The Elfstones of Shannara by Terry Brooks Page A

Ask Dardan and Rhoe to keep watch until I retire. I wish to see no one.”
    He turned abruptly and re-entered the study, closing the door firmly behind him. Manx had wandered in, sniffed questioningly the stranger he found seated at the reading table, then, apparently satisfied, had dropped down next to the stone fireplace beside them, his muzzle resting comfortably on his paws, his brown eyes closing contentedly. Eventine sat down again.
    â€œWas it this creature, then, that killed the Chosen?” he asked, picking up the conversation.
    The Druid nodded. “I believe it to be so. I sensed the danger to the Chosen and came as quickly as I could. Not quickly enough, unfortunately, to save them.”
    Eventine smiled sadly. “The fault lies with me, I’m afraid. I left them unprotected, even after I was told the Forbidding had begun to fail. But perhaps it makes no difference. Even had they lived, I am not certain the Chosen would have been able to save the Ellcrys. Nothing of what she showed them of the location of the Bloodfire is recognizable. Not even the name she gave them—Safehold. Do you recognize it?”
    Allanon shook his head no.
    â€œOur records tell us nothing of Safehold—neither those of my predecessors who ruled nor those of the Chosen,” the King continued. “I am faced with an impossible situation. The Ellcrys is dying. In order to save her, one of the Chosen in service to her now must carry her seed to the Bloodfire, immerse it in the flames and then return it to the earth so that a rebirth might be possible.”
    â€œI am familiar with the history,” the Druid interjected.
    The King flushed. The anger and frustration he had held inside was working its way to the fore.
    â€œThen consider this. We do not know the location of the Bloodfire. We have no record of the name Safehold. And now the Chosen are all dead. We have no one to bear the Ellcrys seed. The outcome of all this seems quite inevitable. The Ellcrys will die, the Forbidding will crumble, the evil locked within will be free once more upon the land, and the Elves and very likely all of the races inhabiting the Four Lands will be faced with a war that could easily destroy us all!”
    He leaned forward sharply. “I am a King; I am that and nothing more. You are a Druid, a sorcerer. If you have any help to offer, then do so. There is nothing more that I know to do.”
    The Druid cocked his head slightly, as if considering the problem.
    â€œBefore coming to see you, Eventine, I went into the Gardens of Life and spoke with the Ellcrys.”
    The King stared at him incredulously. “You spoke with . . . ?”
    â€œPerhaps it would be more accurate to say that she spoke with me. Had she not chosen to do so, there would have been no communication between us, of course.”
    â€œBut she speaks only to the Chosen,” Ander interjected, then fell quickly silent as he saw his father frown in annoyance.
    â€œMy son is correct, Allanon.” Eventine turned back to the Druid. “The Ellcrys speaks to no one but the Chosen—and seldom to them.”
    â€œShe speaks to those who serve her,” Allanon replied. “Of the Elves, only the Chosen do so. But the Druids have also served the Ellcrys, though in a different fashion. In any case, I simply offered myself to her and she chose to speak with me. What she told me suggests that you are mistaken in your view of matters in at least one respect.”
    Eventine waited a moment for the Druid to continue. He did not. He simply sat there, staring at the Elf questioningly.
    â€œVery well, I will ask it then.” The King forced himself to remain calm. “In what respect am I mistaken?”
    â€œBefore I tell you that,” Allanon said, leaning forward, “I want you to understand something. I have come to give whatever aid I may, for the evil that is imprisoned within the Forbidding threatens all life in the