The Elfstones of Shannara

From the Inside Flap Ancient Evil threatens the Elves: The ancient tree created by long-lost Elven magic, is dying. When Wil Ohmsford is summoned to guard the Amberle on a perilous quest to gather a new seed for a new tree, he is faced with the Reaper, the most fearsome of all Demons. And Wil is without power to control them.... From the Paperback edition. --This text refers to the unknown_binding edition. Terry Brooks has thrilled readers for decades with his powers of imagination and storytelling. He is the author of more than thirty books, most of which have been New York Times bestsellers. He lives with his wife, Judine, in the Pacific Northwest. --This text refers to the unknown_binding edition. Praise for Terry Brooks “Shannara was one of my favorite fictional worlds growing up, and I look forward to many return trips.” —Karen Russell, author of Swamplandia! “If Tolkien is the grandfather of modern fantasy, Terry Brooks is its favorite uncle.” —Peter V. Brett, author of The Skull Throne “A great storyteller, Terry Brooks creates rich epics filled with mystery, magic, and memorable characters.” —Christopher Paolini, author of Eragon --This text refers to the unknown_binding edition. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. The night sky brightened faintly in the east with the approach of dawn as the Chosen entered theGardens of Life. Without, the Elven city of Arborlon lay sleeping, its people still wrapped in thewarmth and solitude of their beds. But for the Chosen, the day had already begun. Their trailingwhite robes billowing slightly with a rush of summerwind, they passed between the sentries of the Black Watch, who stoodrigid and aloof as such sentries had stood for centuries gone before thearched, wrought-iron gateway inlaid with silver scroll and ivory chips.They passed quickly, and only their soft voices and the crunch of theirsandaled feet on the gravel pathway disturbed the silence of the new dayas they slipped into the pine-shadowed dark beyond.The Chosen were the caretakers of the Ellcrys, the strange and wondroustree that stood at the center of the Gardens--the tree, as the legendstold, that served as protector against a primordial evil that had verynearly destroyed the Elves centuries ago, an evil that had been shutaway from the earth since before the dawn of the old race of Men. In allthe time that had followed, there had been Chosen to care for theEllcrys. Theirs was a tradition handed down through generations ofElves, a tradition of service that the Elves regarded as both a covetedhonor and a solemn duty.Yet there was little evidence of solemnity in the procession that passedthrough the Gardens this morning. Two hundred and thirty days of theyear of their service had gone by, and youthful spirits could no longerbe easily subdued. The first sense of awe at the responsibility giventhem had long since passed, and the Chosen of the Elves were now justsix young men on their way to perform a task they had performed each daysince the time of their choosing, a task grown old and familiar--thegreeting of the tree at the first touch of sunrise.Only Lauren, youngest of this year's Chosen, was silent. He laggeda bit behind the others as they walked, taking no part in their idlechatter. His red head was bent in concentration, and there was a deepfrown on his face. So wrapped up in his thoughts was he that he was notaware when the noise ahead ceased, nor of the steps that fell backbeside him, until a hand touched his arm. Then his troubled face jerkedup abruptly to find Jase regarding him."What's the matter, Lauren? Are you sick?" Jase asked. Becausehe was a few months older than the rest, Jase was the accepted leader ofthe Chosen.Lauren shook his head, but the frown did not leave his face entirely."I'm all right.""Something is bothering you. You've been brooding all morning.Come to think of it, you were rather quiet last night, too."Jase's hand on his shoulder brought the younger Elf about to facehim. "Come on, out with it. Nobody expects you to serve ifyouaO(TM)re not feeling well."Lauren hesitated, then sighed and nodded, "All right. It's theEllcrys. Yesterday, at sunset, just before we left her, I thought I sawsome spotting on her leaves. It looked like wilt.""Wilt? Are you sure? Nothing like that ever happens to theEllcrys--at least that's what wea've always been told," Jasesaid doubtfully."I could have been mistaken," Lauren admitted. "It was gettingdark. I told myself then that it was probably just the way the shadowslay on the leaves. But the more I try to remember how it looked, themore I think it really was wilt."There was a disconcerted muttering from the others, and one of themspoke. "This is Amberle's fault. I said before that somethingbad would come from having a girl picked as a Chosen.""There were other girls among the Chosen, and nothing happenedbecause of it," Lauren protested. He had always liked Amberle. She hadbeen easy to talk to, even if she was King Eventine Elessedila'sgranddaughter."Not for five hundred years, Lauren," the other said."All right, that's enough," Jase interrupted. "We agreednot to talk about Amberle. You know that." He stood silently for amoment, pondering what Lauren had said. Then he shrugged. "It wouldbe unfortunate if anything happened to the tree, especially while shewas under our care. But after all, nothing lasts forever."Lauren was shocked. "But Jase, when the tree weakens, the Forbiddingwill end and the Demons within will be freed . . .""Do you really believe those old stories, Lauren?" Jase laughed.Lauren stared at the older Elf. "How can you be a Chosen and notbelieve?""I don't remember being asked what I believed when I was chosen,Lauren. Were you asked?"Lauren shook his head. Candidates for the honor of being Chosen werenever asked anything. They were simply brought before the tree--youngElves who had crossed over into manhood and womanhood in the prior year.At the dawn of the new year, they gathered to pass beneath her limbs,each pausing momentarily for acceptance. Those the tree touched upon theshoulders became the new Chosen, to serve until the year was done.Lauren could still remember the mix of ecstasy and pride he had felt atthe moment a slender branch had bent to touch him and he'd heardher speak his name.And he remembered, too, the astonishment of all when Amberle had beencalled . . ."It's just a tale to frighten children," Jase was saying."The real function of the Ellcrys is to serve as a reminder to theElven people that they, like her, survive despite all the changes thathave taken place in the history of the Four Lands. She is a symbol ofour people's strength, Lauren--nothing more."He motioned for them all to resume their walk into the Gardens andturned away. Lauren lapsed back into thought. The older Elf'scasual disregard for the legend of the tree disturbed him. Of courseJase was from the city, and Lauren had observed that the people ofArborlon seemed to take the old beliefs less seriously than did those ofthe little northern village from which he came. But the story of theEllcrys and the Forbidding wasn't just a story--it was thefoundation of everything that was truly Elven, the most important eventin the history of his people.It had all taken place long ago, before the birth of the new world.There had been a great war between good and evilaO"a war that the Elveshad finally won by creating the Ellcrys and a Forbidding that hadbanished the evil Demons into a timeless dark. And so long as theEllcrys was kept well, so long would the evil be locked from the land.So long as the Ellcrys was kept well . . .He shook his head doubtfully. Maybe the wilt was but a trick of hisimagination. Or a trick of the light. And if not, they would simply haveto find a cure. There was always a cure.Moments later, he stood with the others before the tree. Hesitantly, helooked up, then sighed in relief. It appeared as if the Ellcrys wasunchanged. Perfectly formed, her silver-white trunk arched skyward in asymmetrically balanced network of tapered limbs clustered with broad,five-cornered leaves that were blood-red in color. At her base, stripsof green moss grew in patchwork runners through the cracks and crevicesof the smooth-skinned bark, like emerald streams flowing down a mountainhillside. There were no splits to mar the trunk's even lines, nobranches cracked or broken. So beautiful, he thought. He looked again,but could see no signs of the sickness he had feared.The others went to gather the tools they would use in the feeding andgrooming of the tree and in the general upkeep of the Gardens. But Jaseheld Lauren back. "Would you like to greet her today, Lauren?" heasked.Lauren stammered his surprised thanks. Jase was giving up his turn forthe most special of tasks, obviously in an effort to cheer him.He stepped forward under the spreading branches to lay his hands uponthe smooth-skinned trunk, the others gathering about a few paces back torecite the morning greeting. He glanced upward expectantly, searchingfor the first beam of sunlight that would fall upon her form.Then abruptly he drew back. The leaves directly above him were dark withpatches of wilt. His heart fell. There was spotting elsewhere as well,scattered throughout the tree. It was not a trick of light and shadow.It was real.He motioned frantically for Jase, then pointed as the other cameforward. As was their custom at this time, they did not speak, but Jasegasped as he saw the extent of the damage already done. Slowly the twowalked around the tree, discovering spots everywhere, some barelyvisible, others already darkening the leaves so badly that theirblood-red color seemed drained away.Whatever his professed beliefs concerning the tree, Jase was badlyshaken, and his face reflected his dismay as he went back to confer inwhispers with the others. Lauren moved to join them, but Jase quicklyshook his head, motioning to the top of the tree, where the dawn'slight had almost reached the uppermost branches.Lauren knew his duty and he turned back again to the tree. Whatever elsewas to happen, the Chosen must greet the Ellcrys this day as they hadgreeted her each day since the beginning of their Order.He placed his hands gently on the silver bark and the words of greetingwere forming on his lips when a slender branch from the ancient treedipped slightly to brush his shoulder.--Lauren--The young Elf jumped at the sound of his name. But no one had spoken.The sound had been in his mind, the voice little more than an image of --This text refers to the unknown_binding edition. The magical Ellcrys tree is dying, loosening the spell that bars the Demons from enacting vengeance upon the land. Now Wil Ohmsford must guard the Elven girl Amberle on a perilous quest as she carries one of the Ellcrys' seeds to a mysterious place where it can be quickened into a powerful new force. But dark on their trail comes the Reaper, most fearsome of all Demons, aiming to crush their mission at any cost. Thus continues the enthralling Shannara epic, a spellbinding tale of adventure, magic, and myth... --This text refers to the unknown_binding edition. From AudioFile The second volume of Terry Brooks's Shannara trilogy tells the tale of Wil Ohmsford, who, with his magical and powerful Elfstones, must protect an elf named Amberle as she takes a seed from a magical tree to a place where it can grow. Malevolent forces bar the way. Charles Keating lends his voice to this Tolkienesque fantasy, an excellent match between reader and material. At six hours in length, this abridgment is satisfying--with a fast-moving story and clear delivery. S.D. © AudioFile 2004, Portland, Maine-- Copyright © AudioFile, Portland, Maine --This text refers to the unknown_binding edition. Read more