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

–You are indeed Chosen. You are the one. You have the magic inside you, your past and your future. You have the gift–Slowly, she withdrew her arm from his body. As she did so, the cold dissipated and was gone. Her blank eyes stared at him.

–I will give you what you seek. I will trust you to keep your word. Save the living, if you can. Find the Loden. Take the Elves to safety. But remember your promise. When that is done, you will persuade them to find and make use of their magic once more. You will recover the old ways–She waited on him, and he nodded. “I promise.”

–You must do this alone–He hesitated. “I have my friends to help me, Erisha and Simralin and Angel Perez, the ones who came with me.”

Her mouth opened and closed in what looked to be a soundless scream. Her arms fell away to her sides.

–You must do this alone–She glided backward toward her tomb, and as she did so the other shades withdrew as well, dozens of ethereal forms retreating into the darkness. One by one they reached their stone resting places and disappeared.

She was the last, hovering momentarily as she whispered to him.

–Brave boy. You must do this alone–Then she was gone, and the silence that settled like dust from a passing wind was deafening.

HE STOOD where he was for the longest time. It seemed that hours might have elapsed when he thought back on it later, but he knew that it was only seconds. He was thinking about what she had said, about how he must do what she had asked of him. She had been so insistent, so certain. She had dismissed the possibility that his sister or Erisha or Angel Perez would play any part. He couldn’t understand it. How could they not be involved in what he was supposed to do? He felt the cold of the chamber seep into him, a different cold from the touch of the shades, a different burn. He could smell the rock and the water, the scent of minerals and earth, of old stale darkness in a place where the living had not come for centuries.

He could sense how badly he had intruded and how little he belonged.

Then his three companions were surrounding him, gripping him, calling his name, scattering his thoughts into memories.

“Little K.” Simralin spoke his name sharply, one strong hand fastening on his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

He nodded, meeting her gaze. She looked decidedly unsettled and distressed in a way he had seldom seen her. He smiled reassuringly. She was worried for him. “What about you, Sim? She threw you a long way.”

His sister shook her head. “I don’t remember. I blacked out, and when I woke up she was gone—the others with her—and you were standing here alone.”

He glanced at Erisha and Angel, and they nodded, as well.

“I have never had anyone do that to me,” the latter said, a note of bitterness tinging her words. “I don’t want it to happen ever again.”

“The Elven dead have great power,” Simralin said.

“Especially when they possessed magic in their former lives. I’ve heard Father speak of it. Pancea Rolt Gotrin was a sorceress. She took some of that magic with her to the grave.”

“Can we leave now?” Erisha asked sharply, hugging herself.

Her smooth features were twisted with distaste. “We’ll just have to try something else, find some other way to recover the Elfstones. But not tonight.

I don’t want to be here anymore tonight.”

Simralin put an arm around her shoulders. “I don’t blame you. I’m still cold from what the shades made me feel.” Her grip tightened.

“But we came here to find the Elfstones, and if we leave without them—”

“We don’t have to leave without them,” Kirisin interrupted.

His hand rested against the pocket of his tunic, pressing against something inside. He fumbled with the flap for a moment, then drew out a small leather pouch.

He held it out to them. “I just realized it was there. I just felt it. I know what it is. Look!”

He opened the drawstrings and dumped the contents into the palm of his hand. Three perfectly formed blue gemstones twinkled and glimmered in the faint rays of the torches, bright beacons against the darkness.

“The Elfstones!” Simralin whispered.

“She said she would give them to me. It was the bargain she struck in return for my promise to help persuade the Elves to recover their magic.

She said she trusted me to do what I promised.”

Angel stepped forward quickly and looked down at the gems.

“Are you sure of what they are?”

Kirisin shook his head. “No one living has ever seen an Elfstone. But I know. These are Elfstones. Blue, for seeking, just as the books and the Ellcrys promised.” He looked down at the stones and then up again at her. “We have what we need to find the Loden.”