Terry Brooks - The Gypsy Morph

What did that mean?

He watched Owl while she finished putting away their dishes and supplies with help from River and

Sparrow and then as she gathered the Ghosts around her and read them a story. He sat back in the shadows, listening to the sound of her voice in the darkness.

When she was done and the kids were drifting off to sleep, he walked over to where she was sitting in her wheelchair and knelt down beside her. “I enjoyed that,” he said.

“That story?” She laughed softly. “Everyone likes being read to. Reading and storytelling before bed has become a tradition with this family.”

“It’s a good one to have.” He looked off into the darkness. “I was talking with Candle earlier, and it got me to thinking. You told me she senses trouble, danger. She has a gift. But she hasn’t used it the whole time I’ve been with you. Not even when we walked into that trap set by Krilka Koos. What do you make of that?”

Owl shook her head. Her brow furrowed and her plain, warm features tightened. “I don’t know. She’s always had the gift. This is the first time it hasn’t worked for her. Maybe it has something to do with you being here to help us. Maybe she thought that was enough and wasn’t paying attention.”

“Maybe.” He hesitated. “I was thinking it might have something to do with Hawk.”

“Why Hawk?”

“Because he wasn’t with us. Hasn’t been since we left Seattle. Maybe she can’t use her gift if he isn’t present. Maybe it doesn’t work then.”

“But that doesn’t make sense. It was working before she ever came to us.” Owl studied him intently. “Unless something has changed.”

They looked at each other without speaking for a moment, each waiting for the other to provide the answer to the riddle.

“Maybe you could ask her,” Logan suggested.

“She doesn’t like talking about it. In fact, she never talks about it anymore. I don’t know. I think we have to let it be.”

“We can’t rely on her then. We can’t risk it.” He held her gaze. “Sooner or later, someone is going to ask her if she senses anything. What happens then? We won’t be able to trust what she tells us if we don’t know the truth.”

Owl didn’t answer, her eyes troubled. “I’ll see what I can do,” she told him finally.

After she was gone, he walked over to the AV, retrieved a blanket from the storage compartment, and stretched out on a patch of dry earth. Slipping off his boots, he rolled himself into the blanket and lay back, staring up at the stars. He thought about what he had asked Owl to do. It amounted to asking her to question the value of one of her children. Who was he to ask that of her? He was less trustworthy and dependable than they were.

What right did he have to question anyone else?

He pictured Candle’s young face, and he wished suddenly that he could take back what he had said to Owl. But words spoken can never be taken back. They can only be measured for and judged on the strength of their sincerity and need.

Because here there were lives at stake, perhaps that would be enough.

Logan tom.

He wakes on hearing his name spoken, but when he rises he cannot find the speaker. The night is deep and still, the darkness complete. There is no moon. The stars seem diminished and faint; they seem much farther away than they should, tiny and unreachable. He feels isolated by their distance, a feeling he cannot trace the source of. His lack of understanding disappears when he realizes that he is alone. The Ghosts are gone. The AV and the hay wagon are gone. The camp and its meager supplies are all gone.

He looks around, taking in his surroundings. He is on a barren plain, a flatland stripped of anything even remotely suggesting life. No trees, scrub, brush, animals, insects, or birds. No sounds. No movement. Dirt and rocks and the vast, broad ocean of the night sky–that’s all there is. Nothing looks familiar. This is not where he went to sleep. Somehow he has awakened in a different place. He does not think he has come to this place of his own accord. He has been brought here, and his companions have allowed it to happen. He does not like to think that he has been abandoned, but he feels as if he has.

“Logan Tom.”

This time there is no mistake. The voice is high and sweet and clear, and he recognizes it at once. It is the Lady who speaks. He stands where he is, unmoving, searching for her in the dark. It seems impossible that she is there; he can see for miles and miles in all directions, the land flat and bare and empty, and there is no one. Nevertheless, he knows she will appear. She always does. He must be patient until she shows herself, allowing her space and time to do so.

The seconds tick away. She does not come. She does not speak. He is still alone, and he grows anxious.

Then all at once she appears right in front of him, a vision of white in the darkness. She hovers in the air, her feet not touching the earth, her gown trailing out behind her like white smoke. Her face radiates peace and comfort, and it brings him instantly to tears. He tries to move closer to her, but he cannot make his legs obey.

“Lady,” he whispers.

“You are needed elsewhere, Logan Tom,” she responds softly. “Your skills and talent and experience are required by others. Even though you are responsible for the safety of the gypsy morph, you must leave him now and travel south to the city of the Elves.”

Elves, he thinks in disbelief. She said, Elves.

“They are threatened by the one you seek, the one promised to you if you complete your charge. Demons and once–men close in on them, and if you do not reach them in time, they will disappear from the earth. The future we seek to preserve will not come to pass.”

He says nothing, taking it all in and thinking how crazy it sounds.

Elves.

“Another Knight of the Word has helped secure a talisman for the Elves, but she is injured and cannot aid them further. So it is given to you to go in her place. The talisman must be put to use and those who use it protected and guided to where the boy who will lead you all will be waiting to take you to the safehold. To the old man of whom the boy has spoken. To the King of the Silver River."

Logan has no idea what talisman she is talking about. But he knows there is no point in asking for explanations. “How am I to find the Elves?" he asks instead.

“Trim will guide you." Her slender arm lifts and points into the distance. “Go south. He will meet you on the road. Go afoot. Go alone."

“Trim?" he repeats.

“He is small but very durable. Trust in him to lead you."

He wants to know more. “Who am I looking for among the Elves? Is it someone in particular? Who possesses this talisman?"

Her smile dazzles him. “You will know when you have found who you are looking for. You will know it in your heart."

Another enigmatic answer, but one that she seems to feel says everything. He shakes his head. “What of these children I am leaving? Who will protect them?"

“As before, Logan Tom, they will protect themselves."

She is shimmering now, a sign that she is getting ready to leave him. He wants to hold her back, to preserve the feeling of comfort and peace he always finds in her presence. But he knows he can do nothing to stay her, that he has no hold on her. He watches her begin to fade.

“Brave Knight," she whispers to him.

He cannot speak. Then she is gone, and he is alone again, emptied out inside, bereft of something important. He clenches his fists and teeth and by doing so manages to keep himselffrom crying out his dismay.

The SUN HAD barely risen, its golden orb hazy behind a screen of pollution and dust at the crest of the mountains east. Owl stared into the murky film and thought about what lay ahead. “Are you certain about this?” she asked him again.