her hand. He drew strength from her that was both powerful and mysterious–not in the way of magic, but in the way of spirit. Maybe it was as simple as not being entirely alone, or having another person with whom to share whatever happened. But maybe, too, it was as mystical as life and death.
The future is a map drawn in the sand, and the tide can wash it away in a moment.
Quentin did not know what lay beyond death, but he thought it might be something better than life and that maybe that something allowed you to make up for missed chances and lost dreams.
He would do what he could for those he was in a position to help. If helping the Rindge was what fate had given him the chance to do, that would have to be enough.
…fear and common sense kept him from acting on his impulse.
Accepting responsibility for her gave him a focus that would otherwise be reduced to little more than self-preservation.
He was helping the Rindge because they needed it and because he didn’t know what else to do. It gave him direction, but not passion. He had lost too much to find that again without a dramatic shift in his fortunes.
“I thought this would be our great adventure, our rite of passage into manhood, a story we would remember all our lives, that we would tell to our friends and family. Now I don’t ever want to talk about it again. I want to forget it. I want to go back to the way things were. I want to go home and stay there.”
So much had happened to both of them in such a short time that there was no coming to grips with all of it, no making sense of it in a way that would afford either of them any measure of peace.
A lack of spares might prove a problem later on, but staying alive in the here and now was a much bigger and more immediate concern.
It seemed impossible. But then most wonderful things did until someone accomplished them.
It was only a dream, but wasn’t reality conceived in dreams?
He was drawing pictures in the sand, and the tide was coming in.
All this wandering about the larger world had a way of making you feel disconnected from everything, as if your life was something so elusive that you spent all the time allotted to you chasing after it and never quite catching up.
Friendship required space and tolerance. Love required no less.
But fear had no place in what was needed, and he had no patience with its weakness.
Beginnings in this situation, he thought, might prove tougher than endings.
She was walking a fine line between sanity and madness, between staying out in the light of the real world and fleeing back into the hiding place she had only just managed to escape.
But that was the nature of things. You got so much time and you made the best of it. In the end, you needed to feel that the choices you had made were mostly the right ones.
Life was a gift you accepted without questioning its generosity or reason.
…when nothing else could save you in this world, luck would always do.