I wasn't finding many Shannara Chronicle stories that interested me, so I thought I would write one myself. Let me know if you want to read anything specific, but this chapter is just getting good. -Brielle
I do not own any of the Shannara Chronicles. All characters belong to the rightful owners. I write merely for entertainment purposes.
"Eretria?" Amberle whispered through the dark. "When I said to hurry up and get through this maze of tunnels, I didn't mean go and leave me."
Amberle looked around her, waving the hot torch towards the walls. There were carvings and paintings covering the face of every wall in the underground maze. Some were exquisite, but others were chaotic and confusing. What was "Panic at the Disco?" Why would somebody feel the urgency and importance to scrawl that across the stone? What's a disco? And why was there a panic? Was this an historical event that happened before the Fall?
"Focus, Amberle," she said to herself, shaking her head. The tunnel smelled old and musty, and the only light source was produced by the torch in Amberle's hand. Sweat beaded her forehead, and her purple linens were sticking to her back. She wasn't even this anxious when she ran blind through the forest with her hands tied behind her back. This was an entirely different and scary kind of nervous. She really wished Wil was here. She glanced behind her, hoping to see his kind eyes and long blonde hair, but only darkness greeted her. Wil had stayed behind in Arborlon because he was of better use there as their healer, but Amberle was severely regretting that decision at the moment. The unease was only getting worse as Amberle turned another dark corner. She swiped at her face, scrunching her nose and spitting as she walked right into a spiderweb.
"Ugh," she groaned and wiped her sticky hand against her thigh.
"Amberle!" the scream pierced the uncomfortable silence like a sword against stone.
"Eretria!" Amberle called back, drawing her weapon and racing towards the sound of the Rover's voice. "I'm coming, Eretria!"
She searched every hallway frantically, her heart pounding. She strained to hear her call again, but there was only her own heavy breathing in her ears.
"Amberle!" the shriek seemed like it was physically dragged out of Eretria. If the yell was visible, Amberle imagined it looking like cheese stretching out of her throat. "Amber—" the last desperate call was cut short, by what, Amberle didn't know. She had never been fond of the Rover, but hearing Eretria now, knowing that she never showed pain or fear, Amberle could feel in her gut that something was desperately wrong.
Amberle screamed, both out of frustration and fear. She ran faster than she ever had, cutting corners effortlessly. She stumbled into a sudden opening and almost ran straight into Eretria's assailant.
"Eretria," she gasped, her eyes wide.
A tall man had the young woman by the throat, dangling her a good foot above the ground. Eretria's face was red, her eyes frantic, and Amberle could see that she was barely hanging on. Amberle turned to the man, her chest filling with rage.
"Let her go," she growled through gritted teeth, dropping the torch and raising her sword with both hands.
The man finally turned to face Amberle, and she almost shrieked at the sight of him. His skin was an ashen gray, his pale yellow eyes peered from sunken sockets, and his skin was riddled with ancient runes and symbols tattooed over his entire body. He gave Amberle a disgusting grin and spoke, but his lips never moved.
"Amberle Elessendil," his voice surrounded her head. "At last we get to meet face-to-face."
"How do you know me?" Amberle asked, gripping the hilt of her sword even harder.
"I know many things," he chuckled while his face remained stoic. "I am older than the Elcrys itself and wiser than any Druid that ever lived."
"How is that possible?" Amberle asked. "The Elcrys has been around for thousands of years."
"And so have I," he said.
Amberle looked back at Eretria who still struggled, hitting the man's arm intermittently, but her hits were wavering. "Listen," Amberle tried to sound confident, but her voice cracked slightly. "I don't care who you are. I'm warning you to let her go now or else."
He laughed out loud in Amberle's head, and his body shook with silent laughter. "Or else what, Elf Princess? You'll stab me with your blade? It'll hardly have any effect on me."
"I'll figure something out," she whispered, testing her strength with her sword.
"Enough chit-chat," he said dully, as if the whole thing bored him. He waved his other hand across Eretria's face and she immediately went slack in his grip. Her hands stopped struggling, and they fell to her sides, swinging ever so slightly at her waist.
"Eretria!" Amberle yelled, charging the man, but he raised his hand again and Amberle felt as if she ran into a wall. Something was holding her back, and no matter how she yanked and tugged, she could not move from her spot.
"Please, princess," the voice said again. "Do not make this harder than it has to be."
"I wouldn't give you the pleasure of coming quietly," Amberle spat.
He stared her down, and suddenly it felt like a hand had pried her fingers from her sword. The blade came crashing down to the floor, ringing sharply as the metal clashed against the stone. Then her arms were pinned down at her side as if she was tied with invisible rope, but Amberle sense a presence, a force, rather than an object. "You will come quietly," he said. "However, it will not be of your own accord." Even as he was saying the words, he waved his hand once more, and the world dissolved around her, blurring until blackness filled her vision.
The world was spinning and Eretria couldn't tell up from down. She tried to roll onto her side, but something hard yanked at her wrists. The sharp cold jerked her from her mind fog, and she opened her eyes to a dimly lit room. She moaned from the disorientation, and tried to move, but again was unable to.
"Ah, at last, the young Rover awakens," a male voice said.
Eretria looked around a saw that she was upright and not on the floor. "What the hell did you do to me you psycho?" she grumbled. She had never felt this wacked even after a Rover banger. She glared at the horrid man who had done this to her, and the flashbacks of what had happened hit her like a roaring ocean wave. Her hand instinctively went to her throat, but her hand stopped short. Eretria looked up to see both of her hands chained above her head. Her back was against a rough wooden pole, so she figured her chains must have been attached to the same pole. She tried pulling against them, but the man waved his hand down from her head to her feet, and the ground became unsteady.
"What—" Eretria tried to speak, but she couldn't concentrate. Her thoughts went in and out, and she slumped against the wood behind her.
"Don't waste your energy yet," he said. "You'll need it later."
Eretria knew that he was planning something, but she could figure out what. She should be panicking, trying to get out, but for some reason she wasn't able to make herself think, really think. Any form of survival instinct had taken a seat at the back door and was happily sipping tea in the back of her brain. She glanced across from her and saw Amberle tied to a chair. Her head hung to her chest, and she didn't move.
"Amberle…" Eretria tried, but her words came out muffled. She could feel the panic rising because she couldn't make her mind work for her. As if the elf heard her, Amberle began to stir. Slowly, she picked her head up, blinking, her eyes glassy. "Amberle," Eretria managed a little louder of a sound, and Amberle heard it.
"Eretria," she gasped quietly. Then, something must have snapped inside Amberle because she was yanking like a mad woman against her bonds, rocking the chair, trying to tip it. Her struggling lasted a fleeting second because soon Amberle was stiff and immobile.
"Finally, we can begin," the man said and stood between both women but to the side.
"Who are you?" Amberle asked through gritted teeth.
"My name is Elymas, and I am known to many as the Ash Sorcerer," the gray-skinned man said.
"I've never heard of you," Amberle said.
"Many history books mark me merely as myth, legend," Elymas shrugged. "However, I am very real."
Eretria mumbled something that Amberle couldn't hear, but she was sure it was something sarcastic and threatening.
"There are answers that you have, Elf Princess, and you are going to tell me what I need to know," he said.
"Or what?" Amberle said.
"Or else," he shrugged, quoting Amberle from earlier.
"Depends on what you want to know," Amberle glanced over at Eretria and met her gaze.
"Over the many lifetimes I have lived, I have been wronged more than once," Elymas tensed. "Unfortunately for you, young royal, one of those men was your uncle."
"Uncle Ander," Amberle gasped, too surprised to be careful with her tongue. "He never spoke of you," she said finally.
"I assume he tried to rid his past of me," he said. "and I wouldn't blame him after what he did."
Amberle swallowed nervously. "What did he do?" she squeaked.
"He took everything I loved from me," Elymas hissed, his mask of calmness finally wearing off. "When magic began to die out, those who were gifted were rounded up to be used as slaves at the king's disposal," he said. "When my time came, I refused. I had a family to care for. But Ander, whom the king had put in charge of deportation, didn't take my refusal so lightly. He threatened my family, saying he would kill them all if I didn't come. My deepest and most shameful regret, is that I called the young prince on his bluff, but he wasn't bluffing. His guards were the most powerful Druids in Arborlon, so there was nothing I could do. I had to watch as he slaughtered my two daughters, son, and my beloved wife."
"My uncle would never do such a terrible thing," Amberle cried.
"Thousands of years can change a person," Elymas growled. "I've wanted justice for my family for over two thousand years, and I am going to get it!" he shouted.
Eretria looked away, feeling the sorcerer's anger in the room. Her heart sped up, and her aching arms screamed for relief, but she was too anxious to even move.
"What do you expect me to do?" Amberle asked.
"Tell me where your uncle is," Elymas said. "Or I hurt the Rover," he waved his hand again and the fogginess left Eretria's body. She perked up, staring Amberle in the eyes. Would the princess leave her to the mercy of Elymas, or would she defend her?
"He's my family," Amberle pleaded. "I won't give him up!"
"Then she's the one who suffers!" Elymas yelled, pointing at Eretria.
Eretria shook her head at Amberle. "Don't tell him," she said. "I can take whatever he deals me."
"Eretria," Amberle sighed. "No, I can't—"
"Make your choice!" he cried.
Eretria could see the battle raging on inside Amberle's head. She understood what her uncle meant to her, for she had seen their interactions before, but she had no idea that Amberle would fight for her.
"No!" Amberle cried, yanking against her bonds. "Don't hurt her!"
"Then tell me! Where is Prince Ander!"
Amberle hung her head, shaking it slowly but surely. "No, I won't," she whispered.
Elymas was silent for a moment before his low deep voice spoke. "So be it." He turned and raised his right hand, flexing his fingers before pointing right at Eretria's face. "Such a pretty face," he said under his breath. He then dragged his finger in the air, and a cut appeared on her skin, following in the trail of his outstretched hand. Eretria gasped, feeling her skin opening up at her left eyebrow and slowly traveling down to the top of her chin. She squirmed, trying to escape the stinging pain, but she could only grit her teeth and keep a straight face. She felt warm blood trickle over her cheek and down her neck.
"Last chance, princess," he said, and when Amberle shook her head, he raised his hand above his head.