Bek’s eyes shifted anxiously, and the Druid met the question mirrored there with a reassuring smile. “Not against your sister, though one day you might have to use it in that way. No, this first time the magic will serve another purpose. If I have read the map correctly, Bek, the Sword of Shannara is the key to our gaining entry into Ice Henge.”
27
Come daybreak, Bek rose and went about his morning duties as cabin boy in something of a daze, still struggling with the previous night’s revelations, when the Druid intercepted him coming out of Rue Meridian’s cabin and told him to follow. It was an hour after sunrise, and Bek had dressed and eaten breakfast. He still had tasks to perform, but Walker’s summons didn’t leave room for discussion on the matter.
They climbed topside and walked forward to the bow railing, very close to where they had stood the night before. The sky around them was unchanged, gray and misted and impenetrable. Everywhere Bek looked, right or left, up or down, the color and light were the same. Visibility was still limited to thirty feet or so. Those of the ship’s company already on deck had the look of ghosts, ethereal and not quite fully formed. Redden Alt Mer stood in the pilot box with Furl Hawken, two Rovers were at work aft, braiding new ends on the portside radian draws, and Quentin sparred with the Elven Hunters on the foredeck under Ard Patrinell’s steady gaze. No one looked up as Bek passed or acted as if anything about the boy had changed, even though in his mind everything had.
“To begin with, you are still Bek Rowe,” Walker told him when they were seated together on a casing filled with light sheaths. “You are not to use the name Ohmsford. It is too recognizable, and you don’t want to draw unneeded attention to yourself.”
Bek nodded. “All right.”
“Also, I don’t want you to tell anyone what you’ve told me or what you’ve learned from me about your magic, your history, or the Sword of Shannara. Not even Quentin. Not one word.”
He waited. Bek nodded once more.
“Finally, you are not to forget that you are here to serve as my eyes and ears, to listen and keep watch. That wasn’t an idle assignment, meant to give you something to do until it was time to tell you who you were. Your magic gives you powers of observation that are lacking in most. I still need you to use those talents. They are no less important now than they were before.”
“I can’t see that I’ve put them to much use so far,” Bek observed. “Nothing I’ve told you has been particularly useful.”
The Druid’s ironic smile flashed momentarily and was gone. “You don’t think so? Maybe you’re not paying close enough attention.”
“Does Ryer Ord Star see anything in her dreams that could help you? Is she keeping watch as well?”
“She does what she can. But your sight, Bek, though not a seer’s, is the more valuable.” He shifted so that he was leaning very close. “She dreams of outcomes before they happen, but you spy out causes while they’re still seeking to create an effect. That’s the difference in the magic you wield. Remember that.”
Bek had no idea what Walker was talking about, but decided to mull over it another time. He nodded.
Curtains of gray mist drifted past, and the sounds of sword-play and of metal tools in use echoed eerily in the enshrouding haze. It was as if each group of men formed a separate island, and only the sounds they made connected them in any real way.
“The Sword of Shannara,” Walker began quietly, “is not like any other weapon. Or any other magic. It seeks truth where truth is concealed by deception and lies, and through revelation, it empowers. But empowerment comes at a cost. Like all Elven talismans, the sword draws its power from the wielder. Its strength, and thereby its effectiveness, depends entirely on the strength of the bearer. The stronger the bearer, the more effective the magic. But the connection between the two is established by subtle means. The Sword of Shannara relies on the bearer’s willingness to shed personal deceptions, half-truths, and lies in order to see clearly the same in others.”
He gave Bek a moment to digest this. “This is what will happen, Bek. When you call up the power of the sword, it will seek to reveal the larger truths that other magic and magic wielders mask. But in order to understand those larger truths, you must first accept the smaller truths about yourself. This requires sacrifice. We live our lives hiding from the things that displease and discomfort us. We reinvent ourselves and our history, constantly placing things in a light most favorable to us. It is in the nature of mankind to do this. Mostly, our deceptions are small ones. But they gather weight through numbers, and having them revealed all at once can be crushing. As well, there are larger truths that, exposed, seem more than we can bear, and so we hide them most carefully.
“After you have been confronted by these personal truths, you will be confronted by truths about those you love and care for, then of the world you know through your own experience, and finally of the deception or lie you seek to unmask. This will not be easy or pleasant. Truth will assault you as surely as an ordinary metal blade. It will have impact and cutting edges. It can kill you if you do not ward against it. Knowledge and acceptance of what is coming are your best defense. You can do what you need to do to protect yourself and adapt. Do you understand?”
Bek nodded. “I think so. But I don’t know how I can prepare myself for something like this. I don’t know what sorts of lies and deceptions I have concealed over the years. Am I to try to catalogue them all before using the sword?”
“No. You’ve said it yourself. You can’t separate them out easily. Some you will have forgotten entirely. Some you will have tried to shade with a better interpretation than you should. Some you will never even have identified. What you need to do, Bek, is to understand how the sword works so that you will not be surprised by its power and will be better able to survive its demands.” He paused. “Let me tell you a story.”
He spent the next few minutes relating the tale of the Elven King Jerle Shannara and his confrontation with the Warlock Lord a thousand years earlier. The Sword of Shannara had been forged out of Druid fire by Bremen in the Southland city of Dechtera and carried north so that a champion could do combat with the Dark Lord and destroy him. But Bremen had misjudged the Elf King’s ability to adapt to the sword’s demands and not sufficiently prepared him. When Jerle Shannara called up the magic of the sword, he failed to bring sufficient strength to bear. As a result, he broke down the Dark Lord’s physical form but did not destroy him completely. It would be left to his descendant, Shea Ohmsford, five hundred years later, to complete the job.
“My task with you, Bek,” Walker finished, “is to make certain you do not falter as Jerle Shannara did, that once you summon the sword’s magic, you employ it to the degree necessary. Your first usage of the talisman is not so demanding. It does not involve an encounter with another creature of magic that seeks to destroy you. It involves a portal that is warded by an impersonal and indiscriminate barrier. It is a good test with which to begin your training.”
Bek looked down at his feet, then up into the Druid’s dark eyes. “But my sister, the Ilse Witch, will be waiting to test me, as well.”
“Not waiting. She knows nothing of you or the sword. But, yes, the possibility is good that you will have to face her eventually. Even so, that is not your principal concern. Your testing will come from other sources, as well. Everything connected with this expedition is shrouded in deception and lies, Bek. It might seem straightforward enough, a map and a castaway found floating on the Blue Divide, a trail to a place reached by other Elves and their ships thirty years ago before they disappeared, and the lure of a treasure beyond price. But few things are as they seem in this matter. If we are to succeed—indeed, if we are to survive—we will require the power of the Sword of Shannara to see us through. Only you can use the sword, Bek, so you must be ready to do so when the magic is needed. I bring a Druid’s fire and insight to our task. Quentin brings the power of the Sword of Leah. Others bring their own gifts and experience. Perhaps we will find the missing Elfstones. But your use of the Sword of Shannara is vital and necessary to everything we attempt to do. And your training in that use begins now.”