qualify the extent of the Elfstone’s use. One magic alone, it said,
had the power to restore Paranor. One magic. The Black Elf-
stone. There wasn’t any another magic mentioned, not any-
where. There wasn’t another word about returning Paranor to
the world of men in all the pages of all the Druid Histories.
Suppose, then, that the Black Elfstone was all that was
required, but that it must be used not just once, but twice
or even three times before the restoration process was com-
plete.
But used to do what?
The answer seemed obvious. The magic that Allanon had
released into the Keep three hundred years ago was a sort of
watchdog set loose to do two things-to destroy the Keep’s en-
emies and to dispatch Paranor into limbo and keep it there until
it was properly summoned out again. The magic was a living
thing. You could feel it in the walls of the castle; you could
hear it stir in its bowels. It watched and listened. It breathed. It
was there, waiting. If the Keep was to be restored to the Four
Lands, the magic Allan on had loosed must be locked away again.
It was reasonable to assume that only another form of magic
could accomplish this. And the only magic at hand, the only
magic even mentioned in the Druid Histories where Paranor was
concerned, was the Black Elfstone.
So far, so good. Druid magic to negate Druid magic. It made
sense; it was the Black Elfstone’s stated power, the negation of
other magics. One magic, the inscription read. And Walker must
wield it, of course. He had done so once, proved that he could.
Whosoever shall have cause and right. Himself. Use the Black Elfstone
against the watchdog magic and secure it. Use the Black Elfstone
and bring Paranor all the way back.
But there was still something missing. There was no expla-
nation of how the Black Elfstone would work. It was infinitely
more complicated than simply calling up the magic and letting
it run loose. The Black Elfstone negated other magics by draw-
ing them into itself-and into its holder. Walker Boh had already
been changed when he had used the Elfstone to bring Paranor
back and gain entry, turned from a whole man into something
incorporeal. What further damage might he do to himself if he
used the Elfstone on the watchdog? What further transformation
might take place?
And then, abruptly, he realized two things.
First, that he was still not a Druid and would not become
one until he had established his right to do so-that his right
would not come from study, or learning, or wisdom gleaned
from a reading of the Druid Histories, that it was not foreor-
dained, not predetermined by the bestowal of Allanon’s blood
trust to Brin Ohmsford three hundred years earlier, but that it
would come at the moment he found a way to subdue the
watchdog that guarded the Keep and brought Paranor fully back
into the world of Men, because that was the test that Allanon
had set him.
Second, that the third vision the Grimpond had shown him,
the one that would take place within Paranor, the one where he
was confronted by a death he could not escape, held fast by the
ghost of Allanon, was a glimpse of that moment.
His arguments were persuasive. The Druids would not com-
mit to writing a process as inviolate as this one when there was
a better way. Only Walker Boh could use the Black Elfstone.
Only he had the right. Somehow, in some way, that use would
trigger the required transformation. When it was necessary to
know, Walker would discover what was needed. So much of
the Druid magic relied on acceptance-use of the Elfstones, of
the Sword of Shannara, even of the wishsong. It was only rea-
sonable that it would be the same here.
And the Grimpond’s vision only cemented his thinking.
There would have to be a confrontation of the sort depicted. A
literal reading of the vision suggested that such a confrontation
would result in Walker’s death, that Allanon by sending him
here had bound him so that he must die, and that whatever he