by Terry Brooks
No, he need not kill them—though he would, he added, almost as an afterthought, if the right opportunity presented itself.
The tremors continued, long and deep, the growl of the earth protesting the coming of the monster worm. Pe Ell darted this way and that along the empty walkways, down streets littered with debris and past buildings weakened by ragged, wicked cracks that scarred their smooth surface. His sharp eyes searched the shadows for movement, seeking those who had come with him or even perhaps some sign of the elusive Stone King. He hadn’t given up completely on the Black Elfstone. There was still a chance, he told himself. Everything was coming together, caught in a whirlpool. He could feel it happening…
Out of the haze before him raced Quickening, silver hair flying as she ran, her reed-thin body a quicksilver shadow. Pe Ell moved to intercept her, catching her about the waist with one arm before she realized what was happening. She gasped in surprise, stiffened, and then clung to him.
“Pe Ell,” she breathed.
There was something in the way she spoke his name that surprised him. It was a measure of fear mingled with relief, an odd combination of dismay and satisfaction. He tightened his grip instinctively, but she did not try to break away.
“Where are the others?” he asked.
“Coming after me, escaped from Uhl Belk and the Maw Grint.” Her black eyes fixed on him. “It is time to leave Eldwist, Pe Ell. We found the Stone King and we took the Black Elfstone away from him—Morgan, Walker Boh, and I.”
Pe Ell fought to stay calm. “Then we are indeed finished with this place.” He glanced past her into the gloom. “Who has the Elfstone now?”
“Walker Boh,” she replied.
Pe Ell’s jaw tightened. It would have to be Walker Boh, of course. It would have to be him. How much easier things would be if the girl had the Stone. He could kill her now, take it from her, and be gone before any of them knew what had happened. The one-armed man seemed to stand in his way at every turn, a shadowy presence he could not quite escape. What would it take to be rid of him?
He knew, of course, what it would take. He felt his plans begin to shift back again.
“Quickening!” a voice called out.
It was the Highlander. Pe Ell hesitated, then made up his mind. He clamped his hand about Quickening’s mouth and hauled her into the shadows. Surprisingly, the girl did not struggle. She was light and yielding, almost weightless in his arms. It was the first time he had held her since he had carried her from the Meade Gardens. The feelings she stirred within him were distractingly soft and pleasant, and he forced them roughly aside. Later for that, he thought, when he used the Stiehl…
Morgan Leah burst into view, pounding along the walkway, shouting for the girl, searching. Pe Ell held Quickening close and watched the Highlander run past. A moment later, he was gone.
Pe Ell released his hand from the girl’s mouth, and she turned to face him. There was neither surprise nor fear in her eyes now; there was only resignation. “It is almost time for us, Pe Ell,” she whispered.
A flicker of doubt tugged at his confidence. She was looking at him in that strange way she had, as if he were transparent to her, as if everything about him were known. But if everything were known, she would not be standing there so calmly. She would be attempting to flee, to call after the Highlander, or to do something to save herself.
The rumbling beneath the city increased, then faded slightly, a warning of the slow, inevitable avalanche bearing down on them.
“Time for us to do what?” he managed hesitantly, unable to break away from her gaze.
She did not answer. Instead she glanced past him, her black eyes searching. He turned to stare with her and watched the dark form of Walker Boh materialize from out of the haze of dust and gray light.
Unlike the Highlander, the Dark Uncle had seen them.
Pe Ell swung the girl in front of him and unsheathed the Stiehl from its hiding place, the blade gleaming bright with the magic. The one-armed man slowed perceptibly, then came on.
“Pe Ell,” he whispered softly, as if the name itself were venomous.
“Stand back from me, Walker Boh,” Pe Ell ordered. The other stopped. “We’ve seen enough of each other to know what we are capable of doing. No need to test it. Better that we part now and go our separate ways. But first give me the Stone.”
The tall man stood without moving, seemingly without life, eyes fixed on the assassin and his hostage. He appeared to be weighing something.
Pe Ell’s smile was sardonic. “Don’t be foolish enough to think you might be quicker than me.”
“We might neither of us be quick enough to survive this day. The Maw Grint comes.”
“It will find me gone when it does. Give me the Black Elfstone.”
“If I do so, will that be enough to satisfy you?” the other asked quietly, his gaze intense, as if trying to read Pe Ell’s thoughts.
Like the girl, Pe Ell thought. Two of a kind. “Pass it to me,” he commanded, ignoring the question.
“Release Quickening.”
Pe Ell shook his head. “When I am safely away. Then I promise that I will set her free.” Free, forever.
They stood staring at each other wordlessly for a moment, hard looks filled with unspoken promises, with visions of possibilities that were dark and forbidding. Then Walker Boh reached down into his tunic and brought forth the Stone. He held it out in his palm, dark and glistening. Pe Ell smiled faintly. The Elfstone was as black as midnight, opaque and depthless, seamless and unflawed. He had never seen anything like it before. He could almost feel the magic pulsing within.
“Give it to me,” he repeated.
Walker Boh reached down to his belt and worked free a leather pouch marked with brilliant blue runes. Carefully he used the fingers of his solitary hand to maneuver the Stone into the pouch and pull the drawstrings tight. He looked at Pe Ell and said, “You cannot use the Black Elfstone, Pe Ell. If you try, the magic will destroy you.”
“Life is filled with risks,” Pe Ell replied. Dust churned in the air about them, sifted by a faint sea breeze. The stone of the city shimmered, swept up in the earth’s distant rumble, wrapped in a gauze of mist and clouds. “Toss it to me,” he ordered.
“Gently.”
He used the hand with the Stiehl to keep tight hold of Quickening. The girl did not stir. She waited passively, her slender body pressed against him, so compliant she might have been sleeping. Walker held out the pouch with the Black Elfstone and carefully lobbed it. Pe Ell caught it and shoved it into his belt, securing the strings to his buckle.
“Magic belongs to those who are not afraid to use it,” he offered, smiling, backing cautiously away. “And to those who can keep it.”
Walker Boh stood rock-still against the roiling dust and tremors. “Beware, Pe Ell. You risk everything.”
“Don’t come after me, Walker Boh,” Pe Ell warned darkly. “Better for you if you remain here and face the Maw Grint.”
With Quickening securely in his grasp he continued to move away, following the line of the walkway until the other man vanished into the haze.
Walker Boh remained motionless, staring after the disappearing Pe Ell and Quickening. He was wondering why he had given up the Black Elfstone so easily. He had not wanted to, had resolved not to in fact, and had been prepared instead to attack Pe Ell, to go to the girl’s rescue—until he looked into her eyes and saw something there that stopped him. Even now he wasn’t sure what it was that he had seen. Determination, resignation, some private insight that transcended his own—something. Whatever it was, it had changed his mind as surely as if she had used her magic.
His head lowered and his dark eyes narrowed.
Had she, he wondered, used her magic?
He stood lost in thought. A light dusting of water sprinkled his face. It was beginning to rain again. He looked up, remembering where he was, what he was about, and hearing again the thunder caused by the movement of the Maw Grint beneath the city
, feeling the vibration of its coming.
Cogline’s voice was a whisper in his ear, reminding him gently to understand who he was. He had always wondered before. Now he thought he knew.
He summoned his magic, feeling it rise easily within him, strong again since his battle with the Stone King, as if that confrontation had freed him of constraints he had placed upon himself. It gathered at the center of his being, whirling like a great wind. The rune markings on the pouch in which the Black Elfstone rested would be its guide. With barely a lifting of his head he sent it winging forth in search of Pe Ell.
Then he followed after.
Pe Ell ran, dragging Quickening behind him. She came without resisting, moving obediently to keep pace, saying nothing, asking nothing, her eyes distant and calm. He glanced back at her only once and quickly turned away again. What he saw in those dark eyes bothered him. She was seeing something that he could not, something old and immutable, a part of her past or her future—he wasn’t sure which. She was an enigma still, the one secret he had not yet been able to solve. But soon now he would, he promised himself. The Stiehl would give him an answer to what she hid. When her life was fading from her she would stand revealed. There would be no secrets then. The magic would not permit it. Just as it had been with all the others he had killed, there would be only truth.
He felt the first drops of rain strike his heated face.
He darted left along a cross street, angling away from the direction Morgan Leah had gone and Walker Boh would follow. There was no reason to give them any chance of finding him. He would slip quickly from the city onto the isthmus, cross to the stairs, gain the heights of the overlook, and then with time and privacy enough to take full advantage of the moment he would kill her. Anticipation washed through him. Quickening, the daughter of the King of the Silver River, the most wondrous magical creature of all, would be his forever.
Yet the flicker of doubt continued to burn within him. What was it that bothered him so? He searched for the answer, pausing briefly as he remembered what she had said about needing their magics, the magics of all three—the Highlander, Walker Boh, and himself. All three were required, the King of the Silver River had proclaimed. That was why she had recruited them, persuaded them to come, and kept them together through all the anger and mistrust. But it had been Walker Boh and the Highlander alone who had discovered the hiding place of Uhl Belk and secured the Black Elfstone. He had done nothing—except to destroy the Rake. Was that the use for which his magic had been intended? Was that the reason for his coming? It didn’t seem enough somehow. It seemed there should be something more.
Pe Ell slid through the murk of Eldwist’s deepening morning, holding the girl close to him as he went, thinking to himself that this whole journey had been a puzzle with too many missing pieces. They had come in search of the Stone King—yet the others, not Pe Ell, had found him. They had come to retrieve the Black Elfstone—yet the others, not Pe Ell, had done so. The magic of the Stiehl was the most deadly magic that any of them possessed—yet what purpose had it served?
Uneasiness stole through him like a thief, draining his elation at having both Quickening and the Stone.
Something was wrong and he didn’t know what it was. He should feel in control of things and he did not.
They passed back onto a roadway leading south, winding their way down between the buildings, passing through the haze, two furtive shadows fleeing into light. Pe Ell slowed now, beginning to tire. He peered through the thin curtain of rain that hung before him, blinking uncertainly. Was this the way he had intended to come? Somehow, he didn’t think so. He glanced right, then left. Wasn’t this street the one he had been trying to avoid? Confusion filled him. He felt Quickening’s eyes on him but would not allow himself to meet her gaze.
He steered them down another sidestreet and crossed to a broad plaza dominated by a tiered basin encircled by benches, some crumbling and split, and the remains of poles from which flags had once flown. He was working his way left toward an arched passageway between the buildings, intent on gaining the open street beyond, a street that would take him directly to the isthmus, when he heard his name called. He whirled, pulling the girl close, the blade of the Stiehl coming up to her throat.
Morgan Leah stood across the plaza from him, a lean and dangerous figure. Pe Ell stared. How had the Highlander found him? It was chance, he quickly decided. Nothing more. Dismay grappled with anger. Any misfortune that resulted from this encounter must not be his.
The Highlander did not appear to know what was happening. “What are you doing, Pe Ell?” he shouted through the forest of broken poles.
“What I wish!” Pe Ell responded, but there was a weariness in his voice that surprised him. “Get away, Highlander. I have no wish to hurt you. I have what I came for. Your one-armed friend has given me the Elfstone—here, in this pouch at my belt! I intend to keep it! If you wish the girl to go free, stand away!”
But Morgan Leah did not move. Haggard-looking and worn, just a boy really, he seemed both lost and unresolved. Yet he refused to give way. “Let her go, Pe Ell. Don’t hurt her.”
His plea was wasted, but Pe Ell managed a tired nod. “Go back, Highlander. Quickening comes with me.”
Morgan Leah seemed to hesitate momentarily, then started forward. For the first time since he had seized her, Pe Ell felt Quickening tense. She was worried for the Highlander, he realized. Her concern enraged him. He pulled her back and brought the Stiehl against her throat, calling to the other man to stop.
And then suddenly Walker Boh appeared as well, materializing out of the gloom, close by Morgan Leah. He stepped forward unhurriedly and grasped the Highlander’s arm, pulling him back. The Highlander struggled, but even with only one arm the other man was stronger.
“Think what you are doing, Pe Ell!” Walker Boh called out, and now there was anger in his voice.
How had the big man caught up to him so quickly? Pe Ell felt a twinge of uneasiness, a sense that for some unexplainable reason nothing was going right. He should have been clear of this madness by now, safely away. He should have had time to savor his victory, to speak with the girl before using the Stiehl, to see how much he could learn of her magic. Instead he was being harried unmercifully by the very men he had chosen to spare. Worse, he was in some danger of being trapped.
“Get away from me!” he shouted, his temper slipping, his control draining away. “You risk the girl’s life by continuing this chase! Let me leave now or she dies!”
“Let her go!” the distraught Highlander screamed again. He had fallen to his knees, still firmly in the grip of the one-armed man.
Behind Pe Ell, still too far away to make any difference but closing on him steadily, came Horner Dees. The assassin was now ringed by his enemies. For the first time in his life he was trapped, and he sensed a hint of panic setting in. He jerked Quickening about to face the burly Tracker. “Out of my way, old man!” he bellowed.
But Horner Dees simply shook his head. “I don’t think so, Pe Ell. I’ve backed away from you enough times. I’ve a stake in this business, too. I’ve given at least as much of myself as you. Besides, you’ve done nothing to earn what you claim. You simply seek to steal. We know who and what you are, all of us. Do as Morgan Leah says. Let the girl go.”
Walker Boh’s voice rose. “Pe Ell, if the Shadowen sent you to steal the Elfstone, take it and go. We won’t stop you.”
“The Shadowen!” Pe Ell laughed, fighting to contain his rage. “The Shadowen are nothing to me. I do for them what I wish and nothing more. Do you think I came all this way because of them? You are a fool!”
“Then take the Elfstone for yourself if you must.”
The rage broke free. Caution disappeared in a red mist. “If I must! Of course, I must! But even the Elfstone isn’t the real reason I came!”
“Then what is, Pe Ell?” Walker Boh asked tightly.
“She is!” Pe Ell yanked Quickening around once more, lifting her exquisite face
above the point of his knife. “Look at her, Walker Boh, and tell me that you don’t desire her! You cannot, can you? Your feelings, mine, the Highlander’s—they’re all the same! We came on this journey because of her, because of the way she looked at us and made us feel, because of the way she wove her magic all about us! Think of the secrets she hides! Think of the magic she conceals! I came on this journey to discover what she is, to claim her. She has belonged to me from the first moment of her life, and when I am finished here she shall belong to me always! Yes, the Shadowen sent me, but it was my choice to come—my choice when I saw what she could give me! Don’t you see? I came to Eldwist to kill her!”
The air went still suddenly, the tremors and the thunder fading into a vague and distant moan, leaving the assassin’s words sharp and clear against the silence. The stone of the city caught their sound and held the echo within its walls, a long, endless reverberation of dismay.
“I have to discover what she is,” Pe Ell whispered, trying vainly to explain now, unable to think what else to do, stunned that he had been foolish enough to reveal so much, knowing they would never let him go now. How had he managed to lose control of matters so completely? “I have to kill her,” he repeated, the words sounding harsh and bitter. “That is how the magic works. It reveals all truths. In taking life, it gives life. To me. Once the killing is done, Quickening shall be mine forever.”
For an instant no one spoke, stunned by the assassin’s revelation. Then Horner Dees said slowly, deliberately, “Don’t be stupid, Pe Ell. You can’t get away from all of us. Let her go.”
It was uncertain then exactly what happened next. There was an explosion of shattered rock as the Maw Grint broke free of the tunnels and reared skyward against the buildings of the city somewhere close to where the Stone King hid within his fortressed dome. The monster rose like a bloated snake, swaying against the shroud of mist and damp, huffing as if to catch its breath, as if the air were being sucked from it. Pe Ell started, feeling the earth begin to shudder so violently that it seemed Eldwist would be shaken apart.
