Bearers of the Black Staff: Legends of Shannara (17 page)

Panterra supposed that something of the reason he felt so comfortable among the Elves was his affinity for their way of life. Like them, he preferred living out in the open, part of nature and the larger world. He was at home in the woods, and he believed in practicing stewardship of the land. Elves embraced the world in a way Men had never learned to, and their magic, although mostly lost, had left them a legacy of trying to do whatever they could to keep all the living things around them healthy. The differences between Men and Elves were striking in many ways, but none more so than their differing approaches to maintenance of the territories they inhabited. Elves took a direct ap
proach to caring for the land. Indeed, they were raised to believe it was a calling. Men practiced what was mostly a benign neglect, accepting the land as they found it but doing nothing much to preserve it. They lived on it, cultivated it, took what it had to offer, but did little to give anything back. It wasn’t a deliberate, mean-spirited approach; it was simply the way they had always lived.

Of course, there were no absolutes, so some—Panterra and Prue among them—took a more direct interest in the land and spent time and effort doing what they could to preserve and sometimes restore it. But the Elves were more committed to that way of life than Men, and the boy and the girl felt closer to them for being so.

“If you’re more than human, what else are you?” Xac asked suddenly, back again on that subject. “Why are you being so secret about it? Why can’t you tell me?”

“We’re Elves,” Pan declared without thinking.

The boy stopped where he was and stared at him. “No, you’re not. You don’t look anything like Elves.”

“We’re in disguise. The part that’s Elf is hidden on the inside. Isn’t that right, Prue?”

The girl gave him a look and then nodded. “We were born human, Xac, but we have Elf blood.”

Xac shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think you’re crazy.” He gave them a suspicious look. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth about the Orullians? Maybe you don’t even know them. Maybe you’re here to cause trouble.”

“Tasha and Tenerife,” Panterra said, giving the names of their friends. “Twins by birth, but they don’t look a thing like each other. They have a sister who is about your age. Her name is Darsha. Is that enough to persuade you to take us to them? If not, just leave us here. We can find someone else who’ll do the job.”

“We aren’t here to cause trouble,” Prue added. “Tasha and Tenerife are friends.”

Xac still looked doubtful. “Well, maybe.”

“Come on, let’s just go.” Pan was impatient. “You can ask them when we get there. They’ll tell you that we’ve got Elf blood.”

The boy hesitated, but then started off once more. They maneu
vered their way through the city streets, a maze of crosshatch byways and paths, all of it designed to confuse if you were not a resident familiar with the terrain. But Xac knew his way and led them. A number of Elves greeted him with calls and waves, some directing questioning looks at his companions, but no one actually saying anything. They passed through the center of the city and angled south past the palace and its extensive grounds, all of it planted with lush grasses and rainbow-bright flower beds, all of it carefully tended. Panterra found himself smiling in response to how the smells and colors made him feel, wishing as he always did that this could be his home. Even though he was committed to staying and serving as a Tracker with Prue, Glensk Wood was not where he wanted to spend his life. Besides, reality did not require that you forgo your dreams, and dreams sometimes revealed paths that led to new realities.

“They’re up there,” Xac said suddenly, breaking into his thoughts.

He looked at where the boy was pointing. A cluster of Elves was constructing a stairway that ran from the ground through a series of platforms to a house settled high in a thick stand of spruce. The stairway was framed and anchored, and the men were now engaged in setting the treads in place, all except for the Elf standing at the foot of the steps, who was issuing directions.

Tasha Orullian was large by any standard, but for an Elf he was huge. The Elves were not a big people, few standing over six feet. But Tasha stood six-five out of his boots, which meant that wherever he went in the city of Arborlon, he stood out. Broad-shouldered and long-limbed, he was strong beyond any measure Panterra had been able to devise and hard as iron.

He glanced around as Xac approached with his companions and gave a yelp. “Xac Wen! What have you done, you scullion’s brat? Brought outsiders of obviously disreputable character into our midst? Have you lost your mind?”

The boy flushed bright red and before either Pan or Prue could say anything to discourage him, he had whirled on them, a razor-sharp long knife in hand, poised to fight. “It’s not my fault; they lied to me!” he screamed back at the other.

“Wait, hold on, you little madman!” Tasha threw up his arms in dis
may as he walked quickly over to the boy and snatched the knife away. He was like a big cat, smooth and lithe and powerful. “Give me that before you hurt yourself. Must you take everything I say so literally?”

The boy, who clearly had no idea by now what was going on, glared at him. “They said they weren’t entirely human! They claimed they were Elves!”

Tasha gave Panterra and Prue a questioning look and then nodded soberly. “Yes,” he said, his dark face stern, “they are. I know they don’t look it, but deep down inside, where it matters, they are.”

“But they …”

“Welcome home, little Elves,” Tasha greeted Panterra and Prue, ignoring Xac’s protestations. “I’ve missed you.”

He reached out and gave each a bone-crushing hug, going only slightly easier on the girl than the boy. His chiseled features brightened with delight as he released them. “Hmm, you’ve still got some growing up to do, but you seem more mature otherwise. There’s a hint of intelligence in your otherwise dim-witted eyes. Been doing something important, have you? Is that why you’ve come?”

“Something like that,” Panterra answered. He glanced over at Xac. “We need to talk about it.”

Tasha Orullian untied the scarf that was holding back his long black hair and wiped the sweat from his face. “Building stairways to houses suspended in trees was getting boring anyway.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Tenerife!” he shouted. “Look who’s come to visit!”

A slightly smaller figure appeared through the door of the tree cottage and waved before starting down. With deceptive ease, he swung from one post to the next, one platform to the next, and vaulted the last ten feet to the ground unaided. “Panterra Qu!” he cried, coming over. “And little sister! What a nice surprise.”

He embraced them both, not so roughly, but every bit as enthusiastically, slapping both on the back in the bargain. Tenerife was a smaller version of his twin, lighter and shorter and less of a presence, but still unmistakable. Not so physically imposing, he was also not so rough-made, his features more finely wrought. Like his brother, he was dark-complected and wore his black hair long and tied back from his face.

“Good to see you, Tenerife,” Panterra greeted him.

“Come to the house,” Tasha invited, sweeping them up like leaves
with his long arms outstretched. “We can have something to eat and drink while we talk. Xac Wen!” he shouted, noticing that the boy was trying to tag along. “That’s all for today. Go find a pack of wild dogs to play with. Go wrestle a Koden or something.”

The boy glared at him. “You wait until I grow up!” he shouted at Tasha Orullian.

“I should live so long!” the tall man shouted back, but grinned nevertheless. “He’s a handful now, that one,” he said to his guests as they walked away, leaving the boy standing at the foot of the stairs. “I can’t imagine what he’ll be like when he gets bigger.”

“The same, only more so,” Tenerife grunted. “Imagine that.”

They passed down several trails to a cottage nestled with a handful of others in a grove of towering oaks, seating themselves on benches at a table set to one side of the entry. Tasha excused himself to go inside and then returned almost immediately with tankards of ale and a platter of cheese, fruit, and bread.

“This will help us express ourselves more clearly,” he announced, distributing the tankards first. “Or at least we’ll think so.”

They ate and drank and talked of old times. The Orullians were the Elven equivalent of Trackers, although they served at the King’s pleasure and on behalf of the entire Elven nation rather than just the city of Arborlon. Panterra and Prue had met them more than three years ago, and the four had taken an instant liking to one another. The Orullian twins were fascinated by the then only twelve-year-old Prue, unable to believe that anyone could sense things unseen with such unerring accuracy and timing. They thought her better than what her people deserved and promptly declared her an honorary Elf. They made Panterra one, too, but mostly because it would have been rude to leave him out. Their standing with the brothers was what had prompted Pan to tell Xac that they were partly Elves. It seemed truer than not under the circumstances.

“Now then,” Tasha said once they had finished eating and consumed a fair amount of smooth, sweet honey-lemon ale. “To business. You’ve come to visit us, of course. But you’ve come for another reason, as well. Tell us what it is, Pan.”

So Panterra related the events that had brought them to Arborlon for refuge and help.

“There, you see?” Tasha declared to his brother, gesturing angrily. “I told you these two did not belong with the sorry excuse for human beings who occupy Glensk Wood. They belong here, with us. We are their people in more ways than they are.”

Tenerife shrugged. “He’s right. We may not be your people in terms of flesh and blood, but we are more so in our hearts and souls. You should do as Aislinne says and stay with us. Forever, if need be.”

“I would like that,” Prue declared rather a bit too boldly, and then caught herself. “I mean,” she added quickly, “that it would be nice to live in such a beautiful place.”

“Of course it would be nice!” Tasha exclaimed. “It would be wonderful! That’s settled, then!”

“Not exactly,” Panterra said, holding up both hands. “Finding a new home isn’t why we came to you. We came to ask your help about the collapse of the protective wall. If it’s really failing, we need to prepare ourselves for the possibility that whatever’s out there is coming in here.”

“We need to prepare ourselves for the possibility that we might have to go out
there
,” Tenerife added pointedly. He looked at his brother. “We should tell all this to the High Council.”

Tasha nodded, saying nothing for a moment. “But do we want to tell them now or later.” He cocked one eyebrow at his brother. “Consider the circumstances. We know and trust Panterra and little sister, but the members of the High Council do not. They are humans, and many do not trust humans. Will they be believed or doubted? Will the High Council choose to act at once or will they debate the matter until the cows come home?”

“You think they will not be believed?”

“I think it is a distinct possibility.”

“Do we take it directly to the King, instead? He may dither on it as well, as he does with so much these days.”

Tasha shrugged. “That is the question, isn’t it.”

“Is Oparion Amarantyne still King?” Prue interjected.

The big man nodded slowly. “He is. But his Queen is new. And therein lies the problem.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “After all these years, little sister, he remarried. Abruptly and foolishly,
if you ask us. His Queen is young and beautiful and fickle. In spite of his years of experience and his keen mind, she plays him like a musical instrument. He would do anything for her; if not for his close friends and the members of the High Council, he would likely do things he would later regret. She has his ear on all matters, and it is her firm intention to guide him in his decision making until the day he dies.”

“At which time,” Tenerife cut in, “there is a widespread suspicion that she intends to carry on without him.”

Panterra and Prue exchanged a glance. “Is that possible?” the girl asked. “Will she be named Queen after him?”

“Another good question,” Tasha replied, rubbing his chin as if to extract an answer. “Will she succeed him? Or will Phryne?”

Phryne Amarantyne. The King’s daughter by his first wife was a formidable adversary. Panterra had met her only once, but that was enough. She was young but very tough. “I see the problem,” he acknowledged.

“Not entirely, you don’t,” Tasha said.

“But likely you will before long,” Tenerife added.

“So you don’t think we should take this before the Elven High Council?” Prue asked.

Tasha leaned back, exchanged a look with his brother, and shook his head. “Not yet, at least. If we take it before the High Council at this point, we risk losing all credibility if they fail to believe any part of your story. As well, the Queen will find out, and as I’ve said there are a number of reasons for all of us not to want that to happen. I think we should keep this quiet until we know more.”

“We need to make a trip up into the mountains and see what we can find out for ourselves about the passes,” Tenerife declared. “After we’ve done that, we can decide how to attack this.”

“But we’ll need the King’s permission to do that.” Tasha drummed his fingers on the table.

“Yes, of course. But maybe we can gain that permission quietly.”

“Without the Queen knowing what we’re doing?”

Tenerife stretched his lean body, extending his legs and looking skyward contemplatively. “Difficult, but not impossible.”

“The King will tell her.”

“Not if we can find a way to persuade him not to. Of course, we can’t just ask him outright. We might be his cousins, but he won’t stand for that sort of interference.”

They looked at one another in silence. Tasha drank some more ale and contemplated the tabletop. Tenerife kept looking up at the sky, and Prue stared down at her hands, folded in front of her. Panterra found himself wondering what they were getting themselves into.

“What we need is a bit of misdirection,” Tenerife said suddenly.