the second, he had pushed to her death a woman with silver hair,
a magical creature of extraordinary beauty. In the third, Allanon
had held him fast while death reached to claim him.
There was some measure of truth in each of these visions,
Walker knew-enough truth so that he must pay heed to them
and not simply dismiss them as the Grimpond’s tauntings. The
visions meant something; the Grimpond had left it to him to try
to figure out what.
So Walker Boh debated. But the days passed and still the
answers he needed would not come. All that was certain was
the location of the Black Elfstone-and its claim upon the Dark
Uncle grew stronger, a lure that drew him like a moth to flame,
though the moth understood the promise of death that waited
and flew to it nevertheless.
And fly to it Walker did as well in the end. Despite his resolve
to wait until he had puzzled out the Grimpond’s riddles, his
hunger to reclaim the missing Elfstone finally overcame him.
He had thought the conversation through until he was sick of
repeating it in his mind. He became convinced that he had
learned all from it that he was going to learn. There was no
other course of action left to him but to go in search of the Black
Elfstone and to discover by doing what he could discover in no
other way. It would be dangerous; but he had survived danger-
ous situations before. He resolved not to be afraid, only to be
careful.
He left the valley at the close of the week, departing with the
sunrise, traveling afoot, wearing a long forest cloak for protec-
tion against the weather and carrying only a rucksack full of
provisions. Most of what he would need he would find on the
way. He walked west mto Darldin Reach and did not look back
until Hearthstone was lost from view. Rumor remained behind.
It was difficult to leave the big cat; Walker would have felt better
having him along. Few things living would challenge a full-
grown moor cat. But it would be dangerous for Rumor as well
outside the protective confines of the Easuand, where he could
not conceal himself as easily and where his natural protection
would be stripped from him. Besides, this was Walker’s quest
and his alone.
The irony of his choosing to make the quest at all did not
escape him. He was the one who had vowed never to have any-
thing to do with the Druids and their machinations. He had gone
grudgingly with Par on his journey to the Hadeshom. He had
left the meeting with the shade of Allanon convinced that the
Druid was playing games with the Ohmsfords, using them to
serve his own hidden purposes. He had practically thrown Cog-
line from his own home, insisting that the other’s efforts to teach
the secrets of the magic had retarded his growth rather than
enhanced it. He had threatened to take the Druid History that
the old man had brought him and throw it into the deepest bog.
But then he had read about the Black Elfstone, and somehow
everything had changed. He still wasn’t sure why. His curiosity
was partly to blame, his insatiable need to know. Was there such
a thing as the Black Elfstone? Could it bring back disappeared
Paranor as the history promised? Questions to be answered-he
could never resist the lure of their secrets. Such secrets had
to be solved, their mysteries revealed. There was knowledge
waiting to be discovered. It was the purpose to which he had
dedicated his life.
He wanted to believe that his sense of fairness and compas-
sion made him go as well. Despite what he believed about the
Druids, there might be something in Paranor itself-if, indeed,
the Druid’s Keep could be brought back-that would help the
Four Lands against the Shadowen. He was uneasy with the pos-
sibility that in not going he was condemning the Races to a
future like that which the Druid shade had described.
He promised himself as he departed that he would do no more
than he must and certainly no more than he believed reasonable.