The Measure of the Magic by Terry Brooks Page B

confusion. He knew he must have missed something. Arik Siq could not have simply disappeared. He had to have used a trick to disguise his trail, one that Pan simply hadn’t recognized. The trail led right up to the rocky stretch. Where had Arik Siq gone from there that would leave no further tracks at all?
    Pan knelt to take a closer look at the footprints that ended at the flats, and a moment later he had his answer.
    The tracks were deeper than they should have been and on close examination revealed that they had been stepped in twice. The Troll, taking no chances with anyone who might be following, had walked backward in the same tracks to leave the impression he had disappeared into thin air.
    Pan retraced his quarry’s footprints for almost a hundred feet, at last finding the place were the Drouj had stepped sideways onto a patch of loose rock and then followed it north until he was safely away from his own trail. Pan, still following the first set of tracks, had walked right past without noticing the second. He took his time now, working with little more than traces of dust disturbed and rocks nudged from one side to the other. When he was finished crossing the hardpan, navigating both stretches of flat rock and beds of crushed gravel, he found the other’s trail once more.
    To his surprise, the trail abruptly swung west again.
    Pan followed it for a time, wanting to make sure of what he was seeing. But there was no mistake. Arik Siq had reversed direction andwas returning the way he had come. He was heading back toward Declan Reach.
    It made sense. He would have trouble getting past the Elves at Aphalion. But there were only dead men at Declan Reach, and that scenario was not likely to change for a few more days. Even if his deadly snare hadn’t put an end to any pursuit, anyone hunting him would think he was going east to Aphalion and would not suspect he intended to double back. By the time they had figured it out, he would be outside the valley and well away from any danger.
    Panterra knelt and examined the rediscovered trail carefully. How much of a lead did Arik Siq have? How much time did Pan have left to catch him before he was outside the valley? He couldn’t be sure. Enough that there was a chance. Enough that he had to give it a try.
    He set out at once. This was his valley, his country, and he knew it better than the man he was chasing. Arik Siq might have learned some things about the valley in the time he had been there, but he wouldn’t yet know enough to identify shortcuts and places where his passage could be eased. Nor was he as driven as Pan was. It was enough of an edge that Pan had already made up his mind he could win this race.
    He climbed high onto the slopes where the woods opened into meadows and grassy hillsides, and he began a slow, steady trot west toward Declan Reach. He was young and in excellent condition; he could run twenty miles at a steady speed. It would have been better if he’d had some sleep beforehand, but he wouldn’t use that as an excuse. At least, he didn’t have to bother with following tracks anymore. He needed only to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other and not burning himself out before he reached the pass.
    The hours passed, the sun rose and began its familiar journey west, and in the haze of weary determination that enveloped him Panterra Qu began to think of Prue. He still knew nothing of what had happened to her. She might still be in the hands of the Drouj, a possibility that made it even more imperative he catch up to Arik Siq. Holding the latter captive would give him something to bargain with for Prue’s safe return. A father, any father, even Taureq Siq, would not give up the life of his son for no better reason than spite.
    Pan visualized Prue in his mind. He found an image of her face that pleased him, pasted it on the air in front of his eyes, and ran faster.
    It was almost sunset when he found himself approaching Declan Reach once