ging, and then digging harder. The first of the Seekers reached
her, and she kicked out with her boot and knocked him aside.
Grasping the bag, she scrambled to her feet, weaponless as she
faced the rest. She screamed in fury, giving up on the Stones,
her hand closing over the leather pouch in a fist, swinging at the
Seeker closest, deflecting the blade from her throat so that it
sliced down the side of her arm, shredding her cloak and draw-
ing blood. She spun and kicked, and another of her attackers
flew aside. But there were too many, too many to face alone.
Then Faun was leaping into the fray, launching her tiny body
at the closest attacker, spitting and tearing with her claws and
teeth. The Seekers behind slowed, not certain what it was they
faced, surprised by the Tree Squeak’s sudden reappearance.
Wren stumbled backward again and struggled to her feet. Faun!
she tried to call out, but her throat constricted on the cry. The
Seeker Faun had attacked ripped out furiously, tearing the small
body away from its face and throwing it to the ground. “No!”
Wren howled, bringing up the arm that held the Elfstones. Faun
struck the rocky earth and the Seeker brought down his boot.
There was the sound of breaking bones and a high-pitched
shriek.
398 The Talismans of Shannara
And everything shattered inside Wren Elessedil, a whirlwind
of fury and anguish and despair, and from out of its core rose
the magic of the Elfstones. It exploded inside her fist, disinte-
grating the leather pouch, ripping through the cracks of her fin-
gers like water squeezed through sand. It caught the Seeker
standing over Faun and consumed him. It raced on to the others
who were trying to reach her and hammered into them. They
went down as if formed of paper, as if cut and pasted together,
then hung on strings in the air and left to withstand the force
and violence of a windstorm. Some got past and reached her,
hands groping, tearing for her. Some fastened on her and sought
to bring her down. But Wren was beyond their power, beyond
feeling, beyond anything but the Elven magic as it surged
through her. She was given over to its need and nothing could
bring her back until that need was satisfied. The magic swung
back to catch those clinging to her and ripped them away, loose
threads from her clothing. She turned to destroy them, and they
burned like fall leaves in the magic’s flames. She made no
sound as she fought them, all her words forgotten, her face
twisted in a death mask. The battle between the Elves and the
Federation disappeared in a haze of red. She could no longer
see anything beyond the ground over which she fought. Seekers
came at her and died in the fiery wake of the Elfstone magic,
and the smell of their ashes was all she knew.
Then suddenly she was alone again, the last of the Seekers
racing for the trees, fleeing in terror, black robes shredded and
smoking. She gathered up the fire and sent it racing after them
and with it went the last of her strength. Her arm dropped, and
the fire faded. She fell to her knees. The grass about her was
charred black and stinking. There were ash piles everywhere
amid the bodies of the Home Guard. She heard shouts from the
slopes below, where Triss and the balance of the Home Guard
had taken up their stations to face the Federation. Don’t touch
me, she said in response. Don’t come near me. But she wasn’t
sure if she had spoken the words or not. The shouts grew, re-
sounding now from all across the Valley of Rhenn. Something
was happening. Something unexpected.
She dragged herself back to her feet and looked out through
the fading, misty light.
Far east, beyond where the mouth of the valley opened onto
The Talismans of Shannara 399
the grasslands below, an army of men had appeared. They
came out in a rush, brandishing their weapons and howling
their battle cries. They were mostly afoot, armed with swords