The Elf Queen of Shannara by Terry Brooks Page B

for whom the signal fire was intended and that he was simply being cautious about what he revealed until he found out whom he was dealing with. She disclosed her background, revealing that she was the child of an Elf and a Rover, searching for some link to her past. She advised him of her meeting with the shade of Allanon and the Druid’s charge that she go in search of the missing Elves, that she discover what had become of them, and that she return them to the world of Men so that they could take part in the battle against the Shadowen.
    She kept quiet about the Elfstones. She was not yet ready to trust anyone with that information.
    Tiger Ty shifted and fidgeted as she talked, his face worrying itself into a dozen different expressions. He seemed heedless of Garth, his attention focused on Wren. He carried no weapons save for a long knife, but with Spirit standing watch she supposed he had no need of weapons. The Roc was clearly his protector.
    â€œLet’s sit,” Tiger Ty said when she had finished, pulling off his leather gloves. “Got anything to eat?”
    They seated themselves beside the now-forgotten signal fire, and Wren produced a collection of dried fruit, a little bread, and some ale. They ate and drank in silence, Wren and Garth exchanging occasional glances, Tiger Ty ignoring them both, absorbed in the task of eating.
    When they were finished, Tiger Ty smiled for the first time. “A good start to the day, Miss Wren. Thanks very much.”
    Wren nodded. “You’re welcome. Now tell me. Was our fire meant for you?”
    The leathery face furrowed. “Well, now. Depends, you know. Let me ask you, Miss Wren. Do you know anything of Wing Riders?”
    Wren shook her head no.
    â€œBecause that’s what I am, you see,” the other explained. “A Wing Rider. A flyer of the skylanes, a watcher of the Westland coast. Spirit is my Roc, trained by my father, given to me when I became old enough. One day he’ll go to my son, if my son proves out. There’s some question about it just now. Fool boy keeps winging about where he’s not supposed to. Doesn’t pay attention to what I tell him. Impetuous. Anyway, Wing Riders have flown their Rocs along the Blue Divide for hundreds of years. This very spot, right here—and back there in the valley—was our home once. It was called the Wing Hove. That was in the time of the Druid Allanon. You see, I know a few things.”
    â€œDo you know the Ohmsford name?” Wren asked impulsively.
    â€œThere was a tale about an Ohmsford some several hundred years ago when the Elves fought demons released out of the Forbidding. Wing Riders fought in that war, too, they say. But there was an Ohmsford, I’m told. Relation of yours?”
    â€œYes,” she said. “Twelve generations removed.”
    He nodded thoughtfully. “So that’s you, is it? A child of the house of Shannara?”
    Wren nodded. “I suppose that’s why I’ve been sent to find the Elves, Tiger Ty.”
    Tiger Ty looked doubtful. “Wing Riders are Elves, you know,” he said carefully. “But we’re not the Elves you’re looking for. The Elves you’re looking for are Land Elves, not Sky Elves. Do you understand the difference?”
    She shook her head no once more. He explained then that the members of the Wing Hove were Sky Elves and considered themselves a separate people. The majority of the Elves were called Land Elves because they had no command of the Rocs and therefore could not fly.
    â€œThat’s why they didn’t take us with them when they left,” he finished, eyebrows arched. “That’s why we wouldn’t have gone with them in any case.”
    Wren felt her pulse quicken. “Then there are still Elves, aren’t there? Where are they, Tiger Ty?”
    The gnarled little man blinked and squinched up his leathery face. “Don’t know if I should tell you