The Elfstones of Shannara Read Online Free Page B

Ellcrys.”
    â€œA message from the tree?” Eventine frowned. “How long has it been since she gave a message to anyone—over seven hundred years? What was the message?”
    â€œHe wouldn’t tell it to me,” Ander replied. “He insists on delivering the message to you.”
    Eventine nodded “Then deliver it he shall. Show him in, Gael.”
    Gael bowed slightly and hurried out through the chamber doors, leaving them slightly ajar. A moment later a huge, shaggy dog pushed his way through and padded noiselessly to the King. It was Manx, his wolfhound, and he greeted the animal fondly, rubbing the grizzled head, stroking softly the rough coat along the back and flanks. Manx had been with him almost ten years, closer and more faithful than any man could have been.
    â€œGetting a bit gray—like me,” Eventine muttered ruefully.
    The doors opened wide to admit Gael, followed by Lauren. The Chosen paused in the doorway for a moment, glancing uncertainly at Gael. The King nodded to his aide, dismissing him. Ander was about to leave as well when a slight motion from his father indicated he was to remain. Gael bowed again and left, this time closing the doors tightly behind him. When he was gone, the Chosen came forward a pace.
    â€œMy Lord, please forgive . . . they thought that I . . .I should be the one . . .” He was almost choking on the words.
    â€œThere is nothing to forgive,” Eventine assured him. With a charm that Ander had always known his father could display, the King came forward quickly and put his arm about the young Elf’s shoulders. “I know this must be very important to you or you would not have left your work in the Gardens. Here, sit down and tell me about it.”
    He glanced questioningly at Ander, then guided the Chosen to a small writing table at one side of the room, seating him in one of two chairs while he took the other. Ander followed them over, but remained standing.
    â€œYour name is Lauren, isn’t it?” Eventine asked the Chosen.
    â€œYes, my Lord.”
    â€œVery well, Lauren. Now tell me why you’ve come.”
    Lauren drew himself up and placed his hands on the table, folding the fingers together tightly.
    â€œMy Lord, the Ellcrys spoke to the Chosen this morning.” His words were almost a whisper. “She told us . . . she told us that she is dying!”
    Ander felt his blood turn cold. For an instant, the King did not respond, but sat rigidly in place, his eyes fixed on the speaker.
    â€œThere must be a mistake,” he said at last.
    Lauren shook his head emphatically. “There is no mistake, my Lord. She spoke to all of us. We . . . we all heard. She is dying. The Forbidding has already begun to crumble.”
    The King rose slowly and walked to the open window, staring wordlessly out into the forest. Manx, who had curled up at the foot of the bed, rose and followed him. Ander saw the King’s hand stray down to scratch the dog’s ears mechanically.
    â€œYou are certain of this, Lauren?” Eventine asked. “Very certain?”
    â€œYes . . . yes.”
    He was crying softly, almost soundlessly, at the table, his face buried in his hands. Eventine did not turn, but continued to stare fixedly into the woodlands that were his home and the home of his people.
    Ander was frozen, his eyes on his father, his mind still dazed with shock. The enormity of what he had heard slowly took hold. The Ellcrys dying! The Forbidding ending. The evil that had been shut away free once more. Chaos, madness, war! In the end, the destruction of everything.
    He had studied history under his tutors and again in the books of his own library. It was a history that bore the trappings of legend.
    Once, long ago, in a time before the Great Wars, before the dawn of civilization in the old world, even before the emergence of the old race of Man, there had