by Terry Brooks
But there was a secondary problem with not going. Quentin had made up his mind even before Bek had agreed and would likely have gone without him. His cousin had been looking for an excuse to leave Leah and go elsewhere for a long time. That his father had apparently agreed to his going on this particular journey—a decision that Bek found remarkable—removed the last obstacle that stood in Quentin’s path. Quentin was like a brother. Much of the time, Bek felt protective toward him, even though Quentin was the older of the two and looked at the matter the other way around. Whatever the case, Bek loved and admired his cousin and could not imagine staying behind if Quentin went.
All of which was fine except that it did nothing to alleviate his misgivings. But there was no help for that, so he was forced to put the matter aside as they journeyed home. They walked steadily all day, crossing through the Highlands, navigating the deep woods, scrub wilderness, flowering meadows, streams and small rivers, misty valleys and green hills. They left much more quickly than they had gone in, Quentin setting the pace, anxious to return home so that they could prepare to set out again.
Which was another sticking point with Bek. Walker had asked them to come with him on a journey and then promptly departed for regions unknown. He hadn’t waited for them to join him or offered to take them with him. He hadn’t even told them when they would see him again.
“I want you to return to Leah on the morrow,” he had advised just before they had rolled into their blankets and drifted off to an uneasy sleep. “Speak with your father. Satisfy yourselves that he has given you his permission to leave. Then pack your gear—not forgetting the sword, Quentin—saddle two strong horses, and ride east.”
East! East, for cat’s sake! Isn’t that the wrong direction? Bek had demanded instantly. Didn’t the Elves live west? Wasn’t that where their journey to follow the map was supposed to initiate?
But the Druid had only smiled and assured him that traveling east was what was needed before going on to Arborlon. They must carry out a small errand for him, an errand he had insufficient time to run. Maybe it would offer Quentin a chance to test the magic of his blade. Maybe Bek would be given an opportunity to test his intuitive abilities. Maybe they would have a chance to meet someone they would come to depend upon in the days ahead.
Well, there wasn’t much they could say to all that, so they had agreed to do as he asked. Just as Walker had known they would, Bek felt. He sensed, in fact, that Walker knew exactly how to present a request so that it would always be agreed to. When Walker spoke, Bek could feel himself agreeing almost before the words were out. Something in the Druid’s voice was compelling enough to make him want to acquiesce out of hand.
Magic’s sway, he supposed. Wasn’t that a part of the Druid history? Wasn’t that one reason why people were so afraid of them?
“This fellow we’re supposed to find,” he spoke up suddenly, halfway through the long walk home, glancing over at Quentin.
“Truls Rohk,” his cousin said.
Bek shifted the heavy pack on his back. “Truls Rohk. What kind of name is that? Who is he? Doesn’t it bother you that we don’t know the first thing about him, that Walker didn’t even tell us what he looks like?”
“He told us how to find him. He told us exactly where to go and how to get there. He gave us a message to deliver and words to speak. That’s all we need to get the job done, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what we need because I don’t know what we’re getting ourselves into.” Bek shook his head doubtfully. “We jumped awfully quick at the chance to get involved in this business, Quentin. What do we know about Walker or the Druids or this map or any of it? Just enough to get excited about traipsing off to the other side of the world. How smart is that?”
Quentin shrugged. “The way I look at it, we have a wonderful opportunity to travel, to see something of the world, something beyond the borders of Leah. How often is that kind of chance going to come along? And Father agrees that we can go. Talk about miracles!”
Bek huffed. “Talk about blackmail—that’s more likely.”
“Not Father.” Quentin shook his head firmly. “He would die first. You know that.”
Bek nodded reluctantly.
“So let’s give this a chance before we start passing judgment. Let’s see what things look like. If we think we’re in over our heads, we can always give it up.”
“Not if we’re flying somewhere out over the Blue Divide, we can’t.”
“You worry too much.”
“Sure enough. And you worry too little.”
Quentin grinned. “True. But I’m happier worrying too little than you are worrying too much.”
That was Quentin for you, never spending too much time on what might happen, content to live in the moment. It was hard to argue with someone who was so happy all the time, and that was Quentin right down to the soles of his boots. Give him a sunny day and a chance to walk ten miles and he was all set. Never mind that a thunderstorm was approaching or that Gnome Hunters prowled the region he traveled. Quentin’s view was that bad things happened mostly when you thought too much about them.
Bek let the matter drop for the rest of the way back. He wasn’t going to change Quentin’s mind, and he wasn’t sure he even ought to try. His cousin was right—he should give the idea a chance, let things develop a bit, and see where they were going.
The sun had set and the blue-green haze of twilight had begun to shroud the Highlands when the city of Leah at last came in sight. They walked out of the trees and down a long, gently sloped hillside to where Leah sat on a high plain overlooking the lowlands east and south and the Rappahalladran and the Duln Forests west. Leah sprawled outward from its compact center in a series of gradually expanding estates, farms, and cooperatives owned and managed by its citizenry. Leah had been a monarchy in the time of Allanon, and various members of the Leah family had ruled in unbroken succession for nine hundred years. But eventually the monarchy had dissolved and the Highlands had fallen under Federation sway. It was only in the last fifty years that the Federation had withdrawn to the cities below the Prekkendorran Heights, and a council of elders had taken over the process of governing. Coran Leah, as a member of one of the most famous and prestigious Highland families, had gained a seat on the council and recently been elected First Minister. It was a position that he occupied reluctantly, but worked hard at, intent on justifying the trust his people had shown him.
Quentin thought the whole governing business an appropriate one for old men. Leah was a drop in an ocean, to his way of thinking. There was so much more out there, so much else happening, and none of it was affected in even the tiniest way by events in Leah. Entire nations had never even heard of the Highlands. If he wanted to have an impact on the future of the Four Lands, and possibly even on countries that lay beyond, he had to leave home and go out into the world. He had talked about it with Bek until his cousin was ready to scream. Bek didn’t think like that. Bek wasn’t interested in affecting the rest of the world. Bek was quite content to stay pretty much where he was. He viewed Quentin’s relentless search for a way out of Leah as an obsession that was both dangerous and wrongheaded. But, he had to admit, at least Quentin had a plan for his life, which was more than Bek could say for himself.
They passed through farmlands, across horse and cattle fields, and past estate grounds and manor houses until they had reached the outskirts of the city proper. The Leah house occupied the same site on which their palace had been settled when the family ruled the Highlands. The palace had been destroyed during Federation occupation—burned, it was rumored, by Morgan Leah himself in defiance of its occupiers. In any case, Coran’s father had replaced it with a two-story traditional home, multiple eaves and dormers, long rooflines and deep alcoves, casement wraps and stone fireplaces. The old trees remained, flower gardens dotted the grounds front and rear, and vine-draped arbors arched above crushed-stone walkways that wound from the front and rear entry doors to the surroun
ding streets.
Lights already burned in the windows and along the paths. They gave a warm and friendly feel to the big house, and as the cousins walked up to it Bek found himself wondering how long it would be before he would enjoy this feeling again.
They ate dinner that night with the family, with Coran and Liria and the four younger Leahs. The children spent the meal clamoring for details about their adventures, especially the boar hunt. Quentin made it all sound much more exciting than it really was, accommodating his younger brothers and sisters with a wild and lurid tale about how they barely escaped death on the tusks and under the hooves of a dozen rampaging boars. Coran shook his head and Liria smiled, and any discussion of Walker’s unexpected appearance and proposed journey was postponed until later.
When dinner was finished and Liria had taken the younger children off to bed, Bek left Quentin to speak alone with his father about the Druid and took a long, hot bath to wash off the dirt from their outing. He gave himself over to the heat and damp, letting go of his concerns long enough to close his eyes and soak away his weariness. On finishing, he went to Quentin’s room and found his cousin sitting on the bed holding the old sword and studying it thoughtfully.
Quentin looked up as he entered. “Father says we can go.”
Bek nodded. “I never thought he wouldn’t. Walker wouldn’t be foolish enough to lie to us about something like that.” He brushed a lock of damp hair off his forehead. “Did he tell you why he’s had this change of heart about our leaving?”
“I asked. He said he owed the Druid a favor for something that happened a long time ago. He wouldn’t say what. Actually, he changed the subject on me.” Quentin looked thoughtful. “But he didn’t seem disturbed about our going or about Walker’s appearance. He seemed more … oh, sort of determined, I guess. It was hard to read him, Bek. He was very serious about this matter—calm, but intense. He made sure I knew to take the sword.”
He looked down at the weapon in his hands. “I’ve been sitting here looking at it.” He smiled. “I keep thinking that if I look hard enough, I’ll discover something. Maybe the sword will speak to me, tell me the secret of its magic.”
“I think you have to do what Walker said. You have to wait until there’s a need for it before you learn how it works.” Bek sat down on the bed next to him. “Walker was right. The sword is perfect. Not a mark on it. Hundreds of years old and in mint condition. That’s not something that could happen if magic wasn’t warding it in some way.”
“I suppose not.” Quentin turned the blade over and back again, running his fingers along the smooth, flat surface. “I feel a little strange about this. If the blade is magic and I’m to wield it, will I know what to do when it’s time?”
Bek chuckled. “When did you ever not know what to do when it was time? You were born ready, Quentin.”
“And you were born twice as smart and a lot more intuitive than I was,” his cousin replied, and there was no joking or laughter in his response. His steady, open gaze settled on Bek. “I know my strengths and weaknesses. I can be honest about them. I know I rush into things, the way I did the chance to go on this expedition. Sometimes that’s okay, and sometimes it isn’t. I rely on you to keep me from wandering too far astray.”
Bek shrugged. “Always happy to bring you back into line.” He grinned.
“You remember that.” Quentin looked back down at the sword. “If I don’t see what needs doing, if I miss the right and wrong of things, I’m counting on you not to. This sword,” he said, hefting it gently, “maybe it is magic and can do wonderful things. Maybe it can save lives. But maybe it’s like all magic and can be harmful, as well. Isn’t that the nature of magic? That it can work both ways? I don’t want to cause harm with it, Bek. I don’t want to be too quick to use it.”
It was a profound observation for Quentin, and Bek thought his cousin did not give himself nearly enough credit. Nevertheless, he nodded in agreement. “Now go take a bath,” he ordered, standing up again and moving toward the door. “I can’t be expected to think straight when you smell like this!”
He returned to his room and began putting together clothes for their journey. They would leave early in the morning, getting a quick start on their travels. It would take them a week to track down Truls Rohk and then to reach Arborlon. How much longer would they be gone after that? What would it be like in the lands beyond their own, across the Blue Divide? Would the climate be hot or cold, wet or dry, bitter or mild? He looked around his room helplessly, made aware again of how little he knew about what he had let himself in for. But that kind of thinking wasn’t going to help, so he put it aside and went back to work.
He was almost finished when Coran Leah appeared in the doorway, grave and thoughtful. “I wonder if I might talk to you a minute, Bek?”
Without waiting for a response, he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. For a moment he just stood there, as if undecided about what to do next. Then he walked over to the bench on which Bek was laying out clothing, made a place for himself, and sat down.
Bek stared, still holding a shirt he was folding up to put in his backpack. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
Coran Leah shook his gray head. He was still a handsome man, strong and fit at fifty, his blue eyes clear and his smile ready. He was well liked in Leah, well regarded by everyone. He was the kind of man who made it a point to do the small things others would overlook. If there were people in need, Coran Leah was always the first to try to find help for them or, failing that, to help them himself. He had raised his children with kind words and gentle urgings, and Bek didn’t think he had ever heard him shout. If he could have chosen a father for himself, Bek wouldn’t have looked farther than Coran.
“I have been thinking about this since Walker came to see me yesterday and told me what he wanted. There are some things you don’t know, Bek—things no one knows, not even Quentin, only Liria and I. I’ve been waiting for the right time to tell you, and I guess maybe I’ve waited as long as I can.”
He straightened himself, placing his hands carefully on his knees. “It wasn’t your father who brought you here all those years ago. It was Walker. He told me your father had died in an accident, leaving you alone, and he asked me to take you in. The fact is, I wasn’t close to Holm Rowe. I hadn’t seen him in more than ten years before you came to live with us. I didn’t know he had children. I didn’t even know he had a wife. I thought it very strange that your father would choose to send you to me, to live with my family, but Walker insisted that this was what he wanted. He convinced me that it was the right thing to do.”
He shook his head anew. “He can be very persuasive when he chooses. I asked him how your father had come to know him well enough to put you in his care. He said it wasn’t a matter of choice, that he was there when no one else was, and your father had to trust him.”
Bek put down the shirt he was holding. “Well, I know how persuasive he can be. I’ve seen it for myself. How did he talk you into agreeing with him on this present business?”
Coran Leah smiled. “He told me the same thing I assume he told you—that he needed you both, that people’s lives depended on it, that the future of the Four Lands required it. He said you were old enough to make the decision for yourselves, but that I must give you the freedom to do so. I didn’t like hearing that, but I recognized the truth in what he was saying. You are old enough, almost grown. Quentin is grown. I’ve kept you with me as long as I can.” He shrugged. “Maybe he’s right. Maybe people’s lives do depend on it. I guess I owe it to you both to let you find out.”
Bek nodded. “We’ll be careful,” he reassured him. “We’ll look after each other.”
“I know you will. I feel better with both of you going rather than only one. Liria doesn’t think you should go at all, either of you, but that’s because she’s a mother, and that’s how mothers think.”
“Do you think Quentin’s sword really does have magic? Do you think it can do w
hat Walker says?”
Coran sighed. “I don’t know. Our family history says so. Walker seems certain of it.”
Bek sat down across from him on the edge of his bed. “I’m not sure we’re doing the right thing by going, and I realize we don’t know everything yet, maybe not even enough to appreciate the risk we’re taking. But I promise we won’t do anything foolish.”
Coran nodded. “Be careful of those kinds of promises, Bek. Sometimes they’re hard to keep.” He paused. “There’s one thing more I have to say. It has occurred to me before, but I’ve kept it to myself. I thought about it again yesterday, when Walker reappeared on my doorstep. Here it is. I have only the Druid’s word that Holm Rowe really was your father and that he sent you here to live with me. I tried to check on this later, but no one could tell me where or when Holm had died. No one could tell me anything about him.”
Bek stared at him in surprise. “Someone else might be my real father?”
Coran Leah fixed him with his steady gaze. “You are like one of my own sons, Bek. I love you as much as I love them. I have done the very best I could to raise you in the right way. Both Liria and I have. Now that you are about to leave, I want no secrets between us.”
He stood up. “I’ll let you get back to your packing.”
He started for the door, then changed his mind and came back across the room. He put his strong arms around Bek and hugged him tightly. “Be careful, son,” he whispered.
Then he was gone again, leaving Bek to conclude that there was as much uncertainty about his past as there was about his future.
ELEVEN
It was raining again by the time Hunter Predd and Walker arrived aboard Obsidian at the seaport of March Brume, some distance north of Bracken Clell on the coast of the Blue Divide. They had flown into the rain just before sunset after traveling west all day from the Highlands of Leah, and it felt as if the dark and damp had descended as one. March Brume occupied a stretch of rocky beach along a cove warded by huge cliffs to the north and a broad salt marsh to the south. A stand of deep woods backed away from the village into a shallow valley behind, and it was just to the south of that valley, on a narrow plateau, that the Roc deposited her passengers so that they might take refuge for the night in an old trapper’s shack.
