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

She shifted her gaze back to Hawk. “We outnumber them, but they are better armed and have less to lose. I can’t risk the lives of these children attempting to force our way past. Not without a better reason than you’ve given me so far.

“Besides.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I’m not convinced I should do what you tell me. You don’t know who sent you. You don’t know who we are. You don’t know where you are. You don’t seem to know much of anything. Your intentions are good, I think. But the road to Hell and all that. It makes me suspicious. I’m having real difficulty believing that you are who we’ve been waiting for.”

Hawk understood. He would have felt the same in her shoes.

He was just a boy, nothing special. Why should she believe for one minute that he was someone who could help? Why should she place hundreds of children under his direction without knowing more? He understood all that, and yet he had to find a way to make her do exactly what her instincts and training told her not to do.

“You should believe him,” Tessa said suddenly, trying to help. “Hawk is more than what he seems. He is special, different than the rest of us. He was told so by a Knight of the Word.”

“Angel Perez is a Knight of the Word,” Helen Rice said.

Hawk shook his head, unwilling to lie to her. “No, this wasn’t her. This was someone else. A man. His name is Logan Tom.”

He looked back toward the river again. He could feel his concern for their safety pushing hard at him to do something. The longer they waited, the more dangerous their situation became. He couldn’t explain his certainty about this, only that at this moment it was so strong, he could not ignore it. He couldn’t explain, either, why he was compelled to guide these people, the children especially, except that something of what the King of the Silver River had told him in those gardens had resurfaced the moment he saw who was down here. Now, standing in the presence of Helen Rice and in the center of all these children, he found a fresh connection with his gypsy morph self—the part of him that was Faerie, the part that was born of Nest Freemark, the part that combined the magic of both.

That magic surfaced now within her finger bones, which were still tucked away in his pocket. It spit and crackled against his flesh like tiny electrical charges, demanding to be set free.

“There is an army coming,” he said, knowing all at once that it was true. “From the south.”

“That old man,” Helen Rice said at once. Her lips tightened. “How do you know this?”

“The army is too big for you,” he said, avoiding a direct answer. “You won’t be able to stand against it on this side of the river. If you cross, though, you might be able to hold the bridge.”

“Or blow it up.” Her fierce gaze was locked on him. “But it’s still too dangerous to attempt a crossing with the children. Not without something more than the warning you’ve given me, Hawk.”

“If I can get you across that bridge safely, without a struggle and without putting the children in danger,” he asked, “will you go?”

She hesitated, weighing the offer, her doubts fighting her need to believe in this boy, her fear that he deceived warring with her desire for him to be the one.

“Please,” Tessa said softly. “Let him try.”

Helen Rice gave the girl a quick glance. “All right,” she said finally, her gaze shifting back to Hawk. “You have one chance.”





Chapter TWENTY-FIVE


“YOU HAVE ONE CHANCE,” Helen Rice told him, then quickly added, “And we don’t move the children anywhere until we have complete control of the bridge and I am convinced it’s safe to do so.”

None of which surprised him. It was what he would have insisted on if a stranger was proposing to take the Ghosts across a bridge guarded by armed militia. Hawk hadn’t thought for one minute that it would be otherwise.

His immediate concerns were much larger. He didn’t know yet how he was going to get control of the bridge. He didn’t know how he was going to disperse the men guarding it. He only knew that he was meant to try.

“I’ll bring enough people to hold the bridge against a counterattack if you can find a way for us to take it over,” she continued.

“Enough to hold it until the rest are able to break camp and bring the children across.”

He nodded his agreement in silence. His commitment to what he was about to attempt was strong, but his fears were huge, as well. He understood the reality of his situation. He was acting on faith and on instinct. It was hard to tell which he was relying on more. If either failed him, he was probably going to die. He didn’t give any indication of this as he smiled reassuringly at Tessa, seeing his own fear mirrored tenfold in her eyes.

He felt small and inadequate. He felt almost foolish.

But there was a voice inside urging him on, telling him to believe, to accept that this was something he could do. The voice was his own and that of the old man in the gardens and his mother’s, as well. It was a single voice that shifted in pitch and tone, but never in strength.