The Elves of Cintra by Terry Brooks

another Knight of the Word, then taken to your mother. You found your purpose with her, merging with her, becoming her unborn child. She took you inside her, gave birth to you, raised you, then gave you back to me.”
    Hawk stared, and then said the first thing that came to mind. “I don’t remember any of this. I don’t think it ever happened.”
    The old man nodded. “I took away your memories.”
    “You took away…” Hawk couldn’t finish. “Why would you do that?”
    “You didn’t need them then. It wasn’t time for you to have them.” The old man kept walking, not slowing or quickening his pace, just ambling through the flowers and the sunlight, his time and Hawk’s of no importance. “Let me start again,” he said, “so that you will understand.”
    Hawk folded his arms over his chest, already prepared to dismiss everything he was about to hear. He didn’t know who the old man was or how he had brought him to these gardens, but when you started believing that someone could take away your memories or make you become a boy out of a seed, it was time to back up a few steps.
    He waited for the old man to begin, but they continued walking in silence. Hawk was impatient but knew the value of not rushing things when you were at a disadvantage, which he clearly was, so he waited. Finally, they reached a small pool and stone fountain surrounded by ancient wooden benches, and they seated themselves next to each other facing down long rows of small purple flowers that hung from vines off lengths of trellis, climbing and tumbling away like a waterfall.
    “Wisteria,” the old man said quietly, gesturing toward the flowers.
    Hawk nodded, saying nothing, still waiting. He wanted to get this over with. He was anxious to see Tessa, to make certain she was all right. He was eager to return to the Ghosts, assuming the old man would let him do so. He couldn’t be sure of that. He couldn’t be sure of anything just at the moment.
    “You asked before who I was,” the old man said, looking not at him, but off into the distance. “I have no real name, but the Elves in Faerie time called me the King of the Silver River and the name has stayed with me. Like you, though you doubt your origins still, I am a Faerie creature born of the Word’s magic. We sit in the Gardens of Life, which have been given into my care. All life begins here. Once conceived, it goes out into the larger world to play its part. This is what happened to you. You were wild magic conceived first within these gardens, then within the world of humans. A Knight of the Word named John Ross caught you up before you were fully formed, and when you took the shape of a small boy he took you to Nest Freemark, who became your mother. She did not know your purpose, but she possessed magic as well, a legacy of her unusual family. She kept you for as long as was necessary after giving birth to you, but eventually it was necessary to take you away from her and bring you here.”
    Hawk shook his head. “I remember the Oregon coast, swimming in the ocean, lying on the beach, being with my family there. I don’t remember anything of what you are telling me.”
    “Because you weren’t meant to until now. I gave you those other memories so that you wouldn’t know who you were until it was time.” The old man smiled. “I know this is hard to accept. But your memories will begin to return now, and they will help you to understand. You must be patient with them and with yourself until they do.”
    He studied Hawk a moment, then shook his head. “I should be better at this, but I don’t get much practice. Mostly, I tend these gardens and let the affairs of humans and others take whatever course fate decrees. But the old world is ending, and the new one requires my help. So I must do the best I can with this. Logan Tom has begun this task, but it is up to me to try to finish it.
    “Here is what you must know. You have powerful enemies, one in particular. They hunt