The First King of Shannara

Cracks appeared along the ancient walls of the fortress, splitting and widening before them. Stone blocks shook violently and crumbled. Tay had destroyed the power of the Chew Magna, the carefully constructed magic that sustained the garden and the keep more fragile than he had realized. The Chew Magna was coining down. Its time in the world, extended for so long, was at an end.

Preia Starle bolted past him and sprinted ahead, shouting back over her shoulder. She was resuming her place as scout for the company once more. She flew across the shuddering stone, slender limbs and cinnamon hair flying. Tay peered after her, unable to see her as clearly as he should. His vision was blurred, and he was having trouble breathing. He gulped mouthfuls of air, and still it was not enough.

He was stumbling when Jerle Shannara caught up with him, slowed, wrapped one powerful arm about his sagging body, and pulled him on. Behind them charged Vree Erreden and the last of the Elven Hunters.

Walls and ceilings were collapsing as they broke from the keep and raced across the courtyard to the outer wall and the gates that had brought them in. Tay felt a fire burning in his chest. Some part of the garden’s foul magic, he realized, was still inside him. He tried to seal it off, to close it away from the rest of his body, using his own magic to suffocate it. He glanced down at himself, trying to draw reassurance from what he saw.

To his horror, the Black Elfstone was pulsing softly against his chest. He wrenched his glance away, covering the dark gem hurriedly so that the others would not see.

The five dashed through the fortress gates and up the stairs that led back to the fissure’s entry. The rumbling behind them had grown louder, infused with the sound of stone cracking and sliding away. Dust clogged the passageway, and they could scarcely breathe. Vree Erreden was beginning to lag as well, and the Elven Hunter who ran beside him slowed to help. Like old men, the four stumbled ahead, coughing and choking, trying to keep up with Preia Starle.

There was an explosion deep within the mountain, and a vast cloud of debris hammered into them from behind, knocking them from their feet to sprawl on the stairs. Shaken and dazed, they scrambled up detenninedly and went on.

Tay’s strength was failing badly. The pain inside him was spreading. He could feel the pulse of the Black Elfstone grow stronger as it throbbed against his chest. That part of the garden’s magic still locked within him was feeding into the magic of the Elfstone. He had disguised himself too well. He had altered himself too thoroughly. He had thought he would be able to recover from what he had done, but the sickness with which he had infested himself would not be so easily dispelled. He gritted his teeth and pressed on. It was a risk he had accepted. There was nothing to be done about it now.

Then they were clear of the fissure and back out onto the slide leading down to the lake within the mountain crater. Preia Starle stood frozen directly before them, only yards away.

“Shades!” hissed Jerle Shannara.

Before them, arrayed in a broad semi-circle that cut off any possibility of escape, were dozens of Gnome Hunters. At their center, black-cloaked and hunched down like wraiths awaiting night, were a pair of the dreaded Skull Bearers.

Their pursuers had caught up with them at last.

The Elves stumbled to a ragged halt behind Preia. Tay counted quickly. They were five matched against almost a hundred. They stood no chance. Preia backed carefully to Jerle’s side. She had not drawn a weapon.

“They were waiting when I came out,” she said quietly. There was no fear in her voice. She glanced at Tay, and her face was oddly calm. “They are too many for us.” Jerle nodded. He glanced at Tay, grim-faced. Behind them, the fissure belched grit and dust as a new explosion tore through the mountain. The earth shuddered beneath them, still reacting to the fall of the Chew Magna and the giving up of its magic.

“We’ll have to go back,” Jerle whispered. “Maybe we can find another way out.”

But there was no other way, Tay knew. There was only this way, through the Skull Bearers and the Gnome Hunters. Going back into the fissure was suicide. The entire mountain was collapsing, and anything caught within its tunnels would be crushed.

Behind and to his left, the remaining Elven Hunter released his grip on Vree Erreden and let the other man slide to the rock floor.

The locat was just barely conscious. There was blood on his head and face. When had that happened? Tay wondered. How had he missed it?

The Elven Hunter came forward to stand beside him.

Hopeless, Tay thought.

He eased himself away from Jerle then, testing his strength to stand on his own. He found he could do so. He straightened, then looked directly at his friend. Jerle stared back at him suspiciously, and Tay smiled at the other in spite of himself. Preia Starle watched him curiously. Her eyes were bright and challenging, and he thought that maybe she saw what Jerle did not.

“Wait here for me,” he said.

“What are you going to do?” Jerle demanded at once, stepping forward to take hold of his arm, to restrain him.