The Dark Legacy of Shannara Trilogy 3-Book Bundle

by Terry Brooks

  He did as she asked. Without hesitating, the three bounded off the tables and loped back across the room to their cages, pulling the doors closed behind them after they were inside. Edinja walked over, snapped shut the locks on the chains that secured the doors, and turned back to him.

  “I need the truth behind the failed Druid expedition so that I can understand what is happening. I want you to find the girl and her companions and track them. I want you to discover what it is they seek. If it involves magic in any way, I want to know. I want both of the Elessedil sisters brought here to me. With the Elfstones.”

  “Is that all?” he deadpanned.

  She smiled. “You are my right hand, my steady guide, my dependable and loyal consort. I rely on you to do what is needed.”

  He shrugged. “I will do my best.”

  She came over to him, once again took hold of his hands and looked deep into his eyes. “I hope so. Because I will know if you don’t.”

  Then she reached up and kissed him ever so gently on the mouth.

  17

  Aphenglow Elessedil spent the following day preparing for their departure with Cymrian and Arling. She had thought at first to send her sister off to the Gardens of Life to be with the other Chosen, giving the appearance that everything was normal, but she quickly abandoned that idea. She hadn’t forgotten that someone had been stalking her ever since the day she had uncovered Aleia Omarosian’s diary. There was no reason to believe that the danger she had faced was past or that whoever was behind it had given up. Nor was there reason to think that the danger to her hadn’t spilled over onto Arling. Whoever was behind it knew about the diary and the Elfstones; why wouldn’t they know about the Ellcrys seed, as well?

  So she kept Arling close to Cymrian and herself, while preparing Wend-A-Way for the upcoming flight.

  It was not a difficult undertaking. It involved little more than gathering up materials and weapons, supervising the loading of both onto the airship, and interviewing the crewmembers Cymrian had chosen to accompany them. At first she had resisted the idea of taking anyone else. Better to keep this among the three of them. But Cymrian was quick to point out that he and Aphen alone could not safely fly the airship. Arling lacked the proper training, and at least several others would be needed to take shifts at the helm if they were to get any sleep or if either of them became sick or injured. He was right, of course, so Aphen backed down, irritated that she had not seen this before he did.

  She was also forced to reconsider using the Elfstones before they departed to get a sense of where they were going. Any use of magic would alert other magic users, and those alerted might be the very ones hunting her. She could not be sure this would happen, but there was no point in taking chances. She already knew that what they were hunting was hidden somewhere in the Wilderun. So all they needed to do was to fly there and then use the Elfstones to pinpoint their destination. By then, they would be far enough away that they wouldn’t be as likely to be identified.

  An air of suspense and expectation infused her efforts during the assembling and loading of supplies and equipment. Time and fate seemed to press down on her in equal measure, urging her to move faster, to perform more quickly, to finish and be off. She worked steadily throughout the day, and more than once caught Cymrian staring at her, a mixture of surprise and disbelief reflected on his lean features.

  Once he said to her in passing, “This isn’t a race, you know.”

  To which she had replied, “You’re wrong. That’s exactly what it is.”

  Late in the afternoon, the ship almost ready, she told the other two that she intended to say good-bye to Ellich and Jera. She had thought at first she might forgo the visit; it might be better not to speak to anyone before leaving. But she needed to believe that someone cared enough to see her before she left.

  Cymrian immediately announced that he was coming with her, but she told him that it would be better if he stayed with Arling and kept watch over her. She didn’t say so—she didn’t need to—but she was better able to protect herself, and leaving Arling alone with the Ellcrys seed was not a good idea. She promised she would be careful and, after a short visit, would come right back.

  She made her way from the airfield and took the roadways that led to her aunt and uncle’s home, skirting her own cottage, where Cymrian and Arling had promised to wait for her, and her mother’s, where only disdain and disappointment could be found. She turned down smaller roads and finally pathways, and in short order she was standing at the front door, knocking hopefully.

  Ellich and Jera provided the succor she needed. Warm and welcoming, they sat her down in their kitchen, fed her hot tea and muffins, and said they would miss her terribly and she must do everything she could to stay safe and well until her return. No mention was made of her sister, and Aphen could not be certain if her uncle had told his wife that Arling was going, too. So Aphen said nothing about her sister’s plans, including the fact that Arling now carried the Ellcrys seed and was entrusted with the future not only of the Elven nation but also of the other Races. It was a secret charged with dangerous possibilities, and it made Aphenglow want to bury it so deeply that it could never even be glimpsed.

  Throughout their conversation, Aphen was reminded of her own carefully kept secret. The Elfstones were buried deep in a pocket of her cloak, and she found her hand straying to them frequently—an involuntary reflex generated by the need to reassure herself that they were still safely tucked away.

  But her visit went well, her self-indulgence in gaining their farewell was satisfied, and she departed with a feeling of contentment.

  Twilight was falling by then, and she was reminded of another visit she had made to her aunt and uncle not so very long ago. She had been attacked on her way home on that occasion and forced to kill a man. Almost without thinking about it, she began looking around, peering into the deeper shadows, angling as she walked to parts of the pathway that were still light. Her hand strayed again to the pocket where she had hidden the Elfstones. Foolish of her to obsess like this, she told herself as soon as she realized what she was doing. But she took the Elfstones out of her cloak pocket and put them inside her tunic, where she could feel them pressed close against her body.

  She mulled over the details of the departure they had planned for the following day. Their journey would take them out through the Valley of Rhenn and then south past Drey Wood and the swamps below to the Rock Spur and from there to the Wilderun and the peak known as Spire’s Reach. The time required would be less than three days by airship. She had not been down into that part of the world, but she knew Cymrian had. She was relying on his experience to see them there safely.

  She found herself thinking again about Arling and the enormous struggle she was undergoing. Her sister would be carrying the Ellcrys seed, but with no clear intent of what she would do with it once it was immersed and quickened. If she did not intend to use it herself—and it seemed clear at this point that she did not—she would have to find another Chosen willing to take her place.

  A failure by Arling or any of the others to make the sacrifice required to renew the Ellcrys would doom the Elven people and likely the whole of the Four Lands to a fresh war with the demonkind—a war that might never find a resolution. It would betray the heritage of the Elves as protectors of the talisman that had kept the dark creatures of Faerie locked away for all these centuries and return the world to the chaos that had existed before.

  Would Arling permit that to happen?

  She didn’t think so.

  But she didn’t think her sister would sacrifice her life, either. She didn’t think she was capable of it.

  She sensed another presence then, her instincts warning her this time, and was quick to respond. Her wards came up at once, and she turned toward the source of the danger. But nothing happened. She listened and stared into the darkness, searching.

  Nothing.

  Yet she was not mistaken. Something was out there.

 
She started toward home again, suddenly furious. She was sick of being stalked and attacked and made to feel that she wasn’t safe anywhere. She was tired of not knowing who was behind it, always suspicious that it was someone she knew, someone from Arborlon. A secret enemy, a creature with plans about which she knew nothing specific. It wanted the diary and the Elfstones and probably the Ellcrys seedling. It wanted to hurt her and already had. Maybe it wanted her dead. But why was it doing all this? What did it hope to gain?

  Then her thoughts flashed again to Arlingfant, waiting in the cottage for her return, and she broke into a frightened run.

  She had never run so hard and at the same time taken so long to reach a destination. She imagined a hundred terrible results, a hundred horrific scenes, and she was all but exhausted by the time she tore up the front walkway and burst through the door into their tiny common room with its reading chairs and its small table for eating.

  Arling, stepping out from the kitchen, stopped in surprise. “Aphen? What’s wrong?”

  Aphenglow stopped where she was and scanned the room quickly to reassure herself. “Nothing. Are you all right?”

  Her sister stared at her. “Of course I’m all right. You can see that for yourself. But you don’t look so good.”

  Cymrian appeared behind her and took one look at Aphenglow. “What’s happened?”

  “Something was tracking me—just now—after I left Ellich and Jera. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel it.” She took a deep breath and exhaled. “It was there, and then it was gone. I was afraid it was coming here.”

  Cymrian stalked to the windows and peered out, his face grim. “This is the second time you’ve had something like this happen right after visiting your uncle. That’s a big coincidence.”

  “Wait a minute,” Aphen objected. She could see where this was going. “Ellich wouldn’t be a part of something like this. I’ve known him all my life. He’s been my friend and supporter and champion the entire time. Even when my mother refused to have anything to do with me, he was always there for me.”

  “Aphen’s right,” Arling spoke up. “Uncle Ellich is our best friend—even closer to us than Grandfather.”

  Cymrian started to say something more, then just nodded. “Whatever the case, we can’t stay here any longer. We have to leave. Right now.”

  “But I’m not ready!” Arling objected at once. “We agreed to wait until tomorrow! We haven’t even gotten any sleep!”

  “We can sleep on the ship.” Cymrian was already moving into the other room where they had packed and stored their personal belongings earlier in the day. “We have everything we need. There’s nothing keeping us here. Besides, the weather is changing and not for the better. We should just go.” He was rummaging about, moving things. “Finish what you have to do and make ready.”

  Arling looked at Aphen in despair. “I haven’t been to see Mother,” she whispered. “I can’t go without telling her. Without even saying good-bye? What if …?”

  She couldn’t finish. Aphen came to bend close and put her arms around her sister’s shoulders. “You can’t tell Mother what you are doing, anyway. You can’t say anything to her. We agreed. None of us can say one word about this to anyone. It has to be kept secret. Mother would understand.”

  “Mother would understand?” Arling’s laugh was quick and shrill. “Are we talking about the same person? Why would you say that? You, of all people!”

  “I know. It sounds ridiculous.” She could feel the flush come to her cheeks. “But that just reinforces what I’m saying. There’s no point in going to see her.”

  “Not for you, maybe, because she won’t talk to you anyway! But she still talks to me. She still relies on me to tell her what’s happening. She doesn’t have anyone else but Ellich, and he barely speaks to her! I don’t intend to tell her anything specific. I just have to tell her I’m leaving so she won’t worry when she finds out I’m gone.”

  “But you can’t go to her now, not at this time of night! She’ll be asleep. You’ll just worry her if you show up in the middle of the night and say you’re going away!”

  “Which is why I can’t go now!” Arling snapped, flinging herself away from her sister. “Don’t you see?”

  Cymrian reappeared. “Quiet down, both of you. You’ll wake everyone up and down the lane if you keep this up.”

  “You stay out of this!” Aphen snapped at him.

  He hesitated, then turned around without a word and left the room.

  “I have to tell her!” Arling’s voice was low and hard, and she stood glaring at Aphen with fists clenched against her sides. She took a deep, calming breath. “What if I don’t make it back, Aphen? What if she never sees me again, and I didn’t even say good-bye to her?”

  Aphen nodded slowly, resigned. “Then I’m going with you. She doesn’t need to talk to me. She doesn’t even need to know I’m there. But I won’t let you go alone.”

  Arling came to her at once and hugged her. “Thank you for doing this. I’m sorry I yelled. I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” Aphen replied.

  They set out at once, hurrying along the pathways that led to their mother’s cottage. It was not far away, close enough that Aphen felt reassured they would be all right—especially since Cymrian had insisted on going, too, and was somewhere back in the shadows. She led the way as she usually did, the province of the oldest, and Arling trailed along silently, lost in thought. Aphen had helped her sister pack the Ellcrys seed in a leather pouch that was hidden under her cloak, fastened over one shoulder with a strap. She already regretted getting angry, was embarrassed that she had been so insistent on her not doing this. She knew Arling was still close to their mother, that she felt a special obligation toward her now that Aphen was no longer living in Arborlon. She should have just agreed in the first place and let her sister do what she felt she had to and avoided all the acrimony.

  She felt a weariness seep through her. Maybe it was the stalking that was wearing her down. Maybe it was the expectation and worry over what they were about to do. Maybe it was the enormity of what she was undertaking.

  And maybe she should just stop trying to make excuses.

  She forced herself to pick up the pace.

  It was dark and close inside her mother’s home, the windows closed, the curtains drawn, the air stale and dry, and the silence deafening. Arling’s mother was huddled on a couch set well back in the shadows, her presence apparent by little more than the rough sounds of her breathing and the dark outline of her body.

  In Afrengill Elessedil’s world, inside the home she almost never left, time had stopped advancing long ago.

  Arling fidgeted, searching for a place to begin. She had left Aphenglow and Cymrian waiting outside, her sister’s insistence on letting her go in alone unshakable. She knew it was meant to be a gift, a way of removing herself from the meeting so that she would not prove a distraction. If Aphen were to try to come inside with Arling, she would be refused as always, and immediately her mother would become mired in one of her darker moods. Aphen wanted Arling to be able to speak to her mother without that happening, to make this visit be something as close to pleasant as was possible.

  But just at the moment it didn’t seem in the least possible. Her mother had greeted her with a sullen grunt, clearly less than happy to have her here at this hour. She had motioned Arling to her usual chair, settled herself on the couch, and waited in silence. She had not said one word to her daughter.

  Arling now believed that Aphen had been right and that coming here, no matter the depth of her need to see her mother, had been a mistake.

  Nevertheless, she resolved to make the best of things.

  “Mother, I have to go away for a while,” she said finally. “Perhaps for as long as several weeks.”

  Her mother did not respond, but simply sat there staring at her. Her eyes glittered in the gloom like tiny flecks of starlight.

  “I’m sorry to have to come so late at night and with so
little notice, but I just learned of my leaving. I didn’t want to go without saying good-bye. I didn’t want you to worry about me.”

  She watched her mother’s eyes shift slightly, a flicker of movement, and then her mother said, “Is this your sister’s doing?”

  It caught Arling by surprise, but she was quick to recover. “It has nothing to do with Aphen,” she lied. “This is work for the Chosen, a pilgrimage the order requires I undertake.”

  “Your sister is a bad influence, Arling. She is not to be trusted. I wish it weren’t so, but it is. You should stay away from her.”

  Arling shook her head in denial. “Aphen is a good person, Mother. She doesn’t try to influence me or ask things of me.” She felt tears fill her eyes. “And she loves you.”

  “She loves herself and her Druid friends. She loves the power that being a Druid bestows on her. False beliefs and foolish endeavors are what she embraces. She betrayed us all when she chose such things over us.”

  “Mother, please …”

  “Stay away from her, Arling. Open your eyes to what she is, and shun her as she has shunned us.”

  Arling took a deep breath. “Can we speak of something other than Aphen? I came to say good-bye. I just want to tell you …”

  She trailed off. What did she want to tell her mother? What could she tell her?

  Her mother gave a dismissive snort. “Well, go then. Leave me like your sister left me. Abandon me to my sorry, empty life.”

  “Mother, please! I am not abandoning you.”

  “By leaving me, you abandon me. Who else will come to see me? Who else will bother to look after me?”

  “Uncle Ellich will come. Aunt Jera, too. They’ll keep watch over you until I return. If you will let them.”

  Her mother seemed to draw farther into herself, pulling up her legs and tucking in her arms, becoming a dark, shapeless ball on the couch. “I will miss you, child,” she said softly.