The Elf Queen of Shannara

“I thought you might like to walk down to the wall with me,” he said simply.

Her smile in response brought a trace of his own. “I would,” she agreed.

With Garth in tow, they departed the palace and moved through the dark, deserted streets of the city. Wren had thought the people would be awake and watchful, anxious to observe what would happen when the magic of the Loden was invoked. But the homes of the Elves were dark and silent, and those who watched did so from the shadows. Perhaps Ellenroh had not told them when the transformation would occur, she thought. She became aware of someone following them and glanced back to find Cort a dozen paces behind. Triss must have dispatched him to make certain they reached their appointed gathering spot on time. Triss would be with the queen or Eowen Cerise or Aurin Striate—or Dal would. All of them shepherded down to the Keel, to the door that led out into the desolation beyond, into the harsh and barren emptiness that they must traverse in order to survive.

They arrived without incident, the darkness unbroken, the dawn’s light still hidden beneath the horizon. All were gathered—the queen, Eowen, the Owl, Triss, Dal, and now the four of them. Only nine, Wren thought, suddenly aware of how few they were and how much depended on them. They exchanged hugs and hand clasps and furtive words of encouragement, a handful of shadows whispering into the night. All wore hunter’s garb, loose fitting and hardy, protection against the weather and, to some small measure, the dangers that waited without. All carried weapons, save for Eowen and the queen. Ellenroh carried the Ruhk Staff, its dark wood glimmering faintly, the Loden a prism of colors that winked and shimmered even in the near black. Atop the Keel, the magic was a steady glow that illuminated the battlements and reached heavenward. Elven Hunters patrolled the walls in groups of half a dozen, and sentries stood at watch within their towers. From without, the growls and hissings were sporadic and distant, as if the things emitting them lacked interest and would as well have slept.

“We’ll give them a surprise before this night is over, won’t we?” Gavilan whispered in her ear, a tentative smile on his face.

“Just so long as they’re the ones who end up being surprised,” she whispered back.

She saw Aurin Striate by the door leading down into the tunnels and moved over to stand beside him. His rumpled body shifted in the gloom. He glanced at her and nodded.

“Eyes and ears sharp, Wren?”

“I guess so.”

“Elfstones handy?”

Her mouth tightened. The Elfstones were in a new leather bag strung about her neck—she could feel their weight resting against her chest. She had managed to avoid thinking about them until now. “Do you think I’ll need them?”

He shrugged. “You did last time.”

She was silent for a moment, considering the prospect. Somehow she had thought she might escape Morrowindl without having to call on the magic again.

“It seems quiet out there,” she ventured hopefully.

He nodded, his slender frame draping itself against the stone. “They won’t be expecting us. We’ll have our chance.”

She leaned back next to him, shoulders touching. “How good a chance will it be, Owl?”

He laughed tonelessly. “What difference does it make? It is the only chance we have.”

Barsimmon Oridio materialized out of the blackness, went directly to the queen, spoke to her in hushed tones for a few minutes, and then disappeared again. He looked haggard and worn, but there was determination in his step.

“How long have you been going out there?” she asked the Owl suddenly, not looking at him. “Out with them.”

There was a hesitation. He knew what she meant. She could feel his eyes fixing on her. “I don’t know anymore.”

“What I want to know, I guess, is how you made yourself do it. I can barely make myself go even this once, knowing what’s out there.” She swallowed against the admission. “I mean, I can do it because it’s the only choice, and I won’t have to do it again. But you had a choice each time, before this. You must have thought better of it more than once. You must not have wanted to go.”