in search of these Elfstones for the Druid order so they could be used in our efforts to secure a lasting peace in the Four Lands. They would be used to protect the Races from the creatures of the Void, from the demons that escaped the initial creation of the Forbidding.”
The shade’s hiss seemed to reflect the sounds of the waters over which it hovered, its breath exhaling in a cloud of steam.
–Foolish talk, Ard Rhys. There is no lasting peace. There is no protection you can offer to those who will not help themselves. All our struggles do is hold back a tide that will finally and inevitably sweep us away–
She felt her heart sink. Allanon’s dark worldview did not allow for hope. He saw the end as inevitable and the battle of good and evil as nothing but a holding action. He might not even accept that the struggle was worth the effort. Yet even so, even though his words were flat and empty of emotion, she could sense something more behind them.
“That may be,” she said finally. “But does that mean we should quit trying? Should we give in?”
–Answer your own question, Ard Rhys. Should you?–
“I don’t think so.”
–But you are not certain–
“I am certain. I won’t quit. The members of my Druid order will not quit. Have you, in death, decided we should? Do you tell us we must follow your lead?”
–I tell you nothing. The dead can only question or suggest–
“Then I say again we do not quit. Nor should you, if that is what you intend. Instead, you should help us.”
–You must help yourself, Ard Rhys. You are more able than I–
There was a challenge in his words, a veiled threat. But she sensed that he was still waiting, hoping for something more. Her mind raced, trying to discover what it was.
“I am willing to do that,” she answered. “To do whatever is necessary. I would begin my search, but I don’t know where to start. I have a story and the name of a girl and nothing more. I don’t even know if any of what is written is real. The tone suggests it is, but there are questions anyway. There cannot help but be questions.” She paused. “Do you know of this girl? Aleia Omarosian—that is her name. She is the one who wrote the diary. Do you know her?”
For the first time, the shade of Allanon did not answer right away.
–I know something of her–
She waited. “What is it you know?”
The shade did not answer. She contained her exasperation as the delay lengthened. “Did she write the diary? Is the diary true? Is there more that she can tell us of the Darkling boy who stole the Elfstones? Is there anything at all?”
Still the shade was silent, perhaps contemplating, perhaps weighing what answering might cost, perhaps doing something else entirely. She kept her peace, not wanting to disturb whatever debate was taking place, not wanting to do anything that would cost her a chance to learn even one new thing that could be useful.
When he spoke again, he surprised her.
–Have you considered the cost of your questions? To yourself? To others you care about? To the people you hope to save?–
She had no idea what he was talking about, and she hesitated before answering. “The Druids are prepared to give up their lives if it will help advance the efforts of the order. You know this. As for thosewe seek to help, I think that doing nothing might cause them more grief still.”
–What if your efforts in this undertaking are for nothing? What if you are doomed to fail?–
“Then at least we will have tried and not let fate and chance dictate the outcome.”
–Fate and chance may do so anyway–
“I know that. To some extent, I am sure they will. But there will be some things we can influence, that we can change or make better or illuminate in ways that teach and guide us.”
–Brave words–
“Would you have us do nothing, Allanon? I’ll ask it again.”
It was a bold, almost accusatory question, but she could not help herself. She wanted a better response
The shade’s hiss seemed to reflect the sounds of the waters over which it hovered, its breath exhaling in a cloud of steam.
–Foolish talk, Ard Rhys. There is no lasting peace. There is no protection you can offer to those who will not help themselves. All our struggles do is hold back a tide that will finally and inevitably sweep us away–
She felt her heart sink. Allanon’s dark worldview did not allow for hope. He saw the end as inevitable and the battle of good and evil as nothing but a holding action. He might not even accept that the struggle was worth the effort. Yet even so, even though his words were flat and empty of emotion, she could sense something more behind them.
“That may be,” she said finally. “But does that mean we should quit trying? Should we give in?”
–Answer your own question, Ard Rhys. Should you?–
“I don’t think so.”
–But you are not certain–
“I am certain. I won’t quit. The members of my Druid order will not quit. Have you, in death, decided we should? Do you tell us we must follow your lead?”
–I tell you nothing. The dead can only question or suggest–
“Then I say again we do not quit. Nor should you, if that is what you intend. Instead, you should help us.”
–You must help yourself, Ard Rhys. You are more able than I–
There was a challenge in his words, a veiled threat. But she sensed that he was still waiting, hoping for something more. Her mind raced, trying to discover what it was.
“I am willing to do that,” she answered. “To do whatever is necessary. I would begin my search, but I don’t know where to start. I have a story and the name of a girl and nothing more. I don’t even know if any of what is written is real. The tone suggests it is, but there are questions anyway. There cannot help but be questions.” She paused. “Do you know of this girl? Aleia Omarosian—that is her name. She is the one who wrote the diary. Do you know her?”
For the first time, the shade of Allanon did not answer right away.
–I know something of her–
She waited. “What is it you know?”
The shade did not answer. She contained her exasperation as the delay lengthened. “Did she write the diary? Is the diary true? Is there more that she can tell us of the Darkling boy who stole the Elfstones? Is there anything at all?”
Still the shade was silent, perhaps contemplating, perhaps weighing what answering might cost, perhaps doing something else entirely. She kept her peace, not wanting to disturb whatever debate was taking place, not wanting to do anything that would cost her a chance to learn even one new thing that could be useful.
When he spoke again, he surprised her.
–Have you considered the cost of your questions? To yourself? To others you care about? To the people you hope to save?–
She had no idea what he was talking about, and she hesitated before answering. “The Druids are prepared to give up their lives if it will help advance the efforts of the order. You know this. As for thosewe seek to help, I think that doing nothing might cause them more grief still.”
–What if your efforts in this undertaking are for nothing? What if you are doomed to fail?–
“Then at least we will have tried and not let fate and chance dictate the outcome.”
–Fate and chance may do so anyway–
“I know that. To some extent, I am sure they will. But there will be some things we can influence, that we can change or make better or illuminate in ways that teach and guide us.”
–Brave words–
“Would you have us do nothing, Allanon? I’ll ask it again.”
It was a bold, almost accusatory question, but she could not help herself. She wanted a better response
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