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

“I don’t know.” Angel resumed eating, her face maddeningly calm given the pronouncement she had just made. “Destruction comes from any number of sources and in any number of ways, and it is hard to know which form the one that finishes us will take. The Knights of the Word have struggled long and hard just to contain the demons and their armies of once-men. But we lack the ability to see far enough ahead to know what most to fear.” She bit off a chunk of bread and chewed. “It takes every ounce of energy we have just to try to keep alive those the demons hunt.”


“And now they hunt us,” Simralin said quietly.

Angel Perez smiled bleakly. “Now they hunt us.” She paused, her expression changing suddenly. She pointed down the slopes of the mountain.

“In fact, they hunt us even now.”

Kirisin felt himself go cold as he looked to where she was pointing, somewhere off in the heavy forests of the lower slopes. But he saw nothing. Simralin, however, was on her feet. “Movement,” she acknowledged. “You have good eyes, Angel. We must go at once.”

They set out anew, working their way ahead through the peaks, still traveling east. Their progress was steady, and the long sweep of the western forests soon disappeared from view behind them as they began their descent of the eastern slopes. Ahead lay miles and miles of high desert—the trees sparse, the soil a mix of volcanic emission and dust, and the land arid and barren. If they were forced to travel through it, the going would be difficult. There would be little to eat or drink, and little cover.

They walked until the eastern sky turned dark and twilight began to settle in across the mountains, the shadows lengthening and the air cooling enough that they could see their breath. They were close to the edge of the mountain range, but still high up on the slopes and far from the desert flats. Behind them, nothing moved against the wall of the mountains. Neither Simralin nor Angel had said another word about their pursuers, so finally Kirisin asked.

“It might be that they have turned another way or stopped in the cradle of the peaks for the night,” his sister suggested when he asked her of the danger. She smiled. “Don’t worry, Little K. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

He wished she wouldn’t make it sound as if he were so needy, as if he were still just a boy and not capable of looking after himself.

But he held his tongue. Sim was only trying to reassure him that he wasn’t alone in this. She was just being his big sister.

It was almost dark when they finally stopped on her signal.

She stood looking back up the slopes of the mountains behind them, searching for movement, for an indicator that there might be pursuit. Kirisin sat down heavily, his legs and back aching, his stamina sapped. He felt drained, both physically and emotionally. For all that he knew he could take care of himself, it had been awhile since he had been forced to do so and longer still since he had made so demanding a trek. A trek, he reminded himself, he was just beginning.

Angel walked over and crouched down so that they were at eye level. “I think we have gone as far as we can without knowing something more about where we need to go.” Her dark eyes held his. “Can you make your Elfstones reveal where the Loden is concealed?”

Simralin looked over at them. “She’s right. We need to figure out how the Stones work. Do you have any ideas? Did the histories or Culph tell you anything that would help?”

Kirisin shook his head doubtfully. He didn’t know anything, of course. All his energy and attention had been directed at finding the blue Elfstones. He had given little thought to what would happen once that goal was achieved.

“I guess I can try,” he said.

He reached down into his pocket and extracted the Elfstone pouch, loosened the drawstrings, and spilled the contents into his hand. It was the first time he had looked at the Stones since he had come into possession of them. Three identical gems, cut to the same shape and size, glowing a bright blue, they glimmered softly in the failing light. With the other two peering over his shoulder, Kirisin studied them intently, drawn by their rich color and almost transparent quality.

What to do? He held the stones out in the palm of his hand, where all three companions could admire and consider them. But looking at them did nothing to alleviate his confusion. He glanced at the others, and then closed the stones away in his fist. He tried squeezing them, then rolling them between both palms, and finally jiggling them softly in the cup of his hand.

The Elfstones did nothing. He tried casting them on the ground, rolling them as he might a set of dice. Nothing happened. He tossed them and caught them.

Nothing. He tried using them one at a time. Still nothing.

“I don’t know what else to do,” he admitted finally.

“Keep trying,” Simralin urged.

“I don’t know anything about Elven magic,” Angel said quietly, “but with the Word’s magic it is first necessary to visualize what it is that you want to happen.”

Kirisin looked at her, thinking about how that might work.

“We want them to show you how to find the Loden,” Simralin cut in. Her eyes continued to scan the mountainside, which was very nearly dark now with the westward passing of the sun. “Try picturing that.”