by Terry Brooks
“Perhaps there is,” Ailie said suddenly, her small voice surprisingly strong in the large chamber. “Perhaps one among you already knows a way.”
She might be guessing or she might know something that she had not told Angel. But the look on the King’s face, at once dark and angry and startled, was a clear indication that one or the other was true. He knew more than he was giving away to anyone in this room, and now everyone realized it.
“Historically,” said another of the Council members, an older man who spoke not to the King, but to Angel, “the Loden Elfstone was meant to protect the Ellcrys in time of danger. The legend, as recorded in my own family’s journals, says the Loden possesses magic that will allow it to encapsulate the tree and keep it safe while it is being moved.”
Now everyone was looking at the King. “Old tales of an older time,” Arissen Belloruus declared dismissively. “We cannot rely on such tales, Ordanna Frae. You, of all people, should know that.”
“What I know,” said the other, turning slightly toward him, “is that the tales have more than one source. We should not dismiss out of hand the possibility that they reveal an important truth. Much of our lore comes to us in the form of old stories and legends written down in private letters. These are not necessarily the writer’s invention alone.”
“Nevertheless, it would be foolish and reckless to act on what these messengers tell us without further proof,” interjected Basselin, leaning forward suddenly in his seat. “We have no way of testing the truth of their stories. They may believe what they are saying, but they may also be hiding something from us.”
There was a muttering of agreement from a few of the other Council members, and the King pointed suddenly at Angel. “You say you are here to help us find the Loden Elfstone. How do you propose to do that? Do you know something of its location? Does the Word give you insights that we lack?”
Angel hesitated, and it was Ailie who answered. “The insights you require are to be found among your own people, High Lord. They are to be found among the Chosen.”
Arissen Belloruus flushed a dark red, and for a moment Angel thought that Ailie had gone too far. Again, this was nothing the tatterdemalion had spoken about to her before, so she wasn’t sure why her words were so disturbing to the King, but clearly they were.
“The young boy you sent away,” Ailie continued. “Kirisin. He knows.”
Now the Council members were all turning toward the King, their muttered questions and exclamations tumbling over one another as they sought to make sense of what they were hearing. It wasn’t the tatterdemalion’s words that caused this response, Angel realized. The words, while startling, would not of themselves provoke. It was instead something in the way they were spoken, something in Ailie’s voice, that had broken through the wall of reticence that held the High Council in thrall to the King and set them free to question him.
“Be silent!” Arissen Belloruus roared suddenly, leaping to his feet. The members of the Council went still, and the King came forward a few steps on the dais toward Angel and Ailie, a menacing look on his strong features. “Kirisin Belloruus, the son of my cousin and his wife, the brother of Simralin, is a well-loved boy, a friend of my daughter, and a Chosen in service to the Ellcrys. He has indeed spoken to me of this, something I chose not to bring before the Council.”
He paused for effect. “And for good reason. He believes he knows something, but he cannot offer any proof to support his belief. He came to me with a story similar to the one you tell, messengers of the Word. He told me that the Ellcrys had asked him to find the Loden Elfstone and to place the tree within it. An old magic, apparently. Magic long since lost to us. But no one else heard this admonition. More to the point, the Ellcrys does not speak to anyone except in the time of her choosing. Kirisin could not explain why she had done so now. He was certain he had heard correctly, but he had nothing to offer in the way of proof. I did not believe him, nor did any of the other Chosen.”
His jaw tightened. “But I am King, and I know my duty. I told him that acting on his word alone, without other proof, was insufficient to persuade the High Council to his cause. I told him I would research the matter. Culph, who has served as our historian for years, was dispatched in an effort to find in the Elven histories the answers to the questions Kirisin posed. He found nothing. There was barely any mention of the Elfstones. All that is magic, all the talismans that were once so vital to our people, belong to the past. We know this. No one who has lived in the last two thousand years has seen an Elfstone. Or if they have, they have kept it to themselves because there is nothing of consequence written about any of it. What we have are private journals of the sort kept by our minister of public works.” He nodded toward Ordanna Frae. “Some of those entries are an accurate recording and some are not. Some are simply wishful thinking. What helps us determine which is which is whether or not there is confirmation of these entries anywhere in our official histories.”
Again he paused. “In this case, there is none.”
“My Lord,” Basselin interrupted quickly. “May I speak?”
The King nodded. “You may, First Minister.”
“I think we have heard quite enough,” said the hawk-faced man. “Enough of speculation and wild imaginings. This business of a danger to the Ellcrys and the Elven nation appears to be based entirely on two sources—a boy barely old enough to know his place in our community and this human and her companion. The boy…well, he is just a boy. The young woman and her child companion are unknown to us. There is no hard evidence to confirm what any of them are telling us. We are being asked to change our entire way of life—to move from the Cintra, to uproot the Ellcrys, and to do who knows what else. Mostly on the word of this young woman. On the word of a human. A human, my lord. When humans have been the cause of so much misery and destruction, I find it difficult to suddenly decide that perhaps this time they have something valuable to offer. I am skeptical of everything I have heard. I am opposed to acting on it.”
He sat back again, his features flushed and angry. “We should all be opposed,” he added, his eyes fixed on Angel.
The King nodded. “I am inclined to agree with my first minister,” he said quietly.
“So you will do nothing?” Angel pressed.
The King glared at her, and then turned around, walked back to his chair, and sat down. He gestured at her in exasperation. “My first minister makes a cogent point. Am I to accept without evidence of any sort that you speak the truth? That you are not yourselves deceived in some way? That the danger you describe actually exists? I did not accept it when Kirisin told me. Now that you have come to Arborlon, I grant that there is fresh reason to wonder if he might be right. But what are we to do about it? We still have no means of finding the Loden Elfstone.”
“Perhaps a further search of your histories is needed,” Angel offered. “Perhaps speaking with Kirisin again will help. What cannot be disputed is that the danger confronting the Elven people will not be avoided by ignoring that it exists. Something must be done, High Lord.”
“It is not necessary, lady Knight of the Word, that you tell me my duty as King of the Elven people. I know it far better than you do. I will do what is needed, when it is needed.”
He stared at her to make certain she understood, then added, “I will arrange for a further, more extensive search of the Elven histories and any other journals or papers that are in my possession. If any members of my Council are in a position to help, perhaps through a search of their own records, they are welcome to do so. We will reconvene in two days to examine what we have uncovered.”
“High Lord,” Angel said quickly. “I would like to speak with Kirisin myself. If we compare what we know, perhaps between us we will unearth something useful.”
The King hesitated, his eyes reflecting his disapproval, and then he shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “Very well. I will arrange it.”
Some of the arrogance that had been so apparent earlier was gone, and
the King seemed both troubled and uncertain. Angel understood something about the need to establish ground rules if you were a leader. She understood what it did to you, how it fostered both arrogance and abrasiveness if you were not careful. She did not condemn him for his attitude; she merely wanted to understand what was driving it, and she believed it was something more than his position as King of the Elves.
“I am grateful, High Lord,” she told him, and meant it.
He nodded. “I am granting you a latitude I would normally deny. But I want this matter resolved. If Kirisin can help, then I want you to find out how. Do whatever you feel you must.”
He rose and gestured to the members of the High Council. “Enough discussion for tonight. This session is adjourned.”
AS ANGEL AND AILIE followed Maurin Ortish out of the chambers and into the hallway beyond, Angel heard the King ask the members of the Council to stay for a few moments more to review what they had just heard. Angel understood immediately what that meant. The King would wait until they were safely out of earshot, and then declare privately what he felt the Council really needed to do. It rankled her that he would do this when there was so much at stake. But Ailie had warned her that the Elves mistrusted all humans, and no matter her exalted title as a Knight of the Word, she was first and foremost a human. If the Elves believed that she was a detriment to their safety, no matter how much she might argue otherwise, they would probably try to find a way to remove her from the picture.
What she wondered was whether they were capable of doing her harm when she had done nothing to provoke it.
“Did you hear? They intend to work behind our backs,” she whispered to Ailie as they stepped outside the Council buildings and into the cool night air. Ortish had gone on ahead, beckoning to Simralin, who stood waiting in the shadows to take them back to their quarters.
“It is much worse than you think,” the tatterdemalion whispered back. Her eyes were depthless black pools as she bent closer to Angel, and her voice dropped farther still. “The Elves are already compromised.”
Angel stopped where she was. “What do you mean?”
“There was a demon in the Council chambers.”
“You saw it? I sensed nothing!”
Ailie shook her head. “I did not see it, but I smelled its stench. It wears an Elven disguise, so I cannot tell which of them it is. Apparently it is talented and clever enough to hide its presence from a Knight of the Word, but it cannot hide from a Faerie creature.”
The tatterdemalion shivered suddenly, as if the admission chilled her to the bone. “It was there. It was one of them.”
TEN
K IRISIN SLIPPED BACK through the underground tunnel steps behind Erisha and Culph, each of them lost in thought. They kept silent for two reasons—to avoid risking discovery, and to give space to ponder what they had just heard. They would talk of it later, when they could do so safely. Kirisin kept thinking that what hadn’t been said was almost as important as what had. Erisha’s father had been very careful not to disclose that he had both discouraged and delayed Kirisin’s efforts to act on what the Ellcrys had asked. He had also been very careful not to reveal anything about his daughter’s involvement. None of it felt right to him now, reflecting back. Everything he had heard made him uneasy.
When they reached the Belloruus home, he said good night to the other two, slipped back out the door, and headed home. It was too dangerous for him to remain longer when it was likely the King would be returning. They couldn’t afford to do anything that would risk giving away what they were up to. He would see Erisha at sunrise when they rose to fulfill their daily duties as Chosen, and they would talk then.
Even so, Kirisin thought about nothing else as he walked back through the trees toward his house. The coming of the Knight of the Word and the tatterdemalion was all the proof he needed to confirm that the Ellcrys was not mistaken in believing that she and the Elves were in danger. If there was one thing of which Kirisin was now convinced, it was that he needed to act swiftly on her plea for help. Especially pressing was the need to find the missing Elfstones. They had seemed so close to doing so only hours earlier—he and Erisha and old Culph, searching Ashenell—that he could not bring himself to believe it had been wasted effort. A fresh start was needed, a new approach perhaps, but giving up at this point was out of the question.
He pondered again the King’s reticence, trying to divine its source. There was something happening with Arissen Belloruus that none of them understood, something that was making him act in a way that was foreign to his character. That he was suspicious of Angel Perez was not surprising; most Elves were suspicious of humans. But his reaction in this instance seemed wildly against reason. That the tatterdemalion had confronted him with the truth about what he knew—about Kirisin, in particular—was the only reason he had revealed anything. All this time, the King had kept everything Kirisin had told him to himself; he had not discussed it with a single member of the High Council. Nor, it appeared, had he acted on it in any way.
The wind gusted sharply across his heated face, causing him to flinch at the contact. There was a chill in the air that didn’t belong to the season, one that mirrored the chill in his heart. Despite himself, he glanced around uneasily. This was his home, the only home he had ever known. He had spent his entire life here. He knew all of its roads and trails, most of its families, and many of its secrets. There was nowhere he could go that he would not feel he was in familiar territory.
Yet tonight Arborlon seemed a strange and unwelcoming place; he, an intruder who did not belong and might even be at risk.
He trudged on, hunching his shoulders, glancing left and right into the shadows, searching for things that he knew were not there, but that his instincts warned him might appear anyway.
When he reached his home, lights shone from within and Simralin was back on the porch steps, waiting. She was not alone. Angel Perez and the tatterdemalion, Ailie, were waiting with her.
He brushed his windblown hair from his eyes, gathered himself for what he already knew lay ahead, and marched up to his sister. “Kind of late for visitors, Sim,” he said.
“Later than you think,” she answered, stony-faced. “But they have something to say that you need to hear. Come up and sit down.”
He did as she asked, settling himself in one of the old high-backed wicker chairs facing across the porch to where the Knight and the tatterdemalion sat. He remembered how the latter had looked at him with such intensity several hours earlier, the way she had seemed to recognize him even though they had never met. Now, as Angel repeated everything that had taken place in the Council chambers, he was reminded of it. Ailie had known that the Ellcrys had spoken with him, that he had been asked to provide her help. Otherwise, she could not have used his name before the King as she had.
While Angel spoke, mostly repeating what he already knew from eavesdropping behind the Council chamber walls, he studied her. He had heard of Knights of the Word from Simralin, knew what they did and how important it was. He had formed images of them in his mind, their physical characteristics, the strength of presence they would exude. Yet Angel was not that much older than he was, baby-faced and not very big at all. She was more girl than woman, more child than grown. She held the black staff of her order, carved end-to-end with runes, in a loose, casual fashion, yet he could not mistake the possessiveness of her grip. He found her odd, a human who seemed less so than she ought to, a Knight of the Word who seemed too young to be anything of the sort.
When Angel was finished, she asked Kirisin if he would tell them in turn what he knew. He did so, even though he had doubts about revealing that he had been hiding on the other side of the walls with Erisha and old Culph when they were brought before the King and the High Council. It wasn’t that he didn’t want the Knight of the Word to know; he was concerned that revealing their presence to anyone might in some way put his two friends in danger. It was an irrational fear, but he couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t
there.
Nevertheless, he told the others everything, including what had transpired when the Ellcrys had spoken to him in the gardens. He told them how he had gone to the King in opposition to the advice of the other Chosen, how the King had lied to him, how he had subsequently confronted Erisha about what she was hiding, and how the two of them had made a pact to join forces. He told them how old Culph had discovered him with Erisha in the archives and decided to help, as well. He gave a brief description of how the three of them had searched the grave sites at Ashenell to find the marker for Pancea Rolt Cruer, where they believed from the entries in her scribe’s journal that the blue Elfstones might be hidden.
“We found nothing,” he concluded, “even after searching for the better part of an entire afternoon. But we intend to go back for another look the day after tomorrow. Maybe we will have better luck.”
“So you cannot leave Arborlon and the Cintra without the Ellcrys?” Angel asked.
“If we leave, we are abandoning her to her fate. She has no defenses against humans or demons and their weapons. She would be destroyed in the conflagration you have come to warn us about.”
“In which case, the demons trapped within the Forbidding, the ones from the old world of Faerie, would be set free?”
“If the Forbidding fails, that would happen.”
“They would join with those demons already at work destroying what remains of our world?”
He nodded. “We can’t leave her. We have to find the Elfstones that can save her.”
Angel shook her head. “I don’t understand why there is any debate about this. I don’t see why your King isn’t already out hunting for the Elfstones, doing everything he can to find them. It doesn’t matter whether he knows where they can be found; he should be doing something. What possible reason could he have for not wanting to act on what you have told him, let alone what we are asking?”
