The Sword of Shannara Trilogy (146 page)

The Elf shook his head. “There is nowhere else. Let it alone, Eretria.”

For an instant, the Rover girl’s entire body seemed to go taut, her dark face flushing with emotions that struggled to break free. Yet she held them carefully in check, rising to her feet and staring down at him coldly.

“You are a fool,” she announced, and stalked away into the dark.

Hebel watched the young man, saw his eyes follow after Eretria as she went from them. The Elven girl did not look, her strange green eyes introspective and all but lost in the shadow of her long hair as it fell forward about her child’s face.

“Is this root so important?” the old man asked wonderingly, not just to the young man, but to the girl as well. “Can it not be found another place?”

“Let them be.” Cephelo spoke up suddenly, his dark eyes slipping from face to face. “The decision is theirs to make and they have made it.”

Hebel frowned. “So quick to send them to their deaths, Rover? What
then of this reward of which the Elfling speaks?”

Cephelo laughed. “Rewards are given and taken away by the whims of fortune, old man. Where one is lost, another is gained. The Elfling must do what he chooses, he and his sister. We have no right to pass judgment.”

“We have to go.” The Elven girl spoke softly, for the first time since they had been seated, looking deep into the old man’s eyes.

“Well, then.” Cephelo rose. “Enough said of the matter. The evening is not yet done and there is good Rover ale to be drunk. Share it with me, friends. We shall talk of the times that have been, rather than guess at what might yet be. Hebel, you shall hear what those fools that people Grimpen Ward have done of late—madness the like of which only men such as you and I can truly appreciate.”

He called sharply to the old woman, who scurried to his side with a flask of ale. Several more of the Rovers drifted over to join them, and Cephelo poured freely from the flask into the cups of all. Laughing and joking, he began a series of wild-eyed stories of places he had probably never been and people he had certainly never met. Bold and easy was the Rover, his talk filling the night with the laughter of his people and the clink of their glasses raised in salute. Hebel listened with distrust. Cephelo had been too quick to disparage his warning to the Elflings and to disdain interest in the supposed reward that would come, it seemed, only if the young Elf found the medicine he sought and returned again. Too quick by far, he thought—for the Rover knew as well as he that no one had ever returned from the Hollows.

He rocked slowly in his cane-backed chair, one hand dropping idly to find Drifter’s shaggy head. What more warning could he give this Elf, he wondered? What could he say that he had not already said to discourage his foolishness? Perhaps nothing; the lad seemed determined that he must go.

He wondered then if the Elfling would meet Mallenroh as he had done so many years ago; thinking that he might, he envied him.

   It was a short time later when Wil Ohmsford rose from the company of revelers and walked to the well that sat just back of the old man’s hut. Amberle already slept, wrapped in blankets close to the fire, exhausted, it seemed, from the day’s journey and the events leading up to it. He also was experiencing an unusual drowsiness, though he had drunk little of the Rover ale. The cold water might help, he thought, and a good night’s sleep after. He had just taken a long drink from a metal cup hooked to the well-bucket’s chain when Eretria stepped from the shadows to stand before him.

“I do not understand you, Healer,” she said bluntly. He replaced the cup within the bucket and seated himself on the stone wall of the well. This was Eretria’s first appearance since she had called him a fool in front of the others.

“I went to a considerable amount of trouble to save your life back in Grimpen Ward,” she continued. “It was not easy persuading Cephelo that he should allow me to help you—not easy at all. Now it seems that my efforts were wasted. I might as well have let those cutthroats have you, you and this Elven girl you pretend is your sister. Despite the warnings you have been given, you insist on going into the Hollows. I want to know why. Has Cephelo anything to do with this? I don’t know what bargain you struck with him, but nothing he promised—even if he were of a mind to deliver, which I doubt he is—would be worth the risk that you take.”

“Cephelo has nothing to do with it,” Wil replied quietly.

“If he has threatened you in any way, I would stand with you against him,” the girl declared firmly. “I would help you.”

“I know that. But Cephelo has no part in the decision.”

“Then why? Why must you do this?”

The Valeman looked down. “The medicine that is needed for …”

“Don’t lie to me!” Eretria dropped next to him on the well wall, her dark face angry. “Cephelo may believe that nonsense about roots and medicines, but he reads only the truth of your words, Healer, and not the truth of your eyes. You may disguise the first, but never the second. This girl is not your sister; she is your charge, a responsibility that you clearly hold dear. It is not roots and medicines you seek, but something more. What is it then that lies within the Hollows?”

Wil looked up slowly to meet her gaze and hold it. For a long moment he stared at her without replying. She reached out impulsively, her hands grasping his.

“I would never betray you. Never.”

He smiled faintly. “Perhaps that is the one thing about which I am certain, Eretria. I will tell you this. There is a danger that threatens this land—that threatens all the Lands. The thing that will protect against it can be found only in Safehold. Amberle and I have been sent to find it.”

The Rover girl’s eyes were filled with fire. “Then let me go with you. Take me with you now as you should have taken me before.”

Wil sighed. “How can I do that? You have just finished telling me that I am a fool for insisting on going into the Hollows. Now you would have me treat you as a fool as well. No. Your place is with your people—at least for now. Better that you continue east, far from the Westland and what may come.”

“Healer, I am to be sold by that devil who masquerades to my father the moment we reach the larger Southland cities!” Her voice was hard, brittle. “Am I to see myself as better off with that fate than any that you might encounter? Take me with you!”

“Eretria …”

“Hear me out! I know something of this country for the Rovers have traveled it since the time of my birth. I may know something that could help you. If not, at least I will be no hindrance to you. I can take care of myself—better than your Elven girl. I ask nothing of you, Healer, that you would not ask of me were our positions reversed. You must let me come!”

“Eretria, even if I were to agree to this, Cephelo would never let you go.”

“Cephelo would not know until it was too late to do anything about it.” Her voice was quick and excited. “Take me with you, Healer. Say yes to me.”

He almost did. She was so wonderfully beautiful that it would have been hard to refuse her anything under normal circumstances. But now, seated next to him, her eyes bright with anticipation, there was a desperation in her words that moved him. She was frightened of Cephelo and what he would do with her. She would not beg, the Valeman knew, but she would come as close to that as possible if it would persuade him to help her get free.

But the Hollows were death, the old man had said. No one went into the Hollows. It would be difficult enough looking after Amberle; and despite what Eretria had said about taking care of herself, Wil knew that, if she were permitted to come with them, he would worry for her just as he worried for the Elven girl.

He shook his head slowly. “I can’t, Eretria. I can’t.”

There was a long moment of silence as she stared at him, disbelief and anger shading her eyes, the excitement and expectation fading. Slowly she rose.

“Though I have saved your life, you will not save mine. Very well.” She stepped back from him, tears streaking her face. “Twice you have spurned me, Wil Ohmsford. You will not get the chance to do so again.”

She wheeled and started away, only to stop again a dozen paces on.

“There will come a time, Healer, I promise you, when you will wish that you had not been so quick to refuse me aid.”

Then she was gone, lost in the night shadows as the Valeman stared after her. He remained where he was for a time, wishing desperately that things might be different than they were, wishing that there were some sensible way that he might give to her the help she needed.

Then at last he rose, the drowsiness growing, and stumbled off to sleep.

D
awn broke gray and sullen over the Wilderun, draping the forestland in shadows that spread like bloodstains across the dark earth. Clouds masked the morning sky, hanging still and deep over the valley, and an expectant hush filled the air, warning of the approach of a summer storm. Atop the ridge line, Cephelo and his small band began their descent out of the hills, following the trail that would take them back down to the main roadway and a continuation of their journey toward the Hollows. The Rovers went from Hebel’s camp as they had come, like shadows strayed, the horsemen leading the single wagon that bore Wil and Amberle, hands raised in brief farewell to the old man who stood wordlessly before the little hut and watched them depart. Slowly they passed into the gloom of the forest, massive trees wrapping close about them until all but the faintest streamers of light were shut away and there was nothing but the roadway, narrow and rutted and dark, burrowing down into the depths of the valley.

By midmorning they had reached the main road again and turned east. Mist began to gather on the valley floor, sifting through the trees as the day grew hot and the cool of the night turned to steam. Wil and Amberle rode in silence with the old woman, thinking of what lay ahead. There had been no further conversations with Hebel, for they had slept soundly that night and with their awakening, Cephelo had made certain that the old man had kept his distance from them. Now they found themselves wondering what more he might have told them had he been given the chance. As they pondered this, Cephelo rode back to speak with them, yet the smile and the conversation seemed forced and lacking any real purpose. He appeared several times more during the course of the morning and each time it was the same. It was almost as if he were looking for something, yet neither Valeman nor Elven girl had the slightest idea what it was that he might be seeking. Eretria stayed away from them entirely, and while Amberle was mystified as to the Rover girl’s sudden change in behavior, Wil understood it all too well.

It was nearing midday when Cephelo signaled a halt at a narrow crossroads somewhere deep within the forest. In the distance, thunder rumbled ominously and the wind blew in sudden gusts that shook the trees and scattered leaves and dust. Cephelo rode back to the wagon and stopped beside Wil.

“This is where we part company, Healer,” he announced. He pointed to the crossroads. “Your way lies south, down the smaller road. The path is dear—simply stay on it. You should reach the rim of the Hollows before nightfall.”

Wil started to speak, and the Rover quickly held up his hand. “Before you say anything, let me advise you not to ask that I go with you. That was not our bargain, and I have other obligations that I intend to satisfy.”

“I was about to ask you if we might have some provisions to take with us,” Wil informed him coolly. The Rover shrugged. “Enough for a day or two, no more.”

He nodded to the old woman, who stepped back through the door of the wagon. Wil watched the Rover shift uneasily in his saddle. Something was bothering Cephelo.

“How will I find you to pay you your share of the reward?” he asked suddenly.

“Reward? Oh, yes.” Cephelo seemed to have forgotten it momentarily. “Well, as I said before, I will know when you have been paid. I will seek you out, Healer.”

The Valeman nodded, rose, and stepped down from the wagon, then turned back to help Amberle. He glanced at her briefly as he lifted her down. She did not feel any easier about the Rover’s behavior than he did. He turned back to Cephelo.

“Could you give us a horse? One would …”

Cephelo cut him short. “There are no horses to be spared. Now I think you should be going. There is a storm coming.”

The old woman reappeared and handed Wil a small sack. The Valeman slung it over one shoulder and thanked her. Then he glanced up at the Rover once more.

“A safe journey, Cephelo.”

The big man nodded. “And a quick one to you, Healer. Farewell.”

Wil took Amberle’s arm and led her through the gathering of horsemen to the crossroads. Eretria sat astride her bay, black hair blowing wildly as the wind swirled past her. When the Valeman reached her side, he stopped momentarily and extended his hand.

“Good-bye, Eretria.”

She nodded, her dark face expressionless, cold, and beautiful. Then without a word, she rode back to join Cephelo. The Valeman stared after her a moment, but she did not look at him again. He turned to the pathway leading south. Dirt blew into his eyes, and he shielded them with his hand, squinting into the gloom. With Amberle beside him, he started ahead.