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

“The magic you tried to preserve? If the Elves die, the magic dies, as well!”


–The magic cannot die. The magic lives even beyond death–“Not if there is no one left to wield it! Without the living, it cannot grow or change! It cannot evolve in new ways. It remains static and dormant!

Eventually, it will weaken from lack of use and disappear completely!”

He barely knew what he was saying, acting on instinct, speaking whatever words he thought the shade might respond to. He couldn’t tell what they might be; he only knew he had to find a way to reach her.

To his surprise, she stopped moving. Behind her, the other shades stopped, as well. The ripples of ice emanating from their ghostly forms softened ever so slightly. Pancea Rolt Gotrin studied him. One withered hand lifted and pointed.

–What will you do with the Elfstones if I release them to you? To what use will you put them–“I will use them to find the Loden Elfstone, and use the Loden to save the Ellcrys and her people.” He hesitated. “And then I will do whatever I can to persuade the Elves to find the magic they have lost.”

–You seek to placate me. The Elves will never find their magic again. They have forgotten its purpose. They have changed their way of life and by doing so have lost the magic forever–“The old world is ending,”

Erisha said suddenly. “In the new, they may have need of the magic again. If they are to survive, they will be forced to start over.”

“If there are no Elves left, if there are no humans, if there are only demons and demonkind, what is the point of the magic in any case?” asked Kirisin.

“The magic needs our people to wield it if it is to serve a purpose. Can we not recover it somehow? It cannot be completely out of reach.”

–The magic lies deep within the earth, where it has always been. The magic is elemental, and the Elves had use of it until they gave way before the humans. Why would this change–She was still not persuaded, but she was listening now, giving consideration to what he was telling her. Kirisin felt a surge of hope. Perhaps there was a way to change her thinking after all.

But just as he was ready to believe that the shades guarding these tombs and their secrets might be willing to share what they kept hidden, Pancea started toward him again, hand outstretched.

–Let me touch you–He shrank from her. If he was touched by the dead, by a shade, what would it do to him? Was just that touch enough to steal his life? He didn’t know, and he didn’t care to find out.

He held out his hands. “I don’t think you should do that.”

“Get away from him!” snapped Simralin, stepping in front of her brother.

The shade turned to her, outstretched arm shifting slightly.

–Foolish girl–The words hung frozen on the air in the ensuing stillness. Then Pancea’s arms swept out and Simralin flew backward, taking Erisha and Angel with her, and leaving them scattered like leaves caught in a strong wind. They lay where they had fallen, unmoving.

Kirisin tried to turn and flee, but found he couldn’t move.

He panicked, thrashing against his invisible bonds. Nothing helped.

–Let me touch you–The shade was right on top of him now. It took every ounce of willpower he could muster, but he quieted himself and straightened. If he couldn’t avoid this, he must do his best to face it in the right way. “Please don’t hurt me,” he whispered.

The shade stopped right in front of him. Eyes as blank and empty as white stones stared out of an aged, ruined face.

–If you lie, I will know. If you deceive, I will know. If you lack heart or courage, I will know–Her hand stretched out to him, touched his chest, and passed inside. He could feel the intrusion, a wash of cold that was deep and aching. He flinched, but held himself steady, watching the hand, then the wrist, and finally the forearm disappear inside his body. The cold radiated out, filling his chest and stomach, ranging farther to his limbs and finally into his head. It was a different kind of cold, one that he had never experienced, one that he could not compare to anything he knew.

He waited to die.

Inside, he could feel a shift in the cold, which seemed to correspond to the slow movement of her arm through his chest.

I am not afraid, he told himself, and wished it were so.

Then she spoke.

–Kirisin Belloruus. You do not lie. You do not deceive. You do not lack heart or courage. You are young, but your word is good. I feel in you a reason to believe again. I sensed it when you touched the letters of my name carved on my family tomb. I sense it now–Her pale form shimmered and drew closer, until her wrinkled ghost’s face was only inches from his own.