greeted the animal fondly, rubbing the grizzled head, stroking softly the rough coat along the back and flanks. Manx had been with him almost ten years, closer and more faithful than any man could have been.
«Getting a bit gray–like me,” Eventine muttered ruefully.
The doors opened wide to admit Gael, followed by Lauren. The Chosen paused in the doorway for a moment, glancing uncertainly at Gael. The King nodded to his aide, dismissing him. Ander was about to leave as well when a slight motion from his father indicated he was to remain. Gael bowed again and left, this time closing the doors tightly behind. When he was gone, the Chosen came forward a pace.
«My Lord, please forgive… they thought that I… I should be the one…» He was almost choking on the words.
`There is nothing to forgive,“ Eventine assured him. With a charm that Ander had always known his father could display, the King came forward quickly and put his arm about the young Elf’s shoulders. ”I know this must be very important to you or you would not have left your work in the Gardens. Here, sit down and tell me about it.“
He glanced questioningly at Ander, then guided the Chosen to a small writing table at one side of the room, seating him in one of two chairs while he took the other. Ander followed them over, but remained standing.
«Your name is Lauren, isn’t it?» Eventine asked the Chosen.
«Yes, my Lord.»
«Very well, Lauren. Now tell me why you’ve come.»
Lauren drew himself up and placed his hands on the table, folding the fingers together tightly.
«My Lord, the Ellcrys spoke to the Chosen this morning.» His words were almost a whisper. «She told us… she told us that she is dying!»
Ander felt his blood turn cold. For an instant, the King did not respond, but sat rigidly in place, his eyes fixed on the speaker.
«There must be a mistake,” he said at last.
Lauren shook his head emphatically. «There is no mistake, my Lord. She spoke to all of us. We… we all heard. She is dying. The Forbidding has already begun to crumble.»
The King rose slowly and walked to the open window, staring wordlessly out into the forest. Manx, who had curled up at the foot of the bed, rose and followed him. Ander saw the King’s hand stray down to scratch the dog’s ears mechanically.
«You are certain of this, Lauren?» Eventine asked. «Very certain?»
«Yes… yes.»
He was crying softly, almost soundlessly, at the table, his face buried in his hands. Eventine did not turn, but continued to stare fixedly into the woodlands that were his home and the home of his people.
Ander was frozen, his eyes on his father, his mind still dazed with shock. The enormity of what he had heard slowly took hold. The Ellcrys dying! The Forbidding ending. The evil that had been shut away free once more. Chaos, madness, war! In the end, the destruction of everything.
He had studied history under his tutors and again in the books of his own library. It was a history that bore the trappings of legend.
Once, long ago, in a time before the Great Wars, before the dawn of civilization in the old world, even before the emergence of the old race of Man, there had been a war between creatures of good and evil magics. The Elves had fought in that war on the side of good. It had been a long, terrible, devastating struggle. But in the end, the forces of good were victorious and the forces of evil were cast down. Yet the nature of the evil was such that it could not be totally destroyed; it could only be banished. Therefore, the Elven people and their allies pooled their magics with the life–force of the earth itself to create the Ellcrys, so that by her presence a Forbidding would be placed upon the creatures of evil. So long as the Ellcrys survived and flourished, the evil could not return upon the earth. Locked in a void of darkness, it might wail in anguish behind the wall of the Forbidding, but the earth was lost to it.
Until now! But if the Ellcrys were to die, the Forbidding must end. It had been written that this must come to pass, for no power could be so strong that it could endure forever. Yet it had seemed that the Ellcrys would, so many generations had it been there, changeless, a fixed point in a shifting maze of life. The Elven people had come to believe it would always be so. Wrong it seemed. Foolishly.
The King turned sharply, glanced briefly at Ander, and moved back to the table, reseating himself and taking Lauren’s hands in his own to steady him. «You must tell me everything that she said to you, Lauren. Every detail. Leave nothing out.»
The Chosen nodded wordlessly. His eyes were dry once more, his face calm. Eventine released his hands and sat back expectantly. Ander pulled over a high–backed chair from across the room and seated himself next to them.
«My Lord, you have heard of the form of her communication with us?», he asked cautiously.
«I was a Chosen once, Lauren,” Eventine answered. Ander stared at his father in surprise. This was something he had never known. But Lauren seemed to gain a measure of confidence from the answer. He nodded, turning to Ander to explain.
«Her voice is actually not a voice of sound, but one of images that appear in our minds. There are seldom words as such; the words are our own translation of the thoughts she projects. That is how I translate when she uses my name. The images are brief and not fully drawn, and we have to interpret them as best we can.»
He paused and turned back to Eventine. «I… the Ellcrys has never spoken to me more than once before this morning, my Lord. She had spoken to the six of us only at the time of our choosing. Until this morning, most of what we knew of her communication was based upon the writings of our Order and the teachings of the Chosen who have served before. Even now, it is very confusing.»
Eventine nodded encouragingly. Lauren continued.
«My Lord, the Ellcrys spoke to us at great length this morning, something she has never done before. She called us to her and told us what was to be and what we, the Chosen, must do. The images were not entirely clear, but there can be no mistake that she is dying. Her time is short; how much time remains isn’t certain. Already the erosion has begun. And as she fails, the Forbidding will fail with her. There is only one chance for her — a rebirth.»
Eventine’s hand shot forth, gripping Lauren’s. Ander too had forgotten — shocked and confused by the Ellcrys’ forecast of her death. A rebirth! It was written in the oldest histories that the Ellcrys could be reborn and the Forbidding preserved.
«Then there is still hope,” he whispered.
Eventine’s eyes were fixed on Lauren. «What must be done to give her this rebirth?»
Lauren shook his head. «My Lord, she has entrusted her fate to the Chosen. Only through us will she permit herself to be reborn. I do not pretend to understand her reasons, but the images were clear. She will deliver her seed to one of us — which, she did not say No face was shown. But it was made known that only one of the Chosen who were selected by her this last time can receive that seed. No other will be considered. Whoever is selected must carry the seed to the life source of the earth — to the fountain of the Bloodfire. There the seed must be immersed within the fire by the bearer. Once returned to the site of the old tree, the seed will take root and a new tree will spring forth to replace the old.»
The details of the legend were coming back to Ander now — the bearing of the Ellcrys seed, the ritual of the Bloodfire, the rebirth. It was told in the strange, formal language of the oldest histories — histories that most of the people had forgotten or never known.
«The fountain of the Bloodfire — where is it to be found?» he asked abruptly.
Lauren looked miserable. «A place was shown us, my Lord Prince, but… but we could not recognize it. The images were vague, almost as if she lacked the ability to describe it properly.»
Eventine’s voice remained calm. «Tell me what you were shown. Everything.»
Lauren nodded. «There was a wilderness with mountains and swamp all around. There was a deep mist that came and went. Within the wilderness was a lone peak and beneath the peak a maze of tunnels that burrowed deep within the earth. Somewhere within the maze there was a door made of glass — glass that could not break. Behind the door was the Bloodfire.»
«No names for any of the parts of this puzzle?» the King asked patiently.
«Only one my lord. But it was a name we did not recognize. The maze in which the Bloodfire lies hidden
