They rode north in silence along the Mermidon, winding their way through the rocky forestland, the light of the sunrise breaking through the trees on their left, the shadow of the Runne Mountains a dark wall on their right. They rode for more than an hour, a grim, voiceless procession. Then at last the Druid signaled a halt, and they dismounted.
«Leave the horses,” he instructed.
They walked west into the forest, the Druid leading the Valegirl and the highlander across a ridge and down into a heavily wooded hollow. After several minutes of fighting their way through the tangled undergrowth, Allanon stopped and turned.
«Now then, Brin.» He pointed ahead into the brush. «Pretend that this hollow is the barrier of dark magic through which you must pass. How would you use the wishsong to gain passage?»
She glanced about uncertainly. «I’m not sure…»
«Not sure?» He shook his head. «Think of the uses to which you have put the magic. Have you used it as the Prince of Leah suggests to bring autumn color to the leaves of a tree? Have you used it to bring flowers to bloom, leaves to bud, plants to grow?» She nodded. «You have used it, then, to change color and shape and behavior. Do so here. Make the brush part for you.»
She looked at him a moment and then nodded. This was more than she had ever asked of herself, and she was not convinced she had the power. Moreover, it had been a long time since she had used the magic. But she would try. Softly, she began to sing. Her voice was low and even, the song blending with the sounds of the forest. Then slowly she changed its pitch, and it rose until all else had faded into stillness. Words came, unrehearsed, spontaneous and somehow intuitively felt as she reached out. to the brush that blocked her passage. Slowly the tangle drew back, leaves and branches withdrawing in winding ribbons of sleek green.
A moment later, the way forward lay open to the center of the hollow.
«Simple enough, don’t you agree?» But the Druid wasn’t really asking. «Let’s see where your path takes us.»
He started ahead again, black robes drawn close. Brin glanced quickly at Rone, who shrugged his lack of understanding. They followed after the Druid. Seconds later he stopped again, this time pointing to an elm, its trunk bent and stunted within the shadow of a taller, broader oak. The elm’s limbs had grown into those of the oak, twisting upward in a futile effort to reach the sunlight.
«A bit harder task this time, Brin,” Allanon said suddenly. «That elm would be much better off if the sun could reach it. I want you to straighten it, bring it upright, and disentangle it from the oak.»
Brin looked at the two trees doubtfully. They seemed to closely entwined. «I don’t think I can do that,” she told him quietly.
«Try.»
«The magic is not strong enough…»
«Try anyway,” he cut her short.
So she sang, the wishsong enfolding the other sounds of the forest until there was nothing else, rising brightly into the morning air. The elm shuddered, limbs quaking in response. Brin lifted the pitch of her song, sensing the tree’s resistance, and the words formed a harder edge. The stunted trunk of the elm drew back from the oak, its limbs scraping and tearing and its leaves ripped violently from their stems.
Then, with shocking suddenness, the entire tree seemed to heave upward and explode in a shower of fragmented limbs, twigs, and leaves that rained down across the length of the hollow. Astonished, Brin stumbled back, shielding her face with her hands, the wishsong dying into instant stillness. She would have fallen but for Allanon, who caught her in his arms, held her protectively until the shower had subsided, then turned her to face him.
«What happened… ?» she began, but he quickly put a finger to her lips.
«Power, Valegirl,” he whispered. «Power in your wishsong far greater than what you have imagined. That elm could not disentangle itself from the oak. Its limbs were far too stiff, far too heavily entwined. Yet it could not refuse your song. It had no choice but to pull free — even when the result meant destroying itself!“
«Allanon!» She shook her head in disbelief.
«You have that power, Brin Ohmsford. As with all things magic, there is a dark side — as well as a light.» The Druid’s face came closer. «You have played with changing the colors of a tree’s leaves. Think what would happen if you carried the seasonal change you wrought to its logical conclusion. The tree would pass from autumn into winter, from winter into spring, from seasonal change to seasonal change. At last it would have passed through the entire cycle of its life. It would die.»
«Druid…» Rone warned and started forward, but a single dark glance from the other’s eyes froze him in his tracks.
«Stand, Prince of Leah. Let her hear the truth.» The black eyes again found Brin’s. «You have played with the wishsong as you would a curious toy because that is all the use you saw for it. Yet you knew that it was more than that, Valegirl — always, deep inside, you knew. Elven magic has always been more than that. Yours is the magic of the Elfstones, born into new form in its passage from your father’s blood to your own. There is power in you of a sort that transcends any that has gone before — latent perhaps, yet the potential is unmistakable. Consider for a moment the nature of this magic you wield. The wishsong can change the behavior of any living thing! Can you not see what that means? Supple brush can be made to part for you, giving you access where there was none before. Unbending trees can be made to part as well, though they shatter with the effort. If you can bring color to leaves, you can also drain it away. If you can cause flowers to bloom, you can also cause them to wilt. If you can give life, Brin, you can also take it away.»
She stared at him, horrified. «What are you saying?» she whispered harshly. «That the wishsong can kill? That I would use it to kill? Do you think… ?»
«You asked to be shown something of its use,” Allanon cut short her protestations. «I have simply done as you wished. But I think now you will no longer doubt that the magic is much more than you thought it was.»
Brin’s dusky face burned with anger. «I no longer doubt, Allanon. Nor should you doubt this — that even so, I would never use the wishsong to kill! Never!»
The Druid held her gaze, yet the hard features softened slightly. «Not even to save your own life? Or perhaps the life of the highlander? Not even then?»
She did not look away. «Never.»
The Druid stared at the Valegirl a moment longer — as if to measure in some way the depth of her commitment. Then abruptly he wheeled away and started back toward the slope of the hollow.
«You have seen enough, Brin. We have to get on with our journey. Think about what you have learned.»
His black form disappeared into the brush. Brin stood where he had left her, aware suddenly that her hands were shaking. That tree! The way it had simply shattered, torn apart…
«Brin.» Rone was standing before her, and his hands came up to grip her shoulders. She winced at their touch. «We can’t go on with him — not anymore. He plays games with us as he has done with all the others. Leave him and his foolish quest and come back with me now to the Vale.»
She stared at him a moment, then shook her head. «No. It was necessary that I see this.»
«None of this is necessary, for cat’s sake!» His big hands drew back and fastened about the pommel of the Sword of Leah. «If he does something like that again, I’ll not think twice…»
«No, Rone.» She put her hands over his. She was calm once more, realizing suddenly that she had missed something. «What he did was not done simply to frighten or intimidate me. It was done to teach me, and it was done out of a need for haste. It was in his eyes. Could you not see it?»
He shook his head. «I saw nothing. What need for haste?»
She looked to where the Druid had gone. «Something is wrong. Something.»
Then she thought again of the destruction of the tree, of the Druid’s words of warning, and of her vow. Never! She looked quickly back at Rone. «Do you think I could use the wishsong to kill?» she asked softly.
For just an instant he hesitated. «No.»
Even to save your life? she thought. And what if it were not a tree that threatened, but a living creature? Would I destroy it to save you? Oh, Rone, what if it were a human being?
«Will you still come with me on this journey?» she asked him.
He gave her his most rakish smile. «Right up to the moment when we take that confounded book and shred
