The Elves of Cintra

by Terry Brooks

  The old man looked up, his wizened face expectant. “It ends there. Nothing more. But it tells us where the Elfstones are. Sewn into the clothing of a dead Queen, who lies buried somewhere in Ashenell.”

  “The burial ground for our dead!” exclaimed Erisha excitedly. “All we need to do is to go there and find her tomb!”

  “Yes, simple enough, it would seem,” Culph replied with a grimace. “I thought as you did. I even went to Ashenell to have a look. Secretly, of course, so that your father would not know what I was trying to do. I found the family plot for the Cruer Kings and Queens, but there was no marker bearing her name.”

  Erisha stared at him, then glanced at Kirisin. “How can that be?”

  Kirisin frowned and shook his head, his mind on something much more troubling. “You haven’t mentioned the Loden. But the King made it very clear to Erisha that he knew something about it, something that troubled him enough that he didn’t want his daughter using it to help the Ellcrys. What did you tell him that made him react like that? What did you find?”

  Culph hesitated, an uncertain look in his sharp eyes. “We had an agreement when we started this conversation. Do we still have it? Whatever we say or hear stays within this room?”

  Kirisin and Erisha exchanged a quick glance. “That was the agreement,” Kirisin affirmed.

  “Then I will tell you that the King either knows something I don’t or is assuming the worst.” Culph’s aged face tightened. “I found nothing more about the Loden than what I have told you—vague mention and general comment given in the context of the larger reference to Elfstones in general. I found nothing anywhere that explained what it was that the Loden was supposed to do. I found nothing that said using the Loden was dangerous to the user. Not in the histories and not in the diaries and personal journals. Not anywhere.”

  There was a long silence as the boy and the girl digested this unexpected piece of information. “Then why would he forbid Erisha from even thinking about using it?” Kirisin asked.

  Culph shook his head and shrugged. “You would have to ask him. That particular piece of advice did not come from me or from anything that I might have said to him. It is a conclusion of his own making, and I wonder myself about the nature of its origin.”

  “I don’t understand,” Erisha said softly.

  Neither did Kirisin, and it was a troubling mystery. It was one thing for Arissen Belloruus to want to protect his daughter from a danger discovered through a reading of the histories or from personal experience. But it was something else again to fabricate a threat out of nothing more than unfounded fears and doubts. Still, what else could explain his strange behavior in this business? Without any apparent knowledge of the way in which the Loden functioned, without any history to support his thinking, he had determined that the Elfstone posed a danger to his daughter and therefore had forbidden her to use it. It was a reaction that would have been bad enough coming from a father, but was immeasurably worse coming from a King. As King, his first responsibility was to his people, to the maintenance of their health and safety. And the welfare of the Elves depended before all else on the health of the Ellcrys.

  “Well, it doesn’t matter what he thinks,” Kirisin ventured. “We know what we need to do, and we are going to do it. Aren’t we, Erisha?”

  He looked directly at her as he said this so that he could take the measure of her reaction. He needed to be certain that she would not change her mind about choosing to help.

  “You don’t have to ask me that,” she snapped, her response fierce. Her eyes held his for a moment in challenge, then shifted to Culph. “I think Kirisin and I need to visit Ashenell and have a look for ourselves. I don’t know if it will do any good, but it can’t hurt. Maybe fresh eyes will spy out something you missed. It’s possible, isn’t it?”

  The old man shrugged. “Of course, it’s possible. In fact, I will go with you. Later today, if the two of you can manage to stay awake that long. Sunrise is only three hours away, and you haven’t been to bed. But I don’t guess you need sleep the way I do. Suppose we meet at noon. I don’t have anything to keep me here after that. The King won’t notice.”

  “You don’t have to become involved in this,” Kirisin offered. “You’ve given us more than enough help already.”

  Culph laughed. “A little late for me to decide not to become involved, don’t you think? How much farther out do I have to stick my neck before it matters?” He shook his head, his aged face turned suddenly serious. “I made my choice in this business. I could have reported you to the King. I could have kept what I knew about the Elfstones to myself. But I happen to think you know what you are talking about. You wouldn’t have gone through all this if you’d only imagined that she spoke to you. I don’t want to think back about what I could have done to help when it’s too late.”

  Erisha smiled. “Thanks, Culph. For taking a chance on us.”

  His sharp eyes fixed on her. “Don’t be too quick to thank me just yet, missy.” He gestured into the dark in the direction of the basement door. “Off to bed with you, for a few hours, at least. This business isn’t going to get any easier if you’re asleep on your feet.”

  Neither Kirisin nor Erisha made any objection as they rose and headed back the way they had come, anxious for the new day to begin.

  THEY STOOD CLOSE TOGETHER in the shadows just outside the door through which Kirisin had entered the Belloruus home hours earlier, sheltered by a screen of heavy bushes as they whispered.

  “He was a lot more helpful than I thought he would be,” Erisha said. “I’ve known Culph since I was a little girl and I’ve never known him to volunteer his help. He rarely even speaks to anyone.”

  “Maybe he feels that this is important,” Kirisin answered. He glanced around uneasily, not liking the way they were exposed to anyone getting close enough to hear their voices. “He said he’d made his choice. Maybe that’s the difference.”

  “Well, he’s taking a big risk with my father. If he gets found out, my father will exile him. He won’t think twice.”

  “Your father won’t find out anything if we don’t tell him.”

  Erisha gave him a sharp look. “He finds out a lot that people don’t want him to know. He has ears everywhere. We have to be careful, Kirisin. We can’t even tell the other Chosen. None of them. This stays between you and me.”

  “They wouldn’t believe me anyway. They didn’t about the Ellcrys.”

  They were silent a moment, listening to the night sounds, staring off into the dark. Kirisin could hear an owl’s mournful hoot somewhere close by. He could hear the sound of a stream trickling over rocks. “Something is bothering me,” he said.

  The Elven girl looked at him. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that something doesn’t feel right. About the way your father is acting. About the way the Ellcrys is telling us what she needs us to do. About what she needs us to do. About the lack of anything written down in the histories about either the blue Elfstones or the Loden.” He shook his head, frustrated with not being able to better explain. “Doesn’t it seem odd that there isn’t something written somewhere, given how important the Elfstones are?”

  She stared at him without answering, then said, “Maybe there was something written down once, but it’s been lost.”

  “That seems like a huge coincidence to me.” Kirisin ran his fingers through his tangled hair and rubbed his eyes. “But I’m too tired to think clearly about it now.”

  “Maybe we both are,” Erisha said, giving his arm a squeeze.

  They were silent again, and then Kirisin said, “I want you to know I am proud of you for doing this. It took a lot of courage. You could have just done what your father wanted.”

  She shook her head, her eyes on the ground. “I knew that I was doing the wrong thing listening to my father. I knew that the Ellcrys needed me and I was abandoning her. I just needed to be reminded.” She looked at him. “It took more courage for you to stand up to me and then g
o to my father when everyone told you not to. You’re the brave one.”

  “I didn’t have so much to lose.”

  “Maybe you did.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad we’re on the same side in this. I’m glad we’re friends again.”

  “We’ve shared a lot of good times, haven’t we?” She grinned. “Remember hiding in my house until everyone thought we were lost in the forests somewhere? We got in a lot of trouble for that, but it was still fun.” She shook her head ruefully. “I’ve missed that. Sometimes I wish I could have just stayed that age forever.”

  He shrugged. “Well, maybe in your heart, you can. Maybe we both can. And should. It might help us get through the rest of what we have to do for the Ellcrys.”

  “No,” she said somberly, “I think maybe we have to grow up.” She leaned into him and kissed him on the cheek. “Good night, cousin. See you in a few hours.”

  She disappeared back inside the house. Kirisin stood where he was for a few moments longer, thinking about how quickly things could change in life, then slipped back into the shadows and the night and headed home.

  SEVEN

  W ITH THE ENRAGED HOWLS of the demon echoing in her ears and the chill certainty of the pursuit that would follow all too quickly chasing her down the roadway, Angel Perez rode the Mercury 5 north through the night. She drove at breakneck speed, pushing the solar-powered ATV hard, ignoring the dangers of spinning out or colliding with abandoned vehicles and scattered chunks of debris, her one thought to put as much distance as possible between herself and her nemesis.

  A single thought repeated itself over and over in her mind, haunting her with its terrible insistence.

  She is too powerful for you.

  She had never thought such a thing before, but she was thinking it now. She knew with bone-chilling certainty that if they met again and she were forced to do battle, she would die. She didn’t know what sort of monster the demon had transformed into, becoming a beast in appearance rather than a woman, but she knew that it was stronger and more dangerous than she was, and she could not defeat it.

  “Angel, slow down!” Ailie pleaded from where she sat right behind her on the Mercury, clinging to her shoulders, tiny fingers gripping so tightly that Angel could feel fingernails digging into her shoulders. Her slash wounds from her battle with the demon throbbed and burned where Ailie’s fingers gripped, and her body ached from the struggle she had endured. But none of it could penetrate the red haze of her fear.

  “Angel!”

  She heard Ailie this time and realized that she was out of control, racing toward an almost certain collision, charging toward her own destruction. She throttled back on the ATV, fighting both the machine and her emotions, trying to bring herself under control.

  ¿Que pasa, Angelita? ¡You are never like this!

  Johnny’s voice was a sharp, quick warning in her mind, an admonition that she could not mistake. She clenched her teeth, tightened her grip on the handlebars, and resurrected the steely determination that had seen her through so many terrible battles.

  Do not be such a coward! Her own voice this time, her own scathing admonition to match Johnny’s. She knew better. She had allowed herself to panic over possibilities and not for any good reason. It was a weakness she could barely tolerate in others and not at all in herself.

  She rode the Mercury over to the side of the road and parked it with the motor still running, taking deep breaths to steady herself, aware of how hard her heart was beating in her chest. Behind her, she felt Ailie sit back on the seat, her grip loosening. She felt the pain in her body return in a sudden flood that racked her with enough force to cause her to jerk sharply in response.

  “I’m sorry,” she said to Ailie without looking at her.

  She shut off the engine and sat motionless in the ensuing silence, breathing in the night air, feeling the intense heat of her body begin to diminish and the wild churning of her emotions subside. The highway was a black ribbon to her left, stretching north and south as far as the eye could see, empty of everything, including the trash that was so prevalent everywhere else. Mountains hemmed in the highway from both sides, their peaks outlined in stark relief against the sky by ambient light from the stars and a sliver of moon.

  “You had reason to be afraid,” Ailie said quietly.

  Angel tightened her lips and flexed her shoulders against her tenseness. “I had reason to be afraid, but not reason to panic. Panic is a road to destruction, and I know better than to turn down that road.” She exhaled sharply. “The demon managed to make me do so back there, but it will not do so again. That much I can promise.”

  “I believe you,” said Ailie.

  She climbed down off the seat and walked around in front of the ATV where she could see Angel’s face. The tatterdemalion was a wisp of white gauze and pale flesh that shimmered with ghostly translucence. Her luminous eyes fixed on Angel.

  “I am afraid all the time,” she said.

  Angel stared at her. “Why would that be so? What are you afraid of?”

  The tatterdemalion’s gaze did not waver. “Everything.” The dark eyes blinked. “I am afraid of everything, Angel. It is a condition caused by the nature of my existence. I live only a short time, and I know that other creatures live so much longer. If I did not think and were not aware of life spans, if I were an insect perhaps, it would not matter. But I do think and I am aware, and so I can appreciate how precious my time is. It does not help that I know I am in constant danger because of what I am and whom I serve. The demons hate creatures like me. So I am afraid even when I do not want to be or even when I do not need to be.”

  “That sounds very unpleasant.” Angel hugged herself. Tatterdemalions lived a mayfly existence, their lives spanning not much more than thirty days on average. They were there and gone in the blink of an eye. “No one wants to be afraid. Even if it’s only now and then, let alone all the time.”

  Ailie nodded. “I have learned to live with it. I have learned not to be ashamed of or angry with myself. I have learned that some things are simply a condition of our lives, and we cannot help them.”

  Angel pursed her lips. “You are telling me I should be more like you. I should not be ashamed or angry about my fear. I should accept it.”

  Ailie’s smile was small and winsome on her somber face. “At least you could think about it.”

  Angel smiled back. “I guess I could, little conscience.”

  Ailie climbed back up behind Angel. “I think we better go. The Elves have need of us.”

  Angel nodded. “Elves.” She brushed at her thick black hair. “I still can’t get used to the idea. But I suppose I better.”

  She turned the engine on again, engaged the throttle, and steered the Mercury back onto the highway headed north, its engine a dull roar in the night’s silence, its metal body sleek and silvery in the pale wash of the stars.

  Hunched close together on the padded seat, the Knight of the Word and the tatterdemalion rode north in search of their future.

  IN THE DARKNESS behind them, still miles back but coming steadily on, the demon, in its newly acquired form, loped down the center of the highway, an indefatigable machine. That part of her that had been Delloreen was all but wiped away by her physical transformation. Once human in appearance, she was now all animal. Her skin was turned to scales. Her fingers and toes were turned to claws. Her hair was mostly gone; fringes remained only on pointed ears. Her human features were feral and wolfish. She no longer walked upright, but ran on all fours. She had lengthened out from well over six feet to well over ten. She was heavily muscled and sinewy and terrifying to look upon.

  She had become something else entirely, and she reveled in it.

  She had never been invested in her appearance, never cared for how she looked or what she seemed to be to those she encountered. She knew what she was: she was a demon. That she might become bigger and stronger and more ferocious was all that mattered. That she might become the most dangerous
of the Void’s creatures was her primary goal.

  She had not forgotten about Findo Gask, not entirely, but he no longer mattered to her. His insolence and his attempts to motivate her to do his bidding no longer mattered, either. The old man was her past, a vague memory at best, a reminder of dissatisfaction and frustration, a momentary distraction that had now all but faded from memory. Her goals, her purpose, had narrowed down to a single preoccupation—to find and kill the Knight of the Word who had twice now escaped her. She didn’t look beyond that. Hunting down and destroying the Knight was everything. After that, she would decide if anything else mattered. For now, there was only the pursuit and the satisfaction that awaited its conclusion.

  Her long tongue lolled from between her fangs as she ran, and the pad of her rough paws and the click of her sharp nails on the blacktop sounded a steady tempo that set her pace. Lost in the workings of her sleek new form, in the steady rush of adrenaline the excitement of the hunt generated, she panted with undisguised eagerness and dreamed of the taste of the Knight’s fresh blood.