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

THEY TRAVELED through the remainder of the night with Logan driving the Lightning S-150, the Weatherman and the boy with the ruined face strapped to the roof, Squirrel and Sparrow riding in the back, Owl riding in the passenger’s seat, and the cart with the assorted possessions salvaged by the Ghosts attached behind. The others either walked or rode on the wide, flat fenders, taking turns when one or more needed to rest. Panther and Bear walked almost the entire way, riding only when Owl ordered them to do so, unwilling to acknowledge any hint of weakness. Logan kept the car’s pace slow enough so that even Candle did not have trouble keeping up. Speed wasn’t crucial just yet. A destination wasn’t immediately important, either, which was a good thing since none of them—including Logan Tom, or maybe especially Logan Tom—knew where they were supposed to be going. At some point soon, they would need to have some sort of destination in mind. But for tonight it was enough to maintain a steady pace that would take them out of the city and into the surrounding countryside, far away from the once-men and their madness.

They traveled south, the direction in which the freeway took them after coming down off the entry ramp and the one with which Logan felt most comfortable. He had come into the city from the north and east, and he was not anxious to go back through those mountain passes. Perhaps it was the possibility of another encounter with the ghosts of the dead or perhaps it was his aversion to retracing his steps when his enemies were always looking for him to do so. He did not know yet where they would have to travel to find the missing Hawk and Tessa, but he knew he would be happier searching for them somewhere other than where he had already been.

He also knew that in order to make any sort of journey, they would require a trailer large enough to haul both themselves and their possessions. It was all right to poke along the freeway at a snail’s pace for tonight, but after that they would need a means by which they could move more quickly, if the need arose, and the Lightning couldn’t hold them all.

These considerations and others flitted through his mind as he eased the AV down the long ribbon of concrete into the darkness, weaving through a tangle of abandoned vehicles and trash heaps and the bones of the dead. Distant now, but still visible, the fires of the ships and the compound lit the night sky in a yellowish haze. He found himself thinking of the people who lived in the compound and likely would die there before this was finished.

In particular, he found himself thinking of Meike, with her freckles and anxious eyes. He wondered if she would do as he had told her or make the easy choice and stay put. He decided that maybe he didn’t want to know.

When they got far enough down the highway, all the way to the far end of a huge airfield, he turned off the road and drove them to a piece of high ground that overlooked the airfield and, farther back the way they had come, the city. He drove the Lightning into a small copse of trees where it wouldn’t be immediately noticed, parked, and climbed out. He had a pair of tents and blankets in the back, enough so that with the interior of the vehicle to use, as well, they could all get a little sleep. That they needed to rest was a given. Everyone was exhausted.

Using the boys to help set up the tents and Owl to provide encouragement, Logan put them all to bed. Owl went last, taking time to clean the wounds of the boy with the ruined face before insisting that Logan put him inside with the Weatherman. Logan agreed, but handcuffed one wrist to a ring at the rear of the vehicle.

Alone again, he set up watch in the driver’s seat, facing the AV out toward the roadway they had just traveled down. He didn’t expect any pursuit, but he had learned never to take anything for granted, even the reliability of the Lightning’s warning systems. With the uneven breathing of the Weatherman drifting out of the rear of the vehicle, he stared out into the darkness and fell into a light doze.

He was drifting somewhere between dreams and reality when the Lady came to him.

HE SENSES HER PRESENCE before he hears her voice, and it is enough to cause him to rise and move out onto the grassy knoll on which the Lightning S-150 AV sits. He sleeps poorly this night, his mind restless, his thoughts dark and rife with foreboding. Memories of missed chances haunt him, come like ghosts to plague his rest. He dozes for a few minutes here and there, but he fights a losing battle with his personal demons; they give him no peace. Mostly he tries to pretend that he is equal to their challenge and to the wounding accusations they whisper.

“Logan Tom,” she says, speaking his name.

I am here, he wishes to answer, but his throat tightens and he cannot give voice to the words.

He crosses through grasses grown long and shaggy, breathing in the cool night air and the smell of damp bark and dried leaves. A few of the Ghosts snore, Bear more loudly than the others, wrapped in their blankets and hunched close together for warmth. He glances back to where the boy who killed Squirrel hunkers down inside the Lightning, awake now, though still chained and shackled. The boy does not look in his direction. It doesn’t matter, of course.

Even if he turned, he would not see her. She is never seen unless she wishes it. This night, he believes, she does not.

He crosses the grasses in the direction of her voice, not yet seeing her, but knowing she is there. His staff reclines against the seat inside the Lightning, next to where he sleeps. He never goes anywhere without it, but on this night he has given it no thought; her voice is that compelling.

Remembering his oath to keep it with him always, he feels a twinge of regret at his failing. But there is nothing to fear. When she calls to him, he knows he will be safe in coming.