The Elf Queen of Shannara Read Free Page B

you know yet what it is?”
    No.
    â€œNothing? Nothing about it at all?”
    He shook his head. She was irritated by the obvious frustration she had allowed to creep into her voice. She wanted to be as calm as he was, as clear thinking as he had taught her to be. She wanted to be a good student for him.
    She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Is it coming for us yet, Garth? Or waiting still?”
    Waiting,
he signed.
    He shrugged, his craggy, bearded face expressionless, carefully composed. His hunter’s look. Wren knew that look. It appeared when Garth felt threatened, a mask to hide what was happening inside.
    Waiting, she repeated soundlessly to herself. Why? For what?
    Garth rose, strode over to his pack, extracted a hunk of cheese and an aleskin, and reseated himself. Wren moved over to join him. He ate and drank without looking at her, staring off at the black expanse of the Blue Divide, seemingly oblivious of everything. Wren studied him thoughtfully. He was a giant of a man, strong as iron, quick as a cat, skilled in hunting and tracking, the best she had ever known at staying alive. He had been her protector and teacher from the time she was a little girl, after she had been brought back into the Westland and given over to the care of the Rovers, after her brief stay with the Ohmsford family. How had that all come about? Her father had been an Ohmsford, her mother a Rover, yet she could not remember either of them. Why had she been given back to the Rovers rather than allowed to stay with the Ohmsfords? Who had made that decision? It had never really been explained. Garth claimed not to know. Garth claimed that he knew only what others had told him, which was little, and that his only instruction, the charge he had accepted, was to look after her. He had done so by giving her the benefit of his knowledge, training her in the skills he had mastered, and making her as good at what he did as he was himself. He had worked hard to see that she learned her lessons. She had. Whatever else Wren Ohmsford might know, she knew first and foremost how to stay alive. Garth had made certain of that. But this was not training that a normal Rover child would receive—especially a girl-child—and Wren had known as much almost from the beginning. It led her to believe Garth knew more than he was telling. After a time, she became convinced of it.
    Yet Garth would admit nothing when she pressed the matter. He would simply shake his head and sign that she needed special skills, that she was an orphan and alone, and that she must be stronger and smarter than the others. He said it, but he refused to explain it.
    She became aware suddenly that he had finished eating and was watching her. The weathered, bearded face was no longer hidden by shadows. She could see the set of his features clearly and read what she found there. She saw concern etched in his brow. She saw kindness mirrored in his eyes. She sensed determination everywhere. It was odd, she thought, but he had always been able to convey more to her in a single glance than others could with a basketful of words.
    â€œI don’t like being hunted like this,” she said, signing. “I don’t like waiting to find out what is happening.”
    He nodded, his dark eyes intense.
    â€œIt has something to do with the Elves,” she followed up impulsively. “I don’t know why I feel that is so, but I do. I feel certain of it.”
    Then we should know something shortly,
he replied.
    â€œWhen we reach the caves of the Rocs,” she agreed. “Yes. Because then we’ll know if the Addershag spoke the truth, if here really are still Elves.”
    And what follows us will perhaps want to know, too.
    Her smile was tight. They regarded each other wordlessly for a moment, measuring what they saw in each other’s eyes, considering the possibility of what lay ahead.
    Then Garth rose and indicated the woods. They picked up their