The Elf Queen of Shannara

“Wait, don’t answer yet.” He cut short Walker’s attempt to speak. “I get ahead of myself. You must know first what happened to me. Then we will speak of you. Rumor and I have had an adventure of our own, and it has brought us to this. Here is what happened, Walker. Some weeks earlier when I spoke with the shade of Allanon, I was warned that my time within the world of mortal men was almost gone, that death would come for me when next I saw the face of Rimmer Dall. When that happened, I was to hold the Druid History to me and not to give it up. I was told nothing more. When the First Seeker and his Shadowen appeared at Hearthstone, I remembered Allanon’s words. I managed to slow them long enough to retrieve the book from its hiding place. I stood with it clasped to my breast on the porch of the cottage, Rumor pressed backup against me, as the Shadowen reached to tear me apart.

“You thought it was my magic that enveloped me. It was not. When the Shadowen closed about me, a magic contained within the Druid History came to my defense. It released white fire, consuming everything about it, destroying everything that was not a part of me, except for Rumor, who sought to protect me. It did not harm us, but instead caught us up and carried us away as quick as the blink of an eye. We fell unconscious, a sleep that was as deep as any I have ever known. When we came awake again, we were here within Paranor, within the Druid’s Keep.”

He bent close. “I cannot know for certain what happened when the magic was triggered, Walker, but I can surmise. The Druids would never leave their work unprotected. Nothing of what they created would ever be left for use by those who lacked the right and the proper intent. It was so, I am certain, of their Histories. The magic that protected them was such that any threat would result in their return to the vault within the Keep that had sheltered them all those years. That was what happened to the History I held. I have looked within the vaults and found the History back among the others, safely returned. Allanon must have known this would happen—and known that anyone holding the History would be carried away as well—back into Paranor, back into the Druid’s sanctuary.

“But not,” he finished, “back into the world of mortal men.”

“Because the Keep had been sent elsewhere three hundred years ago,” Walker murmured, beginning to understand now.

“Yes, Walker, because the Keep had been sent from the Four Lands by Allanon and would remain gone until the Druids brought it back again. So the book was returned to it and Rumor and I sent along as well.” He paused. “It appears that the Druids are not done with me yet.”

“Are you trapped here, then?” Walker asked softly.

The other’s smile was tight. “I am afraid so. I lack the magic to free us. We are a part of Paranor now, just as the Histories are, alive and well, but ghosts within a ghost castle, caught in some twilight time and place until a stronger magic than mine sets us free. And that is why I have been waiting for you.” The bony fingers tightened about Walker’s arm. “Tell me now. Have you brought the Black Elfstone? Will you show it to me?”

Walker Boh remembered suddenly that he still had hold of the Stone, the talisman clasped so tightly in his hand that the edges had embedded themselves in the flesh of his palm. He held his hand out tentatively, and his fingers slipped open one by one. He was cautious, afraid that the magic would overwhelm him. The Black Elfstone gleamed darkly in the hollow of his palm, but the magic lay dormant, the nonlight sealed away.

Cogline peered down at the Stone wordlessly for long moments, not attempting more, his narrow, seamed face reflecting wonder and hesitation. Then he looked up again and said, “How did you find it, Walker? What happened after Rumor and I were taken away?”

Walker told him then of the coming of Quickening, the daughter of the King of the Silver River, and of how she had healed his arm. He related all that had happened on the journey north to Eldwist, of the struggle of Quickening and her companions to survive in that land of stone, of the search for Uhl Belk, of the encounters with the Rake and the Maw Grint, and of the ultimate destruction of the city and those who sought to preserve it.

“I came here alone,” he concluded, his gaze distant as the memories of what had befallen him recalled themselves. “I knew what was expected of me. I accepted that the trust Allanon had bequeathed to Brin Ohmsford had been meant for me.” He glanced over. “You always told me that I first needed to accept in order to understand, and I suppose I have done as you advised. And as Allanon charged. I used the Black Elfstone and brought back the Druid’s Keep. But look at me, Cogline. I appear as you do, a ghost. If the magic has achieved what was intended, then why—”

“Think, Walker,” the other interrupted quickly, a pained look in his ancient eyes. “What was your charge from Allanon? Repeat it to me.”

Walker took a deep breath, his pale face troubled. “To bring back Paranor and the Druids.”

“Yes, Paranor and the Druids—both. You realize what that means, don’t you? You understand?”