Terry Brooks - The Elves of Cintra

The Elves of Cintra

Book 2 of The Genesis of Shannara

By Terry Brooks

FOR LAURIE

My sister, with admiration and love always

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The publication of this book marks the thirtieth year of mycareer as a professional writer, which began with the release of The Sword ofShannara in 1977. It is a time so distant I can barely remember what it feltlike to be a first-time author. What I can never forget is the people who werethere to help me every step of the way. I owe them more than I can possiblytell you, but I feel obligated to try.

I have been with Del Rey Books for my entire publishinglife. Not many writers can say as much. Our long and immensely successfulpartnership is due to a number of fortunate and serendipitous factors, startingwith my relationship with the founders of the company, Lester and Judy-Lynn delRey. I will not see their like again in my lifetime: intense, driven,brilliant, and by turns strange and kind beyond imagining.

Lester was my first editor, my mentor, critic, taskmaster,and friend. Most of what I know about being a professional writer, I learnedfrom him. I have heard it said repeatedly from those who worked with him thathe was uncanny at finding the weaknesses in a manuscript. You wont get anyargument from me. He was a teacher in all the best ways: he let me make mymistakes, and then find a way to correct them. He was famous for promising thatif you could persuade him he was wrong and you were right, he would defer toyou. I was successful in my efforts about one out of every twenty times. Moreoften than not he left me frustrated and chagrined in the face of his knowledgeand my ignorance. At the same time, he made me a better writer. I could neverthank him enough in his lifetime; I dont expect to be successful in doing sonow.

Owen Lock, Judy-Lynns assistant and protg, succeededLester. It was a thankless job if ever there was one, but he made it work. Owenand I grew up in Del Rey together. We were friends from the beginning, and weremain friends to this day. He was there for me more times and in more waysthan I can count. I will always be grateful that he was.

My current editor is Betsy Mitchell. I knew her before shecame to the company, but knew little of her skills. I am pleased to say nowfrom experience that they are considerable. She keeps me honest and focused,which is not always easy. She is not afraid to tell me when I am cutting cornersor attempting to slide by with something less than my best effort. She is funnyand smart. It has been a privilege to work with her.

I cannot begin to give you the names of all those who havehelped me at Del Rey Books, Ballantine Books, and Random House over the years.If I try to name names, I will leave someone out. I do not exaggerate when Isay there are hundreds. In editorial, publicity, art, marketing, and sales, fromtop to bottom, they have made my books and my life better. They have workedhard on my behalf, over and over again, and I will never forget them.

My friends and family have been enormously supportive,giving me the space and time to be as strange and disconnected from reality asI need to be.

The various members of my blended family, in particular,have been patient and understanding to an extent I do not pretend I could everapproach. Aim constantly astonished that they do not have me committed. My daughtersLisa, Jill and Amanda, my son Alex, and my grandson Hunter are the bedrock ofmy sometimes questionable sanity, bringing me down to earth when it is needed,keeping me securely grounded in the real world. My sister Laurie never doubtsme, always believes in me, and forever supports me. She has forgotten all thetimes I chased her with a knife when we were children. Bless her for that.Bless them all for who they are.

Then there is Judine. What can I say that will begin toexplain what she means to me? She has been there for me from the first day wemet, some twenty years ago. Without her, I would have been lost. She has taughtme most of what I know about the retail side of the book business. She has beenmy first reader, has edited and proofed my manuscripts, and has traveled with metthe far-flung corners of the land on countless book tours. She tells me when Iam wrong and reassures me when I am right. She is my conscience and my heart. Ilove her deeply and without reservation.

Everyone should be as lucky as I am. Everyone should havethe kinds of friends and family I do. If there was a way to make that happen, Iwould. Thank you, all.

TERRY BROOKS

August 2007

LOGAN TOM HAD climbed out of the lower levels of thecompound and was starting up the steps to the walls when he heard the cries.They were sudden and sharp and signaled shock and excitement. He was stillinside and could not tell what was happening, but he redoubled his effortsinstantly, charging ahead, abandoning stealth, throwing caution to the winds.

If he was too lateIf they had already thrown Hawk andTessa from the wallsIf, if, if! The words burned in his mind like live coals.He couldnt be too late. Not after coming so far and getting so close. Heshould never have left Hawk in the compound. He should have found a way to takehim out when he had the chance. Relying on breaking him free now was a foolsgame, and anyone with an ounce of common sense would have known it! He wasrunning hard, his black staff held ready in front of him, his concentrationcomplete. He passed dozens of the compounds inhabitants on the way up, butwhile a few turned to look, no one tried to stop him. Maybe they could see inhis eyes that getting in his way for any reason was a bad idea.

If what he was thinking was reflected there, mirrored ineyes that were hard-edged and enraged, they couldnt miss it.

He was up the steps all the way now and outside, the sportsfield spread away below him. The spectator seats in this section had beenripped out long ago to provide space for makeshift housing, and he foundhimself in a cluster of small one-level cottages built out of bricks and woodthat were cobbled together to form rooms and stacked from one level to thenext. They registered in his mind as he tore through them, following the lanespurposely left clear for passage, charging upward toward the top.

But something unexpected was happening. Those gathered onthe walls to watch the death sentence on Hawk and Tessa being carried out wererushing back down almost as fast as he was rushing up. He stopped where he was,bracing himself against the swarm, trying to pick out something that made sensefrom the babble of words being exchanged.

nothing ever like it before this, a demons work if everthere was onedid you see that light

bright as a flare or maybe a

wasnt a trace of them on the ground, and then it gotdark again and you could see down

Logan moved into the shelter of a narrow aisle made overinto a walkway between huts, waiting for the way to clear. Whatever hadhappened, it was all over now. But what had happened? He grabbed a young manwho got close enough and pulled him out of the swarm of bodies. He put his faceclose. Tell me whats going on. Why is everyone running?

The young man stared at him a moment, seeing something thatmight have scared him even more than what he had witnessed on the wall. Hetried to speak and couldnt, then yanked his arm free from Logans grip andthrew himself back into the surging mass of the crowd.

Logan shifted his approach from the common lanes and beganmaking his way upward between the huts in a less direct fashion. He went asquickly as passage would allow, dodging or knocking obstacles aside. Buckets,brooms, pots, and other cooking implements went flying, and shouts of angerfrom their owners followed after him. In another time and under differentcircumstances, he would have drawn more attention. But the majority of thecompound population was either coming down off the walls or fighting to get tothe front gates, anxious to see whatever was out there.