Terry Brooks - The Elves of Cintra

"For myself and my family. Not for thousands of people I don't even know!"

The old man studied him. "Why is it any more difficult to believe in the one as opposed to the other? Is it really so odd to think that you will guide thousands as opposed to a handful? The dangers are the same, the journey the same, the destination the same. It is said that there is safety in numbers. Perhaps that will serve to ease your efforts. You will not be so alone."

"But I will have responsibility for so many!"

"Ask yourself this: what would their chances be without you? If you believe what you have been told, you know what is going to happen. The old world is ending and must start anew. Most will not live to see that happen. But there will be survivors, and some of those will go with you."

Hawk shook his head and closed his eyes against what he was feel–ing. "Go with me where?"

"To where I will be waiting."

The boy's eyes snapped open "What? Here, in these gardens? I'm to bring them all here?"

The ancient face did not change expression, nor the eyes leave Hawk's. "You are to come in search of me, and you are to find me. You will know how to do this. You will bring those you lead with you."

Hawk stared at him. "Well, why don't you just do all this yourself? Why do you need me?"

"I wish it were that easy. But my powers are finite. It is not so diffi–cult to bring one or two, as I did with you and the young girl. It is im–measurably harder to bring hundreds, impossible to bring thousands. They must journey on foot. They must be led. It is given to you to lead them."

"Why didn't you start all this sooner? Before everything was destroyed! You could have saved so many more'. Look how many are al–ready dead!"

The King of the Silver River watched him carefully, and then shook his head. "You already know the answer to that question. Don't you?"

Hawk hesitated. "Because you couldn't bring them until it was cer–tain that the world was going to end. You had to know for sure. When you knew, was that when you sent me back into the world?"

The other nodded. "That was when your destiny was determined. I placed you back in the world with the new memories I had given you and let you build your life while I waited for the time when it would become necessary to bring you here once more and tell you every–thing. Had your life not been in such danger, I would have left you there longer before speaking with you as I am now. But that wasn't possible."

Hawk put his hands on his knees, his back straight and his head lifted as he looked out into the gardens and thought about what lay ahead. But it was what was hidden in his past that troubled him most, the memories that had been taken from him. He wanted those memo–ries back. He wanted to know the truth about himself

"How long before I go back again?" he asked.

"Soon. A few weeks will have passed in your world, but time has lit–tle meaning here. It will seem to you as if no time at all has passed."

A few weeks. Hawk thought of the Ghosts, wondered how they were managing without him. "How will I know what to do?"

"You will know.

"How will I find my way back here? Where are we, anyway?" "Nowhere you can find on a map.

But you will find the way nevertheless. Your heart will tell you where to go."

It sounded so absurd that Hawk almost laughed, but the old man's tone of voice did not suggest that he had any doubts in the matter. Hawk glanced at him but held his tongue.

"You have doubts?"

"Your faith in me is stronger than my own," Hawk answered.

The King of the Silver River shook his head. "It might seem so, but perhaps your faith in yourself is stronger than you think."

Hawk didn't care to argue the matter. "Can I see Tessa now?"

The old man rose, his arm extending. "Down that path a short dis–tance. She is sleeping. You might want to join her."

Hawk started away, then stopped and turned. "If I do this, whoever I bring is welcome?"

The old man nodded.

"The Knight of the Word, Logan Tom, will protect me?"

"To the death."

The words hung in the air, hard and certain. Hawk understood. Logan Tom would die first, but that might not be enough to save him. He hesitated a moment, then started away again. This time, he did not look back.

THE KING OF THE SILVER RIVER watched him go. The boy would find the girl less than a hundred yards away, so deeply asleep that he could not wake her, even though he would try. Eventually, weary him–self, he would lie down beside her and fall asleep. The dog who had chosen to be the boy's companion would be next to him when he woke, and the three would be back in their own world. Their journey would begin.

It would be a journey of more complicated and far–reaching conse–quences than the boy realized.

The King of the Silver River watched him until he was almost out of sight. There was much he had not told him, much he kept secret. To tell the boy everything would have placed too great a burden on him, and he was already carrying weight enough. There was an element of chance, of fate, to everything. It was no different here. But the boy would know this instinctively and without needing to hear the details.

The boy was beyond his line of sight now, and he turned away.

"You are as much my child as you are anyone's," he said quietly. "My last, best hope."

In the golden light of the gardens, it seemed possible to believe that this would be enough.

THE HANDGUN FIRED BY the boy with the ruined face made a soft popping sound as it discharged a pair of filamentthin wires. Owl could barely make out the wires in the dark–ness, could only just see the gleam of metal threads as they connected with their target. It happened so fast that it was over almost before she knew it was happening. Her hand was still raised to stay the boy's precip–itous action. She was still saying, "No!"

Then the wires found their target, the charge exploded out of the solar pack, and it was too late.

But not for Owl. Although the charge was meant for her, fired di–rectly at her midsection, it was Squirrel who took the hit. Curled up in her lap, he provided an unintended shield against the strike. Perhaps the boy with the ruined face hadn't even seen him, his vision limited by his injuries. Perhaps he really didn't care. That he acted carelessly and out of fear and confusion was a given. That he actually understood what he was doing was less certain.

Whatever the case, the wires from the handgun struck Squirrel, and the electrical charge surged into him. Owl heard the little boy gasp sharply and felt his small body jerk. In the next instant the wires re–tracted into the barrel of the handgun, and Squirrel went limp and still.

Bear was already charging for the boy with the ruined face, roaring with rage, his heavy cudgel lifted. It was a terrible sight, for Bear was big and powerful, and when he was angry, as he was now, he looked as if he could go right through a stone wall. The boy with the stun gun wheeled toward him, trying to defend himself He had gotten close to Owl before firing his weapon because he knew it wasn't accurate be–yond twelve to fifteen feet. But getting close to Owl meant getting close to the other Ghosts, as well, and Bear was on top of him in sec–onds. The boy had just enough time to aim and fire his weapon once more. But the gun jammed, and then there was no time at all. Bear's cudgel came down with an audible whack on the boy's head, and the boy dropped like a stone, his weapon spinning away into the dark.

Bear was still roaring, looking for fresh targets, and he would have had plenty to choose from if the boy's companions had chosen to stay and fight. But when they saw their leader fall, they turned and ran as fast as they could manage, vanishing back into the tangle of abandoned vehicles, spilling down the ramp, and fleeing into the darkness until the last of them were out of sight.