Terry Brooks - The Wishsong of Shannara

Brin stared at him disbelievingly. «Then it spoke the truth when it said that it had been waiting for me — that there were bonds that joined us.»

«A twisted half–truth,” Allanon cautioned. «You had become close enough in spirit to what it sought that it could make you believe that such was so. It could convince you that you were indeed the dark child of your fears.»

«But the wishsong could have made me so…»

«The wishsong could have made you… anything.»

She hesitated. «And still can?»

«And still can. Always.»

Brin watched the robed figure move closer still to where she stood. For a moment, she thought that he might reach out to draw her to him. But, instead, the lean face lifted and looked beyond her.

«My death was foretold at the Hadeshorn. My passing from this life was assured. But with the destruction of the Ildatch, the dark magic must pass as well. The wheel of time comes around, and the age ends. My father is set free at last, gone to the rest that had been so long denied him, bound no longer to me or to his pledge to the races of the Four Lands.»

The cowled head lowered to her once more. «And now I go, also. No Druids shall come after me. But the trust that was theirs resides now with you.»

«Allanon…» she whispered; shaking her head.

«Hear me, Valegirl. The blood that I placed upon your forehead and the words I spoke at its giving have made it so. You are the bearer of the trust that was mine and my father’s before me. Do not be frightened by what that means. No harm shall befall you because of it. The last of the magic lives now within you and your brother, within the blood of your family. There it shall rest, safe and protected. It shall not be needed again in the age that is to come. The magic will have no useful place within that age. Other learning will be a better and truer guide for the races.

«But, heed. A time will come, far distant and beyond the lives of generations of Ohmsfords yet unborn, when the magic will be needed again. As with all things, time’s wheel will come around once more. Then the trust I have given you will be needed, and the children of the house of Shannara will be called upon to deliver it. For the world that will one day be, do you keep that trust safe.»

«No, Allanon, I do not want this…»

But his hand lifted sharply and silenced her. «It is done, Brin Ohmsford. As my father did with me, I have chosen you — child of my life.»

Voiceless, she stared up at him in despair.

«Do not be afraid,” he whispered.

She nodded helplessly. «I will try.»

He began to draw away from her, his dark form fading slowly as the sunlight brightened through it. «Put the magic from you, Brin. Do not use it again, for there no longer is need. Be at peace.»

«Allanon!» she cried.

He drifted back across the Chard Rush, the waters roiling gently now beneath him. «Remember me,” he said softly.

He sank downward into the river, down through the silver waters, and was gone. The Chard Rush rolled on once more.

On the shore’s edge; Brin stared out across the water. There were tears in her eyes. «I will always remember you,” she whispered.

Then she turned and walked away.

So it was that the magic faded from the Four Lands and the tales of the Druids and Paranor passed into legend. For a time, there would be many who would insist that the Druids had been formed of flesh and blood and had walked the land as mortal men and as the protectors of the races; for a brief time, there would be many who would argue that the magic had been real and that terrible struggles had been waged between good and evil sorceries. But the number of believers would dwindle as the years passed. In the end, nearly all would vanish.

On the same morning that Allanon disappeared from the world of men for the final time, the little company bade farewell to one another. Surrounded by the colors and smells of autumn, they embraced, said good–bye, and departed for their own lands.

«I will miss you, Brin Ohmsford,” Kimber announced solemnly, her pixie face determinedly resolute. «And grandfather will miss you, too, won’t you, grandfather?»

Cogline shuffled his sandaled feet uneasily and nodded without looking at the Valegirl. «Some, I guess,” he admitted grudgingly. «Won’t miss all that crying and agonizing, though. Won’t miss that. Course, we did have some fine adventures, girl — I’ll miss you for that. Spider Gnomes and the black walkers and all. Almost like the old days…»

He trailed off, and Brin smiled. «I’ll miss both of you, too. And Whisper. I owe my life as much to Whisper as to the rest of you. If he hadn’t come down into the Maelmord to find me…»

«He sensed that he was needed,” Kimber declared firmly. «He would not have disregarded your warning if he had not sensed that need. I think there is a special bond between you — a bond beyond that created by your song.»

«Don’t want you coming back again without telling me first, though,” Cogline interrupted suddenly. «Or until I invite you. You don’t come into peoples’ homes without being asked!»

«Grandfather.» Kimber sighed.

«Will you come to see me?» Brin asked her.

The girl smiled and glanced at her grandfather. «Perhaps, some day. For a time, I think I’ll stay with grandfather and Whisper at Hearthstone. I have been away long enough. I miss my home.»

Brin came to her and hugged her close. «I miss mine as well, Kimber. But we’ll meet again some day.»

«You will always be my friend, Brin.» There were tears in her eyes as she buried her face in the Valegirl’s shoulder.

«And you will be mine,” Brin whispered. «Good–bye, Kimber. Thank you.»

Rone added his good–byes to Brin’s, then walked over to stand before Whisper. The big moor cat sat back on his haunches regarding the highlander curiously, saucer blue eyes blinking.

«I was wrong about you, cat,” he offered grudgingly. He hesitated. «That probably doesn’t mean anything to you, but it means something to me. You saved my life, too.» He stood looking at the moor cat for a moment, then glanced ruefully back at the others. «I promised myself I’d say that if he brought Brin safely out of the pit; but I still feel like an idiot standing here talking with him like this, for cat’s… for…»

He trailed off. Whisper yawned sleepily and showed all of his teeth.

A dozen yards away, Jair was feeling something of an idiot himself as he faced Slanter and struggled to find expression for the jumble of emotions rushing through him.

«Look, boy.» The Gnome was gruff and impatient. «Don’t make so much work out of this. Just say it. Good–bye. Just say it.»

But Jair shook his head stubbornly. «I can’t, Slanter. It’s not enough. You and I, we’ve been together one way or another right from the first — right from the time I tricked you with the snakes and locked you in that wood bin.»

«Please don’t remind me!» the Gnome grumbled.

«We’re all that’s left, Slanter,” Jair tried to explain, folding his arms protectively across his chest. «All that way we came, you and I and the others — but they’re gone and we’re all that’s left.» He shook his head. «So much has happened, and I can’t just dismiss it with a simple ‘good–bye’.»

Slanter sighed. «It’s not as if we’ll never see each other again, boy. What’s the matter — you think I’ll end up dead, too? Well, think again! I know how to take care of myself — said so yourself once, remember? Nothing’s going to happen to me. And I’d bet a month of nights in the black pit that nothing will ever happen to you! You’re too confounded sneaky!»