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

They were in a much better frame of mind as they started back into the tunnel toward the stairway leading up, their hushed voices excited and eager as they talked about what they would do next. Because they had the Elfstones in hand, Erisha thought they should take them before the High Council and her father and demand that they be allowed to use them to search for the Loden. Angel agreed. It was better if they had the support and approval of the Elven community and better still if they had help with their search.

Surely with the blue Elfstones as evidence that what the Ellcrys had asked of Erisha and Kirisin was possible, help could not be denied.

But Kirisin and his sister were not so sure. Both had reason to question how supportive Arissen Belloruus would be. Both worried about the King’s reaction to their discovery. What if he chose to lay claim to the Elfstones on behalf of the Elven people? Once they revealed that they had possession, they couldn’t very well keep the King from taking them away.

Arissen Belloruus was a strong personality and a powerful ruler; if he decided that the Stones should be under the control of the throne, whatever the merits of his reasoning, even the High Council would find it difficult to override him.

But there was an even more troubling problem, one that none of them wanted to consider. What if the King was the demon Ailie had sensed in the High Council chambers? What would their chances of keeping the Elfstones be then? They were still mulling over the matter as they climbed the stairs toward the exit from the underground. Kirisin gave momentary consideration to how they were going to get out again if the heavy slab was still closed, then decided that if the shade of Pancea had given them the Elfstones, she would surely provide them with a way out. Sure enough, they reached the top of the stairs and found moonlight shining down through the opening, the smells of the forest and the night reaching out to welcome them. Kirisin breathed in deeply as they stepped back out into the Ashenell, the cold of the cavern stone giving way to the softness of the forest breezes.

Behind them, the stone slab slid back into place, closing off the stairs and the underground. Almost immediately, fresh debris blown in on a small gust of wind covered it over; in seconds, no evidence of its existence remained.

Kirisin, in the lead, turned to the others. “We can meet again—”

He stopped in midsentence, his eyes drawn suddenly to Angel Perez. The Knight of the Word had gone into a crouch, her eyes shifting everywhere at once. He realized what was happening an instant before she cried out.

“Demon!”

She wheeled in a circle, black staff sweeping the darkness, and Kirisin saw that she didn’t know where the demon was. Erisha and Simralin had just turned back in response to her cry when the monster burst from the shadows in a dark rush. Long and sleek, its body that of a nightmarish four-legged beast, it catapulted into their midst. Simralin, a pair of long knives appearing in her hands as if by magic, lunged at it as it vaulted past.

The monster shrieked and twisted its head to one side. Erisha was knocked spinning; she threw up her arms in shock, a gasp issuing from her lips. The beast came on, straight for Kirisin now. He dropped into a protective crouch and fumbled frantically for his dagger.

Then Angel was between them, bringing up her black staff, its magic exploding into the demon. The force of the blow knocked the demon to one side, changing its course of attack just enough that it missed the boy. It tried to renew its assault, but its movements had become erratic, as if chains were dragging at it. It staggered, straightened, and then staggered again.

When it wheeled back again and the moonlight bathed its ferocious countenance, Kirisin saw what was wrong. One of Simralin’s knives was buried to the hilt in its eye socket, black blood pouring out over the handle.

The demon shrieked one final time, the sound harsh and chilling, freezing them all in place. Then it was gone into the night.

Angel started after it, face contorted in fury, and stopped. It was useless.

The demon was gone, and she wasn’t going to catch it.

Simralin’s remaining knife caught the moonlight as she whipped it back into its sheath.

“Shades!” she hissed. Her face was pale and tight. “My blade should have killed it. How can it still be alive?”

Then Kirisin saw Erisha. She was sprawled on her back, her throat a red smear against her white skin. Blood pumped from a terrible wound that opened all the way to her neck bones. She tried futilely to speak, her hands groping for her ruined throat. Kirisin rushed to her side, Angel and his sister a step behind. Erisha’s eyes found his, a mirror for her desperation and fear, for her realization of what had just happened to her.

Then the blood ceased to pump, her hands fell back against her sides, and her eyes fixed sightlessly in place.

“Erisha,” he whispered in horror.

From back toward the gates they had come through, shouting arose. Home Guards, alerted to their presence. Kirisin blinked. How could that be? How could they have appeared so quickly? He had just enough time to realize that it was impossible unless someone had alerted them earlier, and then Simralin was yanking him about.

“We have to go, Little K,” she said.

He looked at her in disbelief. “But we can’t—”