Bloodfire Quest (The Dark Legacy of Shannara, #2)(98)
He turned and found an old man standing behind him, a white-bearded ancient cloaked in robes that were worn and ragged, his tall, lean body stooped with age and perhaps the weight of something much greater, something that was reflected in his eyes as he studied the boy with an intense but not unfriendly gaze.
“How do you know about Grianne Ohmsford?” Railing asked, finding that his voice was now returned to him.
The old man made a dismissive gesture. “Oh, I know quite a lot about most things. It is my business to know.”
Railing shook his head. “I have the strangest feeling I should know you.”
“Or at least know of me.”
“You have use of magic, don’t you? Are you a Faerie creature?”
“I am. I was well known to others in your family. I have helped them now and then over the years by offering respite from weariness and stress and advice about how to continue. Sometimes they took both and sometimes they took only one and sometimes they did not take either. Once or twice, I gave them talismans. Like this one.”
He held out his hand, his fingers closed about whatever lay within. Railing hesitated. “Take it,” the old man said. “Would you reject a gift from the King of the Silver River?”
Railing stared in surprise, then quickly extended his hand. The old man dropped a ring into it. The ring had a very odd look to it. The band was formed of a series of gold strands that had been interwoven in an intricate, delicate design. There were perhaps a dozen threads in all. At the apex a single gemstone, milky white and opaque, had been fastened in place. Railing had never seen anything like it. He tested the strength of the woven strands to see how much give there was to the metal and found to his surprise that there was scarcely any. The metal felt hard and fixed.
“Slip it on your finger,” the King of the Silver River suggested. “Go on, it will not harm you.”
Railing did as he was told. The ring fit perfectly, the metal suddenly soft and malleable, molding itself to his finger as if it were a living thing. The boy studied it a moment, admiring its look, and then tried pulling on it. It came off without difficulty and turned rigid and unyielding again.
The old man nodded. “It belongs to you now and will serve only you. Should another try it on, it will not respond.”
“What does it do?” Railing asked. He was still trying to get used to the idea that this was the legendary Faerie creature who had appeared to members of the Ohmsford family at various times over the centuries, always with a willingness to help when their lives seemed darkest and their need greatest.
“It does what you need it to do when you cannot find your way.” The King of the Silver River smiled. “That’s what I have come to talk to you about. Finding your way.”
“Can you help me find Grianne Ohmsford?” the boy asked excitedly. “Can you tell me where she is?”
The old man shook his head. “I am not here for that. The ring can show you the way once you know what you are looking for. I am here to talk to you about what you should be looking for. I know the quest you undertake, and I know the reasons for it. I have listened to your conversations on both sides of the Rainbow Lake and seen the writings you have uncovered. I know your heart. I can feel your passion. But you travel down a road that may lead to your ruin.”
Railing started to ask for an explanation, but the old man had already turned away. “Come sit with me while we talk. My bones are weary from tracking your efforts. I need to rest them.”
They sat together on the trunk of a fallen tree, looking back across the water at Quickening and the star-filled skies that silhouetted her. For a long moment, the King of the Silver River did not speak.
“This is going to be difficult for you to hear, Railing Ohmsford—and even more difficult for you to believe. Perhaps you won’t heed me. Perhaps you will dismiss me out of hand. But at least I will have spoken the words and you will have had a chance to assess their worth. And perhaps, if you allow yourself to do so, you will take them to heart and weigh them carefully. If not now, then at another time in the not-too-distant future, before it is too late.”
“What is it?” the boy asked him. “What would you tell me?”
“You search for Grianne Ohmsford, Ard Rhys of the Third Druid Order. You believe that by finding her, you will find, as well, a way in which to bring your brother back to you. But you should understand that what you seek is not necessarily what you will find.”
The old man folded his hands in his lap. “The Grianne Ohmsford you seek is lost to you. She has been gone for a hundred years, since she gave herself to the tanequil in exchange for the girl who became your grandmother. What’s been gone for so long cannot be brought back. Not as it once was. Not whole and complete again, perhaps not even alive. Understand, Railing. She is transformed. She became another creature entirely by choosing to live as an aeriad. She cannot take that back, and you cannot expect to find a way to make her.”
“I can try,” Railing interrupted, upset by now with how the conversation was going. “Grianne switched places with Cinnaminson. Why can’t it happen that someone switches places with her?”
The King of the Silver River nodded. “It would seem that such a thing would be possible. But the switch between Grianne and your grandmother happened only weeks after your grandmother gave herself to the tanequil. Only weeks, Railing. Not more than a hundred years. You can expect things to stay pretty much the same in weeks, but not after a century has passed.”