Terry Brooks - Shannara 2 Elfstones of Shannara

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warmth and solitude of their beds. But for the Chosen the

day had already begun. Their trailing

white robes billowing slightly with a rush of summer Wind,

they passed between the sentries of

the Black Watch, who stood rigid and aloof as such sen-

tries had stood for centuries gone before

the arched, wrought-iron gateway inlaid with silver scroll

and ivory chips. They passed quickly,

and only their soft voices and the crunch their sandaled

feet on the gravel pathway disturbed the

silence of the new day as they slipped into the pine-

shadowed dark beyond.

The Chosen were the caretakers of the Ellcrys, the

strange and wondrous tree that stood at

the center of the Gardens-the tree, as the legends told,

that served as protector against a

primordial evil that had very nearly destroyed the Elves

centuries ago, an evil that had been shut

away from the earth since before the dawn of the old

race of Men. In all the time that had

followed, there had been Chosen to care for the Ellcrys.

Theirs was a tradition handed down

through generations of Elves, a tradition of service that

the Elves regarded as both a coveted

honor and a solemn duty.

their way to perform a task they had performed each day

since the time of their choosing, a task

grown old and familiar-the greeting of the tree at the

first touch of sunrise.

Only Lauren, youngest of this year's Chosen, was silent.

He lagged a bit behind the others

as they walked, taking no part in their idle chatter. His

red head was bent in concentration, and

there was a deep frown on his face. So wrapped up in his

thoughts was he that he was not aware

when the noise ahead ceased, nor of the steps that fell

back beside him, until a hand touched his.arm. Then his

troubled face jerked up abruptly to find Jase regarding him.

"What's the matter, Lauren? Are you sick?" Jase asked.

Because he was a few months

older than the rest, Jase was the accepted leader of the

Chosen.

Lauren shook his head, but the frown did not leave his

face entirely "I'm all right."

"Something is bothering you. You've been brooding all

morning. Come to think of it, you

were rather quiet last night, too." Jase's hand on his

shoulder brought the younger Elf about to

face him. "Come on, out with it. Nobody expects you to

serve if you're not feeling well."

getting dark. I told myself then

that it was probably just the way the shadows lay on the

leaves. But the more I try to remember

how it looked, the more I think it really was wilt."

"There was a disconcerted muttering from the others, and

one of them spoke. "This is

Amberle's fault. I said before that something bad would

come from having a girl picked as a

Chosen."

"There were other girls among the Chosen, and nothing

happened because of it," Lauren

protested. He had always liked Amberle. She had been

easy to talk to, even if she was King

Eventine Elessedil's granddaughter.

"Not for five hundred years, Lauren," the other said.

"All right, that's enough," Jase interrupted. "We agreed

not to talk about Amberle. You

know that." He stood silently for a moment, pondering

what Lauren had said. Then he shrugged.

"It would be unfortunate if anything happened to the tree,

especially while she was under our

care. But after all, nothing lasts forever."

Lauren was shocked. "But Jase, when the tree weakens,

the Forbidding will end and the

Demons within will be freed..."

Chosen were never asked

anything. They were simply brought before the tree-young

Eves who had crossed over into

manhood and womanhood in the prior year. At the dawn of

the new year, they gathered to pass

beneath her limbs, each pausing momentarily for accep-

tance. Those the tree touched upon the

shoulders became the new Chosen, to serve until the year

was done. Lauren could still remember

the mix of ecstasy and pride he had felt at the moment a

slender branch had bent to touch him

and he'd heard her speak his name.

And he remembered, too, the astonishment of all when

Amberle had been called...

"It's just a tale to frighten children," Jase was saying

"The real function of the Ellcrys is to

serve as a reminder to the Elven people that they, like

her, survive despite all the changes that

have taken place in the history of the Four Lands. She is

a symbol of our people's strength,

Lauren-nothing more."

He motioned for them all to resume their walk into the

Gardens and turned away. Lauren

lapsed back into thought. The older Elf's casual disregard

for the legend of the tree disturbed him..Of course Jase

It had all taken place long ago, before the birth of the

new world. There had been a great

war between good and evil-a war that the Elves had fi-

nally won by creating the Ellcrys and a

Forbidding that had banished the evil Demons into a time-

less dark. And so long as the Ellcrys

was kept well, so long would the evil be locked from the

land.

So long as the Ellcrys was kept well...

He shook his head doubtfully. Maybe the wilt was but a

trick of his imagination. Or a

trick of the light. And if not, they would simply have to

find a cure. There was always a cure.

Moments later, he stood with the others before the tree.

Hesitantly, he looked up, then

sighed in relief. It appeared as if the Ellcrys was un-

changed. Perfectly formed, her silver-white

trunk arched skyward in a symmetrically balanced network

of tapered limbs clustered with broad,

five-cornered leaves that were blood-red in color. At her

base, strips of green moss grew in

patchwork runners through the cracks and crevices of the

smooth-skinned bark, like emerald

streams flowing down a mountain hillside. There were no

splits to mar the trunk's even lines, no

Lauren stammered his surprised thanks. Jase was giving up

his turn for the most special

of tasks, obviously in an effort to cheer him.

He stepped forward under the spreading branches to lay

his hands upon the

smooth-skinned trunk, the others gathering about a few

paces back to recite the morning greeting.

He glanced upward expectantly, searching for the first

beam of sunlight that would fall upon her

form.

Then abruptly he drew back. The leaves directly above

him were dark with patches of

wilt. His heart fell. There was spotting elsewhere as well,

scattered throughout the tree. It was not

a trick of light and shadow. It was real.

He motioned frantically for Jase, then pointed as the

other came forward. As was their

custom at this time, they did not speak, but Jase gasped

as he saw the extent of the damage

already done. Slowly the two walked around the tree,

discovering spots everywhere, some, barely

visible, others already darkening the leaves so badly that

their blood-red color seemed drained

away.

tree. Whatever else was to happen,

the Chosen must greet the Ellcrys this day as they had

greeted her each day since the beginning of

their Order.

He placed his hands gently on the silver bark and the

words of greeting were forming on

his lips when a slender branch from the ancient tree

dipped slightly to brush his shoulder..-Lauren-The

young Elf jumped at the sound of his name. But no one

had spoken. The sound had

been in his mind, the voice little more than an image of

his own face.

It was the Ellcrys!

He caught his breath, twisting his head to glimpse briefly

the branch that rested on his

shoulder before turning quickly back again. Confusion

swept through him. Only once before had

she spoken to him-on the day of his choosing. She had

spoken his name then; she had spoken all

their names. It had been the last time. She had never

spoken to any of them after that.

Never-except to Amberle, of course, and Amberle was no

longer one of them.

He looked hurriedly at the others. They were staring at

him, curious as to why he had

silver-limbed tree. Branches lowered to clasp each, and

the voice of the Ellcrys whispered softly.

-Hear me. Remember what I tell you. Do not fail me-A

chill swept over them, and the Gardens of Life were

shrouded in deep, hollow silence,

as if in all the world only they were alive. Images filled

their minds, flowing one after the other in

rapid succession. There was horror contained in those im-

ages. Had they been able, the Chosen

would have turned away, to flee and hide until the night-

mare that possessed them had passed and

been forgotten. But the tree held them fast, and the

images continued to flow and the horror to

mount, until they felt they could stand no more.

Then at last it was finished, and the Ellcrys was silent

once more, her limbs lifting from

their shoulders and stretching wide to catch the warmth

of the morning sun.

Lauren stood frozen, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Shattered, the six Chosen faced

one another, and in each mind the truth whispered sound-

lessly.

The legend was not legend. The legend was life. Evil did

indeed lie beyond a Forbidding

some blow that appeared to strike it. Momentarily, the

veil of blackness held firm. Then it split

wide, rent by the force from within it. Howls and shrieks

of glee spilled forth from the

impenetrable blackness beyond, as dozens of clawed limbs

ripped and tore at the sudden breach,

straining toward the light. Then red fire exploded all

about and the hands fell away, twisted and

burned.

The Dagda Mor appeared out of the dark, hissing with

rage. His Staff of Power steamed

hotly as he brushed aside the impatient ones and stepped

boldly through the opening. An instant

later, the dark forms of the Reaper and the Changeling

followed him. Other bodies pushed

forward in desperation, but the edges of the rent came

together quickly, closing off the blackness

and the things that lived within it. In moments, the open-

ing had disappeared entirely and the.strange trio stood

alone.

The Dagda Mor looked about warily. They stood in the

shadow of the Breakline, the

dawn which had already shattered the peace of the Cho-

sen little more than a faint light in the

broke the stillness of the morning air.

The Dagda Mor smiled, his hooked teeth gleaming. His

coming had gone unnoticed.

After all these years, he was free. He was loose once

more among those who had imprisoned

him.

At a distance, he might have passed for one of them. He

was basically manlike in

appearance. He walked upright on two legs, and his arms

were only slightly longer than those of

a man. He carried himself stooped over, his movements

hampered by a peculiar hunching

motion-but the dark robes that cloaked him made it dif-

ficult to tell the cause. It was only when

close that one could see clearly the massive hump that

crooked his spine almost double at the

shoulders. Or the great tufts of greenish hair that pro-

truded from all parts of his body like patches

of saw grass. Or the scales that coated his forearms and

lower legs. Or the hands and feet that

ended in claws. Or the vaguely catlike muzzle that was his

face. Or the eyes, black and shining,

deceptively placid on their surface, like twin pools of wa-

ter that hid something evil and

destructive.

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Terry Brooks - Shannara 2 Elfstones of Shannara

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