Obligatory Disclaimer: The Shannara universe belongs to Terry Brooks. This story is not for profit and is not intended to infringe on copyright. It is being posted here purely for the sake of sharing ideas.
A/N: In 1979, I read The Sword of Shannara and fell immediately in love with its universe. This was back at a time when I had never even heard of the concept of fan-fiction, although I had been making up fan-fiction in my head all my life for almost every story I really enjoyed: Doctor Dolittle, The Six Million Dollar Man, Star Wars, Battlestar Galactica, and even Lord of the Rings. But around the time I read The Sword of Shannara, I also met the person who would become my lifelong best friend, and she wrote stories. I had never thought of actually writing down my fan-fiction, but, under her influence, I began to do so.
Before The Elfstones of Shannara had come out, I had greatly enlarged upon the world of Shannara. I had a map that showed far beyond the boundaries of the map in the book. And, more importantly, I had a story. And, when Elfstones came out, I had a choice. My story was incompatible with the world we see in Elfstones (the word today is "canon-shafted"). So I could either give up and try to do something more compatible with canon, or I could declare an Alternate Universe and keep plugging away. As you might guess, I chose the latter.
The story, as it now exists, is (I hope) a long way from the scribblings of a fourteen-year-old. I worked on it, in draft after draft, into my early thirties, until my own "original" writing took precedence. To a certain extent, though, the core is still there. There is, undoubtedly, something a bit Mary-Sue-ish about Andrea Shamrock. But if you loved the original book as much as I did, I hope you will forgive it of any failings and just enjoy it for what it has always been: a labor of love.
Prologue Part I
Errand
Chestry paused before the cottage door. When his father had told him this morning that Allanon wanted to see him, the young man had not greeted the news with his usual enthusiasm. Not that he didn't wish to make a journey just now; though, upon reflection, the sweltering heat of high summer would be oppressive outside his cool forest home. No, it was more an uncertainty about the Druid himself. The man had been almost fey lately, and no one about him had felt certain just what to expect.
The Elf sighed and raised his hand to the door, trying to gather scattered thoughts in his native tongue into the appropriate ones in the common speech. It was better to find out what was wanted as soon as possible; go right away, his father had said. The older Elf had, in his own younger days, gone on just such errands as Chestry now did; certainly he ought to know the way of things, and his advice was worthwhile to abide by.
All the same, the knock sounded a bit fainter, even to his own ears, than it might have; and at the muffled, "Come in," the Elf pressed the door open cautiously.
The high desk on the far right end of the little room was open, its pigeonholes darker blots in the dim light. The heavy curtains were still drawn across the windows, and the atmosphere inside seemed oppressive and overwarm on this bright, hot day. Chestry made it a point not to look around, keeping his head straight forward, but his quick eyes had taken in the scattered mess of papers, books and miscellenea, far worse than usual—or at least than he had ever seen it, the young man corrected himself; he had not actually come inside here that often. Now that he thought about it, most of his previous journeys had had his father's house as their beginning point. The sense of something gone amiss was darting around every corner of the room.
The dark head of the man seated at the desk turned then, and the dark eyes of the other seemed to reach intensely toward him. The Elf felt as if he were being drawn unexpectedly forward into an utterly private world, at the center of all the Druid's secrets, as if he one of those who... Chestry was halfway across the room, without realizing that his own feet had carried him there. Then, abruptly, the dark eyes were as veiled as ever. And Chestry knew without a doubt he was still outside the circle.
Chestry blinked rapidly, trying not to let any of what had experienced show on his face. Not everyone realized to what extent they were kept from Allanon's complete confidence--and very, very few were allowed into the group who had it. Devan Maleny was one of them, and his son knew better than most what it was like not to be a part of that group. Yet there was a certain amount of relief afforded at not knowing everything that was going on behind that dark visage. There was something in those eyes that, if it had been anyone else, Chestry would have named despair; and seeing it in the Druid chilled the Elf to the bone.
Still, he was not an untried boy; he had been carrying messages, important ones, around the Westland and the Borderlands for the past six years--irregularly to be sure, since Allanon wasn't always in the village. It was frustrating that the Druid had apparently decided not admitted him into Devan's place in that trust after all. But seeming to react would only increase the perception of his unacceptability.
"My father said you wanted me." The statement came out sounding more like a question.
"Yes." The Druid looked back down at the disarray before him on the desk, then, pushing his chair away from it, turned to face the youth. "There's an errand I need to have done..." he slowed, and Chestry recognized a tension he had come to know; it meant that wherever Allanon was sending him, he would rather be going himself. The Druid went on, "It will take the better part of a month, or more, for you must be very careful not to arouse suspicion, and therefore must work slowly."
Chestry nodded at once in acknowledgment. Allanon's errands were generally always matters in which some degree of secrecy was required. And it was Chestry, with his ability to master his demeanor, and an innate sense of caution, upon whom the Druid could depend.
Then, without warning, Allanon looked sharply at the Elf, as if he were somehow uncertain of the man's fitness for the task, uncertain of something at least. The young man was rocked by that look. Of course he could do the job! He'd never failed Allanon yet; nor had his father before him, until the accident that had left him too lame to walk from house to stable without a crutch.
Finally there was a blink, and Allanon continued, "First, you will take a letter to Arborlon, to King Illvard. I want it placed directly in his hand." He produced the letter from the disordered surface of the desk, and Chestry took it quietly, though excitement was growing in him. To go! Not only to the capitol and the court, where he had, of course, been before; though not often enough to find it truly commonplace; but to go in fact before the Elven King, instead of delivering the message to Prince Eventine as he was normally wont to do.
"When you have delivered the letter, remain in the city for a week: you are there to see the sights, all the grandeur that a young man from the deep West ought to be impressed with. But by the time the week is up, you will be offered a position as messenger, either to the King himself, or more likely, to Eventine. You will accept, and you will ask to be given an errand to the Southland."
"And I will be given one?" Chestry asked, slightly amazed at the idea that he would be giving his own orders, to the Crown Prince no less; but then of course, they weren't really his orders. But if he was taking the letter, shouldn't there be instructions in it?
"You will--the King understands this. This matter is very important, and very secret--too secret to place more of it on paper than absolutely necessary. I must depend on your ability to be unobtrusive, on your caution," the Druid's voice was intense, and Chestry expected him to say more, but he did not speak again for a moment.
"And then?" asked the elf, his curiosity lending intensity to his words.
"Then," said Allanon at last. "On your way south to Talhan, you will travel through the Southland Hill Communities, and you will pass through one of the Vales, a village called Shady Vale. You will stay in an inn there.
"Not far from the inn there is a house: a fine old house. And you will find a girl child. About four years old. An orphan..."
He paused. The young Elf found that he was having some difficulty following the supposed purpose of this errand. It was almost as if the Druid were rambling to himself.
"Find out, without arousing any sort of suspicion," and now the Druid's voice rose, as if in warning; but Chestry heard his throat catch, as if he were choking on the words, "find out as much as you can: what happened to the girl's mother. Find out what they are doing with the child. If she is in any sort of danger bring her back to me, as immediately as possible. Otherwise you will leave her where she is and continue on the Prince's errand."
Chestry Maleny watched the unwonted play of emotions on the other man's face as he spoke, shifting like a weathervane before a storm. He dared not show it, but it frightened the Elf, on top of all that he'd heard these past few days; this was not the Allanon he had known all of his life. But then, Devan had known the Druid longer still; I've lived long enough to know things about Allanon that you do not, his father had warned him once, and Chestry wondered whether his father had ever seen the Druid like this before. The elder Melany had worn a strange, uneasy expression when he hobbled home last evening, and there had been quiet, terse words spoken between his parents in the dark of their room that night that Chestry hadn't heard.
"I'm not sure I understand everything.".
"What do you not understand?" Allanon sounded impatient. "You will carry out this commission, exactly as I have told you. When you have returned to the Westland, you will be given leave to return home for a time. You will tell me then what you have learned."
"About the girl, I meant," Chestry asked uncertainly. "What sort of danger do you mean? And should I bring her back straight across the mountains, or..." he trailed off. Allanon was staring at the desk, seemingly without seeing it, fingering his close, dark beard.
He turned back to face the other before answering. "Use your own judgment. It will be much clearer when you are there and have seen what there is to see. You have been very dependable in the past. I expect that you will continue to be so.
"It is not important, for now, that you know anything more. In fact," and at this point Allanon stood up, very tall in front of the slight form of the Elf; though to Chestry, watching him, the Druid seemed shrunken into himself almost, "the less you know about it at present, the better.
"Incidentally," Allanon added, "find a horse, if possible, not a unicorn. Not all of Arborlon needs to know where you've come from."
He looked down at the youth, and extended his hand, clasping the other's with a firmness that spoke something beyond his words. "I trust you in this with more than you imagine. Do not fail me."
Chestry suppressed a desire to swallow hard, surprise and determination welling up in him, yet oddly little pride. Somehow this errand troubled him, even scared him.
Allanon turned away then, apparently in dismissal. Chestry, discomfited at the abruptness which simply leaving now would entail, but uncertain what more to say, or if he should say anything, at last spoke, "I will not fail, sir. Ke tama 'n," he added the words of assurance of the ancient Elven speech, which he used daily at home, automatically in the depth of his conviction. It marked him as a deep Westlander. Chestry felt suddenly angry at his own desire to blush at that: this was his own village where people spoke the ancient tongue as a matter of course, and some never even bothered to learn the common language used in the capitol and in the rest of the Four Lands. Why should he feel ashamed of it? In Arborlon, maybe, but here?
"Thank you," he added, lamely, with a nod of his head, and stepped backward, turning to go. "I'll leave immediately." Which was, of course, what Allanon expected of him.
"As soon as it can be managed." But the voice was softer; and the Elf looked up again and caught the Druid's eye. They held there for a moment, and Chestry felt as if all the faith that has ever attended between the giver and the carrier of a message had fallen upon him. Then, in the same language as the youth had spoken in shame a moment ago, Allanon answered in the ancient injunction, "Be true, Chestry Maleny, be true."
With his heart in his throat, Chestry said, "I will, sir," and slipped quickly out the door.
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