Ilse Witch

“Your magic is the legacy of your family, Bek.” The Druid looked back over the railing into the gloom. “It was absorbed by Wil Ohmsford into his body hundreds of years ago when he used the Elfstones to save the lives of two women, one who became the Ellcrys, one who became h1is wife. His Elven blood was too thin to permit him to do so safely, and he was altered irrevocably. It didn’t manifest itself in him so much as in his children, Brin and Jair, who were born with the use of magic in their voices, just as you were. It was strong in both, but particularly in the girl. Brin had the power to transform living things by singing. She could heal them or destroy them. Her power was called the wishsong.”


He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Bek was watching him closely now. “The magic surfaced in other generations, but only sporadically. It was five hundred years before it returned in a meaningful way. This time, it appeared in the brothers Par and Coll Ohmsford, who fought with me and with the Elf Queen Wren Elessedil against the Shadowen. The magic was strong in Par Ohmsford, very powerful. He was your great-great-grandfather, Bek.”

He shifted away from the railing and faced the boy anew. “I’m related to you, as well, though I wouldn’t care to try to trace the lineage. We are both scions of Brin Ohmsford. But whereas you inherited her use of the wishsong, I inherited the blood trust bestowed on her by Allanon as he lay dying, the trust that foretold that one of her descendants would be the first of the new Druids. I was that descendant, though I didn’t want to believe it when it was revealed to me, didn’t want to accept it afterwards for a long time. I came to the Druid order reluctantly and served with constant misgiving.”

His sigh was soft and wistful. “There. It’s said. We are family, Bek, you and I—joined by blood as well as by magic’s use.” His smile was bitter. “The combination allowed me to summon you on Shatterstone when we were under attack, to connect with you through your thoughts when I could not do so with the others. It wasn’t a coincidence that I called to you.”

“I don’t get it,” Bek blurted out in confusion. “Why didn’t you tell me this before? Why did you keep it a secret? It doesn’t seem so bad. I’m not afraid of my magic. I can learn to use it. It can help us, can’t it? Isn’t that why I was asked to come? Because I have the magic? Because I’m an Ohmsford?”

The Druid shook his head. “It isn’t so simple. In the first place, use of the magic carries a terrible responsibility and a very real threat to the bearer. The magic is powerful and sometimes unpredictable. Using it can be tricky. It can even be harmful, not just to others but to you, as well. Magic often reacts as it chooses and not as you intend; your attempts to control it can fail. It isn’t necessarily good that you know you have it and can call it forth. Once you have unearthed its existence, it becomes a burden you cannot put down. Ever.”

“But it’s there nevertheless,” Bek pointed out. “It isn’t as if I had a choice about adopting it. Besides, you brought me on this journey to use my magic, didn’t you?”

The Druid nodded. “Yes, Bek. But there is more to it than that. I brought you for the use of your magic, but I brought you for another reason, as well—a more compelling one. Your parents and your sister were the last of the Ohmsfords. There were others, distant cousins and so forth, but your father was the last direct descendant of Par Ohmsford. He married your mother and they lived in the hamlet of Jentsen Close not far from the northeast edge of the Rainbow Lake, in a part of the farming community off the Rabb Plains. They had two children, your sister and you. Your sister’s name was Grianne. She was three years older than you, and signs of the wishsong’s magic appeared in her very early. Your father recognized those signs and sent for me. He knew of the connection between us. I visited you when you were1 still a baby and your sister only four years of age. Because of my Druid experience, I was able to recognize the magic not only in your sister, but in you as well.”

He paused. “Unfortunately, the Morgawr discovered the existence of this magic as well. The Morgawr has lived for a very long time, hidden away in the Wilderun. He may have been an ally of the Shadowen, but he was not one of them and was not destroyed as they were. He surfaced about fifty years ago and began to expand his influence to the Federation. He is a powerful warlock, with ties to the Eastland Mwellrets and shape-shifters. It was because of these ties that I learned about his interest in your family. I was friends with Truls Rohk by then, and several times he followed shape-shifters that had gone to your home. They didn’t do anything but observe, but it was a clear warning that something wasn’t right.”