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

He should just go. “Frickin’ hell,” he muttered.

He walked over to the driver’s side of the AV, reached in, and pulled out the Parkhan Spray. Then he walked back to the others. “Fixit, you drive,” he told the boy. “Take the rest down the road about a mile and wait for us until you’re sure we’re not coming. Then drive on. Everyone stays with you.

Look out for each other.”

“Panther!” Owl hissed in disbelief. “You can’t do this.”

“Looks like I can,” he answered, avoiding her eyes.

“I’m going, too, Panther,” Sparrow declared at once.

“No, crazy little bird, you’re not. Just me and her.” He pointed toward Catalya. “Just us. We’re going. You stay here, you and Bear, and watch out for the others.”

“What are you talking about?” Sparrow demanded. “You and her? Just two of you?”

He nodded. “If two aren’t enough, then four or six or eight probably aren’t, either. I don’t know. I do know that no one’s going but me and her.”

“This isn’t something you have to do, Panther,” Owl said quickly. “This is probably too much for anyone, let alone a boy and a girl.

What is it you think you can do? How do you think you can help him?”

“Don’t know. Have to try, though.” Panther glanced over at Catalya. “Hey! Miss Kitty!” he called out. “You serious about getting your big brother back from those stump heads? You think you got the claws for it?”

She stared at him a moment before walking over. She stood there, sizing him up. “You think you can help me?”

Panther grinned despite himself. “Guess we have to find that out, don’t we?”

Catalya handed Rabbit to Owl. “Take care of her for me until I get back.” She looked at Panther. “Ready if you are.”

Despite the sharply worded pleas that trailed after them, they walked off in the direction in which the men had taken Logan Tom.

Neither one spoke to the other.

Neither one looked back.





Chapter TWENTY-SEVEN


LOGAN TOM was marched off the freeway toward the roofs of the buildings cradled by the low hills, his captors fanned out on all sides to keep him securely in their midst. He forced himself not to look back at the AV

and the hay wagon and the Ghosts, trying hard not to get ahead of himself, to concentrate on the moment and wait for his chance. He could escape anytime he chose. But escaping meant putting the kids at immediate risk, and he was convinced that he must find a way to avoid that. There was still the possibility that Krilka Koos, whoever he was, only wanted to talk, only sought his help with something.

He needed to give that possibility a chance.

Still, the urge to strike back, to lash out with all the power that was his to command through possession of the black staff, was almost more than he could resist. He could scatter these men like bits of dust, burn them to ash, and flee back to free his helpless charges. He could turn this thing around in an instant’s time.

Maybe. But all it would take was one shout, one shot fired, one hint that something was wrong.

The men around him kept their distance, walking in loose, easy fashion, following the lead of the man who had done all the talking earlier. But their casual attitude was only a pretense that was betrayed by the constant surreptitious glances they directed Logan’s way when they thought he wasn’t looking. He detected wariness in those glances, but something else as well—an excitement, an eagerness for something these men understood and he did not.

It was this secret knowledge that bothered Logan most. He had seen such looks before on the faces of other men like these, and it always signaled a fresh form of bloodletting. But he had committed himself; he had his staff to protect him, and his training as a Knight of the Word to reassure him.

Whatever waited, it would find him ready.

They passed down through the hills, winding between the gentle slopes toward the buildings, leaving the freeway and Ghosts behind. No one talked. Logan thought once or twice to ask questions, and then decided against it. He was better off keeping his uncertainties to himself.

“Just ahead, now,” the man who had done all the speaking advised.

“You knew I was coming,” Logan said, changing his mind about staying quiet. “You were waiting for me.”

The speaker glanced at him. “We did and we were. We keep watch on the roads to see who passes. Those who suit our needs, we bring back.

Most, we ignore. Not you, of course. We knew you for a Knight of the Word ten miles back. That staff. There’s no mistaking it.”

“So you only stop Knights of the Word?”

The speaker smiled. “Krilka Koos will explain.”