Bearers of the Black Staff: Legends of Shannara (47 page)

Phryne, seeing what was intended, shook her head at once. “I won’t do that. The magic does not belong to me, and I don’t want any part of it. If you feel so strongly about this, you use them. You are at least as strong as I will ever be. You give the demonstration.”

Her grandmother gave her a look. “It doesn’t work like that. You don’t learn anything by watching me. You learn by doing it yourself. Wielding the magic, experiencing the power, is how you discover what it means to have command of it. Take the Elfstones. Just hold them for a moment.”

Reluctantly, still promising herself that she would not use them, Phryne took the Stones. “Why didn’t you give them to my mother, if you thought she was the one who should have them? Why did you hold on to them while she was alive?”

“Feel the weight of them?” her grandmother asked, ignoring her. “Much heavier than you would expect. Close your fingers over them and let’s see what happens.”

“Maybe I don’t want to know.”

“Don’t be afraid. Just do as I ask.”

Reluctantly, Phryne did. They were indeed heavier than she expected, and as she held them she could feel unexpected warmth seeping into her skin. Her eyes found her grandmother’s. “They feel alive,” she whispered.

“They
are
alive. The magic is a living thing. It lies inanimate until a user summons it, until it finds a kindred spirit. It doesn’t work for anyone who isn’t Elven, and it doesn’t respond to anyone to whom it is not given freely—as I have given it to you.”

Phryne frowned. “But I didn’t accept it.”

“You aren’t the one who matters. See how quickly it warms for you? That means it knows you are right for it.”

“But I don’t want this!” Phryne was incensed. She shoved the Elfstones toward her grandmother. “Take them back!”

“Wait, wait.” Her grandmother’s voice was persuasive, her tone soft and placating. “Let’s finish what we started. It won’t bind you in any way, I promise. It will only demonstrate what I have been telling you. Now, listen to me. Here is what you must do. For the Elfstones to work, you must picture in your mind what it is you seek. You must see it clearly and you must ask the Stones to find it for you. You must will it to happen. Can you do that? Will you try?”

Phryne did not want to try. She wanted to go back three days in time and start over. But she understood, as well, that if she refused now she would have given up any chance of pursuing her argument that the Elfstones belonged in the possession of her father.

So she said, even more reluctant now than before, “I’ll try.”

“Remember what I said, child. Your combined strengths of heart, mind, and body will determine the extent of your control over the
magic. It will determine how suited you are to its use. This is your chance to discover the truth of things. Use it well.”

“I understand,” she said, wondering if she did.

“Stretch your hand out in front of you, away from your body. Think of what it is that you wish to find. A person, a place, a creature, anything. Start with something easy. Something you know well enough to see clearly in your mind. You can do much more with these Elfstones than find something with which you are already familiar; you can even find things that you have never seen. But don’t start with something that difficult.”

She reached for Phryne’s hand, folding her own over it. “What will you choose to seek? Tell me.”

Phryne didn’t know. She wanted it to be something that would test what the old woman said, something that was not too close to where they stood, something that could not be found in Arborlon, for instance.

“What about the young man from Glensk Wood that you seem so fond of?” her grandmother suggested suddenly.

Phryne hesitated. “I don’t know. That feels like spying.”

“It might help alleviate your concerns for him. Of course, you could seek out the girl instead.”

“No!” Phryne said quickly. She did not care to know about Prue Liss just yet. “I’ll look for Panterra.”

She stretched out her hand, fingers closing about the Elfstones, arm directed southward, in the direction Pan had gone. She closed her eyes to help with focusing her thoughts, picturing the boy in her mind, seeing his face clearly. She willed the Elfstones to show him to her, to reveal his location. She did not press herself, deciding that if the magic was meant to work, it should come easily. She still did not trust what the magic would do. She still was uncertain about its effects. Her grandmother had said nothing that suggested she was in any danger, but Mistral Belloruus had a habit of keeping things to herself.

“Relax, Phryne,” her grandmother whispered to her.

She did so, loosening her muscles and going inward to where Panterra’s face wafted in the darkness of her thoughts. She floated close to the image, searching for the real thing.

Abruptly, she felt the Elfstones warm within her hand, causing her to open her eyes in surprise and look down. Brilliant blue light seeped from between her fingers, flashing outward in slender streamers that were as blinding as new sunlight. She kept her thoughts on Panterra, watching the light coalesce and then lance outward through the trees and into the distance. She saw it pierce time and space and substance in a tunnel of light that reached for miles beyond where she stood to find the boy from Glensk Wood.

All of a sudden there he was. Panterra Qu. He stood within the high rock walls of a pass in the midst of other workers, all of them engaged in the building of defensive bulwarks meant to span the opening and provide protection against invaders. He was at Declan Reach, she realized, high up in the pass, gone to help with the fortifications.

He was there just long enough for her to be certain of where he was and what he was doing, and then the light from the Elfstones vanished, the image disappeared, and she was back beside her grandmother, standing in the trees beyond her gardens.

She opened her fingers and peered down into her palm where the Elfstones lay twinkling. There was no damage to her skin. There was no pain. She checked herself carefully, wanting to be certain. She had not been harmed.

But something had been done. A rush of exhilaration was flooding through her body, sweeping from head to foot and back again, a sense of warmth and excitement mingling with something she could not define. A satisfaction, perhaps. A glory. It roiled within her like an adrenaline infusion, yet it was unlike anything she had experienced before. She closed her fingers over the Elfstones once more and looked down at her hands as she tucked them close against her body, not wanting her grandmother to see what was happening. But it was useless, she knew. Mistral Belloruus would have tested the Elfstones herself. She would already have tasted what her granddaughter was experiencing.

She looked up again quickly and saw the knowledge reflected in her grandmother’s eyes. “Now you know,” the old lady whispered.

Phryne handed the Elfstones back, quickly pressing them into her grandmother’s hands. “I know. But it doesn’t change my mind. The magic belongs to my father. He is capable of handling it much better than I am.”

“You are wrong about that, child,” the old woman answered.

“You can’t know that if you haven’t given him a chance to discover it for himself. You owe him that. You did this for me; now you have to do it for him. Then you can make a decision.”

“Would you accept such a decision, once made?” Her grandmother waited for her to answer, and when she didn’t, said, “I thought not. So what is the point of doing what you ask?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know what you think you mean.” Her grandmother smiled and shook her head. “But we needn’t talk on it further just now. I only wanted you to understand what having use of the Elfstones meant. There is much more to it than the little you’ve experienced. You will discover that if you test yourself again, as I think you must. These particular Elfstones are seeking-Stones, but they can also protect the user against other magic and dangers that threaten. They are a powerful weapon as well as a versatile tool. Bearing them carries responsibility; possessing them demands accountability. Few are able to handle demands of that sort.”

“I suspect I am not one of those few,” Phryne said.

Mistral Belloruus tucked the Elfstones into the pouch and the pouch into her pocket. Then she reached over and took hold of her granddaughter’s arm.

“We’ll talk about it later, you and I,” she said. “We’ve done enough for now. You need time to reflect on what’s happened.” She squeezed Phryne’s arm gently. “Would you walk me back to my cottage, please? And stay, perhaps, for a cup of tea? I think that would be a very nice end to your visit.”

Arm in arm, they made their way back through the trees to the gardens and the old lady’s home.

P
HRYNE RETURNED TO THE PALACE AFTER THAT
and spent several hours brooding. She was not happy about what had happened, but regrets were useless. She should never have agreed to use the Elfstones as her grandmother had insisted, even if it meant an end to their
conversation about who should possess the magic. Using them had only confused the issue further. Worse, it had raised questions in her mind that had not been there before. For the first time, she was wondering if perhaps her grandmother was right about giving the Elfstones to her instead of her father. She hated it that she was considering such a thing, aware that by doing so she was betraying him. But was she? Or was she simply doing what was expected of her?

The problem lay with the inescapable truth about her father. In the time of his reign as King, he had done nothing to foster the study or use of Elven magic. He had simply ignored that particular mandate, satisfied that healing and nurturing of the Elven territories was a sufficient use. But the Elves had not survived all these years through healing and nurturing alone. They had not survived the Great Wars and escaped into this valley by taking a passive stance toward the evil that confronted them. Yet here they were, five hundred years later, a new evil at their doorstep threatening to take away their homes and perhaps their freedom, and what fresh magic had they mastered?

None.

The Elfstones were all they had, and if her grandmother was to be believed—which Phryne thought she was—the Elves had ignored that magic completely.

She was also still troubled by her father’s decision to marry someone like Isoeld. It wasn’t that his remarriage was a betrayal of his vows to her mother; she didn’t think that way. It was the clear stupidity of his choice. A treacherous, duplicitous girl too young by half, a girl with no intention of respecting her marriage vows, a schemer with ambitions that far exceeded her concerns for her husband, Isoeld was a poor choice at best and a foolish, dangerous one at worst. That her father seemed so unaware of this, so blind to it, suggested that he had somehow lost his way. If that were so, how effective could he be at wielding the magic of the Elfstones, a power that worked best where the heart, mind, and body must all be strong?

She didn’t know. Clearly, her grandmother had made up her mind on the matter. But Mistral Belloruus had never liked her father, even when he was married to her mother. She had tolerated him, but she had never approved of him. It was why, after Phryne’s mother was gone, she had cut herself off from him completely.

It was also why she felt her granddaughter was the right choice to bear the Elfstones.

But even if Phryne accepted that her grandmother was right and her father lacked the strength of character needed to use the Elfstone magic, why would she be a better choice? Even if she accepted the gift of the Elfstones, what was she expected to do with them? She hadn’t been trained in battle arts. She knew next to nothing about fighting, and she wasn’t even particularly strong. Yet if she took the Elfstones, wouldn’t she have to stand at the forefront of the Elven army against the Troll invaders? Ultimately, wasn’t that what would be expected of anyone who wielded the Stones?

The Orullian brothers would roll over laughing at the very idea. The brothers, her cousins, would never let her live it down if they heard that she was even considering such a thing.

She was so uncomfortable with the idea that she made up her mind on the spot that she was going to reject her grandmother’s offer of the Elfstones. Even if Mistral Belloruus was right and her father was the wrong choice to bear the magic, that did not make Phryne the right one. Someone else would better serve the Elven people. Someone with experience and a lifetime of dedication working for the good of the people. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t think of anyone like that offhand. Given time, she would be able to come up with a name. Or two.

She could.

She was mulling over how to tell her grandmother all this when her father walked into her room and sat down across from her. She looked up expectantly, not sure why he was there.

“I’ve been summoned to a meeting with Isoeld,” he said after a minute, looking unsure of how to proceed with what he had to say. “She says it has something to do with our relationship and my service as Elven King. She wants you there, too. Do you have any idea what this is about?”