The Elfstones of Shannara (26 page)

Wil was still wondering how they were going to get through the mountains when sleep came to him.

 

When he awoke, a boy was sitting there, looking at him. It was dawn, and the sun was rising out of the distant forestland in a hazy, golden burst of light that scattered night in fleeting bits of gray. On the broad, open slopes of the mountain which rose above them, the wildflowers were just opening and the dew glistened damply on the grass.

Wil blinked in surprise. At first he thought that his eyes were playing tricks on him, and he waited expectantly for the boy to disappear back into his imagination. But the boy remained where he was, seated on the grass, legs crossed before him, silently contemplating Wil. This was no illusion, the Valeman decided and pushed himself up on one elbow.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning,” the boy replied solemnly.

Wil brushed the sleep from his eyes and took a moment to study the boy. He was an Elf, rather small, his tousled, sand-colored hair falling down about a rather ordinary face that displayed a light sprinkling of freckles. Leather pants and tunic fitted close on his small frame, and a number of assorted pouches and bags hung about his neck and from his waist. He was very young, certainly much younger than either Wil or Amberle.

“I didn't want to wake you,” the boy announced.

Wil nodded. “You were very quiet.”

“I know. I can walk through a stretch of dry pine without making a single sound.”

“You can?”

“Yes. And I can hunt to a fox lair without starting him. I did that once.”

“That's very good.”

The boy looked at him curiously. “What are you doing out here?”

Wil grinned in spite of himself. “I was just wondering the same thing about you. Do you live here?”

The boy shook his head. “No. I live to the south, below the Irrybis. In the Wing Hove.”

Wil did not have the faintest idea what a Wing Hove might be. Behind him, he heard Amberle stir awake.

“She is very pretty,” the boy ventured quietly. “Are you married?”

“Uh, no—just traveling together,” the Valeman managed, a bit taken back. “How did you get here?”

“I flew,” the boy answered. “I'm a Wing Rider.”

Wil stared at him speechlessly. The boy glanced past him to Amberle, who was just sitting up, still wrapped in her cloak.

“Good morning, lady,” he greeted.

“Good morning,” Amberle replied. Amusement mixed with puzzlement in her green eyes. “What is your name?”

“Perk.”

“My name is Amberle.” The Elven girl smiled. “This is Wil.”

The boy got to his feet and came over to grip Wil's hand in greeting. The Valeman was surprised to find the youngster's palm heavily calloused. The boy seemed conscious of the fact and drew his hand back quickly. He did not offer it to Amberle, but simply nodded.

“Would you like some breakfast?” he asked.

Wil shrugged. “What do you have in mind, Perk?”

“Milk, nuts, cheese, and bread. That is all I have with me.”

“That will do nicely.” The Valeman grinned, glancing back quickly at Amberle. He had no idea what Perk was doing here, but the food sounded delicious. “We would be very happy to share breakfast with you.”

They seated themselves in a circle. From one of the pouches he carried, the young Elf produced the promised nuts, cheese, and bread together with three small cups. The cups he filled with milk he carried in a second pouch. Valeman and Elven girl consumed the small meal ravenously.

“Where did you get the milk?” Amberle asked after a moment.

“Goats,” the boy mumbled, his mouth full. “A goatherd keeps a small flock in a meadow several miles north. I milked one earlier this morning.”

Amberle glanced questioningly at Wil, who shrugged.

“He tells me that he is a Wing Rider. He flies.”

“I'm not really a Wing Rider—not yet,” the boy interrupted. “I'm too young. But one day I will be.”

There was an awkward moment of silence as the three stared wordlessly at one another.

“You didn't say what you were doing out here,” Perk said finally. “Are you running away from something?”

“Why do you ask that, Perk?” Amberle wanted to know immediately.

“Because you look like you are running away from something. Your clothes are torn and dirty. You carry no weapons and no food and no blankets. You build no fire. And you look like something has frightened you.”

“Perk, you are a bright boy,” Wil responded quickly, deciding at once how he was going to handle this. “Will you promise to keep it secret if I tell you something?”

The boy nodded, anticipation showing in his face. “I promise.”

“Good.” Wil leaned forward confidentially. “This lady—Amberle—is very special. She is a Princess, a granddaughter of Eventine Elessedil, the King of the Elves.”

“King of the Land Elves,” Perk corrected. When Wil hesitated, confused by the distinction, the boy edged forward anxiously. “Do you go in quest of treasure? Or is the lady enchanted? Is she bewitched?”

“Yes. No.” The Valeman stopped. What had he gotten himself into? “We go in search of a . . . a talisman, Perk. Only the lady can wield it. There is a very great evil that threatens the Elven people. Only the talisman can protect against that evil, and we must find it quickly. Would you be willing to help us?”

Perk's eyes were wide with excitement. “An adventure? A real adventure?”

“Wil, I don't know about this . . .” Amberle interrupted, frowning.

“Trust me, please.” Wil held up his hands placatingly. He turned back to Perk. “This is a very dangerous business, Perk. The things that hunt us have already killed a number of Elves. This will not be a game. You must do exactly as I ask, and when I tell you that it is finished, you must leave us at once. Agreed?”

The boy nodded quickly. “What do you want me to do?”

The Valeman pointed toward the Rock Spur. “I want you to show me a way through those mountains. Do you know one?”

“Of course.” Perk sounded very indignant. “Where is it that you are going?”

Wil hesitated. He was not certain that he wanted the boy to have that information.

“Does that matter?” he asked finally.

“Certainly it matters,” Perk replied at once. “How can I show you how to get to where you want to go if I don't know where it is that you are going?”

“That sounds very sensible,” Amberle offered, giving Wil a knowing glance that suggested that he should have foreseen all this. “I think you had better tell him, Wil.”

The Valeman nodded. “All right. We are going into the Wilderun.”

“The Wilderun?” Perk shook his head solemnly, some of the enthusiasm fading from his eyes. “The Wilderun is forbidden to me. It is very dangerous.”

“We know,” Amberle agreed. “But we have no choice. We have to go there. Can you help us?”

“I can help you,” the boy declared firmly. “But you cannot go through the mountains. That would take days.”

“Well, if we don't go through the mountains, then how do we get there?” Wil demanded. “Is there another way?”

Perk grinned. “Sure. We can fly.”

Wil looked over at Amberle for help.

“Perk, we cannot . . . really fly,” she said gently.

“We can fly,” he insisted. “I told you, I'm a Wing Rider—almost a Wing Rider, anyway.”

Some imagination, thought Wil. “Look, Perk, you have to have wings to fly and we don't have wings.”

“Wings?” The boy looked confused. Then he grinned. “Oh, you thought . . . Oh, I see. No, no, not us. We have Genewen. Here, come with me.”

He rose quickly and moved out of the shelter of the pine grove. Mystified, Wil and Amberle trailed after, exchanging confused glances as they went. When they were all beyond the trees and standing on the open slope, Perk reached into a leather pouch tied about his neck and produced a small, silver whistle. Putting the whistle to his lips, the boy blew into it. There was no sound. Wil looked at Amberle a second time and shook his head slowly. This was not working out the way he had intended it. Perk slipped the silver whistle back into its pouch and turned to scan the skyline. Mechanically, the Valeman and the Elven girl looked with him.

Suddenly a great, golden-hued form soared out of the Rock Spur, shimmering brightly in the warm morning sunlight as it dipped downward through the mountains and came toward them. Wil and Amberle started wildly. It was the biggest bird they had ever seen in their lives, a huge creature with a wing span of fully thirty feet, a sleek, crested head the color of fire tinged with flecks of black, a great hooked beak, and powerful talons that extended forward as it approached. For just an instant, both were reminded of the winged black thing that had very nearly caught them in their flight through the Valley of Rhenn, but then they realized that this was not the same creature. It dropped to the meadow not a dozen feet in front of them, wings folding close against its golden, feathered body, crested head arching upward as it came to roost. Its piercing cry split the morning stillness, and it dipped its head sharply toward Perk. The boy gave a quick, odd call in reply, then turned again to his astonished companions.

“This is Genewen,” he announced brightly. Then he grinned. “You see? I told you we could fly.”

 

Seeing Genewen made Wil and Amberle more willing to accept the story that Perk then proceeded to tell them.

Before the time of Jerle Shannara and the advent of the Second War of the Races, a small community of Elves migrated south from their traditional homeland—for reasons which had long since been forgotten—to settle below the Irrybis along a rugged, uncharted stretch of mountainous forestland that bordered a vast body of water known to the races as the Blue Divide. These Elves were Perk's ancestors. Over the years, they became hunters and fishermen, their small villages built back upon a string of shoreline cliffs that abutted the Blue Divide west of the Myrian. The Elves quickly discovered that they were sharing the cliffs with a rookery of massive hunting birds that nested within caves opening out over the waters of the Divide. They called the birds Rocs after a legendary bird from the old world. The Rocs and the Elves kept a respectable distance from one another at first, but in time it became apparent to the Elves that the giant birds would be useful to the men if they could be trained to serve as carriers. The Elves were resourceful and determined, and they set out to accomplish this end. After numerous failures, they managed to discover a means of communication with the birds, which in turn led to harnessing several of the young and finally to mastery of the entire rookery. The birds became carriers of the Elves, who were now able to expand their hunting and fishing grounds. The birds became protectors as well, trained to do battle against the enemies of the community. The Elves, in their turn, kept the Rocs safe from creatures that sought to invade their rookery or to encroach upon their feeding grounds. They learned to care for the great birds, to treat them for sickness and injury, to heal them, and to keep them well. With the passage of the years, the bond between the two grew stronger. The community they shared they called the Wing Hove. It was small and isolated in a wilderness only sparsely settled by men and rarely traveled. All contact between the Wing Hove and the larger Elven communities that lay north of the Wilderun had long since ceased. The Elves in the Wing Hove had formed their own government and, although they recognized the sovereignty of the Elven Kings at Arborlon over the majority of the Westland Elves, they considered themselves a separate people. Thus they came to refer to themselves as Sky Elves and to the rest of the Westland Elves as Land Elves.

Perk was the son and grandson of Wing Riders. Wing Riders were the men who trained and rode the giant Rocs, the men who directed the search for food and the defense of the Wing Hove. There were other designations given to the men and women of the Wing Hove, but Wing Rider was the most coveted. Only the Wing Rider was given command over the Roc. Only he was given the power of flight, to ride the skylanes from one corner of the land to the other. The Wing Rider was a man who commanded the honor and trust of his people, who would spend his life in their service, and who would be recognized forever as a symbol of their way of life.

Perk was in the second year of his training to become a Wing Rider. The choice of one who would become a Wing Rider was made at an early age, and the training then continued until the boy reached manhood. Often the choice was virtually predetermined, as in the case of Perk, where both his father and his grandfather were Wing Riders, and it was expected that he should follow in their footsteps. Genewen was his grandfather's mount, but his grandfather was too old to fly in regular service for the Wing Hove; when Perk reached manhood, Genewen would become his. The Rocs lived to be very old, their lives spanning four and sometimes five Elven generations. Thus a Roc would serve several masters during its lifetime. Genewen had seen service first as the carrier of Perk's grandfather, but if her health remained good, she would one day serve Perk's son or grandson as well.

For the moment, however, she served Perk as he trained under the supervision of his grandfather to become a Wing Rider. It was a training exercise that had brought the Elven boy into the Rock Spur and to his meeting with Wil and Amberle. His development as a Wing Rider required that he make longer and longer flights from the Wing Hove. For each flight, he was given certain tasks to accomplish and rules to follow. On this particular outing, he was required to stay away from the Wing Hove for a period of seven days, carrying with him only a small ration of bread and cheese and a container of water. He was to find additional food and drink on his own. He was to explore and be able to describe accurately on his return certain portions of the mountainous country surrounding the Wilderun. The Wilderun itself was forbidden to him, as it was to all who were still in training. He might set down upon the land that bounded the Wilderun, but not within. He was to avoid all contact with its denizens.