me. It did not harm us, but instead caught us up and carried us
away as quick as the blink of an eye. We fell unconscious, a
sleep that was as deep as any I have ever known. When we
came awake again, we were here within Paranor, within the
Druid’s Keep.”
He bent close. “I cannot know for certain what happened
when the magic was triggered, Walker, but I can surmise. The
Druids would never leave their work unprotected. Nothing of
what they created would ever be left for use by those who lacked
the right and the proper intent. It was so, I am certain, of their
Histories. The magic that protected them was such that any
threat would result in their return to the vault within the Keep
that had sheltered them all those years. That was what happened
to the History I held. I have looked within the vaults and found
the History back among the others, safely returned. Ailanon
must have known this would happen-and known that anyone
holding the History would be carried away as well-back into
Paranor, back into the Druid’s sanctuary.
“But not,” he finished, “back into the world of mortal men.”
“Because the Keep had been sent elsewhere three hundred
years ago,” Walker murmured, beginning to understand now.
“Yes, Walker, because the Keep had been sent from the Four
Lands by Allanon and would remain gone until the Druids
brought it back again. So the book was returned to it and Rumor
and I sent along as well.” He paused. “It appears that the Druids
are not done with me yet.”
“Are you trapped here, then?” Walker asked softly.
The other’s smile was tight. “I am afraid so. I lack the magic
to free us. We are a part of Paranor now, just as the Histories
are, alive and well, but ghosts within a ghost castle, caught in
some twilight time and place until a stronger magic than mine
sets us free. And that is why I have been waiting for you.” The
bony fingers tightened about Walker’s arm. “Tell me now. Have
you brought the Black Elfstone? Will you show it to me?”
Walker Boh remembered suddenly that he still had hold of
the Stone, the talisman clasped so tightly in his hand that the
edges had embedded themselves in the flesh of his palm. He
held his hand out tentatively, and his fingers slipped open one
by one. He was cautious, afraid that the magic would over-
whelm him. The Black Elfstone gleamed darkly in the hollow of
his palm, but the magic lay dormant, the nonlight sealed away.
Cogline peered down at the Stone wordlessly for long mo-
ments, not attempting more, his narrow, seamed face reflecting
wonder and hesitation. Then he looked up again and said, “How
did you find it, Walker? What happened after Rumor and I were
taken away?”
Walker told him then of the coming of Quickening, the
daughter of the King of the Silver River, and of how she had
healed his arm. He related all that had happened on the journey
north to Eldwist, of the struggle of Quickening and her com-
panions to survive in that land of stone, of the search for Uhf
Beik, of the encounters with the Rake and the Maw Grint, and
of the ultimate destruction of the city and those who sought to
preserve it.
“I came here alone,” he concluded, his gaze distant as the
memories of what had befallen him recalled themselves. “I knew
what was expected of me. I accepted that the trust Allanon had
bequeathed to Brin Ohmsford had been meant for me.” He
glanced over. “You always told me that I first needed to accept
in order to understand, and I suppose I have done as you ad-
vised. And as Allanon charged. I used the Black Elfstone and
brought back the Druid’s Keep. But look at me, Cogline. I ap-
pear as you do, a ghost. If the magic has achieved what was
intended, then why-”
“Think, Walker,” the other interrupted quickly, a pained
look in his ancient eyes. “What was your charge from Allanon?
Repeat it to me.”
Walker took a deep breath, his pale face troubled. “To bring