The Elves of Cintra (Book 2 of The Genesis of Shannara)

He glanced covertly at Tessa, at her fine dark features, her dusky skin and curly black hair, at the way she carried herself, at the sway of her body as she walked. Her presence comforted him as nothing else could, and he was grateful for her beyond anything words could express. Tessa.

She made him ache inside. She made him feel that everything he had been asked to do was not too much if she was with him. He remembered anew how frightened he had been for her during the tribunal at the compound when the judges had pronounced the death sentence on them both. He remembered how terrible he had felt for her when her mother spit on her and refused to take her side.

His determination hardened.

We are the Ghosts, and we haunt the ruins of the world our parents destroyed.

He repeated the litany silently, testing the strength of the words. The world they had inherited was poisoned, plague-ridden, and decimated. Adults who ought to have known better had left it in tatters. How much would it take for an eighteen-year-old boy to salvage any part of what was left? More than he had to offer, he thought. Much more. They could say what they wanted about who and what he was, all of them. They could say anything.

But deep down inside, down where his heart and his determination were strongest, he knew that he was just a boy and that his limitations were brick walls through which he could not break free. He was expected to save thousands of children. He was expected to help them survive. He was expected to find a safe hold that would shelter them all from a fire that would consume everything.

He was expected to perform miracles.

It was too much to ask of anyone.

It was nearing mid-afternoon when they saw the first roofs of the distant buildings, a cluster of gray surfaces that reflected back the dull slick of rainfall and dust that had collected. The buildings were set down in a flat between two higher bluffs facing out toward the river at a narrows. A bridge spanned the water about a mile farther on where the river narrowed even more. Although the rain clouded his vision sufficiently that he couldn’t be sure from this distance, Hawk thought that its steel trusses and cables were intact.

Tessa took his arm suddenly. “Look, Hawk,” she said. “Down there.”

He shifted his gaze to where she was pointing, away from the river and back toward an open field that extended from a cluster of large warehouses to woods backed up against low hills that disappeared into the haze.

The field was filled with tents and vehicles and people—hundreds, perhaps thousands of them. Many were busy doing things, but from where he stood he couldn’t tell what those things were. He saw fires and makeshift kitchens through which lines of people passed with their plates empty and reappeared with them full. He was looking at a camp, but he had no idea why there would be a camp of any kind in this place.

Then he realized all at once that most of the people he was seeing were children.

He took a closer look at the perimeter of the camp and found guards, all of them heavily armed and keeping close watch on the approaches. He knew from the extent of their vigilance that he and Tessa had already been spotted. But he stood where he was awhile longer, not wanting to appear furtive or frightened, not wanting to create a wrong impression, studying the busy sprawl below, waiting to see what would happen. These were not Freaks or once-men or anything threatening; they were people like himself, and if he did not pose a threat to them perhaps they would not cause problems for him.

When Cheney growled, low and deep in his throat, he knew he was about to find out if he was right.

“Stay,” he told the big dog softly and reached down to touch the grizzled head.

A man emerged from the trees to one side, carrying a flechette. He did not raise it in a threatening manner or even look particularly worried. “Hello,” he said.

“Hello,” Hawk and Tessa said together.

“Are you looking for someone? Can I help you find them?”

He was a tall, thin man with glasses and a soft look that suggested that serving as guard for this camp was not his usual line of work.

But he held the flechette in a familiar manner, and Hawk knew that no man or woman who had survived in this world outside the compounds was doing what he or she had done before.

“I’m looking for whoever is in charge,” he said.

The man studied him a moment. “What’s the trouble? Are you lost?”

Hawk shook his head. “No. In fact, that’s why I’m here. To help you find your way. I came to be your guide.”

A flicker of amusement crossed the man’s face, but then he simply smiled and shrugged. “Can’t wait to hear how you plan to do that. Is your dog okay down there with the kids?”

Hawk nodded. “He does what I tell him.”