Terry Brooks - The Wishsong of Shannara

With that, Allanon had disappeared somewhere and there was no further opportunity to argue the matter with him. Rone thought the sun rose and set on Brin, so naturally he would not go against her wishes on this, and Brin had already made up her mind. So that was that. Part of the problem with his sister, of course, was that she didn’t understand him. In fact, Jair was not altogether certain that she really understood herself a good deal of the time. At one point during their preparations, with Allanon still gone and Rone still down in the village, he had brought up the subject of the Elfstones.

«Brin.» They were packing blankets on the floor of the front room, wrapping them in oilskins. «Brin I know where father hides the Elfstones.»

She had looked up at once. «I thought that you probably did.»

«Well, he made such a big secret of it…»

«And you don’t like secrets, do you? Have you had them out?»

«Just to look at,” he admitted, then leaned forward. «Brin, I think you should take the Elfstones with you.»

«Whatever for?» There was a touch of anger in her voice then.

«For protection. For the magic.»

«The magic? No one can use their magic but father, as you well know.»

«Well, maybe…»

«Besides, you know how he feels about the Elfstones. It’s bad enough that I have to make this journey at all, but to take the Elfstones as well? You’re not thinking very clearly about this, Jair.»

Then Jair had gotten angry. «You’re the one who’s not thinking clearly. We both know how dangerous it’s going to be for you. You’re going to need all the help you can get. The Elfstones could be a lot of help — all you need to do is to figure out how to make them work. You might be able to do that.»

«No one but the rightful holder can…»

«Make the Stones work?» He had been almost nose to nose with her then. «But maybe that’s not so with you and me, Brin. After all, we already have the Elven magic inside us. We have the wishsong. Maybe we could make the Stones work for us!»

There had been a long, intense moment of silence. «No,” she said at last. «No, we promised father we would never try to use the Elfstones…»

«He also made us promise not to use the Elven magic, remember? But we do — even you, now and then. And isn’t that what Allanon wants you to do when you reach the Mord Wraiths’ keep? Isn’t it? So what’s the difference between using the wishsong and the Elfstones? Elven magic is Elven magic!»

Brin had stared at him silently, a distant, lost look in her dark eyes. Then she had turned again to the blankets. «It doesn’t matter. I’m not taking the Elfstones. Here, help me tie these.»

And that had been that, just like the subject of his going with them into the Eastland. No real explanation had been offered; she had simply made up her mind that she would not take the Elfstones, whether she could use them or not. He didn’t understand it at all. He didn’t understand her. If it had been him, he would have taken the Elfstones in a moment. He would have taken them and found a way to use them, because they were a powerful weapon against the dark magic. But Brin… Brin couldn’t even seem to see the inconsistency of her agreeing to use the magic of the wishsong and refusing to use the magic of the Stones.

He went through the remainder of the morning trying to make some sense of his sister’s reasoning or lack thereof. The hours slipped quickly past. Rone returned with horses and supplies, packs were loaded, and a hasty lunch consumed in the cool shade of the backyard oaks. Then all at once Allanon was standing there again, as black in midday as at darkest night, waiting with the patience of Lady Death, and suddenly there was no time left. Rone was shaking Jair’s hand, clapping him roughly on the back, and extracting a firm promise that he would look out for his patents when they returned. Then Brin was there, arms coming tightly about him and holding him close.

«Good–bye, Jair,” she whispered. «Remember — I love you.»

«I love you, too,” he managed ands hugged her back.

A moment later, they were mounted, and the horses turned down the dirt roadway. Arms lifted in farewell, waving as he waved back. Jair waited until they were out of sight before he brushed an unwanted tear from his eye.

That same afternoon, he moved down to the inn. He did so because of the possibility voiced by Allanon that the Wraiths or their Gnome allies might already be searching for the Druid in the lands west of the Silver River. If their enemies reached Shady Vale, the Ohmsford home would be the first place they would look. Besides, it was much more interesting at the inn — its rooms filled with travelers from all the lands, each with a different tale to tell, each with some different piece of news to share. Jair much preferred the excitement of tales told over a glass of ale in the tavern hall to the boredom of an empty house.

As he went to the inn with a few personal items in tow, the warmth of the afternoon sun on his face eased a bit the disappointment he still felt at being left behind. Admittedly, there was good reason for. his staying. Someone had to explain to his parents when they returned what had become of Brin. That would not be easy. He visualized momentarily his father’s face upon hearing what had happened and shook his head ruefully. His father would not be happy. In fact, he would probably insist on going after Brin — maybe even with the Elfstones.

A sudden look of determination creased his face. If that happened, he was going as well. He wouldn’t be left behind a second time.

He kicked at the leaves fallen across the pathway before him, scattering them in a shower of color. His father wouldn’t see it that way, of course. Nor his mother, for that matter. But he had two whole weeks to figure out how to persuade them that he should go.

He walked on, a bit more slowly now, letting the thought linger in his mind enticingly. Then he brushed it away. What he was supposed to do was to tell them what had happened to Brin and Rone and then accompany them into Leah, where they were all to remain under the protection of Rone’s father until the quest was finished. That was what he was supposed to do, so that was what he would do. Of course, Wil Ohmsford might not choose to go along with this plan. And Jair was first and foremost his father’s son, so it was to be expected that he might have a few ideas of his own.

He grinned and quickened his step. He would have to work on that.

The day came and went. Jair Ohmsford ate dinner at the inn with the family that managed the business for his parents, offered to lend a hand the following morning with the day’s work, and then drifted into the lounge to listen to the tales being told by the drummers and wayfarers passing through the Vale. More than one made mention of the black walkers, the dark–robed Mord Wraiths that none had seen but all knew to be real, the evil ones that could burn the life from you with just a glance. Come from the earth’s dark, the voices warned in rough whispers, heads nodding all around in agreement. Better that you never encountered such as they. Even Jair found himself feeling a bit uneasy at the prospect.

He stayed with the storytellers until after midnight, then went to his room. He slept soundly, woke at daybreak and spent the morning working about the inn. He no longer felt quite so bad about being left behind. After all, his own part in all of this was important, too. If the Mord Wraiths did indeed know of the magic Elfstones and came looking for the holder, then Wil Ohmsford was in as much danger as his daughter — possibly more so. It was up to Jair, then, to keep a sharp eye open, in order that no harm befell his father before he could be properly warned.