«I have traveled a long way to find you, Brin Ohmsford,” the big man said, his voice low and filled with weariness. «It was a journey that I did not think I would have to make.»
«Why have you sought me out?» Brin asked.
«Because I have need of the wishsong.» There was an endless moment of silence as Valegirl and Druid faced each other across the table. «Strange,” he sighed. «I did not see before that the passing of the Elven magic into the children of Wil Ohmsford might have so profound a purpose. I thought it little more than a side effect from use of the Elfstones that could not be avoided.»
«What do you need with Brin?» Rone interjected, frowning. Already he did not like the sound of this.
«And the wishsong?» Jair added.
Allanon kept his eyes fixed on Brin. «Your father and your mother are not here?»
«No. They will be gone for at lease two weeks; they treat the sick in the villages to the south.»
«I do not have two weeks nor even two days,” the big man whispered. «We must talk now, and you must decide what you will do. And if you decide as I think you must, your father will not this time forgive me, I’m afraid.»
Brin knew at once what the Druid was talking about. «Am I to come with you?» she asked slowly.
He let the question hang unanswered. «Let me tell you of a danger that threatens the Four Lands — an evil as great as any faced by Shea Ohmsford or your father.» He folded his hands on the table before him and leaned toward her. «In the old world, before the dawn of the race of Man, there were faerie creatures who made use of good and evil magics. Your father must have told you the story, I’m certain. That world passed away with the coming of Man. The evil ones were imprisoned beyond the wall of a Forbidding, and the good were lost in the evolution of the races — all save the Elves. There was a book from those times, however, that survived. It was a book of dark magic, of power so awesome that even the Elven magicians from the old world were frightened of it. It was called the Ildatch. Its origin is not certain, even now, it seems that it appeared very early in the time of the creation of life. The evil in the world used it for a time, until at last the Elves managed to seize it. So great was its lure that, even knowing its power, a few of the Elven magicians dared tamper with its secrets. As a result, they were destroyed. The rest quickly determined to demolish the book. But before they could do so, it disappeared. There were rumors of its use afterward, scattered here and there through the centuries that followed, but never anything certain.»
His brow furrowed. «And then the Great Wars wiped out the old world. For two thousand years, the existence of man was reduced to its most primitive level. It was not until the Druids called the First Council at Paranor that an effort was made to gather together the teachings of the old world that they might be used to help the new. All of the learning, whether by book or by word of mouth, that had been preserved through the years was brought before the Council that an effort might be made to unlock their secrets. Unfortunately, not all that was preserved was good. Among the books discovered by the Druids in their quest was the Ildatch. It was uncovered by a brilliant, ambitious young Druid called Brona.»
«The Warlock Lord,” Brin said softly.
Allanon nodded, «He became the Warlock Lord when the power of the Ildatch subverted him. Together with his followers, he was lost to the dark magic. For nearly a thousand years, they threatened the existence of the races. It was not until Shea Ohmsford mastered the power of the Sword of Shannara that Brona and his followers were destroyed.»
He paused. «But the Ildatch disappeared once more. I searched for it in the ruins of the Skull Mountain when the kingdom of the Warlock Lord fell. I could not find it. I thought it was lost for good; I thought it buried forever. But I was wrong. Somehow it was preserved. It was recovered by a sect of human followers of the Warlock Lord — would–be sorcerers from the races of men who were not subject to the power of the Sword of Shannara and therefore not destroyed with the Master. I know not how even yet, but in some fashion they discovered the place where the Ildatch lay hidden and brought it back into the world of men. They took it deep into their Eastland lair where, hidden from the races, they began to delve into the secrets of the magic. That was more than sixty years ago. You can guess what has happened to them.»
Brin was pale as she leaned forward. «Are you saying that it has begun all over again? That there is another Warlock Lord and other Skull Bearers?»
Allanon shook his head. «These men were not Druids as were Brona and his followers, nor has the same amount of time elapsed since their subversion. But the magic subverts all who tamper with it. The difference is in the nature of the change wrought. Each time, the change is different.»
Brin shook her head. «I don’t understand.»
«Different,” Allanon repeated. «Magic, good or evil, adapts to the user and the user to it. Last time, the creatures born of its touch flew…»
The sentence was left hanging. His listeners exchanged quick glances.
«And this time?» Rone asked.
The black eyes narrowed. «This time the evil walks.»
«Mord Wraiths!» Jair breathed sharply.
Allanon nodded. «A Gnome term for `black walker.‘ They are another form of the same evil. The Ildatch has shaped them as it shaped Brona and his followers, victims of the magic, slaves to the power. They are lost to the world of men, given over to the dark.»
«Then the rumors are true after all,” Rone Leah murmured. His gray eyes sought Brin’s. «I didn’t tell you this before, because I didn’t see any purpose in worrying you needlessly, but I was told by travelers passing through Leah that the walkers have come west from the Silver River country. That’s why, when Jair suggested that we go camping beyond the Vale…»
«Mord Wraiths come this far?» Allanon interrupted hurriedly.
There was sudden concern in his voice. «How long ago, Prince of Leah?»
Rone shook his head doubtfully. «Several days, perhaps. Just before I came to the Vale.»
«Then there is less time than I thought.» The lines on the Druid’s forehead deepened.
«But what are they doing here?» Jair wanted to know.
Allanon lifted his dark face. «Looking for me, I suspect.»
Silence echoed through the darkened house. No one spoke; the Druid’s eyes held them fixed.
«Listen well. The Mord Wraith stronghold lies deep within the Eastland, high in the mountains they call the Ravenshorn. It is a massive, aged fortress built by Trolls in the Second War of the Races. It is called Graymark. The fortress sits atop the rim of a wall of peaks surrounding a deep valley. It is within this valley that the Ildatch has been concealed.»
He took a deep breath. «Ten days earlier, I was at the rim of the valley, determined to go down into it, seize the book of the dark magic from its hiding place, and see it destroyed. The book is the source of the Mord Wraiths’ power. Destroy the book, and the power is lost, the threat ended. And this threat — ah, let me tell you something of this threat. The Mord Wraiths have not been idle since the fall of their Master. Six months ago, the border wars between the Gnomes and the Dwarves flared up once more. For years the two nations have fought over the forests of the Anar, so a resumption of their dispute surprised no one at first. But this time, unknown to most, there is a difference in the nature of the struggle. The Gnomes are being guided by the hand of the Mord Wraiths. Scattered and beaten at the fall of the Warlock Lord, the Gnome tribes have been enslaved anew by the dark magic, this time under the rule of the Wraiths. And the magic gives strength to the Gnomes that they would not otherwise have. Thus the Dwarves have been driven steadily south since the border wars resumed. The threat is grave. Recently the Silver River began to turn foul, poisoned by the dark magic. The land it feeds begins to die. When that happens, the Dwarves will die also, and the whole of the Eastland will be lost. Elves from the Westland and Bordermen from Callahorn have gone to the aid of the Dwarves, but the help they bring is not enough to withstand the Mord Wraiths’ magic. Only the destruction of the Ildatch will stop what is happening.»