Bloodfire Quest (The Dark Legacy of Shannara, #2)(64)

He did as she asked. Without hesitating, the three bounded off the tables and loped back across the room to their cages, pulling the doors closed behind them after they were inside. Edinja walked over, snapped shut the locks on the chains that secured the doors, and turned back to him.

“I need the truth behind the failed Druid expedition so that I can understand what is happening. I want you to find the girl and her companions and track them. I want you to discover what it is they seek. If it involves magic in any way, I want to know. I want both of the Elessedil sisters brought here to me. With the Elfstones.”

“Is that all?” he deadpanned.

She smiled. “You are my right hand, my steady guide, my dependable and loyal consort. I rely on you to do what is needed.”

He shrugged. “I will do my best.”

She came over to him, once again took hold of his hands and looked deep into his eyes. “I hope so. Because I will know if you don’t.”

Then she reached up and kissed him ever so gently on the mouth.





17





Aphenglow Elessedil spent the following day preparing for their departure with Cymrian and Arling. She had thought at first to send her sister off to the Gardens of Life to be with the other Chosen, giving the appearance that everything was normal, but she quickly abandoned that idea. She hadn’t forgotten that someone had been stalking her ever since the day she had uncovered Aleia Omarosian’s diary. There was no reason to believe that the danger she had faced was past or that whoever was behind it had given up. Nor was there reason to think that the danger to her hadn’t spilled over onto Arling. Whoever was behind it knew about the diary and the Elfstones; why wouldn’t they know about the Ellcrys seed, as well?

So she kept Arling close to Cymrian and herself, preparing Wend-A-Way for the upcoming flight.

It was not a difficult undertaking. It involved little more than gathering up material and weapons, supervising the loading of both onto the airship, and interviewing the crewmembers Cymrian had chosen to accompany them. At first she had resisted the idea of taking anyone else. Better to keep this among the three of them. But Cymrian was quick to point out that he and Aphen alone could not safely fly the airship. Arling lacked the proper training, and at least several others would be needed to take shifts at the helm if they were to get any sleep or if either of them became sick or injured. He was right, of course, so Aphen backed down, irritated that she had not seen this before he did.

She was also forced to reconsider using the Elfstones before they departed to get a sense of where they were going. Any use of magic would alert other magic users, and those alerted might be the very ones hunting her. She could not be sure this would happen, but there was no point in taking chances. She already knew that what they were hunting was hidden somewhere in the Wilderun. So all they needed to do was to fly there and then use the Elfstones to pinpoint their destination. By then, they would be far enough away that they wouldn’t be as likely to be identified.

An air of suspense and expectation infused her efforts during the assembling and loading of supplies and equipment. Time and fate seemed to press down on her in equal measure, urging her to move faster, to perform more quickly, to finish and be off. She worked steadily throughout the day, and more than once caught Cymrian staring at her, a mixture of surprise and disbelief reflected on his lean features.

Once, he said to her in passing, “This isn’t a race, you know.”

To which she had replied. “You’re wrong. That’s exactly what it is.”

Late in the afternoon, the ship almost ready, she told the other two that she intended to say good-bye to Ellich and Jera. She had thought at first she might forgo the visit; it might be better not to speak to anyone before leaving. But she needed to believe that someone cared enough to see her before she left.

Cymrian immediately announced that he was coming with her, but she told him that it would be better if he stayed with Arling and kept watch over her. She didn’t say so—she didn’t need to—but she was better able to protect herself, and leaving Arling alone with the Ellcrys seed was not a good idea. She promised she would be careful and, after a short visit, would come right back.

She made her way from the airfield and took the roadways that led to her aunt and uncle’s home, skirting her own cottage, where Cymrian and Arling had promised to wait for her, and her mother’s, where only disdain and disappointment could be found. She turned down smaller roads and finally pathways, and in short order she was standing at the front door, knocking hopefully.

Ellich and Jera provided the succor she needed. Warm and welcoming, they sat her down in their kitchen, fed her hot tea and muffins, and said they would miss her terribly and she must do everything she could to stay safe and well until her return. No mention was made of her sister, and Aphen could not be certain if her uncle had told his wife that Arling was going, too. So Aphen said nothing about her sister’s plans, including the fact that Arling now carried the Ellcrys seed and was entrusted with the future not only of the Elven nation but also of the other Races. It was a secret charged with dangerous possibilities, and it made Aphenglow want to bury it so deeply that it could never even be glimpsed.

Throughout their conversation, Aphen was reminded of her own carefully kept secret. The Elfstones were buried deep in a pocket of her cloak, and she found her hand straying to them frequently—an involuntary reflex generated by the need to reassure herself that they were still safely tucked away.