by Terry Brooks
She paused. “I am telling you this so when you hear it all later from your mother you won’t think I was hiding anything.”
“Mother hates airships,” Redden said quietly. “Because of Father. He was killed in one. She blames the Druids.”
The Ard Rhys nodded. “I know this. There is risk here, as well. When you fly airships, there are always risks. Your mother knows this, but cannot accept it. She blames the Druids for something that was not their fault. It was no one’s fault. You can weigh that along with everything else after you hear what I have to say. Be patient until then. Let me say everything before you speak again.”
She went on to tell of the discovery of Aleia Omarosian’s diary, written in the days of Faerie and lost or misplaced ever since, and of the possibility that the missing Elfstones might at last be found. But they could not allow them to be found by just anyone, she added. The Druid order must recover them because management and proper usage of magic were the order’s responsibility and principal purpose. The reason she was in Bakrabru to speak with them was because of her visit to the Hadeshorn and her summoning of the spirits of the dead in the hope they would give her information that might help in her search.
“It was Allanon himself who appeared—something that I believe indicates the importance of this matter. His shade gave me little enough with which to work, but did make it clear this was an undertaking of great importance. His shade also advised that the Druids alone would not be enough to accomplish what was needed. Others must go with us on this expedition. Specifically, he mentioned you.”
“Railing and me?” Redden exchanged a quick look with his brother.
She nodded, smiling in a way that made her look tired and worried both. “I would not be here if the shade had not been so insistent about it. A reminder was given that every important quest involving magic since the time of Shea Ohmsford and the Warlock Lord has involved members of your family. The shade insisted it must be so this time, as well.”
“But isn’t it true shades aren’t always reliable?” Redden asked carefully.
“It is. They dissemble and prevaricate and offer half-truths to questions asked. But I did not sense that here. The insistence on your involvement was not in response to a question. It was volunteered in a way that made it seem to be mandatory.”
Railing shoved his brother. “What’s wrong with you? We get to fly airships with Druids and go searching for lost magic and you aren’t sure you want to go?”
Redden shoved him back. “I’m just asking a question. I’m not saying I don’t want to go.”
“Well, what are we arguing about? You want to go. I want to go. When do we leave?” Railing looked back at the Ard Rhys. “Isn’t that what the invitation you mentioned earlier is about?”
The Ard Rhys nodded. “It is. I want you to come with us. No, that isn’t putting it strongly enough. I need you to come with us. Allanon’s shade made that clear. Without you, we diminish the chances of success. But I don’t want you to make a decision blindly or in haste. I want you to think about it carefully. I want you to talk it over between yourselves and perhaps Farshaun and then sleep on it afterward before you make a final decision.”
She paused. “There’s one other thing I haven’t told you. Allanon’s shade also said it sensed this expedition would be very dangerous. Not all of us, it said, would come back alive. I believe that is probably true. Hunting for something as powerful as the Elfstones will attract dangerous enemies. The young woman who discovered the diary has already been attacked three times in her home city of Arborlon. Aphenglow Elessedil is my cousin, a member of the royal family, and a skilled magic user. Even these weren’t enough to protect her. Someone else already knows what we seek or guesses at its importance. It won’t stop with Aphenglow. We can expect to have to fight for our lives and for the success of our quest at other times and places along the way. There’s no use pretending otherwise. That isn’t something you should ignore. The Druids accepted that risk when they chose to join the order. This isn’t so in your case. You have no obligation to put yourselves in danger.”
Redden exchanged another glance with Railing. “We aren’t afraid. We can take care of ourselves.”
“We’ve been taking care of ourselves since Father died,” Railing added quickly. “Farshaun could tell you.”
“I imagine so.” She got to her feet. “Why don’t you go talk to him now about what I’ve told you. If you are willing to come with us, then we want you. The invitation has been extended.”
“Will Farshaun be coming?” Redden asked impulsively. “Wouldn’t he be someone who could help with the airship if there was trouble?”
“What about Mirai?” Railing was quick to add. “She could help, too. She’s been flying airships since she was ten years old. She’s better at it than we are. We know Sprints and racing, but Mirai knows all about the big airships.”
“She’s a Leah, you know,” Redden cut back in. “There’s always been a Leah, too, on those quests you mentioned. On most of them, anyway. She should go if we do.”
Khyber Elessedil shook her head slowly. The lines around her eyes and at the corners of her mouth deepened, suggesting for the first time that even the Druid Sleep could do only so much to keep aging at bay. “Maybe you have looked after yourselves since your father’s death and can protect yourselves if the need arises. But can you protect Mirai, as well? You have the power of the wishsong to call upon. Mirai Leah does not. You should consider what that means.”
The twins watched her walk back down toward the airfield, waiting for her to reach the flats before climbing to their feet.
“She’s right, you know,” Redden said quietly. “About Mirai.”
Railing didn’t answer.
They found her at Farshaun’s house, a small cottage nestled in the southern fringes of the village, set alone in a grove of old-growth hardwoods canopied overhead by a vast umbrella of branches and leaves that left the cottage dappled with shadows and sunlight. She was sitting on Farshaun’s tiny porch, watching him braid a lanyard that he intended to use as a sling for his conch shell, a summoning horn used by Rover airmen to alert one another to danger or to call for help in times of trouble. The Rovers had begun using them only recently and had found them a better tool than shouts or message birds when a swift response was necessary.
The twins walked up and sat down with the girl and the old man, and Mirai looked at them and immediately said, “What’s wrong.”
“Nothing,” said Railing.
“Everything,” said Redden.
Then they recounted what the Ard Rhys had told them—the purpose for her coming to find them, the nature of the quest she was proposing, the extent of the danger it presented, their mother’s efforts to keep them from going and Khyber Elessedil’s efforts to persuade them to come anyway. Because even if she was telling them to consider things carefully, to think it all over before deciding, she clearly believed it was necessary for them to make the journey.
“The missing Elfstones,” Farshaun mused when the twins had finished. “That would be something, if they could be found. I think everyone decided a long time ago they were lost forever and wouldn’t be seen again.”
“What do they do?” Railing asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t think anyone knows. That’s what I mean. Find the Elfstones and you find the answer to one of the greatest secrets of all time. Of course, maybe you open a can of worms instead. Finding magic of that sort could be the most dangerous thing ever to happen.”
“But less dangerous for the Druids to find them than some others,” Redden said.
“Maybe so. But we won’t know until it happens. Things like this have a way of coming back to bite you. I’m just saying what you already know, all three of you. What seems like a good idea at the time can turn out to be a bad one looking back at it later.”
“What will you do?” Mirai asked.
Redden shook his head. “We’re supposed to think it over and make a decis
ion. Railing’s already made up his mind. He wants to go. I guess maybe I do, too. But maybe Farshaun has a point. This feels like one of those things we might decide later on was a mistake.”
“Except this time making the wrong decision could kill you,” she said quietly. “Your mother might be right about not wanting you to go.”
“You always take her side,” Railing griped. “If we did everything Mother told us to do we’d never do anything. We’d never go anywhere or see anything or fly airships or …”
“I get the point,” she interrupted. “But we’re not talking about the way you live the rest of your life. We’re talking about if you live it. Pay attention to what’s on the table.”
“She’s right,” Redden agreed.
Railing gave him a look, then turned to Farshaun. “What do you think?”
The old man shrugged. “I’m not about to tell you what to do in this business. I can see the argument for both sides. You’re big boys; you can decide for yourselves. You don’t need any help from me or Mirai.”
Mirai made a face. “I wonder.”
“If it were you, Farshaun, would you go?” Railing pressed.
Farshaun laughed. “I don’t know. What does it matter? No one has asked me to go. This has to do with you, not me.”
“But what if you were asked?”
“I’d think about it, like you’re supposed to do, and I wouldn’t spend my time trying to find out what someone else would do! Especially an old man whose best years are behind him. Now get out of here, the two of you. Go!”
He chased them from his cottage and stood watching until they were out of sight.
“Cranky old toad,” Railing muttered.
“He just doesn’t want to make the decision for us. He doesn’t want to have to live with the responsibility.”
“I notice he kept Mirai with him.”
“He doesn’t want her to have to live with it, either.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“What are you going to do?”
They walked on, undecided.
They went to bed that night with the matter unresolved. They were sleeping on Farshaun’s back porch in hammocks, the air warm and sweet, the night sounds soft and distant. They had gone over the pros and cons of staying and going until they couldn’t stand to think about it anymore, all without reaching a decision. Mirai had quit talking to them. Farshaun had ordered them to leave any further discussion outside his front door. Redden and Railing had grown weary talking about it and getting nowhere. Dinner that evening had been a desultory experience, and in the end they had eaten almost nothing.
There had been no further sign of the Ard Rhys. She had not come to them again. She had not asked them to visit the airship to look around, which they would have dearly loved to do. She had not sent any of the other Druids to talk to them. The entire ship’s company had gone back aboard and stayed there.
Redden lay cocooned in his hammock, wrapped up and motionless. Railing was sitting on the porch steps, his blanket draped carelessly over one shoulder, staring out at the night. Inside the cottage, Farshaun was snoring.
“Can’t sleep?” Redden asked from his hammock.
Railing glanced over his shoulder. “Not a wink. You?”
“Not much.”
They were silent for a few minutes, the snores inside changing pitch and cadence.
“I’m going,” Railing said suddenly. “I have to. If I don’t, I’ll wonder about it for the rest of my life.” He paused. “But I don’t want to do this without you.”
“Don’t worry. You won’t have to. I’m going, too.” Redden raised himself up, causing the hammock to sway. “Because I think the Ard Rhys is right. Finding those Elfstones is important. If we can help, like she seems to think we can, then we have to do so.”
They went quiet again for a bit. It was decided, Redden thought. Just like that. Both of them had come to the same conclusion. Amazing, but that’s how they were.
“You’re not going without me,” Mirai said from the doorway.
The twins looked around in surprise as she stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight, her long hair unbound, her blanket wrapped around her.
“How long have you been there?” Redden asked.
“Hours. Sitting just inside the doorway, watching you, thinking. I don’t know if you should do this, but I do know that you shouldn’t do it without me.”
“We’ll have to send someone to tell Mother,” Railing pointed out.
Redden cleared his throat. “I’m glad it won’t be me.”
21
ON THE FOLLOWING DAY, CARRYING A TOTAL OF FORTY men and women as crew and passengers, the Walker Boh sailed west. The day was bright and sunny, the skies clear and blue, and the weather conditions favorable. There was palpable excitement as she lifted off, a sense of possibility that tamped down doubts and misgivings and left everyone aboard feeling ready and eager to be under way.
“Forty,” Redden mused. “Do you think that’s a lucky number?”
Railing shrugged. “I don’t know. What do you think, Farshaun?”
The old man did not look up from the maps he was studying. “Doesn’t matter how many you set out with. Only how many you bring back.”
Railing looked at Redden and rolled his eyes.
They had announced their decision to go with the Druids that morning, and the Ard Rhys had wasted no time making preparations to leave. Little was needed. The few additional supplies that were required had been loaded the previous day; everything else was already aboard. Farshaun was asked to come because of his vast experience with airships and had agreed because of his friendship with Khyber Elessedil. He brought with him eight of his Rover kin to help sail the warship. While not directly denigrating the capabilities of the Trolls, he had nevertheless gently suggested that his people were better trained and more experienced than members of the Druid Guard, an assertion that neither the Ard Rhys nor the Trolls tried to contradict. Once the eight were chosen there was nothing to delay their departure, and by midday they were under way.
Farshaun was along for another reason, as well. While discussing with the Ard Rhys the details of where they were going and how they were going to get there, the latter had described the vision she had skived from Aphenglow’s memory. It was clear enough that their journey would take them into the wilderness of the Breakline and the surrounding mountain chains, but that was about all either of them could tell. Even Farshaun, who had traveled that country extensively during his time flying airships along the coastal regions of the Blue Divide, did not recognize any of the places the vision had revealed.
But he knew someone who might.
Among the Rovers, there were those who chose to lead lives more resembling an earlier time, when established communities did not exist. Frequently, these throwbacks were traders and scavengers and made their way through the world in a solitary fashion and without any particular goals or plans. One among them—the one Farshaun believed might be helpful to the Druids—lived out along the far western borders of the Breakline in country so bleak and unforgiving that it seemed impossible anyone could survive it. Yet he had done so for more than twenty years, subsisting off the land, a hermit and a recluse. Now and then he would drift back within the boundaries of civilization to gather things he could not find in his own country, though he seldom bothered with human contact and never stayed for long.
Except that sometimes he would come to see Farshaun. The old man had known him before he went into the wilderness, and they had formed a friendship. It wasn’t a friendship in the normal sense of the word. There were few expectations involved on either side; there was only conversation and often little of that. Mostly, it was the other man’s strange ramblings and digressions.
But in some of those ramblings and digressions, he would tell of things he had dreamed would happen.
And then they would.
That strange ability to foresee the future, coupled with the fact that
he knew the Breakline country like the back of his hand because he had spent so many years exploring it, made him someone Farshaun Req believed they should seek out before they undertook their search for the missing Elfstones.
Khyber, who knew something of seers and those possessed of prescient abilities—and who believed in their value—had agreed.
“This foreteller of the future you’re taking us to see, the one who has the dreams?” Redden asked Farshaun suddenly. “Why is he called the Speakman?”
The old man paused in his study of the maps. “It’s a name Rovers give to those who speak of a future that others can’t see. In this case, it stuck. His real name was forgotten by most long ago and never used in the time he’s lived in the Breakline. Now, he’s just ‘the Speakman’ to everyone.”
“But you knew him? You knew his real name?”
Farshaun nodded. “I don’t use it, though. I don’t say it aloud.”
“What was he like before he went into the wilderness?” Railing asked. “Was he normal? Was he a boy like us?”
Farshaun gave him a look suggesting that the word normal might not apply to them. “He was damaged. Now leave me alone.”
The twins moved off to one side, closer to where Mirai stood in the pilot box working the controls that flew the Walker Boh westward. She glanced over and smiled, evidence of how much she enjoyed flying the big airship.
“I like watching her better than talking with Farshaun,” Railing observed. “What an old crab.”
“That’s an understatement,” Redden said.
He could have watched Mirai do anything or nothing all day long. How lucky they were that she had been allowed to join them. Even after she had announced to them that she was coming, it wasn’t settled that she would be permitted to join the expedition. But the Ohmsford twins wouldn’t have been comfortable going without her, and perhaps Khyber Elessedil had sensed as much, suggesting it might help their mother come to terms with their going if Mirai were there, too.