Brooks, Terry - Shannara 3 The Wishsong of Shannara

VIP免费

2024-12-07 0 0 806.12KB 704 页 5.9玖币

侵权投诉

there was a sense of having time enough for

anything. Though summer's warmth lingered, the

days had begun to shorten, the humid air to

dry, and the memory of life's immediacy to

reawaken. The signs of transition were all

about. In the forests of Shady Vale, the

leaves had already begun to turn.

Brin Ohmsford paused by the flowerbeds that

bordered the front walkway of her home, losing

herself momentarily in the crimson foliage of

the old maple that shaded the yard beyond. It

was a massive thing, its trunk broad and

gnarled. Brin smiled. That old tree was the

source of many childhood memories for her.

Impulsively, she stepped off the walkway and

moved over to the aged tree.

She was a tall girl-taller than her parents or

her brother Jair, nearly as tall as Rone Leah-

and although there was a delicate look to her

slim body, she was as fit as any of them. Jair

would argue the point of course, but that was

only because Jair found it hard enough as it

was to

accept his role as the youngest. A girl, after

all, was just a girl.

Her fingers touched the roughened trunk of the

maple softly, caressing, and she stared

upward into the tangle of limbs overhead.

Long, black hair fell away from her face and

there was

reprehensible misadventures-Wil Ohmsford had

remarked rather ruefully that the difference

between the two was that Jair was apt to do

anything, while Brin was also apt to do it,

but only

after thinking it through first. Brin still

wasn't sure who had come out on the short end

of that.reprimand.

Her hands slipped back to her sides. She

remembered the time she had used the wishsong

on the old tree. She had still been a child,

experimenting with the Elven magic. It had

been

midsummer and she had used the wishsong to

turn the tree's summer green to autumn

crimson; in

her child's mind, it seemed perfectly all

right to do so, since red was a far prettier

color than

green. Her father had been furious; it had

taken almost three years for the tree to come

back again

after the shock to its system. That had been

the last time either she or Jair had used the

magic

when their parents were about.

"Brin come help me with the rest of the

packing, please."

It was her mother calling. She gave the old

maple a final pat and turned toward the house.

been done. It was not Wil Ohmsford who would

manifest the change the magic had wrought; it

was his children. They were the ones who would

carry within them the visible effects of the

magic-they, and perhaps generations of

Ohmsfords to

come, although there was no way of

ascertaining yet that they would carry within

them the magic

of the wishsong.

Brin had named it the wishsong. Wish for it,

sing for it, and it was yours. That was how it

had seemed to her when she had first

discovered that she possessed the power. She

learned early

that she could affect the behavior of living

things with her song.. She could change that

old

maple's leaves. She could soothe an angry dog.

She could bring a wild bird to light on her

wrist.

She could make herself a part of any living

thing-or make it a part of her. She wasn't

sure how

she did it; it simply happened. She would

sing, the music and the words coming as they

always

did, unplanned, unrehearsed-as if it were the

most natural thing in the world. She was

always

knew that, deep inside, he was frightened of

what

the Elfstones could do and what he had felt

them do to him. After Brin had caused the

family dog

to chase its tail until it nearly dropped and

had wilted an entire garden of vegetables, her

father

had been quick to reassert his decision that

the Elfstones would never be used again by

anyone.

He had hidden them, telling no one where they

could be found, and hidden they had remained

ever since. At least, that was what her father

thought. She was not altogether certain. One

time,

not too many months earlier, when there was

mention of the hidden Elfstones, Brin had

caught

Jair smiling rather smugly. He would not admit

to anything, of course, but she knew how

difficult it was to keep anything hidden from

her brother, and she suspected he had found

the

hiding place.

Rone Leah met her at the front door, tall and

rangy, rust brown hair loose about his

shoulders and tied back with a broad headband.

Mischievous gray eyes narrowed appraisingly.

"How about lending a hand, huh? I'm doing all

the work and I'm not even a member of the

through her home toward the back

bedrooms. Her parents were getting ready to

depart on their annual fall pilgrimage to the

outlying

communities south of Shady Vale, a journey

that would keep them gone from their home for

better than two weeks. Few Healers possessed

the skills of Wil Ohmsford, and not one could

found within five hundred miles of the Vale.

So twice a year, in the spring and fall, her

father

traveled down to the outlying villages,

lending his services where they were needed.

Eretria

always accompanied him, a skilled aide to her

husband by now, trained nearly as thoroughly

he in the care of the sick and injured. It was

a journey they need not have made-would not,

fact, had they been less conscientious than

they were. Others would not have gone. But

Brin's

parents were governed by a strong sense of

duty. Healing was the profession to which both

had

dedicated their lives, and they did not take

their commitment to it lightly.

While they were gone on these trips of mercy,

Brin was left to watch over Jair. On this

father. Can I help you with anything?"

Eretria nodded, took Brin by the shoulders,

and pulled her down next to her on the bed. "I

want you to promise me something, Brin. I

don't want you to use the wishsong while your

father

and I are gone-you or your brother."

Brin smiled. "I hardly use it at all anymore."

Her dark eyes searched her mother's dusky

face.

"I know. But Jair does, even if he thinks I

don't know about it. In any case, while we are

gone, your father and I don't want either of

you using it even a single time. Do you

understand?"

Brin hesitated. Her father understood that the

Elven magic was a part of his children, but

he did not accept that it was either a good or

necessary part. You are intelligent, talented

people

just as you are, he would tell them. You have

no need of tricks and artifices to advance

yourselves. Be who and what you can without

the song. Eretria had echoed that advice,

although

she seemed to recognize more readily than he

that they were likely to ignore it when

discretion

suggested that they could.

In Jair's case, unfortunately, discretion

seldom entered into the picture. Jair was both

Eretria shook her head. "Even a toy can be

dangerous if used unwisely. Besides, you

ought to know enough of the Elven magic by now

to appreciate the fact that it is never

harmless.

Now listen to me. You and your brother are

both grown beyond the age when you need your

mother and father looking over your shoulder.

But a little advice is still necessary now and

then. I.don't want you using the magic while

we're gone. It draws attention where it's not

needed.

Promise me that you won't use it-and that you

will keep Jair from using it as well."

Brin nodded slowly. "It's because of the

rumors of the black walkers, isn't it?" She

had

heard the stories. They talked about it all

the time down at the inn these days. Black

walkers-soundless, faceless things born of the

dark magic, appearing out of nowhere. Some

said

it was the Warlock Lord and his minions come

back again. "Is that what this is all about?"

"Yes." Her mother smiled at Brin's

perceptiveness. "Now promise me."

Brin smiled back. "I promise."

Nevertheless, she thought it all a lot of

nonsense.

The packing and loading took another thirty

minutes, and then her parents were ready to

roadway.

Brin watched them until they were out of

sight.

Brin, Jair, and Rone Leah went hiking that

afternoon in the forests of the Vale, and it

was

late in the day when at last they turned

homeward. By then, the sun had begun to dip

beneath the

rim of the Vale and the forest shadows of

midday to lengthen slowly into evening. It was

hour's walk to the hamlet, but both Ohmsfords

and the highlander had come this way so often

before that they could have navigated the

forest trails even in blackest night. They

proceeded at a

leisurely pace, enjoying the close of what had

been an altogether beautiful autumn day.

"Let's fish tomorrow," Rone suggested. He

grinned at Brin. "With weather like this, it

won't matter if we catch anything or not."

The oldest of the three, he led the way

through the trees, the worn and battered

scabbard

bearing the Sword of Leah strapped crosswise

to his back, a vague outline beneath his

hunting

cloak. Once carried by the heir-apparent to

the throne of Leah, it had long since outlived

that

to be forgetting something. Tomorrow

is the day we set aside for the house repairs

we promised father we would make while he was

away. What about that?"

He shrugged cheerfully. "Another day for the

repairs-they'll keep."

"I think we should do some exploring along the

rim of the Vale," Jair Ohmsford

interjected. He was lean and wiry and had his

father's face with its Elven features-narrow

eyes,

slanted eyebrows, and ears pointed slightly

beneath a thatch of unruly blond hair. "I

think we

should see if we can find any sign of the Mord

Wraiths."

Rone laughed. "Now what do you know about the

walkers, tiger?" It was his pet name for

Jair.

"As much as you, I'd guess. We hear the same

stories in the Vale that you hear in the

highlands," the Valeman replied. "Black

walkers, Mord Wraiths-things that steal out of

the dark..They talk about it down at the inn

all the time."

Brin glanced at her brother reprovingly.

"That's all they are, too-just stories."

Jair looked at Rone. "What do you think?"

To Brin's surprise, the highlander shrugged.

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"For what purpose exactly?" Brin pressed, her

voice hardening. "On the chance that we

might find something as dangerous as these

things are supposed to be? What would you do

then-call on the wishsong?"

Jair flushed. "If I had to, I would. I could

use the magic..."

She cut him short. "The magic is nothing to

play around with, Jair. How many times do I

have to tell you that?"

"I just said that..."

"I know what you said. You think that the

wishsong can do anything for you and you're

sadly mistaken. You had better pay attention

to what father says about not using the magic.

Someday, it's going to get you into a lot of

trouble."

Her brother stared at her. "What are you so

angry about?"

She was angry, she realized, and it was

serving no purpose. "I'm sorry," she

apologized. "I

made mother a promise that neither of us would

use the wishsong while she and father were

away on this trip. I suppose that's why it

upsets me to hear you talking about tracking

Mord

Wraiths."

Now there was a hint of anger in Jair's blue

eyes. "Who gave you the right to make a

promise like that for me, Brin?"

文档加载中……请稍候！
如果长时间未打开，您也可以点击刷新试试。

下载文档到电脑，查找使用更方便

5.9 玖币 0人已下载

立即下载 VIP免费下载

摘要：

therewasasenseofhavingtimeenoughforanything.Thoughsummer'swarmthlingered,thedayshadbeguntoshorten,thehumidairtodry,andthememoryoflife'simmediacytoreawaken.Thesignsoftransitionwereallabout.IntheforestsofShadyVale,theleaveshadalreadybeguntoturn.BrinOhmsfordpausedbytheflowerbedsthatborderedthefrontwalk...

展开>> 收起<<

Brooks, Terry - Shannara 3 The Wishsong of Shannara.pdf

共704页,预览10页

还剩页未读，继续阅读

声明：本站为文档C2C交易模式，即用户上传的文档直接被用户下载，本站只是中间服务平台，本站所有文档下载所得的收益归上传人(含作者)所有。玖贝云文库仅提供信息存储空间，仅对用户上传内容的表现方式做保护处理，对上载内容本身不做任何修改或编辑。若文档所含内容侵犯了您的版权或隐私，请立即通知玖贝云文库，我们立即给予删除！

Brooks, Terry - Shannara 3 The Wishsong of Shannara

相关推荐

开通VIP享超值会员特权

作者详情

相关内容

热门标签

举报选择: