The Black Elfstone

by Terry Brooks

  In truth, Ober Balronen was afraid of him—and not without good reason. Drisker had always found Balronen to be little more than a political animal with ambitions that far exceeded his abilities. When he had come to Paranor to ask for admittance to the order, Drisker had voted against it. But enough others were persuaded to embrace it that his veto was overridden. Years later, when Drisker decided to step down as High Druid and depart Paranor for a new life, Balronen had been quick to seize the opportunity to claim his position and find a way to persuade the majority of Druids that he was the right choice for the job. Drisker had never imagined Balronen would have been accepted as High Druid or even have the audacity to lay claim to it. If he had known, he would have thought twice about giving him the opportunity. He would have held on to his office.

  But he knew that wasn’t the truth. He would have left anyway, so maybe Balronen’s ascendency was inevitable in any event. Balronen was the epitome of what was wrong at Paranor. Wasn’t he representative of the many reasons Drisker had chosen to leave in the first place? Wasn’t he just another of those men and women mired in self-indulgence and inattentive to the needs of others who had soured him on the Druid order? Wasn’t he another example of the recent failure of Druids to adhere to a commitment to finding and protecting magic for the betterment of the Four Lands rather than as a way of gaining personal power?

  All true, but the extent to which Balronen and his kind had abandoned this professed cause was stunning. It troubled him to think he had left things in such disarray. It haunted him even as he tried to tell himself it didn’t matter anymore.

  A slight movement in the trees to his right caught his eye. Pretending not to notice, he picked up his book and began to read again.

  Someone was out there.

  He waited patiently. He felt the other’s presence, sensed rather than saw or heard the movements. Someone. But who, exactly? Who would come sneaking around like this? The movement continued, a sort of shifting from one place to another, almost taunting him with tiny reveals between long gaps marked only by stealth and swiftness as one position gave way to another. Whoever was responsible was extraordinarily skilled.

  It occurred to him that maybe this was one of his enemies come to bring him down, but he abandoned the idea almost as fast as it surfaced. That was ridiculous. What would be the point of the small reveals? If his enemies wanted to harm him, why would they hesitate like this? Besides, he didn’t sense any ill will in what was happening, and he could almost always tell.

  Still, better to make sure before he took anything for granted.

  He put down his book once more and looked directly to where he had last sensed his uninvited guest. “I know you’re there.”

  “I wanted you to know,” a voice answered coming from a different place entirely. “I need your help.”

  A girl, her voice still young enough to make her recognizable as such.

  “Well, now that we both know you’re here, why don’t you come out of hiding so we can say hello face-to-face?”

  “No. I have to prove myself. Do you think you can find me?”

  He hesitated. What was this about? “Why would I bother?”

  “To prove you can.”

  He stood up, looked over at the woods, and shrugged. “Seems like I ought to be the one testing you, not the other way around.”

  “You are testing me,” the voice replied, now coming from another new place. “This is how I can prove to you I would be a good student.”

  “I don’t want a student.”

  “But I need you to teach me. Why don’t you see if I’m worth it? Test me.”

  “You won’t like how this turns out.”

  “Maybe not. Let’s make a bargain. If I can sneak up on you, you agree to teach me how to better use my magic. I do have magic, in case you were wondering. But if you get the better of me, I’ll walk away.”

  “You sound very confident of yourself.”

  “I’m not confident at all. I’m desperate. Will you test me?”

  “You’ll be walking away however this goes. I don’t teach anyone these days. I am retired. Do you know who I am? I guess you must.”

  “I know all about you. I knew of you before I came to find you. People were more than willing to tell me where you were once I reached Elven country. It’s not a big secret. Come on. Test me to see if I am worth teaching. You are famous for your magic skills. Try to find me.”

  She was somewhere else by then. He smiled to himself. He admired her audacity. She was good at shifting her position without showing any movement when she did so. He hated to admit it, but he rather enjoyed the idea of a fresh challenge. It had been awhile since he had faced one.

  “All right,” he said. “How do we play this game?”

  “You see me and call me out before I can get close enough to tap you on the shoulder.”

  “And are there rules?”

  Her laughter was muted. “What do you think?”

  Drisker Arc smiled in spite of himself.

  SIX

  From her hiding place, Tarsha Kaynin saw him smile and smiled back. It was a shared moment she would treasure always, no matter how this turned out. She had come a long way to find him, escaping one set of hardships at home only to encounter more on the road. But she was a determined sort and so certain of herself that she had not considered the possibility she would fail. Find Drisker Arc. Demonstrate her magic in a way that would impress him. Convince him to help her improve on and master her skills. Help her save her brother before it was too late.

  She waited on him, thinking he would act quickly to find her. She was humming softly to herself, the sound no more than a whisper of breezes passing through the limbs of the trees surrounding her. It hid her from anyone seeking her out so completely that for all intents and purposes she was rendered invisible. It was her strongest magical skill—a skill she had mastered early on. She had never been a fighter, never big or strong enough to be physically capable of standing up for herself. But use of the magic let her escape the worst of what others would do to her as a result of being Tavo’s sister, and she had decided this was how she could best impress Drisker Arc and persuade him she was worth teaching.

  Thus, this game. Thus, everything that would follow.

  She remained where she was a moment longer before moving on. She was wearing loose-fitting forest clothing, fabrics colored in mottled greens and browns, material that made no sound and reflected no light. Her boots were soft leather, cut ankle length. She carried no weapons or jewelry—nothing that would clink or flash and give her away. Her white-blond hair was wrapped in a headscarf, tied up and tucked away. Her freckled features were blackened to hide her pale skin. She wore gloves. She had thought this through carefully. This was a game she needed to win.

  The Druid was looking around now but only casually and not with any evident intentions in mind. She began moving left, hiding her movements and sounds, screening herself as she slipped among the black trunks of the old growth that warded the Druid’s small cottage. He did not turn with her, did not look her way. He took a step right and turned from her momentarily but nothing more.

  She would say nothing more, she decided. She would cease taunting him. It was only important now that she be able to convince him of her promise. Anything else was a distraction.

  Wind whistled hard through the upper branches of the trees, and she glanced skyward momentarily. Leaves shivered in a soft rustling, and limbs swayed. The sky overhead was a brilliant blue.

  When she looked back, he was gone.

  For a moment, she couldn’t believe it. Then she realized he was doing the same thing to her that she was doing to him. He, too, had the ability to fade.

  She shifted to another place, moving more cautiously now, searching for him through the trees. Once, she thought she caught sight of him, a momentary glimpse of his dark-robed form. But then he was gone again, smoke in sunlight. She must trick him, then. She must force him to reveal himself so that she
could win the game. Swiftly. The longer it went on, the more likely she was to make a mistake. With this man, as storied as his skills with magic were, she knew it would take only one wrong move for her to give herself away.

  Then she saw him. He was standing at the edge of the clearing, just back in the trees, seemingly no more than another dark trunk at first glance. A closer look told her otherwise. He had positioned himself carefully so that he blended into the forest. He was unmoving, waiting on her. He would stay there until she gave herself away and then call her out. It was a clever ruse. He had waited for her to look away just for a moment—perhaps even caused her to look away—before shifting out of her sight lines and fading into the trees. It was what she would have done, had their positions been reversed.

  But she had him now.

  Tarsha forced herself to remain calm, to move so she was coming at him from behind. She waited for him to turn her way, but he did not. She continued to advance, taking her time, but moving steadily closer. She thought about causing a distraction that would keep him looking away, but then decided it was too risky and could easily have the opposite effect and bring him around to face her.

  Slowly, she told herself. Slowly.

  Time ground to a crawl. Wind rippled the Druid’s dark cloak, but still he did not turn. She was almost on top of him now, no more than ten feet away. She hesitated, wondering suddenly if this wasn’t too easy, if this might not be a trap to get her to reveal herself. But how could it be a trap? He was right there. All she needed to do was tap him on the shoulder and the game was over.

  She moved up swiftly and reached out her hand.

  But when she touched his shoulder, he wasn’t there. It was only an image of him, and her hand passed right through it.

  She gasped in spite of herself and then felt his hand on her shoulder, tapping softly. “You lose.”

  Disappointment and frustration flooded through her, but she turned to face him anyway, putting on a brave face. “That was very clever of you.”

  He nodded, smiled. “Years of experience that you don’t have yet. How old are you?”

  She thought about lying and decided against it. “Seventeen.”

  “So skilled at such a young age. I’m impressed. What is your name?”

  “Tarsha Kaynin.”

  “Do you understand the nature of the magic you possess, Tarsha Kaynin? Do you know what it is called?”

  “I don’t know anything about it. Do you?”

  “Your magic is called the wishsong. You can trace it directly back to a family called Ohmsford. It was within their bloodline, centuries ago, that it first found life. Its power lies in your voice, does it not?”

  She nodded. “It’s a sort of singing or humming. Sometimes just shouting or screaming is enough. As far as I know, I am the first in my family to possess the magic. Well, the second, actually. Tavo has it, too. He’s my brother. But my parents don’t and none of our family earlier did, either. Do you have the wishsong magic?”

  He shook his head, a rueful expression on his face. “I wish I did. But it is magic passed on through genetics, and the Ohmsfords were not part of my lineage. No, my magic is of a different sort.”

  “It was good enough to beat me and win the game.”

  “It would have been embarrassing not to have beaten you. I am far more experienced than you, and much more skilled in magic’s use. You, I am guessing, have been self-taught.”

  She nodded ruefully. “That’s what brought me here. I want to get better at using it.”

  “So I gather.” His smile returned, surprisingly warm. “Well, even if you’ve lost our little contest, it doesn’t mean you have to leave right away. Would you like to come sit on my porch with me and share a cup of tea and some sweet cinnamon bread?”

  She had not eaten in more than a day and been traveling for two weeks, so she was happy to agree. If he was still talking to her and not yet ready to dismiss her out of hand, perhaps there was still a chance. She had to hope so. Persuading him to teach her was all she had left. If he sent her away, there was nowhere else for her to go.

  He took her into his cottage and directed her to a pump and basin so she could wash off her face and generally clean up a bit. As she worked on herself, he stood watching, speaking softly.

  “You have considerable skill already,” he told her. “Few others could have done what you just did. Had I been a little less practiced, you might have won our game. But you failed to take into account the fact that I might have the same skill as you and be better at it. My image was made of stronger stuff than you expected or you wouldn’t have allowed yourself to be lured out of hiding. A good lesson there, Tarsha.”

  “I need such lessons,” she said, looking up from the basin, water dripping off her face as the blacking washed away. “It’s why I’ve come. Even knowing you would probably say no. My parents are farmers in the Westland village of Backing Fell. They have no money and know no one who uses magic. My brother can use it, too, like I said. But he’s not good with it.”

  She trailed off, deciding she had already said enough. But the Druid was watching her closely.

  “You came all the way from the deep end of the Westland to ask me to teach you?” Drisker shook his head. “Not very sensible of you. Why not go to the Elves in Arborlon?”

  “I don’t want Elves teaching me. I want you. You’re the best magic user of all. Everyone says so. You’re the most accomplished, the most talented, and the most experienced. I thought all I needed to do was persuade you.”

  “How did you even find me?”

  She had finished washing off her face. He beckoned her to a seat at his kitchen table, where he had already set out the tea and bread. She began to eat without a word. After several bites, she looked up again. “As I said, it wasn’t that hard. I just asked around. I thought you were in Paranor at first, but that turned out not to be the case.”

  “Someone told you I was here?”

  “Not right off. At first, people ignored me. They told me to go away. But I don’t give up easily. I kept asking. I finally found someone who was happy to tell me where you were.”

  “Who was that?”

  “I have no idea. Whoever he was, he didn’t seem to like you much. He said you were thrown out of Paranor and good riddance.”

  “So it appears Paranor is not the only place where I’m not so popular these days.”

  “Why were you thrown out?” she asked.

  “I wasn’t thrown out. I was exiled.”

  “So you left,” she said, finishing her bread and licking her fingers. “Why did you do that? Why didn’t you fight it? There must be more to the story.”

  “Do you think that’s your business?”

  She shrugged. “No. I’m just curious. Paranor was your home. You lived there for years. You were High Druid. You were respected. Why would you give all that up?”

  He leaned back in his chair, giving her a look. “Some things aren’t worth keeping. Sometimes, you have to let go. Sometimes, you have to follow your conscience and put aside your pride.”

  “You wanted a different life for yourself? Like me?”

  “Maybe not like you, but yes, I wanted a different life. The Druid order isn’t what it once was, and I couldn’t seem to change the direction it was going or the mindsets of my fellows. I have a strong sense of purpose when it comes to being a Druid, but those around me didn’t seem to share it. I tried to change their minds, but I failed. In the end, I decided I couldn’t stay. So I left.”

  “What do you do now?”

  “You are curious, aren’t you? Some might call you nosy.”

  “Some might. Some have. I wasn’t well liked in my village. People are afraid once they sense there’s something different about you. I don’t have any friends except for my brother, and he is only a sometimes-friend. Even my parents are a little afraid of me. And a whole lot afraid of him.”

  “You are right about having magic. It doesn’t win you friends. It makes peopl
e fear you, but sometimes, if you are lucky, it makes them respect you, too. Another good lesson, Tarsha.”

  “That one I’ve already learned.” She looked around at the cottage. “So what are you doing here?”

  “Reading. Studying magic. Enjoying the peace and quiet of the forest.”

  “Sounds boring. Why don’t you teach me, instead? At least, that would be interesting. I’m not afraid of hard work, and I could be good with magic if someone would show me how to use it properly. You could do that.”

  “I left teaching magic behind when I departed Paranor for Emberen.” He poured them both another cup of tea, then shoved it all aside impulsively and brought out a pitcher of ale from cold storage and poured them each a glassful, instead. “Are you allowed to have this?”

  Tarsha shrugged. “My mother probably wouldn’t approve.”

  “From what I’ve seen of you so far, that doesn’t bother you much. Does she approve of you coming here on your own?”

  “She doesn’t know. If she did, I wouldn’t be here.” She picked up the glass of ale and drained it. “Good. I’ve had better once or twice, but this is tasty. Did you make it?”

  “I did. Now let’s cut to the chase. Something about your explanation doesn’t ring true. You spoke about your brother. It seems his need to learn to control the magic is much stronger than yours, yet you didn’t bring him with you. Why is that?”

  She held her glass out for more, trying to think what she should say. “I don’t like talking about it,” she said finally as he refilled her ale.

  “Maybe not, but I think you have to. If he is the reason you are here, I have to know that. I have to know about him. You want me to be your teacher? Then you have to be willing to tell me all your secrets.”