Wards of Faerie: The Dark Legacy of Shannara (20 page)

Sarys seemed to be thinking it over, and then she said, “Well, any decision will have to wait. They’re not here. They’ve gone camping with a friend. I don’t know when they will return. Come back when they have and ask them then.”

It was such an obvious attempt at trying to avoid the inevitable that Khyber almost felt sorry for her. But feeling sorry for anyone in this business was something she could not afford.

“Where have they gone? They must have told you.”

“They tell me little these days. They left yesterday with a friend. On an airship. They could be anywhere by now. I can’t help you.”

Khyber was silent a moment. “You are aware of the Ohmsford
family history—especially that which is most recent and which has impacted you and your family most directly. Where would we all be now if Bek Ohmsford had not gone with Walker Boh to Parkasia on the
Jerle Shannara
? Where would we all be if he had not found his lost sister and helped her become Ard Rhys before me? If he had not then fathered Penderrin and helped bring an end to the war on the Prekkendorran and closed the door into the Forbidding, would we be here at all? Not many know this part of our history; most never will. But you know it, Sarys. Your husband told you. Penderrin told you. In each case, a choice was made by a young man to do the right thing—not to refuse to participate because it was too dangerous but to accept what fate and circumstance had given them to do.”

“What
Druids
had given them to do! Isn’t that what you mean?” Sarys was stone-faced. “What
you
would now give my sons to do? Tell me what that is, why don’t you! Tell me what you would ask of them!”

“I would ask them to make the same choice as their ancestors. I don’t want to have to involve them. I don’t even want to be here. But I cannot ignore what is staring me in the face. Magic is a part of our lives. It has been so since the time of the Great Wars. We can’t pretend otherwise. Magic defines who we are, your family and mine. We ignore this at our peril. Magic is a gift and a curse. If we manage it in the right way, it can be of great benefit. If we don’t, we risk destroying ourselves.”

“You have
chosen
to make this your work, Khyber. My sons have not. I will not allow them to be dragged into your machinations. I refuse to help you. You had better go.”

Khyber nodded. “You know that sooner or later I will find a way to speak with them, don’t you?”

“I know nothing of what you will or won’t do, and I care even less. Please leave.”

Khyber rose and stood looking down at her. “Who is the friend they went camping with?”

Sarys shook her head stubbornly. “Was it Mirai Leah?”

She saw the look of shock and anger that flashed across the other
woman’s face and knew she had guessed right. She felt a quick surge of satisfaction, but also an odd sense of shame.

“Do you spy on us, witch?” Sarys Ohmsford cried. “Are you so desperate that you must stoop to that? Get out of my house!”

Khyber did not move. “When I leave here, I will travel to Leah and ask the same questions of Mirai’s father. He will tell me what you won’t. Then I will fly to wherever Redden and Railing have gone and speak with them. Fate and circumstance have made it necessary, Sarys. You cannot avoid either any more than I can. Now tell me where to find them. Do the right thing.”

Sarys rose slowly and faced her down. “My sons will never agree to go with you. I have made certain of that, Ard Rhys. I have taught them of the Druids’ schemes and their destructive history. You are wasting your time.”

“Then let me find that out for myself. Let me go to them and tell them of my need. Let them refuse me face-to-face.” Khyber kept her voice calm and even. “Do not presume to speak for them. They will resent you for it. You raised them to think for themselves and to act as they determined best, didn’t you? Prove it here.”

There were fresh tears in Sarys Ohmsford’s eyes as the women faced each other across the table. “I hate you,” Sarys said softly. “I hate all of you. You Druids, who think you are so special and believe so deeply in your twisted causes. I hate you with every fiber of my being.”

Khyber nodded. “You are entitled to that.”

“If the earth opened and swallowed every last one of you, I would not shed a single tear. I would rejoice. Druids, with your magic and your black arts, twisting the lives of others, shaping events to your own purpose. I despise you.”

Khyber said nothing, waiting.

Sarys looked away, suddenly defeated. “They are in Bakrabru,” she said quietly.

“Thank you,” Khyber said.

The other woman looked back again, a hint of disbelief in her dark eyes. “I don’t know why I am helping you.”

“Because it is the right thing. Because you trust your sons.”

“But not you, witch. I don’t trust you.”

Khyber kept her anger carefully in check. “I will say nothing to them I do not know to be true. I will do nothing to force them to choose. I will leave it to them. Even if I could make the choice for them, I would not. Help of the sort that is required of Redden and Railing can only be useful if it is given freely.”

Sarys smiled thinly. “If you say so.”

Khyber hesitated a moment longer before nodding and turning away. She was at the door when the other woman called out to her.

“If anything happens to my sons,” she said, her words sharp and bitter and coated in ice, “you had better make certain it happens to you first. Otherwise, I will kill you, Khyber Elessedil. Whatever it takes to do so, I will kill you.”

The Ard Rhys of the Fourth Druid Order remained perfectly still, looking out toward the waters of Rainbow Lake and the dark sweep of storm clouds moving in from the west.

I believe you
, she thought.

Then she went out the door and down the path that would take her back to her airship and her Troll guard and did not look back.

12

A
PHENGLOW
E
LESSEDIL HAD PROMISED THE
A
RD
R
HYS
she would do two things if she were given permission to return to Arborlon. First, she would find someone to protect her, and second, she would speak to her mother to discover what she knew of the relationship between the Elessedils and the Omarosians.

She had no interest in the former and no stomach for the latter, but a promise was a promise, especially when it was given to the Ard Rhys.

So as she flew
Wend-A-Way
into the Elven home city, preparing to set about the business that had brought her back, she was already thinking of how she would fulfill those promises while limiting the amount of inconvenience and discomfort each would entail. On landing, she took her travel bag and walked from the airfield to the cottage she shared with her sister to ask her thoughts. But Arlingfant was not at home, so she dropped her bag and set off for the Gardens of Life to find her.

Her walk through the city took her past many of the familiar landmarks of her childhood, conjuring up memories of other times, many of them connected to her family and friends, all of them building blocks for the life she now led as a Druid. She had always been different, a stubborn rebellious child who insisted on knowing when others chose to leave well enough alone, a talented magic wielder
in training who even at a very young age could already sense things hidden from her sister and friends. She didn’t know how she could do this, why she was born this way, but she knew it set her apart and it would shape the way she grew. What it did was teach her early on about the importance of self-sufficiency and resolve when loneliness was the consequence of being different.

She had never minded being what she was, even in the worst of times. It was hard when she was forced to endure Arlingfant’s occasional resentment and envy while they were children, but both vanished when her sister was made a Chosen and given special recognition of her own. And Arlingfant had never refused her the way their mother had, not early on when the differences first began to emerge or later when she had gone to Paranor. The competitiveness that had marked much of their childhood never interfered with the trust they felt for each other. Whatever happened in their lives, their commitment to each other remained the same—a foundation for a relationship grounded in love and admiration.

So she never considered speaking about her purpose in coming back with anyone other than her sister—although she knew Ellich, who was more a father to her than an uncle, would have given her good advice and much-needed support.

But there was no one as close to her as Arlingfant.

Not even Bombax, whom she loved so much.

And especially not her mother.

She found her sister engaged in planting fresh roses not far from where the Ellcrys shimmered red and silver in the afternoon sunlight, majestic and serene, the centerpiece of the garden. Created by a powerful conjuring of ancient Elven magic and sustained through a sacrifice of Elven lives over the centuries, the tree was a talisman upholding the impenetrable wall of the Forbidding behind which creatures of dark magic had been banished during the last wars of Faerie. The Ellcrys kept the Elves safe from their most ancient enemies; their lives had always been and would forever be directly tied to the life of the tree. Ancient history now, centuries in the past, the story had taken on the trappings of fable. Yet the tree was living proof of the fable’s validity. Not all that long ago, its magic had failed and the wall
of the Forbidding had begun to erode and its creatures to escape, and the truth behind the legend had been brought home in the most dramatic of ways.

She gave the Ellcrys a long look, admiring its radiance, overwhelmed just by being in its presence. Her own magic connected her to that of the tree, a shared origin, a link to something profound and not entirely dissimilar. She knew the story of the tree’s history, especially of its death and rebirth during the reign of the great Elven King Eventine Elessedil. She knew of the sacrifice made by his granddaughter, and no one who knew that could help but feel awed by the power of the magic with which the talisman was imbued. That such a wonder existed—a tree with such power—was overwhelming and magnificent. The Elves might have lost their magic through the centuries, but as long as the Ellcrys existed they would continue to be reminded how impressive and vital such magic could be.

All of which made it difficult to understand how they could endure their loss with such indifference, with such pointless stoicism, a dedicated refusal to try to change things when the magic was so clearly a part of who they were. She would never understand, if she lived another hundred years, how they could be so willing to let go of what had once been the foundation of their lives and done so much to shape their history.

She walked over to Arlingfant, tapped her sister on her shoulder, and embraced her when she leapt to her feet in surprise, as happy as she was that they were together again.

“Oh, I missed you, Aphen! Even for the few days you were gone! I’m so glad you’re back!” Arling was effusive, flushed with pleasure. “Tell me everything that’s happened. Come, sit over here with me where we can talk!”

She walked them over to a quiet spot away from the other Chosen and sat them down, her expression revealing her eagerness. “Will you stay now? Will you return to your work searching the archives?”

Aphenglow smiled and shook her head. “I am only back a short time before I return to Paranor.”

She could not tell Arling the truth, could not mention the diary at all, and must be careful that she said nothing that would reveal what
the Druids were about. She could justify evasiveness but not lying openly and so could not say anything that would result in the latter.

“How long, Aphen?” Her sister’s disappointment was clear.

“A few days. I need your help. I was allowed to return under two conditions. First, I must find someone to act as my bodyguard. I told the Ard Rhys of the attacks on me, and she is worried that I am in danger. So she insisted I secure a protector. Do you know of someone who might accept the job? I know so few people now.”

Her sister hesitated. “Let me think about it. What was the second condition?”

“That I speak with Mother.”

“What do you intend to say? Why does the Ard Rhys insist you speak with her?”

Aphenglow shrugged. “She dislikes it that we are so at odds. She wants me to try to close the breach I created by choosing to become a Druid. She wants the damage repaired.”

All of which was true. Arlingfant shook her head. “It isn’t you who created the problem. So don’t say that. Mother is the one who is being unreasonable, refusing even to speak with you. She is the one who should take the first step.”

“But she won’t, so it is up to me. I have to try, at least. I will go to her as soon as I leave you. The Ard Rhys is right. No family should be split as we are.”

Her sister reached over and touched her shoulder. “I will go with you. It might help if I am there.”