Jarka Ruus (16 page)

“I can use earth magic to try to seek it out through lines of power and air currents,” the Druid mused, looking off into the woods, as if he might find the answer in the trees. “But that approach is uncertain. We need something more definite.”

“What you need,” Khyber declared suddenly, “are the Elfstones, the seeking stones.”

Pen knew the stories of the Elfstones, which had been given by the Druid Allanon to Shea Ohmsford to aid him in his search for the Sword of Shannara and then had been held for many years by other members of the Ohmsford family. They had been returned to the Elven people during the reign of Wren Elessedil, an Ohmsford cousin, and remained there until they disappeared with Kael Elessedil fifty years earlier. Ahren Elessedil had recovered them on the voyage of the
Jerle Shannara
and given them to his brother in exchange for help in forming the Third Druid Council.

Ahren frowned. “What do you know of the Elfstones, Khyber?”

“Enough, from listening to my father and brother. They spoke of them often, before my father's death, usually when they thought I couldn't hear. They believed the Stones could be used as a weapon against the Federation.”

The Druid thought about it a moment. “Well, I won't deny that the Elfstones would help us. But I don't have possession of them or any reasonable hope of persuading your brother to lend them to me. We will have to find another way.”

“Maybe not.” Khyber reached in her tunic and produced a small pouch. With a determined, almost defiant look, she held it out. “I took them from their hiding place because I wanted you to teach me how to use them. I was going to tell you later, when I found the right way to do so, because I knew you would be angry with me. But I guess I can't wait any longer, so here they are. If you want to be angry, go ahead.”

She thrust them at her startled uncle, who immediately said, “Khyber, you have gone too far.”

Her lips compressed defiantly. “My brother refuses even to look at them since our father died. They serve no purpose being locked away. Besides, I have as much right to use them as any other member of the family. The Elfstones belong to all the Elves. The Elessedils are caretakers and nothing more. Someone has to learn to use them. Why not me?”

“Because you are not King of the Elves and do not have his permission!” Ahren snapped, balancing the pouch in his palm as if weighing the option of throwing it into the trees. “What will happen when Kellen finds out what you have done? You won't be making any more trips to Emberen!”

Khyber shrugged. “He won't find out. I replaced the Elfstones with pebbles. As I said, he never even looks at them. In any case, that's not what's important. What's important is the Ard Rhys. Uncle Ahren, we can use the Elfstones! We can find the tanequil with their magic! You know we can! Don't you want to help Pen and Tagwen?”

Ahren Elessedil flushed angrily, his composure beginning to slip. “Don't twist my words, Khyber. I know what matters. I also know a great deal more about the use of the Elfstones than you do. They are a dangerous magic. Using them has consequences you know nothing about. Ask Penderrin about his family history. Why in the world did you think I would agree to this? What makes you think you should be the one who knows how to use them?”

“Because no one else dares!” she snapped. “No one but me! If I am to be a Druid, I should know how magic works in all its forms. You teach me earth magic, and that can have consequences, as well. Aren't I careful with the earth magic? Don't you think I would be careful with the Elfstones, too? Don't you trust me? Anyway, things have changed. I have given you the Stones so that you can help Pen and Tagwen. Are you going to do so or not?”

She glared at him, and Pen found himself holding his breath in astonishment. He would never have dared to talk to the Druid that way. Whatever bond she shared with her uncle, it was much stronger than he had imagined. She wasn't afraid of him at all—not intimidated in the least. He risked a quick glance at Tagwen, who seemed equally surprised.

“If you use the Elfstones, you can discover if what the King of the Silver River told Pen is true,” she continued insistently. “You can see whether or not there is even a tanequil to be found. Then we can at least know whether there is a chance of helping the Ard Rhys by looking for it.”

It was hard to argue with logic like that, and Ahren Elessedil didn't even try. He gave his niece a final look of reproof, then opened the pouch and poured the contents into his hands. The Elfstones glimmered a deep blue in the midday sun, their facets mirroring the world about them in prismatic colors. There were three of them, perfectly formed, flawless, and beautiful. Pen remembered the legends. One Elfstone each for the heart, mind, and body, together forming a whole that responded to the strength of the user. Only those born of Elven blood could use them, and only if they were freely given or claimed by the user. Once, they had belonged to the Ohmsfords, and it was Wil Ohmsford's inadvisable but necessary use of them to help the Elven girl Amberle that had altered his body and passed on to his scions the magic that was dying out with Pen.

“I will use the Stones, Khyber,” Ahren Elessedil said, “because you are right in believing that only by using them can we be certain that the tanequil is real. If the Elfstones reveal it to us, then we know the journey to reach it should be made. But understand something else. I spoke of consequences. By using the Stones, I risk revealing our intentions to Shadea a'Ru and her allies. The Elfstones are a powerful magic, and its release will be detected. When that happens, those we seek to escape will come looking.”

“They will come anyway, Uncle Ahren,” Khyber pointed out defensively. “You just said so.”

Ahren nodded. “But now they will come sooner. By nightfall, in all probability. We will no longer have time to think about what we are going to do. The decision will have been made. We will have to leave Emberen—Penderrin, Tagwen, and myself in search of the tanequil, and you back to Arborlon.”

Khyber Elessedil shook her head at once. “I'm going with you. I have no other choice. Uncle Ahren, please, let me finish before you say anything! You are going to take the Elfstones with you because you know you will need them again. Since I can't return home without them, I will have to go, as well. But there is another reason, an even better one. If something happens to you, neither Pen nor Tagwen can use the Stones because they aren't Elves. That leaves me, if you teach me how. I know it isn't what you want. I know you don't like the idea. But you know it's necessary. Finding and rescuing the Ard Rhys is what matters.”

She paused. “I want this, Uncle Ahren. I want to help. I want to do something besides sit around in Arborlon and wait for my family to marry me off. I want my life to matter. Please. Let me come.”

He studied her for a moment, then turned to Tagwen. “Is there any other Druid at Paranor that we can trust to come with us?”

Tagwen frowned and pulled absently at his beard. “If you're asking me if there is anyone I can be sure of, the answer is no. I trust some more than others, but at this point I don't know how deep the conspiracy goes. You know how things are as well as I do.” He squared his shoulders. “I think we ought to take her with us. She's older than this boy and she's able. We might need her. I don't like to think about it, but something could happen to any of us. The rest have to be able to carry on.”

Ahren Elessedil shook his head in dismay. “I regret agreeing to let you listen to this conversation in the first place, Khyber. This isn't something you should be involved in.”

“It isn't something any of us should be involved in,” she replied. “But we all are, aren't we? Let me come.”

He took a long time making up his mind, and Pen was certain that he was going to say no. Pen's parents would have said no to him, had they been in a position to do so. Parents didn't want their children taking the sort of risks involved here. Parents wanted their children safe at home. He didn't think it was any different with uncles and nieces.

“All right,” Ahren said finally, surprising them all. “You can come with us—mostly because I can't think of what else to do with you. Sending you home will just get you in worse trouble, and whatever trouble comes of this ought to be mine. But you must agree to do as I say, Khyber. Whatever I tell you to do on this journey, you do it. No arguments, no excuses. I know you; I know how you think. Give me your word.”

She nodded eagerly. “You have it.”

Ahren sighed, tightened his fingers about the Elfstones, rose from the table, and stretched out his arm. His eyes closed in concentration, but his face remained calm. “Stand back from me,” he said softly. “Watch carefully what the magic shows. Remember it well.”

Not certain what to expect, they backed away from him, eyes riveted on his outstretched hand. Slowly his fingers opened to the light. His concentration deepened. The seconds crawled past.

Then abruptly, light exploded from the crystals in a deep cerulean starburst, brightened until the sun itself disappeared behind the enveloping blue, then shot away into the distance in a blinding flare. It arced away through the trees and beyond, through mountains and hills and the curve of the earth itself. Some of what they saw was recognizable—the Dragon's Teeth and the Charnals, the Mermidon and the Chard Rush, even the sweep of the Streleheim and the dismal emptiness of the Malg. Forests came and went, one a shelter for gardens that eclipsed in beauty and complexity anything they had ever seen, a profusion of flowers and silvery waterfalls painted against a shimmering backdrop of green.

When the light finally came to rest, somewhere so far away that the distance could barely be calculated, it was illuminating a strange tree. The tree was huge, larger than the black oaks of Callahorn, broad-limbed and wide-leafed. Its bark was smooth, a mottled black and gray. Its leaves were deepest green with an orange border. The tree was bathed in dappled sunlight and surrounded by a dense forest of more familiar trees—oaks, elms, hickories, maples, and the like. Beyond the trees, nothing was visible. The tree seemed incredibly old, even in the wash of the Elfstones' light, and Pen felt certain as he looked upon it that it was as old as Faerie. He could feel its intelligence, even in what was no more than a vision. He could sense its life force, slow and rhythmic as a quiet heartbeat.

The blue light held steady for a moment, then flared once and was gone, leaving the watchers staring at nothing, half-blind and stunned by the suddenness and intensity of the experience. They blinked at each other in the ensuing silence, the image of the tree and it surroundings still vivid in their minds.

Ahren Elessedil closed his fingers about the Elfstones. “Now we know,” he said.

“Or think we do,” Tagwen grumbled.

Pen swallowed against a sudden tightness in his throat. He was dizzy at what seeing the tree had made him feel, deep inside where instincts governed thought. “No, Tagwen, that was it,” he said softly. “I could
feel
it. That was the tanequil.”

Ahren Elessedil nodded. “We are settled on what we must do.” He dumped the Elfstones back into their pouch and tucked the pouch into his tunic. “Time slips away, and it doesn't favor us by doing so. Let's move quickly.”

Fourteen

Midday at Paranor was dark and forbidding, the skies gone black with storm clouds and the air as still as death. There had been no sunlight all day, only a hazy glow at sunrise before the enveloping clouds screened even that away. Birds had long since gone to roost in sheltering havens, and the winds had died away to nothing. The world was hushed and waiting in expectation of thunder and lightning and fury.

Shadea a'Ru glanced through the open window of her chambers, her face a mirror of the weather. She should have felt triumph and satisfaction, a reward for her successes. She had dispatched Grianne Ohmsford into the Forbidding and taken her place. The Druid Council, albeit with some reluctance and after considerable debate, had named her Ard Rhys. Her cohorts controlled all the major positions on the council, and Sen Dunsidan, as Prime Minister of the Federation, had officially recognized her as head of the order. The Rock Trolls under Kermadec had been dismissed and sent home in disgrace, blamed for the disappearance of the Ard Rhys and, in more than a few corners, suspected as the cause for it, as well. Everything had worked out perfectly, exactly as she had hoped and planned.

Except for that boy.

She ran her fingers distractedly through her chopped-off blond hair, letting the short ends slip through her fingers like the loose threads of her perfect plan. It was all because of Terek Molt, who was the most reliable of her coconspirators and the one Druid she thought she could depend upon. To let that boy—that slip of a boy—make a fool of him like that was unforgivable. It was bad enough that none of them had thought to lock up Tagwen, who they should have known would not sit idly by and do nothing after his beloved Ard Rhys disappeared, but to lose the boy, as well, was too much. She should have taken care of the matter herself, but it was impossible for her to do everything.

She stalked to the door and stood staring at it a moment, thinking to go out again to calm herself. She had walked the corridors earlier, an intimidating presence to the Druids she now commanded. They would obey her because she was Ard Rhys, but also because they were afraid of her. No one would challenge her openly while she had the backing of Molt and the others and the Ard Rhys was gone, though some would plot behind her back, just as they had plotted against Grianne Ohmsford. She could do nothing about them until they tried to act, but she could let them know she was watching and waiting to catch them out.

She walked back to the window and looked out again. The first sharp gusts of wind were rippling the tree limbs, signaling the approach of the rainstorm. She had half a mind to put all of them out into it, every last Druid—to make them hike to the Kennon Pass and back again as an exercise in deprivation and humility. Some of them might not come back, and it wouldn't make her unhappy if they didn't.

Her thoughts returned to Tagwen and the boy. They might have escaped her for the moment, she thought, but sooner or later she would find them again. The parents, as well. She had Druids and airships looking for all of them and had put out the word to all corners of the Four Lands. She had kept it simple. The ones she sought were members of Grianne Ohmsford's family and they were in danger. Help could be given them at Paranor, where their Druid protectors would keep them safe. Anyone seeing them was to send word. As incentive, she had offered a substantial reward. Most would ignore the offer, but the greedy among them would look around. Someone would see the boy and his Dwarf companion and report them. And when they were found, she would deal with them herself.

She was contemplating the satisfaction that enterprise would give her, when a sharp knock sounded, and without bothering to wait for her to respond, Terek Molt barged in.

“What do you think you are doing?” she snapped at him. “Rooms have doors for a reason, Molt!”

“We've found them,” he rumbled in his deep, subterranean voice, ignoring her. “West, across the Mermidon.”

She started. “Tagwen and the boy?”

“Only moments ago, someone used Elfstone magic. It was visible on the scrye waters in the cold chamber. Iridia was there to see it. There is no mistaking what it is.”

The cold chamber was where the Druids read the lines of power that crisscrossed the Four Lands. The scrye waters were the table of liquid on which all uses of magic revealed themselves as ripples that indicated the extent of the power expended. Grianne Ohmsford herself had implemented it at Paranor more than a dozen years ago, a tool she had employed as the Ilse Witch.

“Elfstones?” she asked. She did not yet understand the connection.

“Of course, Shadea,” he said, smiling with such satisfaction that she wanted to tear his face off. “They've escaped us and gone for help from the one Druid who might actually give it.”

“The Elven Prince!” she hissed. “But he doesn't have the use of the Elfstones. His brother keeps them.”

“Not so well protected that he couldn't get to them if he chose. He would do so to save the Ard Rhys. No, it has to be him. The readings come from that part of the Westland where he keeps his home. Tagwen would know to go there and take the boy with him.”

“I am surprised they chanced using the Stones. Ahren Elessedil must know we will be watching for any use of magic.”

“But how else can he find the Ard Rhys?” Molt pointed out. “He has no choice but to use the Stones.”

She nodded slowly, thinking it through. “True enough. He can't know what we've done to her, even if he suspects we're responsible, unless he uses the Stones.” She hesitated. “Wait. Did you say that Iridia was the one who discovered this use?”

Terek Molt's laugh was low and rough. “I thought of that, too. I asked her if she was certain. She insisted there was no mistake. It was Elfstone magic. I told her she had better be sure, since you would question it. She is waiting to speak with you in the cold chamber.” He paused, a faint smile twisting his mouth at the corners. “She wants to be the one to go after him.”

“I would expect nothing less. Such a fool.”

She walked to the window and stared out at the darkening skies. She could not leave the matter to Iridia, but then Terek Molt had not proved particularly adept at settling things, either. She should do this herself, yet she did not think it wise to leave Paranor just yet. She was too newly settled in as Ard Rhys. Someone else must make certain that Tagwen and the boy, and now Ahren Elessedil, as well, did not succeed in their efforts.

“Perhaps we should let this matter lie,” Terek Molt said quietly. “After all, even if they know what we have done with the Ard Rhys, there is nothing they can do to help her.”

“Is that so?” she asked without bothering to look at him. “Are you so certain?”

“Certain enough.”

“You assume too much. Besides, they can cause us a great deal of trouble, even if they cannot reach her. I don't want to chance it. Better that we remove them from the picture.”

“That could cause us more trouble still. Others will know what we have done. Killing a boy and an old man is one thing. Killing a Druid is something else again. That's what you intend, isn't it?”

“I intend to do whatever is necessary to make certain our efforts do not fail. I expect you to do likewise.” She turned back to him. “Ready the
Galaphile
, but do not tell Iridia. I don't trust her in this matter, not where Ahren Elessedil is concerned. She may think she can blind herself to her feelings, but I don't care to chance it. Better that she remain here. I will tell her after you are gone. Given the look of the weather, you won't leave today. If the storm passes by nightfall, leave then.”

He turned for the door.

“Stay a moment,” she said. “I have more to say to you. Heed me well. Are you listening, Terek?”

The Dwarf turned back slowly, brow darkening in anticipation of what he knew was coming. “Speak your mind, woman.”

“First,” she said, walking over to stand directly in front of him, “don't come into this room again until you are invited. Not for any reason.”

She waited for his response. He grunted and shrugged.

“Second, don't fail me again. I would not be pleased if you did.”

He laughed. “I am less concerned about pleasing you than pleasing myself, so spare me your threats. The matter of finding and dispatching the boy and the old man has become personal. I don't like to be tricked. They used magic of some sort or I would have had them. I intend to see that accounts between us are settled.”

She held his fierce gaze a moment, then nodded. “Fair enough. But that may not prove to be so easy now that you must contend with Ahren Elessedil, as well. Dispatching him may prove troublesome, even for you. So I am sending someone to help.”

The Dwarf glowered at her. “Who? If not Iridia . . .”

“Another Druid would only muck up the waters. You don't need another Druid to get this business settled.” She paused. “I'm going to send Aphasia Wye.”

Terek Molt turned his head aside, though barely, and spit very deliberately on her carpet. “No.”

“This isn't open to debate.”

“I won't put that monster on any ship I command. Get someone else, if you think you can.”

“I don't want anyone else. If I wanted someone else, I wouldn't be talking with you! Where is your backbone? Are you afraid? Think how it will it look if you stay behind after failing so badly the first time. Some will see it as a weakness, and you can't afford that.” She drew her robes about her in a dismissive fashion. “Be smart about this, Druid. You are the best of the lot and you know it. I depend on you. Don't make me question my faith in you.”

“You've never had faith in anyone but yourself, Shadea.”

“Think what you want. What matters is that you understand that Aphasia Wye is coming with you. Stop worrying. He won't dare to cross you.”

The Dwarf snorted derisively. “Aphasia Wye will cross anyone if opportunity allows for it. He's a monster, Shadea. There isn't anything that creature won't do—or anyone he won't do it to. Shades, we don't even know what he really is!”

She laughed. “He's the most efficient assassin I have ever seen! What more do you want him to be? I don't care what sex or race or breed he is! I don't care how loathsome you find him! You're not partnering with him! You're putting him to work! Stop whining!”

Terek Molt was seething, his chiseled face turned red, the muscles of his forearms knotted. He was as dangerous at that moment as she had ever seen him, and if she was foolish enough to give him an opening, he would kill her before she could blink. But she faced him down, keeping his eyes locked on hers and making him see that no matter how dangerous he was, she was more dangerous still.

“Don't even think it, Dwarf,” she hissed softly. “Remember who I am.”

He glared at her a moment longer, then looked away, furious still, but no longer threatening. “Someday you will go too far with me, Shadea.” His voice was eerily calm. “Be careful of that day.”

“Perhaps,” she replied, reaching past him to open the door. “But until then, you will listen to me when I tell you what to do. Go ready the airship. When the storm passes, you will sail at once.”

His big hands tightened into fists as he considered saying something more. Then, without doing so, he turned his back on her and walked away.

         

She waited until he was well away and her frustration with his recalcitrance had faded before she departed for the cold chamber to find Iridia Eleri. The sorceress would not be happy with what Shadea intended to tell her. Unfortunately, disappointing Iridia was unavoidable, because the sorceress was only as reliable as her control over her feelings about Ahren Elessedil, which meant she was not reliable at all. Iridia had set her mind on the matter long ago, and Shadea was not going to be able to change it, even if she tried.

Love was like that.

Denial only sharpened its edges.

Shadea entered the cold chamber and found Iridia standing at the broad stone basin set in its center, bending close as she read the movement of its contents. The scrye waters were shallow and deep green, shielded from the elements by the walls of the tower and the sides of the basin. Disturbances came solely from magic channeled through the earth's lines of power. Just then they manifested themselves as concentric ripples fanning out from a point just west of center. Iridia's slender hands moved in time to the ripples, as if to trace their liquid ridges back to her doomed love. Her perfect features radiated her intensity, a mix of light and dark, pale skin and black hair. Her Elven features were drawn taut by her concentration, emphasizing what could be both passionate and cruel about her. Shadea stood in the doorway and watched her for a long time, observing. Iridia, captive to her memories and her dreams, didn't even know Shadea was there. It was possible that the madness Iridia had always seemed so close to embracing was finally coming to her.

“Iridia!” she called sharply.

The sorceress turned at once. “Have you heard?”

Shadea walked over to her. “Terek told me of it. Is there no chance that you are mistaken?”

The delicate features hardened. “What do you take me for? I don't make mistakes of that sort. It was Elfstone magic, which means it could be him. I want to make certain of it, Shadea. You will have to send someone in any case. It should be me.”

Shadea shook her head. “It should be anyone but you. What will you do if you find him and he looks at you and you cannot act? Don't tell me it cannot happen because I know better. I was there, Iridia, when you lost him. You were inconsolable for weeks. He was the one you wanted—the one you will always want.”

“I don't deny that!” she snapped. “But that part of my life is over. I am committed to our efforts here. If he stands in our way, if he acts to help
her
, then I want him dead! I have the right to watch him die. I ask nothing more than that. If he is to be killed, I want to be there to see it. I want my face to be the last face he sees in this life!”