Bloodfire Quest (The Dark Legacy of Shannara, #2)(59)

“I did not tell them the whole truth,” Arling said after a moment. “Only that you were failing—something they could already see for themselves—and that a renewal must take place. I did not tell them you had already selected me.”

–You still hope one of them will ask to be the bearer–

“Yes.”

On her shoulder, the Ellcrys’s branch shifted slowly to stroke the back of her neck.

–I cannot wait for that to happen, child. There is no time for it. I am infected with my illness, worn down by my age, and fated to pass into history. I have served for so long. It has been my privilege to do so, but my service is ending. My seed must be carried to the Bloodfire and quickened–

“We are not yet ready for that,” Arling said at once, a surge of fear penetrating all the way to her heart. “There are still preparations to be made.” She swallowed hard. “I can’t do it.”

The silence that followed was as cold and hard as ancient stone. Arling bowed her head and closed her eyes. Don’t ask this of me! Don’t tell me I must!

–Would you leave me bereft of hope? Would you abandon your people and the Races of your world to their fate? I do not see that in you–

“I cannot do this!”

She screamed the words, their sound so piercing that she flinched in shame and dismay. But the branch on her shoulder did not lift away or cease its steady stroking of Arling’s neck, a soft and soothing touch, a calming presence.

–You can do this and much more, child. You are strong–

Arling shook her head, tears filling her eyes. “I am a coward!”

–You are what I was all those years ago. You struggle as I did. You require courage and peace of mind in order to believe–

Inwardly, Arling collapsed. She could barely bring herself under control, the weight of what was happening crushing her. She fought back against her tears, against the wall of fear moving inexorably toward her, against her base and shameful instincts. She did not want to be like this. She did not want to appear desperate and weak. But she could not seem to help herself.

–There is no other to help me but you. You have the courage and the resilience that is required. There is no other to do what is needed if you refuse. Child, you are all there is, and I am only seeking that which I saw in you when you entered into my service–

Arling shook her head, wiping at her tears. “What you saw wasn’t really there. You were mistaken about me. I am not what you hoped I would be. I am just a girl, and I want to live out my life!”

She shuddered and clutched at herself, shoulders heaving as she cried. The tree did not respond, but seemed to wait on her. “I want to be brave for you,” she whispered. “I want to be strong enough and willing enough to be the bearer of your seed. I want to save the Elves. I want it, but I cannot make it be true. I cannot!”

The Ellcrys moved the end of one branch until it was touching her cheek.

–We never know what we can be or do until the need is there and we are tested by it. I thought as you did. I was afraid, and I fled with my fear to where I thought I would be safe. But necessity will always find us, and our sense of right and wrong will always find a way to make what is seemingly impossible the reality of our lives–

“No. Not here. Not with this.”

–Yes, Arlingfant Elessedil, with this and even more, should the need be there and the call sounded to embrace it. Yes, best of my Chosen, strongest and bravest of my children. Hold out your hands to me–

Arling could not speak. She shrank back inside herself. She shook her head no.

–Hold out your hands–

The command was spoken again, and this time the words touched something inside Arling that she found she could not turn away from or ignore. Still riddled with pain and fear, she did as she was asked, whispering to herself as she did so, No, no, no.

She felt the tree stirring, sensed a gathering of its limbs. She had closed her eyes, and she kept them closed against what she knew was coming. She held her hands cupped before her, trying to hold them steady, trying to keep herself strong. It was surreal and terrifying, a contradiction of what she knew she must not allow and what she also knew she must accept.

She felt a weight settle into her hands—smooth and round and warm. She knew without looking what it was, and when a moment later she opened her eyes, she found a small, silvery egg-shaped sphere resting in her hands.

The tree’s branches drew back, and the Ellcrys went motionless and silent in the darkness and did not speak or move again.





16





In that same darkness, in Arishaig, the assassin Stoon slipped down mostly empty streets and alleyways, avoiding the drunks and homeless that huddled in the shadows and staying clear of the voices that whispered now and then from doorways and alcoves where men like himself carried on their business. He was wrapped in his cloak and hooded against the possibility of being recognized, and his tall, lean frame gave him a sinister appearance to the one or two who caught sight of him on his way to his meeting with Edinja, causing them to move quickly away.

Why she had decided on a meeting at this time of night was troubling. Why she had asked that it be conducted at her home rather than in the quarters of the Prime Minister was equally so. She had invited him there only once before, when Drust Chazhul was newly dead and she was still in hiding. But since then, all of their meetings had taken place in the bedchamber of her official living quarters, and he had come and gone through the secret passageways he had used when in service to the unfortunate Drust.