A Knight of the Word by Terry Brooks

Nest shook her head in dismay. “But I don’t know what. .”

A big hand came up swiftly to cut her short. “Because, if the young woman does not help him,” he said carefully, his rough voice leaning he heavily on each word, “he will be lost forever.”

She nodded.” her breath tight in her throat.

“Because, if the young woman fails. the lady has made other arrangements’ Two Bears leaned so close that his broad face was only inches from her own. His voice became a whisper. “She cannot allow her champion to serve another cause, one that would be harmful to her own. She cannot allow her talisman to fall into the hands of her enemies.”

There was no mistaking his meaning – It was the same message the Lady had given Ariel. If John Ross succumbed to the Void, he would be killed. But how did you kill a Knight of the Word? Who was strong enough? Who had a weapon more powerful than his?

Two Bears rose abruptly, and she with him. They stood close, looking out over the bay. The wind blew in chilly gusts off the water, causing Nest to shiver.

“As I said, it is only a story. Who knows if it is true? I here are so many stories like it Fairy tales. But the young woman reminded me of you.” Two Bears folded his massive aims. “Tell me. If you were the young woman in this story, what would you do?”

She looked up at him, tall, broad-shouldered, and implacable. She was suddenly frightened. “I don’t know.”

He smiled at her, and the smile was warm. “Don’t be so sure of that Maybe you know better than you drink.”

She took hold of his arm. “If this is only a story, then it must have an ending. Tell it to me.”

He said nothing, and his smile turned chilly. Her hands fell away “There are many endings to this story. They change over time and with the teller. The stories of the Sinnissippi were all changed when my people perished. The endings would be different if they had survived, but they did not I know this much. If you make the story your own, then the ending becomes yours to tell as you wish.”

He was leaving, and when he did so she would lose any chance of gaining his help. She fought down the desperation that flooded through her.

“Don’t go,” she begged.

“Our paths have crossed twice now, little birds Nest,” the Sinnissippi said. “I would not be surprised if they were to cross again.”

“You could help me.” she hissed, pleading with him.

He shook his head and placed his big hands on her slender shoulders. “Perhaps it is for you to help me. If I were the lady in the story, in the event all else failed.” I would send someone to take back the talisman from my fallen champion, someone strong enough to do so.” someone who knew much about death and did not fear it, because he had embraced it many times before.”. He paused. “Someone like me.”

Nest’s throat knotted in horror, Images of the past flooded through her mind. In Sinnissippi Park, on the Fourth of July, five years earlier, when he had appeared so mysteriously and done so much to help her find the courage she needed to face her father, she had seen nothing of this. She stared at him in disbelief, unable to give voice to what she was thinking.

“Speak my name,” the big man said softly.

“O’olish Amaneh,” she whispered.

He nodded. “It sounds good when you say it. I will remember that always.”

One hand pointed. “Look. Over there, where the mountains and the forests and the lakes shine in the sunlight. Look closely, little bird’s Nest. It will remind you of home.”

She did as he asked, compelled by his voice. She stared out expectantly at a vista of white and green and blue, at a panorama that extended for miles, at a sweep of country that was so beautiful it took her breath away. Ferry boats churned through the bay below. Sailboats tacked into the wind. The late afternoon sun beat down on the foaming waters, reflecting in bright silver bursts off the wave caps, The forests of the islands and peninsula were lush and inviting. The mountains shone.

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