The Sword of Shannara - Terry Brooks [19]
“It’s from Allanon,” Shea confirmed his brother’s suspicion. “Listen to this, Flick:
I have no time to find you and explain matters further. Something of the greatest importance has occurred, and I must leave immediately — perhaps even now I am too late. You must trust me and believe what I told you, even though I will not be able to return to the valley.
You will not long be safe in Shady Vale, and you must be prepared to flee quickly. Should your safety be threatened, you will find shelter at Culhaven in the forests of the Anar. I will send a friend to guide you. Place your trust in Balinor.
Speak with no one of our meeting. The danger to you is extreme. In the pocket of your maroon travel cloak, I have placed a small pouch which contains three Elfstones. They will provide you with guidance and protection when nothing else can. Be cautioned — they are for Shea alone and to be used only when all else fails.
The sign of the Skull will be your warning to flee. May luck be with you, my young friend, until we meet again.”
Shea looked excitedly at his brother, but the suspicious Flick shook his head in disbelief and frowned deeply.
“I don’t trust him. Whatever is he talking about anyway — Skulls and Elfstones? I never even heard of a place called Culhaven, and the Anar forests are miles from here — days and days. I don’t like it.”
“The stones!” Shea exclaimed, and leaped for the traveling cloak which hung in the long corner closet. He rummaged through his clothes for several minutes while Flick watched anxiously, then carefully stepped back with a small leather pouch balanced gently in his right hand. He held it up and tested its weight, displaying it to his brother, and then hurried back to the bed and sat down. A moment later he had the drawstrings open and was emptying the contents of the pouch into his open palm. Three dark blue stones tumbled out, each the size of an average pebble, finely cut and glowing brightly in the faint candlelight. The brothers peered curiously at the stones, half expecting that they would immediately do something wondrous. But nothing happened. They lay motionless in Shea’s palm, shimmering like small blue stars snatched from the night, so clear that it was almost possible to see through them, as if they were merely tinted glass. Finally, after Flick had summoned enough courage to touch one, Shea dropped them back into the pouch and stuffed it into his shirt pocket.
“Well, he was right about the stones,” ventured Shea a moment later.
“Maybe yes, maybe no — maybe they’re not Elfstones,” suggested Flick suspiciously. “How do you know — ever see one? What about the rest of the letter? I never heard of anyone named Balinor and I never heard of Culhaven. We ought to forget the whole business — especially that we ever saw Allanon.”
Shea nodded doubtfully, unable to answer his brother’s questions.
“Why should we worry now? All we have to do is to keep our eyes open for the sign of the Skull, whatever that may be, or for Allanon’s friend to appear. Maybe nothing will happen after all.”
Flick continued to voice his distrust of the letter and its author for several minutes more before losing interest. Both brothers were weary and decided to call it a night. As the candles were extinguished, Shea’s last act was to place the pouch carefully beneath his pillow where he could feel its small bulk pressing against the side of his face. No matter what Flick might think, he had resolved to keep the stones close at hand in the days ahead.
The next day, it began to rain. Huge, towering black clouds rolled in from the north quite suddenly and settled over the entire valley, blotting out all traces of sun and sky as they released torrents of shattering rain which swept through the tiny hamlet with unbelievable ferocity. All work in the fields came to an abrupt halt and travel to and from the valley ceased entirely — first for one, then two, and finally three complete