Bearers of the Black Staff

Abruptly, she felt the Elfstones warm within her hand, causing her to open her eyes in surprise and look down. Brilliant blue light seeped from between her fingers, flashing outward in slender streamers that were as blinding as new sunlight. She kept her thoughts on Panterra, watching the light coalesce and then lance outward through the trees and into the distance. She saw it pierce time and space and substance in a tunnel of light that reached for miles beyond where she stood to find the boy from Glensk Wood.

All of a sudden there he was. Panterra Qu. He stood within the high rock walls of a pass in the midst of other workers, all of them engaged in the building of defensive bulwarks meant to span the opening and provide protection against invaders. He was at Declan Reach, she realized, high up in the pass, gone to help with the fortifications.

He was there just long enough for her to be certain of where he was and what he was doing, and then the light from the Elfstones vanished, the image disappeared, and she was back beside her grandmother, standing in the trees beyond her gardens.

She opened her fingers and peered down into her palm where the Elfstones lay twinkling. There was no damage to her skin. There was no pain. She checked herself carefully, wanting to be certain. She had not been harmed.

But something had been done. A rush of exhilaration was flooding through her body, sweeping from head to foot and back again, a sense of warmth and excitement mingling with something she could not define. A satisfaction, perhaps. A glory. It roiled within her like an adrenaline infusion, yet it was unlike anything she had experienced before. She closed her fingers over the Elfstones once more and looked down at her hands as she tucked them close against her body, not wanting her grandmother to see what was happening. But it was useless, she knew. Mistral Belloruus would have tested the Elfstones herself. She would already have tasted what her granddaughter was experiencing.

She looked up again quickly and saw the knowledge reflected in her grandmother’s eyes. “Now you know,” the old lady whispered.

Phryne handed the Elfstones back, quickly pressing them into her grandmother’s hands. “I know. But it doesn’t change my mind. The magic belongs to my father. He is capable of handling it much better than I am.”

“You are wrong about that, child,” the old woman answered.

“You can’t know that if you haven’t given him a chance to discover it for himself. You owe him that. You did this for me; now you have to do it for him. Then you can make a decision.”

“Would you accept such a decision, once made?” Her grandmother waited for her to answer, and when she didn’t, said, “I thought not. So what is the point of doing what you ask?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know what you think you mean.” Her grandmother smiled and shook her head. “But we needn’t talk on it further just now. I only wanted you to understand what having use of the Elfstones meant. There is much more to it than the little you’ve experienced. You will discover that if you test yourself again, as I think you must. These particular Elfstones are seeking-Stones, but they can also protect the user against other magic and dangers that threaten. They are a powerful weapon as well as a versatile tool. Bearing them carries responsibility; possessing them demands accountability. Few are able to handle demands of that sort.”

“I suspect I am not one of those few,” Phryne said.

Mistral Belloruus tucked the Elfstones into the pouch and the pouch into her pocket. Then she reached over and took hold of her granddaughter’s arm.

“We’ll talk about it later, you and I,” she said. “We’ve done enough for now. You need time to reflect on what’s happened.” She squeezed Phryne’s arm gently. “Would you walk me back to my cottage, please? And stay, perhaps, for a cup of tea? I think that would be a very nice end to your visit.”

Arm in arm, they made their way back through the trees to the gardens and the old lady’s home.



PHRYNE RETURNED TO THE PALACE AFTER THAT and spent several hours brooding. She was not happy about what had happened, but regrets were useless. She should never have agreed to use the Elfstones as her grandmother had insisted, even if it meant an end to their conversation about who should possess the magic. Using them had only confused the issue further. Worse, it had raised questions in her mind that had not been there before. For the first time, she was wondering if perhaps her grandmother was right about giving the Elfstones to her instead of her father. She hated it that she was considering such a thing, aware that by doing so she was betraying him. But was she? Or was she simply doing what was expected of her?

The problem lay with the inescapable truth about her father. In the time of his reign as King, he had done nothing to foster the study or use of Elven magic. He had simply ignored that particular mandate, satisfied that healing and nurturing of the Elven territories was a sufficient use. But the Elves had not survived all these years through healing and nurturing alone. They had not survived the Great Wars and escaped into this valley by taking a passive stance toward the evil that confronted them. Yet here they were, five hundred years later, a new evil at their doorstep threatening to take away their homes and perhaps their freedom, and what fresh magic had they mastered?