Shea awoke with a start, the morning sunlight streaming down on him. His eyes snapped open at the sound of horses’ hooves and booted feet, and he found himself surrounded by a cluster of lean, rangy figures clothed in forest green. Instinctively his hand dropped to the Sword of Shannara, and he struggled to a sitting position, squinting sharply to see their faces. They were Elves. A tall, hard–featured Elf detached himself from the group and bent down to him. Deep, penetrating green eyes locked into his own, and a firm hand came up to rest reassuringly on his shoulder.
«You’re among friends, Shea Ohmsford. We are Eventine’s men.»
Shea climbed slowly to his feet, still grasping the Sword guardedly.
«Allanon…?» he asked, looking about for the Druid.
The tall man hesitated for a moment, then shook his head.
«There is no one else here. Only you.»
Stunned, Shea moved past him and pushed his way through the ring of horsemen, his eyes quickly searching the length of the wide ravine. Gray rock and dust stared back at him, an empty, deserted passage that twisted and disappeared from sight. Except for the Elven riders and himself, there was no one else. Then something the Druid had said came back to him — and he knew then that Allanon was really gone.
«Sleeping…» he heard himself whisper.
Woodenly, he turned back to the waiting Elves, then hesitated as tears streamed down his haggard face. But Allanon would come back to them when he was needed, he told himself angrily. Just as he had always done before. He brushed away the tears, and glanced momentarily into the bright blueness of the Northland sky. For just an instant, he seemed to hear the Druid’s voice calling to him from far, far away. A faint smile crossed his lips.
«Good–bye, Allanon,” he answered softly.
Chapter Thirty–Five
So it ended. Little more than ten days later, those who still remained of the little band that had journeyed forth from Culhaven so many weeks ago bade farewell to one another for the last time. It was a bright, clear day filled with sunshine and summer’s freshness. From out of the west, a gentle breeze ruffled the emerald green carpet of the Tyrsian grasslands, and in the distance, the sluggish roar of the Mermidon floated softly through the early–morning stillness. They stood together by the roadway leading out from the walled city — Durin and Dayel, the former without the use of his left arm, which was splinted and wrapped. Dayel had found him among the wounded, and now he was healing rapidly. Balinor Buckhannah in chain mail and royal blue riding cloak, a still–pale Shea Ohmsford, the faithful Flick, and Menion Leah. They spoke in quiet tones for a time, smiling bravely, trying to appear amiable and relaxed without much success, glancing from time to time at the tethered horses that grazed contentedly behind them. At last there was an awkward silence, and hands were extended and taken, and mumbled promises to visit soon were quietly exchanged. It was a painful good–bye, and behind the smiles and the handshakes, there was sadness.
Then they rode away, each to his own home. Durin and Dayel traveled west to Beleal, where Dayel would finally be reunited with his beloved Lynhss. The Ohmsfords turned south to Shady Vale and, as Flick had repeatedly announced to his brother, a well–deserved rest. As far as Flick was concerned, their traveling days were over. Menion Leah went with them to the Vale, determined to see to it personally that nothing further befell Shea. From there, he would return for a time to the highlands to be with his father, who would be missing him by now. But very soon, he knew he must come back again to the border country and to the red–haired daughter of kings who would be waiting.
Standing silently by the empty roadway, Balinor watched after his friends until they were no more than small shadows in the distant green of the flatlands. Then slowly he mounted his waiting horse and rode back into Tyrsis.
The Sword of Shannara remained in Callahorn. It had been Shea’s firm decision to leave the talisman with the border people. No one had given more to preserve the freedom of the four lands. No one had a better right to be entrusted with its care and preservation. And so the legendary Sword was implanted blade downward in a block of red marble and placed in a vault in the center of the gardens of the People’s Park in Tyrsis, sheltered by the wide, protective span of the Bridge of Sendic, there to remain for all time. Carved upon the stone facing of the vault was the inscription:
Weeks later, Shea perched wearily on one of the tall wooden stools in the inn kitchen and studied blankly the plate of food on the counter in front of him. At his elbow, Flick was already starting on his second helping. It was early in the evening and the Ohmsford brothers had spent the entire day repairing the veranda roof. The summer sun had been hot and the work had been tedious; yet, although he was tired and vaguely disgruntled, Shea found himself unable to locate his appetite. He was still picking at his food when his father appeared in the hall doorway, mumbling blackly, to himself. Curzad Ohmsford came up to them without a word and tapped Shea on the shoulder.
«How much longer is this nonsense going to continue?» he demanded.
Shea looked up in surprise.
«I don’t know, what you mean,” he answered truthfully, glancing at Flick, who shrugged blankly.
«Not eating much either, I see.» His father spied the dinner plate. «How do you expect to get your strength back if you don’t eat properly?»
He paused for a moment, and then seemed to recall that he had gotten off the subject entirely.
«Strangers, that’s what I mean. Now I suppose you’ll be off again. I thought that was all done with.»
Shea stared at him.
«I’m not going anywhere. What in the world are you talking about?»
Curzad Ohmsford seated himself heavily on a vacant stool and eyed his foster son closely, apparently resigned to the fact that he was not going to get a straight answer without a little unnecessary effort.
«Shea, we have never lied to each other, have we? When you came back from your visit with the Prince of Leah, I never pressed you about what went on while you were there, even though you left in the middle of the night without a word to anyone, even though you came back looking like your own ghost and very carefully avoided telling me exactly how you got that way. Now answer me,” he continued quickly when Shea tried to object. «I never once asked you to tell me anything, did I?»
Shea shook his head silently. His father nodded in satisfaction.
«No, because I happen to believe that a man’s business is mostly his own affair. But I cannot forget that the last time you disappeared from the Vale was right after that other stranger appeared asking for you.»
«Other stranger!» the brothers exclaimed together.
Instantly all the old memories came back to them — Allanon’s mysterious appearance, Balinor’s warning, the Skull Bearers, the running, the fear… Shea slid down from his stool slowly.
«There’s someone here… looking for me?»
His father nodded, his broad face clouding darkly as he caught the look of concern mirrored in his son’s furtive glance at the doorway.
«A stranger, like before. He got in several minutes ago, looking for you. He’s waiting out in the lobby. But I don’t see…»
«Shea, what can we do?» Flick interrupted hurriedly. «We don’t even have the Elfstones to protect us anymore.»
