bred out of you.»
He paused. «Understand, when you attempt to use the Elfstones, only that small part of you that is Elf can link you to their power. The balance of your heart and mind and body resists the intrusion of the magic. It forms a block against it. The three strengths are weakened, for the strength of each is diminished to that which is solely due to your Elf blood. That may be what you have experienced in your use of the Stones — a rejection by that considerable part of you that is Man of the Elven magic.»
Wit shook his head in confusion. «But what of my grandfather? He did not experience this rejection.»
«No, he did not,” Allanon agreed. «But your grandfather was half Elf. The Elf half dominated and gave him command over the power of the Elfstones. The resistance that he experienced was barely measurable. For you, it is a different matter entirely. Your link with the power of the Elfstones is more tenuous.»
Wil stared at him. «Allanon, you knew this when you came to me in Storlock. You had to know. Yet you said nothing. Not one word. Not one.»
The Druid’s expression did not change. «What was I to say, Valeman? I could not determine the extent of the difficulty that you might encounter in using the Elfstones. Any use of the Stones depends greatly on the character of the holder. I believed you strong enough to overcome any resistance within yourself. I still believe that. Telling you then of the problem would have caused you considerable doubt — doubt that might have resulted in your death in the Tirfing.»
The Valeman rose wordlessly, a stunned look on his face. He walked away from the table several paces, then turned back again.
«This could happen again, couldn’t it?» he asked quietly. «Every time I try to use the Elfstones.»
The Druid nodded. Wil studied the dark face silently for a moment, the implications of this admission whirling through his mind like blown leaves.
«Every time,” he repeated. The leaves froze sharply. «Then there could come a time when the resistance within me might prove too great. There could come a time when I would call upon the power of the Elfstones and they would not respond.»
Allanon took a long time to answer. «Yes, that is possible.»
Wil sat down again, the disbelief in his face changing now to horror.
«How can you entrust Amberle’s protection to me, knowing that?»
The Druid’s hand came down on the table like a hammer. «Because there is no one else!» His dark face flushed with anger, but his voice remained calm. «I suggested to you once before that you should start believing, in yourself. I will suggest it one time more. We are not always properly equipped to face the difficulties life places in our path. It is so now. I wish that my power was such that your aid were not necessary in this matter; I wish that I could give you something more with which to protect the Elven girl and yourself. I wish much that cannot be. I brought you to Arborlon because I knew that I alone could not hope to save the Elves from the danger that threatens them. We are both inadequate in this, Wil Ohmsford. But we must do the best we can with what we are. The Druids are gone; the Elven magics of the old world are lost. There is only you and me. There are only the Elfstones that you hold and the magic that I wield. That is all, but that must do.»
Wil held his gaze steady. «I am not afraid for me; I am afraid for Amberle. If I should fail her…»
«You must not fail her, Valeman.» The Druid’s voice was hard, insistent. «You must not! You are all that she has.»
Wil straightened. «I may not be enough.»
«Not enough?» The words were laced with sarcasm. Allanon shook his head. «Your grandfather once believed as you did, not so many years ago. He could not understand how I thought it possible that he might possess the means of destroying a being as awesome as the. Warlock Lord. After all, he was only one insignificant little Valeman.»
There was a long silence. Valeman and Druid stared wordlessly at one another in the stillness, the flicker of the oil lamp flame dancing across their faces. Then Allanon’s black form rose, slowly and deliberately.
«Believe in yourself. You have already used the Elfstones once; you have experienced and overcome the resistance within you and summoned the magic. You can do so again. You will do so. You are a son of the house of Shannara; yours is a legacy of strength and courage stronger than the doubt and fear that makes you question your Elven blood.»
He leaned down. «Give me your hand.»
The Valeman obeyed. Allanon clasped it tightly in his own.
«Here is my hand and thus my bond. Here is my oath to you. You shall succeed in this quest, Wil Ohmsford. You shall find the Bloodfire and bring safely home again the last of the Chosen, she who shall restore the Ellcrys. ” His voice was low and commanding. «I believe that, and so must you.»
The hard, dark eyes penetrated deep into the Valeman’s own, and Wil felt himself laid bare. Yet he would not look away. When he spoke, his words were almost a whisper.
«I will try.»
The Druid nodded. He was wise enough to leave it at that.
Eventine Elessedil remained in the small study for a long time after the other three had departed. He sat in silence at the fringe of the circle of light cast by the solitary flame of the oil lamp, a rumpled figure formed of shadows and gathered robes. Collapsed in the familiar embrace of his favorite chair, a leather–bound furnishing worn with age and shaped with use, the King of the Elves stared unseeing at the bookcases, paintings, and woven tapestries that lined the wall across from him, thinking of what had been and what was yet to be.
Midnight came and went.
Finally the King rose. Gathering his scattered thoughts and half–drawn plans as he went, he extinguished the oil lamp and moved wearily through the study door into the hallway beyond. There was nothing more to be done this night, nothing more that he could expect to accomplish. By dawn, Amberle would be on her way toward the Wilderun. His concern must no longer be with her; it must be with his people.
Down the length of the darkened hallway the old King passed, anxious now for the rest that sleep would bring him.
All the while, the eyes of the Changeling watched him go.
In the deep blackness of the forest south of the city of Arborlon, the Dagda Mor rose up from the stone on which he had been seated. Cruel red eyes reflected the Demon’s sense of exhilaration. This time there would be no mistake, he thought. This time he would make certain that they were all destroyed.
His humped form slouched forward. First he would see to the Elven girl.
One clawed hand beckoned, and from out of the shadows stepped the Reaper.
Chapter Twenty–Two
Dawn broke misted and iron–gray across Arborlon, and the sky was filled with rolling black clouds. By the time Wil and Amberle had dressed and eaten, the rains had begun, a spattering of drops that turned quickly to a steady downpour, thrumming against the cottage roof and windows. Thunder rolled in the distance, long booming peals that shook the forestland.
«You will not be so easily found in this,” Allanon observed with satisfaction and took them out into the storm.
Wrapped in long, hooded traveling cloaks that covered woolen tunics and breeches and high leather boots, they trailed after the Druid as he led them through sheets of driving rain down wooded pathways that skirted the westernmost edge of the city along the broad bluff of the Carolan. Barely able to find their way through the dawn gloom, Valeman and Elven girl followed closely fragmented images of cottages, and fence lines, and gardens slipped into view and away again, appearing miragelike through the haze of the storm, then melting back into it once more. A sharp, chill wind blew rain into their faces through the folds of their cowls, and they bent their heads against its force. Boots sloshed wetly through puddles and gullies of surface water that formed before them as they passed along the rutted forest trail.
At the far side of the city, Allanon abruptly departed from the pathway and led them toward a solitary stable that sat back against a hillside to their left. Double wooden doors stood slightly ajar, and they stepped quickly
