{"id":1842,"date":"2026-01-03T21:55:39","date_gmt":"2026-01-03T21:55:39","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/heritage-of-shannara-02-brooks-terry\/"},"modified":"2026-01-03T21:55:39","modified_gmt":"2026-01-03T21:55:39","slug":"heritage-of-shannara-02-brooks-terry","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/heritage-of-shannara-02-brooks-terry\/","title":{"rendered":"Heritage of Shannara 02 – Brooks, Terry"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n

Book Preview<\/h3>\n
\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

he King of the Silver River stood at the edge of the<\/p>\n

Gardens that had been his domain since the dawn of<\/p>\n

‘ the age of faerie and iooked out over the world of<\/p>\n

mortal men. What he saw left him sad and discouraged. Every-<\/p>\n

where the land sickened and died, rich black earth turning to<\/p>\n

dust, grassy plains withering, forests becoming huge stands of<\/p>\n

deadwood, and lakes and rivers either stagnating or drying away.<\/p>\n

Everywhere the creatures who lived upon the land sickened and<\/p>\n

died as well, unable to sustain themselves as the nourishment<\/p>\n

they relied upon grew poisoned. Even the air had begun to turn<\/p>\n

foul.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

And all the while, the King of the Silver River thought, the<\/p>\n

Shadowen grow stronger.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

His fingers reached out to brush the crimson petals of the<\/p>\n

cyclamen that grew thick about his feet. Forsythia clustered just<\/p>\n

beyond, dogwood and cherry farther back, fuchsia and hibiscus,<\/p>\n

rhododendrons and dahlias, beds of iris, azaleas, daffodils,<\/p>\n

roses, and a hundred other varieties of flowers and flowering<\/p>\n

plants that were always in bloom, a profusion of colors that<\/p>\n

stretched away into the distance until lost from sight. There were<\/p>\n

animals to be seen as well, both large and small, creatures whose<\/p>\n

evolution could be traced back to that distant time when all<\/p>\n

f-ings lived in harmony and psace.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

In me present world, the world of the Four Lands and the<\/p>\n

Races that had evolved out of the chaos and destruction of the<\/p>\n

Great Wars, that time was all but forgotten. The King of<\/p>\n

the Silver River was its sole remnant. He had been alive when<\/p>\n

the world was new and its firsi creatures were just being born.<\/p>\n

He had been young then, and tilers had been many like him.<\/p>\n

Now he was old and he was the lasi of his kind. Everything that<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

1<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

2\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u00a0\u00a0<\/span>The Druid of Shannara<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

had been, save for the Gardens in which he lived, had passed<\/p>\n

away. The Gardens alone survived, changeless, sustained by the<\/p>\n

magic of faerie. The Word had given the Gardens to the King<\/p>\n

of the Silver River and told him to tend them, to keep them as a<\/p>\n

reminder of what had once been and what might one day be<\/p>\n

again. The world without would evolve as it must, but the Gar-<\/p>\n

dens would remain forever the same.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Even so, they were shrinking. It was not so much physical as<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

spiritual. The boundaries of the Gardens were fixed and unal-<\/p>\n

terable, for the Gardens existed in a plane of being unaffected<\/p>\n

by changes in the world of mortal men. The Gardens were a<\/p>\n

presence rather than a place. Yet that presence was diminished<\/p>\n

by the sickening of the world to which it was tied, for the work<\/p>\n

of the Gardens and their tender was to keep that world strong.<\/p>\n

As the Four Lands grew poisoned, the work became harder, the<\/p>\n

effects of that work grew shorter, and the boundaries of human<\/p>\n

belief and trust in its existence\u2014always somewhat marginal\u2014<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

began to fail altogether.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The King of the Silver River grieved that this should be. He<\/p>\n

did not grieve for himself; he was beyond that. He grieved for<\/p>\n

the people of the Four Lands, the mortal men and women for<\/p>\n

whom the magic of faerie was in danger of being lost forever.<\/p>\n

The Gardens had been their haven in the land of the Silver River<\/p>\n

for centuries, and he had been the spirit friend who protected<\/p>\n

its people. He had watched over them, had given them a sense<\/p>\n

of peace and well-being that transcended physical boundaries,<\/p>\n

and gave promise that benevolence and goodwill were still ac-<\/p>\n

cessible in some comers of the world to all. Now that was ended.<\/p>\n

Now he could protect no one. The evil of the Shadowen, the<\/p>\n

poison they had inflicted upon the Four Lands, had eroded his<\/p>\n

own strength until he was virtually sealed within his Gardens,<\/p>\n

powerless to go to the aid of those he had worked so long to<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

protect.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He stared out into the ruin of the world for a time as his<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

despair worked its relentless will on him. Memories played hide-<\/p>\n

and-seek in his mind. The Druids had protected the Four Lands<\/p>\n

once. But the Druids were gone. A handful of descendents of<\/p>\n

the Elven house of Shannara had been champions of the Races<\/p>\n

for generations, wielding the remnants of the magic of faerie.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

But they were all dead.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He forced his despair away, replacing it with hope. The Dru-<\/p>\n

ids could come again. And there were new generations of the<\/p>\n

old house of Shannara. The King of the Silver River knew most<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Druid of Shannara\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>3<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

of what was happening in the Four Lands even if he could not<\/p>\n

go out into them. Allanon’s shade had summoned a scattering<\/p>\n

of Shannara children to recover the lost magic, and perhaps they<\/p>\n

yet would if they could survive long enough to find a means to<\/p>\n

do so. But all of them had been placed in extreme peril. All<\/p>\n

were in danger of dying, threatened in the east, south, and west<\/p>\n

by the Shadowen and in the north by Uhl Belk, the Stone King.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The old eyes closed momentarily. He knew what was needed<\/p>\n

to save the Shannara children\u2014an act of magic, one so powerful<\/p>\n

and intricate that nothing could prevent it from succeeding, one<\/p>\n

that would transcend the barriers that their enemies had created,<\/p>\n

that would break past the screen of deceit and lies that hid ev-<\/p>\n

erything from the four on whom so much depended.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Yes, four, not three. Even Allanon did not understand the<\/p>\n

whole of what was meant to be.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He turned and made his way back toward the center of his<\/p>\n

refuge. He let the songs of the birds, the fragrances of the flow-<\/p>\n

ers, and the warmth of the air soothe him as he walked and he<\/p>\n

drew in through his senses the color and taste and feel of all that<\/p>\n

lay about him. There was virtually nothing that he could not do<\/p>\n

within his Gardens. Yet his magic was needed without. He knew<\/p>\n

what was required. In preparation he took the form of the old<\/p>\n

man that showed himself occasionally to the world beyond. His<\/p>\n

gait became an unsteady shamble, his breathing wheezed, his<\/p>\n

eyes dimmed, and his body ached with the feelings of life fad-<\/p>\n

ing. The birdsong stopped, and the small animals that had<\/p>\n

crowded close edged quickly away. He forced himself to sepa-<\/p>\n

rate from everything he had evolved into, receding into what he<\/p>\n

might have been, needing momentarily to feel human mortality<\/p>\n

in order to know better how to give that part of himself that was<\/p>\n

needed.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

When he reached the heart of his domain, he stopped. There<\/p>\n

was a pond of clearest water fed by a small stream. A unicorn<\/p>\n

drank from it. The earth that cradled the pond was dark and<\/p>\n

rich. Tiny, delicate flowers that had no name grew at the water’s<\/p>\n

edge; they were the color of new snow. A small, intricately<\/p>\n

formed tree lifted out of a scattering of violet grasses at the<\/p>\n

pond’s far end, its delicate green leaves laced with red. From a<\/p>\n

pair of massive rocks, streaks of colored ore shimmered brightly<\/p>\n

in the sunshine.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The King of the Silver River stood without moving in the<\/p>\n

presence of the life that surrounded him and willed himself to<\/p>\n

become one with it. When he had done so, when everything had<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

4\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The Druid of Shannara<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

threaded itself through the human form he had taken as if joined<\/p>\n

by bits and pieces of invisible lacing, he reached out to gather<\/p>\n

it all in. His hands, wrinkled human skin and brittle bones,<\/p>\n

lifted and summoned his magic, and the feelings of age and<\/p>\n

. time that were the reminders of mortal existence disappeared.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The little tree came to him first, uprooted, transported, and<\/p>\n

set down before him, the framework of bones on which he would<\/p>\n

build. Slowly it bent to take the shape he desired, leaves folding<\/p>\n

close against the branches, wrapping and sealing away. The earth<\/p>\n

came next, handfuls lifted by invisible scoops to place against<\/p>\n

the tree, padding and defining. Then came the ores for muscle,<\/p>\n

the waters for fluids, and me petals of the tiny flowers for skin.<\/p>\n

He gathered silk from the unicorn’s mane for hair and black<\/p>\n

pearls for eyes. The magic twisted and wove, and slowly his<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

creation took form.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

When he was finished, the girl who stood before him was<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

perfect in every way but one. She was not yet alive.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He cast about momentarily, then selected the dove. He took<\/p>\n

it out of the air and placed it still living inside the girl’s breast<\/p>\n

where it became her heart. Quickly he moved forward to em-<\/p>\n

brace her and breathed his own life into her. Then he stepped<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

back to wait.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The girl’s breast rose and fell, and her limbs twitched. Her<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

eyes fluttered open, coal black as they peered out from her del-<\/p>\n

icate white features. She was small boned and finely wrought<\/p>\n

like a piece of paper art smoothed and shaped so that the edges<\/p>\n

and comers were replaced by curves. Her hair was so white it<\/p>\n

seemed silver; there was a glitter to it that suggested the pres-<\/p>\n

ence of that precious metal.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

‘ ‘Who am I? ” she asked in a soft, lilting voice that whispered<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

of tiny streams and small night sounds.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You are my daughter,” the King of the Silver River an-<\/p>\n

swered, discovering within himself the stirring of feelings he<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

had thought long since lost.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He did not bother telling her that she was an elemental, an<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

earth child created of his magic. She could sense what she was<\/p>\n

from the instincts with which he had endowed her. No other<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

explanation was needed.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

She took a tentative step forward, then another. Finding that<\/p>\n

she could walk, she began to move more quickly, testing her<\/p>\n

abilities in various ways as she circled her father, glancing cau-<\/p>\n

tiously, shyly at the old man as she went. She looked around<\/p>\n

curiously, taking in the sights, smells, sounds, and tastes of the<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Druid of Shannara\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>5<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Gardens, discovering in them a kinship that she could not im-<\/p>\n

mediately explain.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Are these Gardens my mother?” she asked suddenly, and<\/p>\n

he told her they were. “Am I a part of you both?” she asked,<\/p>\n

and he told her yes.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Come with me,” he said gently.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Together, they walked through the Gardens, exploring in the<\/p>\n

manner of a parent and child, looking into flowers, watching<\/p>\n

for the quick movement of birds and animals, studying the vast,<\/p>\n

intricate designs of the tangled undergrowth, the complex layers<\/p>\n

of rock and earth, and the patterns woven by the threads of the<\/p>\n

Gardens’ existence. She was bright and quick, interested in ev-<\/p>\n

erything, respectful of life, caring. He was pleased with what<\/p>\n

he saw; he found that he had made her well.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

After a time, he began to show her something of the magic.<\/p>\n

He demonstrated his own first, only the smallest bits and pieces<\/p>\n

of it so as not to overwhelm her. Then he let her test her own<\/p>\n

against it. She was surprised to learn that she possessed it, even<\/p>\n

more surprised to discover what it could do. But she was not<\/p>\n

hesitant about using it. She was eager.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You have a name,” he told her. “Would you like to know<\/p>\n

what it is?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Yes,” she answered, and stood looking at him alertly.<\/p>\n

“Your name is Quickening.” He paused. “Do you under-<\/p>\n

stand why?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

She thought a moment. “Yes,” she answered again.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He led her to an ancient hickory whose bark peeled back in<\/p>\n

great, shaggy strips from its trunk. The breezes cooled there,<\/p>\n

smelling of jasmine and begonia, and the grass was soft as they<\/p>\n

sat together. A griffin wandered over through the tall grasses<\/p>\n

and nuzzled the girl’s hand.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Quickening,” the King of the Silver River said. “There is<\/p>\n

something you must do.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Slowly, carefully he explained to her that she must leave the<\/p>\n

Gardens and go out into the world of men. He told her where it<\/p>\n

was that she must go and what it was that she must do. He talked<\/p>\n

of the Dark Uncle, the Highlander, and the nameless other, of<\/p>\n

the Shadowen, of Uhl Belk and Eldwist, and of the Black Elf-<\/p>\n

stone. As he spoke to her, revealing the truth behind who and<\/p>\n

what she was, he experienced an aching within his breast that<\/p>\n

was decidedly human, part of himself that had been submerged<\/p>\n

for many centuries. The ache brought a sadness that threatened<\/p>\n

to cause his voice to break and his eyes to tear. He stopped once<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

6\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The Druid of Shannara<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

in surprise to fight back against it. It required some effort to<\/p>\n

resume speaking. The girl watched him without comment-<\/p>\n

intense, introspective, expectant. She did not argue with what<\/p>\n

he told her and she did not question it. She simply listened and<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

accepted.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

When he was done, she stood up. “I understand what is<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

expected of me. I am ready.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

But the King of the Silver River shook his head. “No, child,<\/p>\n

you are not. You will discover that when you leave here. Despite<\/p>\n

who you are and what you can do, you are vulnerable neverthe-<\/p>\n

less to things against which I cannot protect you. Be careful then<\/p>\n

to protect yourself. Be on guard against what you do not under-<\/p>\n

stand.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I will,” she replied.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He walked with her to the edge of the Gardens, to where the<\/p>\n

world of men began, and together they stared out at the en-<\/p>\n

croaching ruin. They stood without speaking for a very long<\/p>\n

time before she said, “I can tell that I am needed there.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He nodded bleakly, feeling the loss of her already though she<\/p>\n

had not yet departed. She is only an elemental, he thought and<\/p>\n

knew immediately that he was wrong. She was a great deal<\/p>\n

more. As much as if he had given birth to her, she was a part<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

of him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Goodbye, Father,” she said suddenly and left his side.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

She walked out of the Gardens and disappeared into the world<\/p>\n

beyond. She did not kiss him or touch him in parting. She simply<\/p>\n

left, because that was all she knew to do.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The King of the Silver River turned away. His efforts had<\/p>\n

wearied him, had drained him of his magic. He needed time to<\/p>\n

rest. Quickly he shed his human image, stripping away the false<\/p>\n

covering of skin and bones, washing himself clean of its mem-<\/p>\n

ories and sensations, and reverting to the faerie creature he was.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Even so, what he felt for Quickening, his daughter, the child<\/p>\n

of his making, stayed with him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

II<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

) alker Boh came awake with a shudder.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

WDark Uncle.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The whisper of a voice in his mind jerked<\/p>\n

him back from the edge of the black pool into which he was<\/p>\n

sliding, pulled him from the inky dark into the gray fringes of<\/p>\n

the light, and he started so violently that the muscles of his legs<\/p>\n

cramped. His head snapped up from the pillow of his arm, his<\/p>\n

eyes slipped open, and he stared blankly ahead. There was pain<\/p>\n

all through his body, endless waves of it. The pain wracked him<\/p>\n

as if he had been touched by a hot iron, and he curled tightly<\/p>\n

into himself in a futile effort to ease it. Only his right arm re-<\/p>\n

mained outstretched, a heavy and cumbersome thing that no<\/p>\n

longer belonged to him, fastened forever to the floor of the<\/p>\n

cavern on which he lay, turned to stone to the elbow.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The source of the pain was there.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He closed his eyes against it, willing it to disperse, to disap-<\/p>\n

pear. But he lacked the strength to command it, his magic al-<\/p>\n

most gone, dissipated by his struggle to resist the advancing<\/p>\n

poison of the Asphinx. It was seven days now since he had come<\/p>\n

into the Hall of Kings in search of the Black Elfstone, seven<\/p>\n

days since he had found instead the deadly creature that had<\/p>\n

been placed there to snare him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Oh, yes, he thought feverishly. Definitely to snare him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

But by whom? By the Shadowen or by someone else? Who<\/p>\n

now had possession of the Black Elfstone?<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He recalled in despair the events that had brought him to this<\/p>\n

end. There had been the summons from the shade of Allanon,<\/p>\n

dead three hundred years, to the heirs of,the Shannara magic:<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

his nephew Par Ohmsford, his cousin Wren Ohmsford, and him-<\/p>\n

self. They had received the summons and a visit from the once-<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

8\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The Druid of Shannam<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Druid Cogline urging them to heed it. They had done so, assem-<\/p>\n

bling at the Hadeshom, ancient resting place of the Druids,<\/p>\n

where Allanon had appeared to them and charged them with<\/p>\n

separate undertakings that were meant to combat the dark work<\/p>\n

of the Shadowen who were using magic of their own to steal<\/p>\n

away the life of the Four Lands. Walker had been charged with<\/p>\n

recovering Paranor, the disappeared home of the Druids, and<\/p>\n

with bringing back the Druids themselves. He had resisted this<\/p>\n

charge until Cogline had come to him again, this time bearing<\/p>\n

a volume of the Druid Histories which told of a Black Elfstone<\/p>\n

which had the power to retrieve Paranor. That in turn had led<\/p>\n

him to the Grimpond, seer of the earth’s and mortal men’s se-<\/p>\n

crets.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He searched the gloom of the cavern about him, the doors to<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

the tombs of the Kings of the Four Lands dead all these centu-<\/p>\n

ries, the wealth piled before the crypts in which they lay, and<\/p>\n

the stone sentinels that kept watch over their remains. Stone eyes<\/p>\n

stared out of blank faces, unseeing, unheeding. He was alone<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

with their ghosts.<\/p>\n

He was dying.<\/p>\n

Tears filled his eyes, blinding him as he fought to hold them<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

back. He was such a fool!<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Dark Uncle. The words echoed soundlessly, a memory that<\/p>\n

taunted and teased. The voice was the Grimpond’s, that<\/p>\n

wretched, insidious spirit responsible for what had befallen him.<\/p>\n

It was the Grimpond’s riddles that had led him to the Hall of<\/p>\n

Kings in search of the Black Elfstone. The Grimpond must have<\/p>\n

known what awaited him, that there would be no Elfstone but<\/p>\n

the Asphinx instead, a deadly trap that would destroy him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

And why had he thought it would be otherwise? Walker asked<\/p>\n

himself bleakly. Didn’t the Grimpond hate him above all others?<\/p>\n

Hadn’t it boasted to Walker that it was sending him to his doom<\/p>\n

by giving him what he asked for? Walker had simply gone out<\/p>\n

of his way to accommodate the spirit, anxiously rushing off to<\/p>\n

greet the death that he had been promised, blithely believing<\/p>\n

that he could protect himself against whatever evil he might<\/p>\n

encounter. Remember? he chided himself. Remember how con-<\/p>\n

fident you were?<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He convulsed as the poison burned into him. Well and good.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

But where was his confidence now?<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He forced himself to his knees and bent down over the open-<\/p>\n

ing in the cavern floor where his hand was pinned to the stone.<\/p>\n

He could just make out the remains of the Asphinx, the snake’s<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Druid of Shannam\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>9<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

stone body coiled about his own stone arm, the two of them<\/p>\n

forever joined, fastened to the rock of the mountain. He tight-<\/p>\n

ened his mouth and pulled up the sleeve of his cloak. His arm<\/p>\n

was hard and unyielding, gray to the elbow, and streaks of gray<\/p>\n

worked their way upward toward his shoulder. The process was<\/p>\n

slow, but steady. His entire body was turning to stone.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Not that it mattered if it did, he thought, because he would<\/p>\n

starve to death long before that happened. Or die of thirst. Or<\/p>\n

of the poison.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He let the sleeve fall back into place, covering the horror of<\/p>\n

what he had become. Seven days gone. What little food he’d<\/p>\n

brought with him had been consumed almost immediately, and<\/p>\n

he’d drunk the last of his water two days ago. His strength was<\/p>\n

failing rapidly now. He was feverish most of the time, his lucid<\/p>\n

periods growing shorter. He had struggled against what was<\/p>\n

happening at first, trying to use his magic to banish the poison<\/p>\n

from his body, to restore his hand and arm to flesh and blood.<\/p>\n

But his magic had failed him completely. He had worked at<\/p>\n

freeing his arm from the stone flooring, thinking that it might<\/p>\n

be pried loose in some way. But he was held fast, a condemned<\/p>\n

man with no hope of release. Eventually his exhaustion had<\/p>\n

forced him to sleep, and as the days passed he had slept more<\/p>\n

often, slipping further and further away from wanting to come<\/p>\n

awake.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Now, as he knelt in a huddle of darkness and pain, salvaged<\/p>\n

momentarily from the wreckage of his dying by the voice of the<\/p>\n

Grimpond, he realized with terrifying certainty that if he went<\/p>\n

to sleep again it would be for good. He breathed in and out<\/p>\n

rapidly, choking back his fear. He must not let that happen. He<\/p>\n

must not give up.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He forced himself to think. As long as he could think, he<\/p>\n

reasoned, he would not fall asleep. He retraced in his mind his<\/p>\n

conversation with the Grimpond, hearing again the spirit’s<\/p>\n

words, trying anew to decipher their meaning. The Grimpond<\/p>\n

had not named the-Hall of Kings in describing where the Black<\/p>\n

Elfstone could be found. Had Walker simply jumped to the<\/p>\n

wrong conclusion? Had he been deliberately misled? Was there<\/p>\n

any truth in what he had been told?<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Walker’s thoughts scattered in confusion, and his mind re-<\/p>\n

fused to respond to the demands he placed on it. He closed his<\/p>\n

eyes in despair, and it was with great difficulty that he forced<\/p>\n

them open again. His clothes were’chill and damp with his own<\/p>\n

sweat, and his body shivered within them. His breathing was<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

10\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The Druid of Shannara<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

ragged, his vision blurred, and it was growing increasingly dif-<\/p>\n

ficult to swallow. So many distractions\u2014how could he think?<\/p>\n

He wanted simply to lie down and . . .<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He panicked, feeling the urgency of his need threaten to swal-<\/p>\n

low him up. He shifted his body, forcing his knees to scrape<\/p>\n

against the stone until they bled. A little more pain might help<\/p>\n

keep me awake, he thought. Yet he could barely feel it.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He forced his thoughts back to the Grimpond. He envisioned<\/p>\n

the wraith laughing at his plight, taking pleasure at it. He heard<\/p>\n

the taunting voice calling out to him. Anger gave him a measure<\/p>\n

of strength. There was something that he needed to recall, he<\/p>\n

thought desperately. There was something that the Grimpond<\/p>\n

had told him that he must remember.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Please, don’t let me fall asleep!<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Hall of Kings did not respond to the urgency of his plea;<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

the statues remained silent, disinterested, and oblivious. The<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

mountain waited.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\/ have to break free! he howled wordlessly.<\/p>\n

And then he remembered the visions, or more specifically<\/p>\n

the first of the three that the Grimpond had shown him, the one<\/p>\n

in which he had stood on a cloud above the others of the little<\/p>\n

company that had gathered at the Hadeshom in answer to the<\/p>\n

summons of the shade ofAllanon, the one in which he had said<\/p>\n

that he would sooner cut off his hand than bring back the Druids<\/p>\n

and then lifted his arm to show that he had done exactly that.<\/p>\n

He remembered the vision and recognized its truth.<\/p>\n

He banished the reaction it provoked in horrified disbelief<\/p>\n

and let his head droop until it was resting on the cavern stone.<\/p>\n

He cried, feeling the tears run down his cheeks, the sides of his<\/p>\n

face, stinging his eyes as they mingled with his sweat. His body<\/p>\n

twisted with the agony of his choices.<\/p>\n

No! No, he would not!<\/p>\n

Yet he knew he must.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

His crying turned to laughter, chilling in its madness as it<\/p>\n

rolled out of him into the emptiness of the tomb. He waited until<\/p>\n

it expended itself, the echoes fading into silence, then looked<\/p>\n

up again. His possibilities had exhausted themselves; his fate<\/p>\n

was sealed. If he did not break free now, he knew he never<\/p>\n

would.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

And there was only one way to do so.<\/p>\n

He hardened himself to the fact of it, walling himself away<\/p>\n

from his emotions, drawing from some final reserve the last of<\/p>\n

his strength. He cast about the cavern floor until he found what<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Druid of Shannara\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>11<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

he needed. It was a rock that was approximately the size and<\/p>\n

shape of an axe-blade, jagged on one side, hard enough to have<\/p>\n

survived intact its fall from the chamber ceiling where it had<\/p>\n

been loosened by the battle four centuries earlier between Al-<\/p>\n

lanon and the serpent Valg. The rock lay twenty feet away,<\/p>\n

clearly beyond reach of any ordinary man. But not him. He<\/p>\n

summoned a fragment of the magic that remained to him, forc-<\/p>\n

ing himself to remain steady during its use. The rock inched<\/p>\n

forward, scraping as it moved, a slow scratching in the cavern’s<\/p>\n

silence. Walker grew light-headed from the strain, the fever<\/p>\n

burning through him, leaving him nauseated. Yet he kept the<\/p>\n

rock moving closer.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

At last it was within reach of his free hand. He let the magic<\/p>\n

slip away, taking long moments to gather himself. Then he<\/p>\n

stretched out his arm to the rock, and his fingers closed tightly<\/p>\n

about it. Slowly he gathered it in, finding it impossibly heavy,<\/p>\n

so heavy in fact that he was not certain he could manage to lift<\/p>\n

it let alone . . .<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He could not finish the thought. He could not dwell on what<\/p>\n

he was about to do. He dragged the rock over until it was next<\/p>\n

to him, braced himself firmly with his knees, took a deep breath,<\/p>\n

raised the rock overhead, hesitated for just an instant, then in a<\/p>\n

rush of fear and anguish brought it down. It smashed into the<\/p>\n

stone of his arm between elbow and wrist, hammering it with<\/p>\n

such force that it jarred his entire body. The resulting pain was<\/p>\n

so agonizing that it threatened to render him unconscious. He<\/p>\n

screamed as waves of it washed through him; he felt as if he<\/p>\n

were being torn apart from the inside out. He fell forward, gasp-<\/p>\n

ing for breath, and the axe-blade rock dropped from his nerve-<\/p>\n

less fingers.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Then he realized that something had changed.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He pushed himself upright and looked down at his arm. The<\/p>\n

blow had shattered the stone limb at the point of impact. His<\/p>\n

wrist and hand remained fastened to the Asphinx in the gloom<\/p>\n

of the hidden compartment’of the cavern floor. But the rest of<\/p>\n

him was free.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He knelt in stunned disbelief for a long time, staring down at<\/p>\n

the ruin of his arm, at the gray-streaked flesh above the elbow<\/p>\n

and the jagged stone capping below. His arm felt leaden and<\/p>\n

stiff. The poison already within it continued to work its damage.<\/p>\n

There were jolts of pain all through him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

But he was free! Shades, he was free!<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Suddenly there was a stirring in the chamber beyond, a faint<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

12\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span>The Druid of Shannam<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

and distant mstling like something had come awake. Walker<\/p>\n

Boh went cold in the pit of his stomach as he realized what had<\/p>\n

happened. His scream had given him away. The chamber be-<\/p>\n

yond was the Assembly, and it was in the Assembly that the<\/p>\n

serpent Valg, guardian of the dead, had once lived.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

And might live still.<\/p>\n

Walker came to his feet, sudden dizziness washing through<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

him. He ignored it, ignored the pain and weariness as well, and<\/p>\n

stumbled toward the heavy, ironbound entry doors that had<\/p>\n

brought him in. He shut away the sounds of everything about<\/p>\n

him, everything within, concentrating the whole of his effort on<\/p>\n

making his way across the cavern floor to the passageway that<\/p>\n

lay beyond. If the serpent was alive and found him now, he knew<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

he was finished.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Luck was with him. The serpent did not emerge. Nothing<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

appeared. Walker reached the doors leading from the tomb and<\/p>\n

pushed his way through into the darkness beyond.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

What happened then was never clear afterward in his mind.<\/p>\n

Somehow he managed to work his way back through the Hall<\/p>\n

of Kings, past the Banshees whose howl could drive men mad,<\/p>\n

and past the Sphinxes whose gaze could turn men to stone. He<\/p>\n

heard the Banshees wail, felt the gaze of the Sphinxes burning<\/p>\n

down, and experienced the terror of the mountain’s ancient<\/p>\n

magic as it sought to trap him, to make him another of its vic-<\/p>\n

tims. Yet he escaped, some final shield of determination pre-<\/p>\n

serving him as he made his way clear, an iron will combining<\/p>\n

with weariness and pain and near madness to encase and pre-<\/p>\n

serve him. Perhaps his magic came to aid him as well; he thought<\/p>\n

it possible. The magic, after all, was unpredictable, a constant<\/p>\n

mystery. He pushed and trudged through near darkness and<\/p>\n

phantasmagoric images, past walls of rock that threatened to<\/p>\n

close about him, down tunnels of sight and sound in which he<\/p>\n

could neither see nor hear, and finally he was free.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He emerged into the outside world at daybreak, the sun’s light<\/p>\n

chill and faint as it shone out of a sky thick with clouds and rain<\/p>\n

that lingered from the previous night’s storm. With his arm<\/p>\n

tucked beneath his cloak like a wounded child, he made his way<\/p>\n

down the mountain trail toward the plains south. He never looked<\/p>\n

back. He could just manage to look ahead. He was on his feet<\/p>\n

only because he refused to give in. He could barely feel himself<\/p>\n

anymore, even the pain of his poisoning. He walked as if jerked<\/p>\n

along by strings attached to his limbs. His black hair blew wildly<\/p>\n

m the wind, whipping about his pale face, lashing it until his<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Druid of Shannam<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

13<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

eyes blurred with tears. He v\/as a scarecrow figure of madness<\/p>\n

as he wandered out of the mist and gray.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Dark Uncle, the Grimpond’s voice whispered in his mind and<\/p>\n

laughed in glee.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He lost track of time completely. The sun’s weak light failed<\/p>\n

to disperse the stormclouds and the day remained washed of<\/p>\n

color and friendless. Trails came and went, an endless proces-<\/p>\n

sion of rocks, defiles, canyons, and drops. Walker remained<\/p>\n

oblivious to all of it. He knew only that he was descending,<\/p>\n

working his way downward out of the rock, back toward the<\/p>\n

world he had so foolishly left behind. He knew that he was<\/p>\n

trying to save his life.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

It was midday when he emerged at last from the high peaks<\/p>\n

into the Valley of Shale, a tattered and aimless bit of human<\/p>\n

wreckage so badly fevered and weakened that he stumbled half-<\/p>\n

way across the crushed, glistening black rock of the valley floor<\/p>\n

before realizing where he was. When he finally saw, his strength<\/p>\n

gave out. He collapsed in the tangle of his cloak, feeling the<\/p>\n

sharp edges of the rock cutting into the skin of his hands and<\/p>\n

face, heedless of its sting as he lay facedown in exhaustion. After<\/p>\n

a time, he began to crawl toward the placid waters of the lake,<\/p>\n

inching his way painfully ahead, dragging his stone-tipped arm<\/p>\n

beneath him. It seemed logical to him in his delirium that if he<\/p>\n

could reach the Hadeshorn’s edge he might submerge his ruined<\/p>\n

arm and the lethal waters would counteract the poison that was<\/p>\n

killing him. It was nonsensical, but for Walker Boh madness<\/p>\n

had become the measure of his life.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He failed even in this small endeavor. Too weak to go more<\/p>\n

than a few yards, he lapsed into unconsciousness. The last thing<\/p>\n

he remembered was how dark it was in the middle of the day,<\/p>\n

the world a place of shadows.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He slept, and in his sleep he dreamed that the shade of Al-<\/p>\n

lanon came to him. The shade rose out of the churning, boiling<\/p>\n

waters of the Hadeshom, dark and mystical as it materialized<\/p>\n

from the netherworld of afterlife to which it had been consigned.<\/p>\n

It reached out to Walker, lifted him to his feet, flooded him with<\/p>\n

new strength, and gave clarity once more to his thoughts and<\/p>\n

vision. Spectral, translucent, it hung above the dark, greenish<\/p>\n

waters\u2014yet its touch felt curiously human.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

-Dark Uncle-<\/p>\n

When the shade spoke the words, they were not taunting and<\/p>\n

hateful as they had been when spoken by the Grimpond. They<\/p>\n

were simply a designation of who and what Walker was.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

14\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The Druid of Shannara<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u2014Why will you not accept the charge I have given you\u2014<\/p>\n

Walker struggled angrily to reply but could not seem to find<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

the words.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u2014The need for you is great. Walker. Not my need, but the<\/p>\n

need of the Lands and their people, the Races of the new world.<\/p>\n

If you do not accept my charge, there is no hope for them\u2014<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Walker’s rage was boundless. Bring back the Druids, who<\/p>\n

were no more, and disappeared Paranor? Surely, thought Walker<\/p>\n

in response. Surely, shade of AUanon. I shall take my ruined<\/p>\n

body in search of what you seek, my poisoned limb, though I<\/p>\n

be dying and cannot hope to help anyone, still I…<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u2014Accept, Walker. You do not accept. Acknowledge the truth<\/p>\n

of yourself and your own destiny-<\/p>\n

Walker didn’t understand.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u2014Kinship with those who have gone before you, those who<\/p>\n

understood the meaning of acceptance. That is what you lack\u2014<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Walker shuddered, disrupting the vision of his dream. His<\/p>\n

strength left him. He collapsed at the Hadeshom’s edge, blan-<\/p>\n

keted in confusion and fear, feeling so lost that it seemed to him<\/p>\n

impossible that he could ever again be found.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Help me, Allanon, he begged in despair.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The shade hung motionless in the air before him, ethereal<\/p>\n

against a backdrop of wintry skies and barren peaks, rising up<\/p>\n

like death’s specter come to retrieve^ fresh victim. It seemed<\/p>\n

suddenly to Walker that dying was all that was left to him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Do you wish me to die? he asked in disbelief. Is this what<\/p>\n

you demand of me ?<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The shade said nothing.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Did you know that this would happen to me ? He held forth<\/p>\n

his arm, jagged stone stump, poison-streaked flesh.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The shade remained silent.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Why won’t you help me ? Walker howled.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u2014Why won’t you help me\u2014<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The words echoed sharply in his mind, urgent and filled with<\/p>\n

a sense of dark purpose. But he did not speak them. Allanon<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

did.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Then abruptly the shade shimmered in the air before him and<\/p>\n

faded away. The waters of the Hadeshom steamed and hissed,<\/p>\n

roiled in fury, and went still once more. All about the air was<\/p>\n

misted and dark, filled with ghosts and wild imaginings, a place<\/p>\n

where life and death met at a crossroads of unanswered ques-<\/p>\n

tions and unresolved puzzles.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Walker Boh saw them for only a moment, aware that he was<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Druid of Shannara 15<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

seeing them not in sleep but in waking, realizing suddenly that<\/p>\n

his vision might not have been a dream at all.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Then everything was gone, and he fell away into blackness.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

When he came awake again there was someone bending over<\/p>\n

him. Walker saw the other through a haze of fever and pain, a<\/p>\n

thin, sticklike figure in gray robes with a narrow face, a wispy<\/p>\n

beard and hair, and a hawk nose, crouched close like something<\/p>\n

that meant to suck away what life remained to him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

‘ ‘Walker?” the figure whispered gently.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

It was Cogline. Walker swallowed against the dryness in his<\/p>\n

throat and struggled to raise himself. The weight of his arm<\/p>\n

dragged against hum, pulling him back, forcing nun down. The<\/p>\n

old man’s hands groped beneath the concealing cloak and found<\/p>\n

the leaden stump. Walker heard the sharp intake of his breath.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“How did you . . . find me?” he managed.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

‘ ‘Allanon,” Cogline answered. His voice was rough and laced<\/p>\n

with anger.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Walker sighed. “How long have I. . . ?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Three days. I don’t know why you’re still alive. You haven’t<\/p>\n

any right to be.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“None,” Walker agreed and reached out impulsively to hug<\/p>\n

the other man close. The familiar feel and smell of the old man’s<\/p>\n

body brought tears to his eyes. “I don’t think . . .I’m meant to<\/p>\n

die … just yet.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Cogline hugged Walker back. He said, “No, Walker. Not<\/p>\n

yet.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Then the old man was lifting him to his feet, hauling him up<\/p>\n

with strength Walker hadn’t known he possessed, holding him<\/p>\n

upright as he pointed them both toward the south end of the<\/p>\n

valley. It was dawn again, the sunrise unclouded and brilliant<\/p>\n

gold against the eastern horizon, the air still and expectant with<\/p>\n

the promise of its coming.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Hold on to me,” Cogline urged, walking him along the<\/p>\n

crushed black rock. “There are horses waiting and help to be<\/p>\n

had. Hold tight. Walker.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Walker Boh held on for dear life.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Ill<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Cogline took Walker Boh to Storlock. Even on horseback<\/p>\n

with Walker lashed in place, it took until nightfall to<\/p>\n

complete the journey. They came down out of the Dra-<\/p>\n

gon’s Teeth into a day filled with sunshine and warmth, turned<\/p>\n

east across the Rabb Plains, and made their way into the East-<\/p>\n

land forests of the Central Anar to the legendary village of the<\/p>\n

Stors. Wracked with pain and consumed with thoughts of dying,<\/p>\n

Walker remained awake almost the entire time. Yet he was never<\/p>\n

certain where he was or what was happening about him, con-<\/p>\n

scious only of the swaying of his horse and Cogline’s constant<\/p>\n

reassurance that all would be well.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He did not believe that Cogline was telling him the truth.<\/p>\n

Storlock was silent, cool and dry in the shadow of the trees,<\/p>\n

a haven from the swelter and dust of the plains. Hands reached<\/p>\n

up to take Walker from the saddle, from the smell of sweat and<\/p>\n

the rocking motion, and from the feeling that he must at any<\/p>\n

moment give in to the death that was waiting to claim him. He<\/p>\n

did not know why he was alive. He could give himself no reason.<\/p>\n

White-robed figures gathered all around, supporting him, eas-<\/p>\n

ing him down\u2014Stors, the Gnome Healers of the Village. Every-<\/p>\n

one knew of the Stors. Theirs was the most advanced source of<\/p>\n

healing in the Four Lands. Wil Ohmsford had studied with them<\/p>\n

once and become a healer, the only Southlander ever to do so.<\/p>\n

Shea Ohmsford had been healed after an attack in the Wolfsk-<\/p>\n

taag. Earlier, Par had been brought to them as well, infected by<\/p>\n

the poison of the Werebeasts in Olden Moor. Walker had brought<\/p>\n

him. Now it was Walker’s turn to be saved. But Walker did not<\/p>\n

think that would happen.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

A cup was raised to his lips, and a strange liquid trickled<\/p>\n

down his throat. Almost immediately the pain eased, and he felt<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

16<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Druid of Shannara\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>17<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

himself grow drowsy. Sleep would be good for him, he decided<\/p>\n

suddenly, surprisingly. Sleep would be welcome. He was car-<\/p>\n

ried into the Center House, the main care lodge, and placed in<\/p>\n

a bed in one of the back rooms where the forest could be seen<\/p>\n

through the weave of the curtains, a wall of dark trunks set at<\/p>\n

watch. He wa^ stripped of his clothes, wrapped in blankets,<\/p>\n

given something further to drink, a bitter, hot liquid, and left to<\/p>\n

fall asleep.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He did so almost at once.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

As he slept, the fever dissipated, and the weariness faded<\/p>\n

away. The pain lingered, but it was distant somehow and not a<\/p>\n

part of him. He sank down into the warmth and comfort of his<\/p>\n

bedding, and even dreams could not penetrate the shield of his<\/p>\n

rest. There were no visions to distress him, no dark thoughts to<\/p>\n

bring him awake. Allanon and Cogline were forgotten. His an-<\/p>\n

guish at the loss of his limb, his struggle to escape the Asphinx<\/p>\n

and the Hall of Kings, and his terrifying sense of no longer being<\/p>\n

in command of his own destiny\u2014all were forgotten. He was at<\/p>\n

peace.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He did not know how long he slept, for he was not conscious<\/p>\n

of time passing, of the sweep of the sun across the sky, or of the<\/p>\n

change from night to day and back again. When he began to<\/p>\n

come awake once more, floating out of the darkness of his rest<\/p>\n

through a worid of half-sleep, memories of his boyhood stirred<\/p>\n

unexpectedly, small snatches of his life in the days when he was<\/p>\n

first learning to cope with the frustration and wonder of discov-<\/p>\n

ering who and what he was.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The memories were sharp and clear.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He was still a child when he first learned he had magic. He<\/p>\n

didn’t call it magic then; he didn’t call it anything. He believed<\/p>\n

such power common; he thought that he was like everyone else.<\/p>\n

He lived then with his father Kenner and mother Risse at Hearth-<\/p>\n

stone in Darklin Reach, and there were no other children to<\/p>\n

whom he might compare himself. That came later. It was his<\/p>\n

mother who told him that what he could do was unusual, that it<\/p>\n

made him different from other children. He could still see her<\/p>\n

face as she tried to explain, her small features intense, her white<\/p>\n

skin striking against coal black hair that was always braided and<\/p>\n

laced with flowers. He could still hear her low and compelling<\/p>\n

voice. Risse. He had loved his mother deeply. She had not had<\/p>\n

magic of her own; she was a Boh and the magic came from his<\/p>\n

father’s side, from the Ohmsfords. She told him that, sitting him<\/p>\n

down before her on a brilliant autumn day when the smell of<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

18\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span>The Druid of Shannara<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

dying leaves and burning wood filled the air, smiling and reas-<\/p>\n

suring as she spoke, trying unsuccessfully to hide from him the<\/p>\n

uneasiness she felt.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

That was one of the things the magic let him do. It let him<\/p>\n

see sometimes what others were feeling\u2014not with everyone,<\/p>\n

but almost always with his mother.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Walker, the magic makes you special,” she said. “It is a<\/p>\n

gift that you must care for and cherish. I know that someday<\/p>\n

you are going to do something wonderful with it.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

She died a year later after falling ill to a fever for which even<\/p>\n

her formidable healing skills could not find a cure.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He lived alone with his father then, and the “gift” with which<\/p>\n

she had believed him blessed developed rapidly. The magic was<\/p>\n

an enabler; it gave him insight. He discovered that frequently<\/p>\n

he could sense things in people without being told\u2014changes in<\/p>\n

their mood and character, emotions they thought to keep secret,<\/p>\n

their opinions and ideas, their needs and hopes, even the reasons<\/p>\n

behind what they did. There were always visitors at Hearth-<\/p>\n

stone\u2014travelers passing through, peddlers, tradesmen, woods-<\/p>\n

men, hunters, trappers, even Trackers\u2014and Walker wpuld know<\/p>\n

all about them without their having to say a word. He would tell<\/p>\n

them so. He would reveal what he knew. It was a game that he<\/p>\n

loved to play. It frightened some of them, and his father ordered<\/p>\n

him to stop. Walker did as he was asked. By then he had dis-<\/p>\n

covered a new and more interesting ability. He discovered that<\/p>\n

he could communicate with the animals of the forest, with birds<\/p>\n

and fish, even with plants. He could sense what they were think-<\/p>\n

ing and feeling just as he could with humans, even though their<\/p>\n

thoughts and feelings were more rudimentary and limited. He<\/p>\n

would disappear for hours on excursions of learning, on make-<\/p>\n

believe adventures, on journeys of testing and seeking out. He<\/p>\n

designated himself early as an explorer of life.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

As time passed, it became apparent that Walker’s special in-<\/p>\n

sight was to help him with his schooling as well. He began<\/p>\n

reading from his father’s library almost as soon as he learned<\/p>\n

how the letters of the alphabet formed words on the fraying<\/p>\n

pages of his father’s books. He mastered mathematics effort-<\/p>\n

lessly. He understood sciences intuitively. Barely anything had<\/p>\n

to be explained. Somehow he just seemed to understand how it<\/p>\n

all worked. History became his special passion; his memory of<\/p>\n

things, of places and events and people, was prodigious. He<\/p>\n

began to keep notes of his own, to write down everything he<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Druid of Shannara\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>19<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

learned, to compile teachings that he would someday impart to<\/p>\n

others.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The older he grew, the more his father’s attitude toward him<\/p>\n

seemed to change. He dismissed his suspicions at first, certain<\/p>\n

that he was mistaken. But the feeling persisted. Finally he asked<\/p>\n

his father about it, and Kenner\u2014a tall, lean, quick-moving man<\/p>\n

with wide, intelligent eyes, a stammer he had worked hard to<\/p>\n

overcome, and a gift for craning\u2014admitted it was true. Kenner<\/p>\n

did not have magic of his own. He had evidenced traces of it<\/p>\n

when he was young, but it had disappeared shortly after he had<\/p>\n

passed out of boyhood. It had been like that with his father and<\/p>\n

his father’s father before that and every Ohmsford he knew about<\/p>\n

all the way back to Brin. But it did not appear to be that way<\/p>\n

with Walker. Walker’s magic just seemed to grow stronger. Ken-<\/p>\n

ner told him that he was afraid that his son’s abilities would<\/p>\n

eventually overwhelm him, that they would develop to a point<\/p>\n

where he could no longer anticipate or control their effects. But<\/p>\n

he said as well, just as Risse had said, that they should not be<\/p>\n

suppressed, that magic was a gift that always had some special<\/p>\n

purpose in being.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Shortly after, he told Walker of the history behind the Ohms-<\/p>\n

ford magic, of the Druid Allanon and the Valegirl Brin, and of<\/p>\n

the mysterious trust that the former in dying had bequeathed to<\/p>\n

the latter. Walker had been twelve when he heard the tale. He<\/p>\n

had wanted to know what the trust was supposed to be. His<\/p>\n

father hadn’t been able to tell him. He had only been able to<\/p>\n

relate the history of its passage through the Ohmsford bloodline.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“It manifests itself in you. Walker,” he said. “You in turn<\/p>\n

will pass it on to your children, and they to theirs, until one day<\/p>\n

there is need for it. That is the legacy you have inherited.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“But what good is a legacy that serves no purpose?” Walker<\/p>\n

had demanded.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

And Kenner had repeated, “There is always purpose in<\/p>\n

magic\u2014even when we don’t understand what it is.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Barely a year later, as Walker was entering his youth and<\/p>\n

leaving his childhood behind, the magic revealed that it pos-<\/p>\n

sessed another, darker side. Walker found out that it could be<\/p>\n

destructive. Sometimes, most often when he was angry, his<\/p>\n

emotions transformed themselves into energy. When that hap-<\/p>\n

pened, he could move things away and break them apart without<\/p>\n

touching them. Sometimes he could summon a form of fire. It<\/p>\n

wasn’t ordinary fire; it didn’t burn like ordinary fire and it was<\/p>\n

different in color, a sort of cobalt. It wouldn’t do much of what<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

20<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Druid of Shannara<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

he tried to make it do; it did pretty much what it wished. It took<\/p>\n

him weeks to learn to control it. He tried to keep his discovery<\/p>\n

a secret from his father, but his father learned of it anyway, just<\/p>\n

as he eventually learned of everything about his son. Though he<\/p>\n

said little, Walker felt the distance between them widen.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Walker was nearing manhood when his father made the de-<\/p>\n

cision to take him out of Hearthstone. Kenner Ohmsford’s health<\/p>\n

had been failing steadily for several years, his once strong body<\/p>\n

afflicted by a wasting sickness. Closing down the cottage that<\/p>\n

had been Walker’s home since birth, he took the boy to Shady<\/p>\n

Vale to live with another family of Ohmsfords, Jaralan and Mir-<\/p>\n

ianna and their sons Par and Coll.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The move became for Walker Boh the worst thing that had<\/p>\n

ever happened to him. Shady Vale, though little more than a<\/p>\n

hamlet community, nevertheless seemed constricting after<\/p>\n

Hearthstone. Freedom there had been boundless; here, there<\/p>\n

were boundaries that he could not escape. Walker was not used<\/p>\n

to being around so many people and he could not seem to make<\/p>\n

himself fit in. He was required to attend school, but there was.<\/p>\n

nothing for him to learn. His master and the other children dis-<\/p>\n

liked and mistrusted him; he was an outsider, he behaved dif-<\/p>\n

ferently than they, he knew entirely too much, and they quickly<\/p>\n

decided that they wanted nothing to do with him. His magic<\/p>\n

became a snare he could not escape. It manifested itself in ev-<\/p>\n

erything he did, and by the time he realized he should have<\/p>\n

hidden it away it was too late to do so. He was beaten a number<\/p>\n

of times because he wouldn’t defend himself. He was terrified<\/p>\n

of what would happen if he let the fire escape.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He was in the village less than a year when his father died.<\/p>\n

Walker had wished that he could die, too.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He continued to live with Jaralan and Mirianna Ohmsford,<\/p>\n

who were good to him and who sympathized with the difficulties<\/p>\n

he was encountering because their own son Par was just begin-<\/p>\n

ning to exhibit signs of having magic of his own. Par was a<\/p>\n

descendent of Jair Ohmsford, Brin’s brother. Both sides of the<\/p>\n

family had passed the magic of their ancestors down through<\/p>\n

the bloodline in the years since Allanon’s death, so the appear-<\/p>\n

ance of Par’s magic was not entirely unexpected. Par’s was a<\/p>\n

less unpredictable and complicated form of magic, manifesting<\/p>\n

itself principally in the boy’s ability to create lifelike images with<\/p>\n

his voice. Par was still little then, just five or six, and he barely<\/p>\n

understood what was happening to him. Coil was not yet strong<\/p>\n

enough to protect his brother, so Walker ended up taking the<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Druid of Shannara\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>21<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

boy under his wing. It seemed natural enough to do so. After<\/p>\n

all, only Walker understood what Par was experiencing.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

His relationship with Par changed everything. It gave him<\/p>\n

something to focus on, a purpose beyond worrying about his<\/p>\n

own survival. He spent time with Par helping him adjust to the<\/p>\n

presence of the magic in his body. He counseled him in its use,<\/p>\n

advised him in the cautions that were necessary, the protective<\/p>\n

devices he must learn to employ. He tried to teach him how to<\/p>\n

deal with the fear and dislike of people who would choose not<\/p>\n

to understand. He became Par’s mentor.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The people of Shady Vale began calling him ‘ ‘Dark Uncle.”<\/p>\n

It began with the children. He wasn’t Par’s uncle, of course; he<\/p>\n

wasn’t anybody’s uncle. But he hadn’t a firm blood tie in the<\/p>\n

eyes of the villagers; no one really understood the relationship<\/p>\n

he bore to Jaralan and Mirianna, so there were no constrictions<\/p>\n

on how they might refer to him. “Dark Uncle” became the<\/p>\n

appellation that stuck. Walker was tall by then, pale skinned and<\/p>\n

black haired like his mother, apparently immune to the brown-<\/p>\n

ing effect of the sun. He looked ghostly. It seemed to the Vale<\/p>\n

children as if he were a night thing that never saw the light of<\/p>\n

day, and his relationship toward the boy Par appeared mysteri-<\/p>\n

ous to them. Thus he became “Dark Uncle,” the counselor of<\/p>\n

magic, the strange, awkward, withdrawn young man whose in-<\/p>\n

sights and comprehensions set him apart from everyone.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Nevertheless, the name “Dark Uncle” notwithstanding,<\/p>\n

Walker’s attitude improved. He began to learn how to deal with<\/p>\n

the suspicion and mistrust. He was no longer attacked. He found<\/p>\n

that he could turn aside these assaults with not much more than<\/p>\n

a glance or even the set of his body. He could use the magic to<\/p>\n

shield himself. He found he could project wariness and caution<\/p>\n

into others and prevent them from following through on their<\/p>\n

violent intentions. He even became rather good at stopping fights<\/p>\n

among others. Unfortunately, all this did was distance him fur-<\/p>\n

ther. The adults and older youths left him alone altogether; only<\/p>\n

the younger children turned cautiously friendly.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Walker was never happy in Shady Vale. The mistrust and the<\/p>\n

fear remained, concealed just beneath the forced smiles, the<\/p>\n

perfunctory nods, and the civilities of the villagers that allowed<\/p>\n

him to exist among them but never gain acceptance. Walker<\/p>\n

knew that the magic was the cause of his problem. His mother<\/p>\n

and father might have thought of it as a gift, but he didn’t. And<\/p>\n

he never would again. It was a curse that he felt certain would<\/p>\n

haunt him to the grave.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

22\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The Druid of Shannara<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

By the time he reached manhood. Walker had resolved to<\/p>\n

return to Hearthstone, to the home he remembered so fondly,<\/p>\n

away from the people of the Vale, from their mistrust and sus-<\/p>\n

picion, from the strangeness they caused him to feel. The boy<\/p>\n

Par had adjusted well enough that Walker no longer felt con-<\/p>\n

cerned about him. To begin with, Par was a native of the Vale<\/p>\n

and accepted in a way that Walker never could be. Moreover,<\/p>\n

his attitude toward using magic was far different than Walker’s.<\/p>\n

Par was never hesitant; he wanted to know everything the magic<\/p>\n

could do. What others thought did not concern him. He could<\/p>\n

get away with that; Walker never could. The two had begun to<\/p>\n

grow apart as they grew older. Walker knew it was inevitable.<\/p>\n

It was time for him to go. Jaralan and Mirianna urged him to<\/p>\n

stay, but understood at the same time that he could not.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Seven years after his arrival, Walker Boh departed Shady Vale.<\/p>\n

He had taken his mother’s name by then, disdaining further use<\/p>\n

of Ohmsford because it linked him so closely with the legacy of<\/p>\n

magic he now despised. He went back into Darklin Reach, back<\/p>\n

to Hearthstone, feeling as if he were a caged wild animal that<\/p>\n

had been set free. He severed his ties with the life he had left<\/p>\n

behind him. He resolved that he would never again use the<\/p>\n

magic. He promised himself that he would keep apart from the<\/p>\n

world of men for the rest of his life.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

For almost a year he did exactly as he said he would do. And<\/p>\n

then Cogline appeared and everything changed . . .<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Half-sleep turned abruptly to waking, and Walker’s memories<\/p>\n

faded away. He stirred in the warmth of his bed, and his eyes<\/p>\n

blinked open. For a moment he could not decide where he was.<\/p>\n

The room in which he lay was bright with daylight despite the<\/p>\n

brooding presence of a cluster of forest trees directly outside his<\/p>\n

curtained window. The room was small, clean, almost bare of<\/p>\n

furniture. There were a sitting chair and a small table next to<\/p>\n

his bed, the bed, and nothing else. A vase of flowers, a basin<\/p>\n

of water, and some cloths sat on the table. The single door<\/p>\n

leading into the room stood closed.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Storlock. That was where he was, where Cogline had brought<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He remembered then what had happened to bring him here.<\/p>\n

Cautiously, he brought his ruined arm out from beneath the<\/p>\n

bedding. There was little pain now, but the heaviness of the<\/p>\n

stone persisted and there was no feeling. He bit his lip in anger<\/p>\n

and frustration as his arm worked free. Nothing had changed<\/p>\n

beyond the lessening of the pain. The stone tip where the lower<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Druid of Shannara\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span>23<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

arm had shattered was still there. The streaks of gray where the<\/p>\n

poison worked its way upward toward his shoulder were there<\/p>\n

as well.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He slipped his arm from view again. The Stors had been<\/p>\n

unable to cure him. Whatever the nature of the poison that the<\/p>\n

Asphinx had injected into him, the Stors could not treat it. And<\/p>\n

if the Stors could not treat it\u2014the Stors, who were the best of<\/p>\n

the Four Lands’ Healers . . .<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He could not finish the thought. He shoved it away, closed<\/p>\n

his eyes, tried to go back to sleep, and failed. All he could see<\/p>\n

was his arm shattering under the impact of the stone wedge.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Despair washed over him and he wept.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

An hour had passed when the door opened and Cogline en-<\/p>\n

tered the room, an intrusive presence that made the silence seem<\/p>\n

even more uncomfortable.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Walker,” he greeted quietly.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“They cannot save me, can they?” Walker asked bluntly, the<\/p>\n

despair pushing everything else aside.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The old man became a statue at his bedside. “You’re alive,<\/p>\n

aren’t you?” he replied.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Don’t play word games with me. Whatever’s been done, it<\/p>\n

hasn’t driven out the poison. I can feel it. I may be alive, but<\/p>\n

only for the moment. Tell me if I’m wrong.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Cogline paused. “You’re not wrong. The poison is still in<\/p>\n

you. Even the Stors haven’t the means to remove it or to stop its<\/p>\n

spread. But they have slowed the process, lessened the pain, and<\/p>\n

given you time. That is more than I would have expected given<\/p>\n

the nature and extent of the injury. How do you feel?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Walker’s smile was slow and bitter. “Like I am dying, natu-<\/p>\n

rally. But in a comfortable fashion.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

They regarded each other without speaking for a moment.<\/p>\n

Then Cogline moved over to the sitting chair and eased himself<\/p>\n

into it, a bundle of old bones and aching joints, of wrinkled<\/p>\n

brown skin. “Tell me what happened to you. Walker,” he said.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Walker did. He told of reading the ancient, leatherbound<\/p>\n

Druid History that Cogline had brought to him and learning of<\/p>\n

the Black Elfstone, of deciding to seek the counsel of the Grim-<\/p>\n

pond, of hearing its riddles and witnessing its visions, of deter-<\/p>\n

mining that he must go to the Hall of Kings, of finding the secret<\/p>\n

compartment marked with runes in the floor of the Tomb, and<\/p>\n

finally of being bitten and poisoned by the Asphinx left there to<\/p>\n

snare him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

24<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Druid of Shannam<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“To snare someone at least, perhaps anyone,” Cogline ob-<\/p>\n

served.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Walker looked at him sharply, anger and mistrust flaring in<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

his dark eyes. “What do you know of this, Cogline? Do you<\/p>\n

play the same games as the Druids now? And what of AUanon?<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Did Allanon know …”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Allanon knew nothing,” Cogline interrupted, brushing<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

aside the accusation before it could be completed. The old eyes<\/p>\n

glittered beneath narrowed brows. “You undertook to solve the<\/p>\n

Grimpond’s riddles on your own\u2014a foolish decision on your<\/p>\n

part. I warned you repeatedly that the wraith would find a way<\/p>\n

to undo you. How could Allanon know of your predicament?<\/p>\n

You attribute far too much to a man three-hundred-years dead.<\/p>\n

Even if he were still alive, his magic could never penetrate that<\/p>\n

which shrouds the Hall of Kings. Once you were within, you<\/p>\n

were lost to him. And to me. It wasn’t’until you emerged again<\/p>\n

and collapsed at the Hadeshom that he was able to discover what<\/p>\n

happened and summon me to help you. I came as quickly as I<\/p>\n

could and even so it took me three days.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

One hand lifted, a sticklike finger jabbing. “Have you both-<\/p>\n

ered to question why it is that you aren’t dead? It is because<\/p>\n

Allanon found a way to keep you alive, first until I arrived and<\/p>\n

second until the Stors could treat you! Think on that a bit before<\/p>\n

you start casting blame about so freely!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He glared, and Walker glared back at him. It was Walker who<\/p>\n

looked away first, too sick at heart to continue the confrontation.<\/p>\n

“I have trouble believing anyone just at the moment,” he of-<\/p>\n

fered lamely..<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You have trouble believing anyone at any time,” Cogline<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

snapped, unappeased. “You cast your heart in iron long ago,<\/p>\n

Walker. You stopped believing in anything. I remember when<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

that wasn’t so.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He trailed off, and the room went silent. Walker found him-<\/p>\n

self thinking momentarily of the time the old man referred to,<\/p>\n

the time when he had first come to Walker and offered to show<\/p>\n

him me ways in which the magic could be used. Cogline was<\/p>\n

right. He hadn’t been so bitter then; he’d been full of hope.<\/p>\n

He almost laughed. That was such a long time ago.<\/p>\n

“Perhaps I can use my own magic to dispel the poison from<\/p>\n

my body,” he ventured quietly. “Once I return to Hearthstone,<\/p>\n

once I’m fully rested. Brin Ohmsford had such power once.”<\/p>\n

Cogline dropped his eyes and looked thoughtful. His gnarled<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Druid of Shannam\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>25<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

hands clasped loosely in the folds of his robe. It appeared as if<\/p>\n

he were trying to decide something.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Walker waited a moment, then asked,’ ‘What has become of<\/p>\n

the others\u2014of Par and Coil and Wren?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Cogline kept his gaze lowered. “Par has gone in search of<\/p>\n

the Sword, young Coil with him. The Rover girl seeks the Elves.<\/p>\n

They’ve accepted the charges Allanon gave to them.” He looked<\/p>\n

up again. “Have you, Walker?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Walker stared at him, finding the question both absurd and<\/p>\n

troubling, torn between conflicting feelings of disbelief and un-<\/p>\n

certainty. Once he would not have hesitated to give his answer.<\/p>\n

He thought again of what Allanon had asked him to do: Bring<\/p>\n

back disappeared Paranor and restore the Druids. A ridiculous,<\/p>\n

impossible undertaking, he had thought at the time. Game play-<\/p>\n

ing, he had decried. He would not be a part of such foolishness,<\/p>\n

he had announced to Par, Coil, Wren, and the others of the little<\/p>\n

company that had come with him to the Valley of Shale. He<\/p>\n

despised the Druids for their manipulation of the Ohmsfords.<\/p>\n

He would not be made their puppet. So bold he had been, so<\/p>\n

certain. He would sooner cut off his hand than see the Druids<\/p>\n

come again, he had declared.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

And the loss of his hand was the price that had been exacted,<\/p>\n

it seemed.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Yet had that loss truly put an end to any possibility of the<\/p>\n

return of Paranor and the Druids? More to the point, was that<\/p>\n

what he now intended?<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He was conscious of Cogline watching him, impatient as he<\/p>\n

waited for Walker Boh’s answer to his question. Walker kept his<\/p>\n

eyes fixed on the old man without seeing him. He was thinking<\/p>\n

suddenly of the Druid History and its tale of the Black Elfstone.<\/p>\n

If he had not gone in search of the Elfstone, he would not have<\/p>\n

lost his arm. Why had he gone? Curiosity, he had thought. But<\/p>\n

that was a simplistic answer and he knew it was given too easily.<\/p>\n

In any case, didn’t the very fact of his going indicate that despite<\/p>\n

any protestations to the contrary he indeed had accepted Alla-<\/p>\n

non’s charge?<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

If not, what was it that he was doing?<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He focused again on the old man. “Tell me something, Cog-<\/p>\n

line. Where did you get that book of the Druid Histories? How<\/p>\n

did you find it? You said when you brought it to me that you got<\/p>\n

it out of Paranor. Surely not.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Cogline’s smile was faint and ironic. “Why ‘surely not,’<\/p>\n

Walker?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

26\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The Druid of Shannara<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Because Paranor was sent out of the world of men by Al-<\/p>\n

lanon three hundred years ago. It doesn’t exist anymore.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Cogline’s face crinkled like crushed parchment. “Doesn’t<\/p>\n

exist? Oh, but it does. Walker. And you’re wrong. Anyone can<\/p>\n

reach it if they have the right magic to help them. Even you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Walker hesitated, suddenly uncertain.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Allanon sent Paranor out of the world of the men, but it still<\/p>\n

exists,” Cogline said softly. “It needs only the magic of the<\/p>\n

Black Elfstone to summon it back again. Until then, it remains<\/p>\n

lost to the Four Lands. But it can still be entered by those who<\/p>\n

have the means to do so and the courage to try. It does require<\/p>\n

courage, Walker. Shall I tell you why? Would you like to hear<\/p>\n

the story behind my journey into Paranor?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Walker hesitated again, wondering if he wanted to hear any-<\/p>\n

thing ever again about the Druids and their magic. Then he<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

nodded slowly. “Yes.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“But you are prepared to disbelieve what I am going to tell<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

you, aren’t you?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Yes.”<\/p>\n

The old man leaned forward. “Tell you what. I’ll let you<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

judge for yourself.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He paused, gathering his thoughts. Daylight framed him in<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

brightness, exposing the flaws of old age that etched his thin<\/p>\n

frame in lines and hollows, that left his hair and beard wispy<\/p>\n

and thin, and that gave his hands a tremulous appearance as he<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

clasped them tightly before him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“It was after your meeting with Allanon. He sensed, and I<\/p>\n

as well, that you would not accept the charge you had been<\/p>\n

given, that you would resist any sort of involvement without<\/p>\n

further evidence of the possibility that you might succeed. And<\/p>\n

that there was reason to want to. You differ in your attitude from<\/p>\n

the others\u2014you doubt everything that you are told. You came to<\/p>\n

Allanon already planning to reject what you would hear.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Walker started to protest, but Cogline held up his hands<\/p>\n

quickly and shook his head. “No, Walker. Don’t argue. I know<\/p>\n

you better than you know yourself. Just listen to me for now. I<\/p>\n

went north on Allanon’s summons, seeming to disappear, leav-<\/p>\n

ing you to debate among yourselves what course of action you<\/p>\n

would follow. Your decision in the matter was a foregone con-<\/p>\n

clusion. You would not do as you had been asked. Since that<\/p>\n

was so, I resolved to try to change your mind. You see, Walker,<\/p>\n

I believe in the dreams; I see the truth in them that you as yet<\/p>\n

do not. I would not be a messenger for Allanon if there were<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Druid of Shannara\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>27<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

any way to avoid it. My time as a Druid passed away long ago,<\/p>\n

and I do not seek to return to what was. But I am all there is<\/p>\n

and since that is so I will do what I think necessary. Dissuading<\/p>\n

you from refusing to involve yourself in the matter at hand is<\/p>\n

something I deem vital.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He was shaking with the conviction of his words and the look<\/p>\n

he extended Walker was one that sought to convey truths that<\/p>\n

the old man could not speak.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I went north, Walker, as I said. I traveled out of the Valley<\/p>\n

of Shale and across the Dragon’s Teeth to the valley of the Druid’s<\/p>\n

Keep. Nothing remains of Paranor but a few crumbling out-<\/p>\n

buildings on a barren height. The forests still surround the spot<\/p>\n

on which it once stood, but nothing will grow upon the earth,<\/p>\n

not even the smallest blade of grass. The wall of thorns that<\/p>\n

once protected the Keep is gone. Everything has disappeared\u2014<\/p>\n

as if some giant reached down and snatched it all away.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I stood there, near twilight, looking at the emptiness, en-<\/p>\n

visioning what had once been. I could sense the presence of the<\/p>\n

Keep. I could almost see it looming out of the shadows, rising<\/p>\n

up against the darkening eastern skies. I could almost define the<\/p>\n

shape of its stone towers and parapets. I waited, for Allanon<\/p>\n

knew what was needed and would tell me when it was time.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The old eyes gazed off into space. ‘ ‘I slept when I grew tired,<\/p>\n

and Allanon came to me in my dreams as he now does with all<\/p>\n

of us. He told me that Paranor was indeed still there, cast away<\/p>\n

by magic into a different place and time, yet there nevertheless.<\/p>\n

He asked me if I would enter and bring out from it a certain<\/p>\n

volume of the Druid Histories which would describe the means<\/p>\n

by which Paranor could be restored to the Four Lands. He asked<\/p>\n

if I would take that book to you.” He hesitated, poised to reveal<\/p>\n

something more, then simply said, “I agreed.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

‘ ‘He reached out to me then and took my hand. He lifted me<\/p>\n

away from myself, my spirit out of my body. He cloaked me in<\/p>\n

his magic. I became momentarily something other than the man<\/p>\n

I am\u2014but I don’t know even now what that something was. He<\/p>\n

told me what I must do. I walked alone then to where the walls<\/p>\n

of the Keep had once stood, closed my eyes so that they would<\/p>\n

not deceive me, and reached out into worlds that lie beyond our<\/p>\n

own for the shape of what had once been. I found that I could<\/p>\n

do that. Imagine my astonishment when Paranor’s walls mate-<\/p>\n

rialized suddenly beneath my fingers. I risked taking a quick<\/p>\n

look at them, but when I did so there was nothing to see. I was<\/p>\n

forced to begin again. Even as a spirit I could not penetrate the<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

28\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The Druid of Shannara<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

magic if I violated its rules. I kept my eyes closed tightly this<\/p>\n

time, searched out the walls anew, discovered the hidden trap-<\/p>\n

door concealed in the base of the Keep, pushed the catch that<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

would release the locks, and entered.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Cogline’s mouth tightened. “I was allowed to open my eyes<\/p>\n

then and look around. Walker, it was the Paranor of old, a great<\/p>\n

sprawling castle with towers that rose into clouds of ancient<\/p>\n

brume and battlements that stretched away forever. It seemed<\/p>\n

endless to me as I climbed its stairs and wandered its halls; I<\/p>\n

was like a rat in a maze. The castle was filled with the smell<\/p>\n

and taste of death. The air had a strange greenish cast; every-<\/p>\n

thing was swathed in it. Had I attempted to enter in my flesh-<\/p>\n

and-blood body, I would have been destroyed instantly; I could<\/p>\n

sense the magic still at work, scouring the rock corridors for<\/p>\n

any signs of life. The furnaces that had once been fueled by the<\/p>\n

fire at the earth’s core were still, and Paranor was cold and<\/p>\n

lifeless. When I gained the upper halls I found piles of bones,<\/p>\n

grotesque and misshapen, the remains of the Mord Wraiths and<\/p>\n

Gnomes that Allanon had trapped there when he had summoned<\/p>\n

the magic to destroy Paranor. Nothing was alive in the Druid’s<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Keep save myself.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He was silent for a moment as if remembering. ‘ ‘I sought out<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

the vault in which the Druid Histories were concealed. I had a<\/p>\n

sense of where it was, quickened in part by the days in which I<\/p>\n

studied at Paranor, in part by Allanon’s magic. I searched out<\/p>\n

the library through which the vault could be entered, finding as<\/p>\n

I did so that I could touch things as if I were still a creature of<\/p>\n

substance and not of spirit. I felt along the dusty, worn edges of<\/p>\n

the bookshelves until I found the catches that released the doors<\/p>\n

leading in. They swung wide, and the magic gave way before<\/p>\n

me. I entered, discovered the Druid Histories revealed, and took<\/p>\n

from its resting place the one that was needed.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Cogline’s eyes strayed off across the sunlit room, seeking<\/p>\n

visions that were hidden from Walker. “I left then. I went back<\/p>\n

the same way as I had come, a ghost out of the past as much<\/p>\n

as those who had died there, feeling the chill of their deaths and<\/p>\n

the immediacy of my own. I passed down the stairwells and<\/p>\n

corridors in a half-sleep that let me feel as well as see the horror<\/p>\n

of what now held sway in the castle of the Druids. Such power,<\/p>\n

Walker! The magic that Allanon summoned was frightening<\/p>\n

even yet. I fled from it as I departed\u2014not on foot, you under-<\/p>\n

stand, but in my mind. I was terrified!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The eyes swung back. “So I escaped. And when I woke, I<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Druid of Shannara\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>,\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>29<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

had in my possession the book that I had been sent to recover<\/p>\n

and I took it then to you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He went silent, waiting patiently as Walker considered his<\/p>\n

story. Walker’s eyes were distant. “It can be done then? Paranor<\/p>\n

can be entered even though it no longer exists in the Pour<\/p>\n

Lands?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Cogline shook his head slowly. “Not by ordinary men.” His<\/p>\n

brow furrowed. “Perhaps by you, though. With the magic of<\/p>\n

the Black Elfstone to help you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Perhaps,” Walker agreed dully. “What magic does the Elf-<\/p>\n

stone possess?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I know nothing more of it than you,” Cogline answered<\/p>\n

quietly.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Not even where it can be found? Or who has it?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Cogline shook his head. “Nothing.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Nothing.” Walker’s voice was edged with bitterness. He let<\/p>\n

his eyes close momentarily against what he was feeling. When<\/p>\n

they opened, they were resigned. “This is my perception of<\/p>\n

things. You expect me to accept Allanon’s charge to recover<\/p>\n

disappeared Paranor and restore the Druids. I can only do this<\/p>\n

by first recovering the Black Elfstone. But neither you nor I<\/p>\n

know where the Elfstone is or who has it. And I am infected<\/p>\n

with the poison of the Asphinx; I am being turned slowly to<\/p>\n

stone. I am dying! Even if I were persuaded to . . .” His voice<\/p>\n

caught, and he shook his head. “Don’t you see? There isn’t<\/p>\n

enough time!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Cogline looked out the window, hunching down into his<\/p>\n

robes. “And if there were?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Walker’s laugh was hollow, his voice weary. “Cogline, I don’t<\/p>\n

know.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The old man rose. He looked down at Walker for a long time<\/p>\n

without speaking. Then he said, “Yes, you do.” His hands<\/p>\n

clasped tightly before him. “Walker, you persist in your refusal<\/p>\n

to accept the truth of what is meant to be. You recognize that<\/p>\n

truth deep in your heart, but you will not heed it. Why is that?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Walker stared back at him wordlessly.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Cogline shrugged. “I have nothing more to say. Rest, Walker.<\/p>\n

You will be well enough in a day or two to leave. The Stors have<\/p>\n

done all they can; your healing, if it is to be, must come from<\/p>\n

another source. I will take you back to Hearthstone.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I will heal myself,” Walker whispered. His voice was sud-<\/p>\n

denly urgent, rife with both desperation and anger.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

30\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The Druid of Shannara<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Cogline did not respond. He simply gathered up his robes<\/p>\n

and walked from the room. The door closed quietly behind him.<\/p>\n

‘ ‘I will,” Walker Boh swore.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

IV<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

It took Morgan Leah the better part of three days after part-<\/p>\n

ing with Padishar Creel and the survivors of the Movement<\/p>\n

to travel south from the empty stretches of the Dragon’s<\/p>\n

Teeth to the forest-sheltered Dwarf community of Culhaven.<\/p>\n

Storms swept the mountains during the first day, washing the<\/p>\n

ridgelines and slopes with torrents of rain, leaving the trail-<\/p>\n

ways sodden and slick with the damp, and wrapping the whole<\/p>\n

of the land in gray clouds and mist. By the second day the<\/p>\n

storms had passed away, and sunshine had begun to break<\/p>\n

through the clouds and the earth to dry out again. The third<\/p>\n

day brought a return of summer, the air warm and fragrant<\/p>\n

with the smell of flowers and grasses, the countryside bright<\/p>\n

with colors beneath a clear, windswept sky, the slow, lazy<\/p>\n

sounds of the wild things rising up from the pockets of shelter<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

where they made their home.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Morgan’s mood improved with the weather. He had been<\/p>\n

disheartened when he had set out. Steff was dead, killed in the<\/p>\n

catacombs of the Jut, and Morgan was burdened with a lingering<\/p>\n

sense of guilt rooted in his unfounded but persistent belief that<\/p>\n

he could have done something to prevent it. He didn’t know<\/p>\n

what, of course. It was Teel who had killed Steff, who had al-<\/p>\n

most killed him as well. Neither Steff nor he had known until<\/p>\n

the very last that Teel was something other than what she ap-<\/p>\n

peared, that she was not the girl the Dwarf had fallen in love<\/p>\n

with but a Shadowen whose sole purpose in coming with them<\/p>\n

into the mountains was to see them destroyed. Morgan had sus-<\/p>\n

pected what she was, yet lacked any real proof that his suspi-<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Druid of Shannara\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>31<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

cions were correct until the moment she had revealed herself<\/p>\n

and by then it was too late. His friends the Valemen, Par and<\/p>\n

Coil Ohmsford, had disappeared after escaping the horrors of<\/p>\n

the Pit in Tyrsis and not been seen since. The Jut, the stronghold<\/p>\n

of the members of the Movement, had fallen to the armies of<\/p>\n

the Federation, and Padishar Creel and his outlaws had been<\/p>\n

chased north into the mountains. The Sword of Shannara, which<\/p>\n

was what all of them had come looking for in the first place, was<\/p>\n

still missing. Weeks of seeking out the talisman, of scrambling<\/p>\n

to unlock the puzzle of its hiding place, of hair-raising confron-<\/p>\n

tations with and escapes from the Federation and the Shadowen,<\/p>\n

and of repeated frustration and disappointment, had come to<\/p>\n

nothing.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

But Morgan Leah was resilient and after a day or so of brood-<\/p>\n

ing about what was past and could not be changed his spirits<\/p>\n

began to lift once more. After all, he was something of a veteran<\/p>\n

now in the struggle against the oppressors of his homeland.<\/p>\n

Before, he had been little more than an irritant to that handful.<\/p>\n

of Federation officials who governed the affairs of the High-<\/p>\n

lands, and in truth he had never done anything that affected the<\/p>\n

outcome of larger events in the Four Lands. His risk had been<\/p>\n

minimal and the results of his endeavors equally so. But that<\/p>\n

had all changed, hi the past few weeks he had journeyed to the<\/p>\n

Hadeshom to meet with the shade of Allanon, he had joined in<\/p>\n

the quest for the missing Sword of Shannara, he had battled both<\/p>\n

Shadowen and Federation, and he had saved the lives of Padishar<\/p>\n

Creel and his outlaws by warning them of Teel before she could<\/p>\n

betray them one final time. He knew he had done something at<\/p>\n

last that had value and meaning.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

And he was about to do something more.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He had made Steff a promise. As his friend lay dying, Morgan<\/p>\n

had sworn that he would go to Culhaven to the orphanage where<\/p>\n

Steff had been raised and warn Granny Elise and Auntie Jilt that<\/p>\n

they were in danger. Granny Elise and Auntie Jilt\u2014the only<\/p>\n

parents Steff had ever known, the only kindred he was leaving\u2014<\/p>\n

were not to be abandoned. If Teel had betrayed Steff, she would<\/p>\n

have betrayed them as well. Morgan was to help them get safely<\/p>\n

away.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

It gave the Highlander a renewed sense of purpose, and that<\/p>\n

as much as anything helped bring him out of his depression. He<\/p>\n

had begun his journey disenchanted. He had lagged in his travel,<\/p>\n

bogged down by the weather and his mood. By the third day he<\/p>\n

had shaken the effects of both. His resolution buoyed him. He<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

32\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The Druid of Shannara<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

would spirit Granny Elise and Auntie Jilt out of Culhaven to<\/p>\n

somewhere safe. He would return to Tyrsis and find the Vale-<\/p>\n

men. He would continue to search for the missing Sword of<\/p>\n

Shannara. He would find a way to rid Lean and the whole of the<\/p>\n

Four Lands of both Shadowen and Federation. He was alive and<\/p>\n

everything was possible. He whistled and hummed as he walked,<\/p>\n

let the sun’s rays warm his face, and banished self-doubt and<\/p>\n

discouragement. It was time to get on with things.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Now and again as he walked his thoughts strayed to the lost<\/p>\n

magic of the Sword of Leah. He still wore the remains of the<\/p>\n

shattered blade strapped to his waist, cradled in the makeshift<\/p>\n

sheath he had constructed for it. He thought of the power it had<\/p>\n

given him and the way the absence of that power made him<\/p>\n

feel\u2014as if he could never be whole again without it. Yet some<\/p>\n

small part of the magic still lingered in the weapon; he had<\/p>\n

managed to call it to life in the catacombs of the Jut when he<\/p>\n

destroyed Teel. There had been just enough left to save his life.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Deep inside, where he could hide it and not be forced to admit<\/p>\n

the implausibility of it, he harbored a belief that one day the<\/p>\n

magic of the Sword of Leah would be his again.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

It was late afternoon on that third day of travel when he<\/p>\n

emerged from the forests of the Anar into Culhaven. The Dwarf<\/p>\n

village was shabby and worn where he walked, the refuge of<\/p>\n

those now too old and as yet too young who had not been taken<\/p>\n

by the Federation authorities to the mines or sold as slaves in<\/p>\n

the market. Once among the most meticulously maintained of<\/p>\n

communities, Culhaven was now a dilapidated collection of<\/p>\n

buildings and people that evidenced little of care or love. The<\/p>\n

forest grew right up against the outermost buildings, weeds in-<\/p>\n

truding into yards and gardens, roadways rutted and choked<\/p>\n

with scrub. Wooden walls warped under peeling paint, tiles and<\/p>\n

shingles cracked and splintered, and trim about doorways and<\/p>\n

windows drooped away. Eyes peered out through the shadows,<\/p>\n

following after the Highlander as he made his way in; he could<\/p>\n

sense the people staring from behind windows and doors. The<\/p>\n

few Dwarves he encountered would not meet his gaze, turning<\/p>\n

quickly away. He walked on without slowing, his anger rekin-<\/p>\n

dled anew at the thought of what had been done to these people.<\/p>\n

Everything had been taken from them but their lives, and their<\/p>\n

lives had been brought to nothing.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He pondered anew, as Par Ohmsford had done when last they<\/p>\n

were there, at the purpose of it.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He kept clear of the main roads, staying on the side paths,<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Druid of Shannara\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>33<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

not anxious to draw attention to himself. He was a Southlander<\/p>\n

and therefore free to come and go in the Eastland as he pleased,<\/p>\n

but he did not identify in any way with its Federation occupiers<\/p>\n

and preferred to stay clear of them altogether. Even if none of<\/p>\n

what had happened to the Dwarves was his doing, what he saw<\/p>\n

of Culhaven made him ashamed all over again of who and what<\/p>\n

he was. A Federation patrol passed him and the soldiers nodded<\/p>\n

cordially. It was all he could do to make himself nod back.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

As he drew nearer to the orphanage, his anticipation of what<\/p>\n

he would find heightened perceptibly. Anxiety warred with con-<\/p>\n

fidence. What if he were too late? He brushed the possibility<\/p>\n

away. There was no reason to think that he was. Teel would not<\/p>\n

have risked jeopardizing her disguise by acting precipitately. She<\/p>\n

would have waited until she was certain it would not have mat-<\/p>\n

tered.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Shadows began to lengthen as the sun disappeared into the<\/p>\n

trees west. The air cooled and the sweat on Morgan’s back dried<\/p>\n

beneath his tunic. The day’s sounds began to fade away into an<\/p>\n

expectant hush. Morgan looked down at his hands, fixing his<\/p>\n

gaze on the irregular patchwork of white scars that crisscrossed<\/p>\n

the brown skin. Battle wounds were all over his body since<\/p>\n

Tyrsis and the Jut. He tightened the muscles of his jaw. Small<\/p>\n

things, he thought. The ones inside him were deeper.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He caught sight of a Dwarf child looking at him from behind<\/p>\n

a low stone wall with intense black eyes. He couldn’t tell if it<\/p>\n

was a girl or a boy. The child was very thin and ragged. The<\/p>\n

eyes followed him a moment, then disappeared.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Morgan moved ahead hurriedly, anxious once more. He<\/p>\n

caught sight of the roof of the orphanage, the first of its walls,<\/p>\n

a window high up, a gable. He rounded a bend in the roadway<\/p>\n

and slowed. He knew instantly that something was wrong. The<\/p>\n

yard of the orphanage was empty. The grass was untended.<\/p>\n

There were no toys, no children. He fought back against the<\/p>\n

panic that rose suddenly within him. The windows of the old<\/p>\n

building were dark. There was no sign of anyone.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He came up to the gate at the front of the yard and<\/p>\n

paused. Everything was still.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He had assumed wrong. He was too late after all.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He started forward, then stopped. His eyes swept the darkness<\/p>\n

of the old house, wondering if he might be walking into some<\/p>\n

sort of trap. He stood there a long time, watching. But there<\/p>\n

was no sign of anyone. And no reason for anyone to be waiting<\/p>\n

here for him, he decided.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

34\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The Druid of Shannara<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He pushed through the gate, walked up on the porch, and<\/p>\n

pushed open the front door. It was dark inside, and he took a<\/p>\n

moment to let his eyes adjust. When they had done so, he en-<\/p>\n

tered. He passed slowly through the building, searched each of<\/p>\n

its rooms in turn, and came back out again. There was dust on<\/p>\n

everything. It had been some time since anyone had lived there.<\/p>\n

Certainly no one was living there now.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

So what had become of the two old Dwarf ladies?<\/p>\n

He sat down on the porch steps and let his tall form slump<\/p>\n

back against the railing. The Federation had them. There wasn’t<\/p>\n

any other explanation. Granny Elise and Auntie Jilt would never<\/p>\n

leave their home unless they were forced to. And they would<\/p>\n

never abandon the children they cared for. Besides, all of their<\/p>\n

clothes were still in the chests and closets, the children’s toys,<\/p>\n

the bedding, everything. He had seen it in his search. The house<\/p>\n

wasn’t closed up properly. Too much was in disarray. Nothing<\/p>\n

was as it would have been if the old ladies had been given a<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

choice.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Bitterness flooded through him. Steff had depended on him;<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

he couldn’t quit now. He had to find Granny and Auntie. But<\/p>\n

where? And who in Culhaven would tell him what he needed to<\/p>\n

know? No one who knew anything, he suspected. The Dwarves<\/p>\n

surely wouldn’t trust him\u2014not a Southlander. He could ask until<\/p>\n

the sun rose in the west and set in the east.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He sat there thinking a long time, the daylight fading into<\/p>\n

dusk. After a while, he became aware of a small child looking<\/p>\n

at him through the front gate\u2014the same child who had been<\/p>\n

watching him up the road. A boy, he decided this time. He let<\/p>\n

the boy watch him until they were comfortable with each other,<\/p>\n

then said, “Can you tell me what happened to the ladies who<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

lived here?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The boy disappeared instantly. He was gone so fast that it<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

seemed as if the earth must have swallowed him up. Morgan<\/p>\n

sighed. He should have expected as much. He straightened his<\/p>\n

legs. He would have to devise a way to extract the information<\/p>\n

he needed from the Federation authorities. That would be dan-<\/p>\n

gerous, especially if Teel had told them about him as well as<\/p>\n

Granny and Auntie\u2014and there was no reason now to believe<\/p>\n

that she hadn’t. She must have given the old ladies up even<\/p>\n

before the company began its journey north to Darklin Reach.<\/p>\n

The Federation must have come for Granny and Auntie the mo-<\/p>\n

ment Teel was safely beyond the village. Teel hadn’t worried<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Druid of Shannara\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>35<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

that Steff or Morgan or the Valemen would find out; after all,<\/p>\n

they would all be dead before it mattered.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Morgan wanted to hit something or someone. Teel had be-<\/p>\n

trayed them all. Par and Coil were lost. StefF was dead. And<\/p>\n

now these two old ladies who had never hurt anyone . . .<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Hey, mister,” a voice called.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He looked up sharply. The boy was back at the gate. An older<\/p>\n

boy stood next to him. It was the second boy who spoke, a hefty<\/p>\n

fellow with a shock of spiked red hair.’ ‘Federation soldiers took<\/p>\n

the old ladies away to the workhouses several weeks ago. No<\/p>\n

one lives here now.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Then they were gone, disappeared as completely as before.<\/p>\n

Morgan stared after them. Was the boy telling him the truth?<\/p>\n

The Highlander decided he was. Well and good. Now he had a<\/p>\n

little something to work with. He had a place to start looking.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He came to his feet, went back down the pathway, and out<\/p>\n

the gate. He followed the rutted road as it wound through the<\/p>\n

twilight toward the center of the village. Houses began to give<\/p>\n

way to shops and markets, and the road broadened and split in<\/p>\n

several directions. Morgan skirted the hub of the business dis-<\/p>\n

trict, watching as the light faded from the sky and the stars<\/p>\n

appeared. Torchlight brightened the main thoroughfare but was<\/p>\n

absent from the roads and paths he followed. Voices whispered<\/p>\n

in the stillness, vague sounds that lacked meaning and defini-<\/p>\n

tion, hushed as if the speakers feared being understood. The<\/p>\n

houses changed character, becoming well tended and neat, the<\/p>\n

yards trimmed and nourished. Federation houses, Morgan<\/p>\n

thought\u2014stolen from Dwarves\u2014tended by the victims. He kept<\/p>\n

his bitterness at bay, concentrating on the task ahead. He knew<\/p>\n

where the workhouses were and what they were intended to<\/p>\n

accomplish. The women sent there were too old to be sold as<\/p>\n

personal slaves, yet strong enough to do menial work such as<\/p>\n

washing and sewing and the like. The women were assigned to<\/p>\n

the Federation barracks at large and made to serve the needs of<\/p>\n

the garrison. If that boy had been telling the truth, that was what<\/p>\n

Granny Elise and Auntie Jilt would be doing.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Morgan reached the workhouses several minutes later. There<\/p>\n

were five of them, a series of long, low buildings that ran parallel<\/p>\n

to each other with windows on both sides and doors at both<\/p>\n

ends. The women who worked them lived in them as well. Pal-<\/p>\n

lets, blankets, washbasins, and chamberpots were provided and<\/p>\n

pulled out from under the workbenches at night. Steff had taken<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

36\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The Druid of Shannara<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Morgan up to a window once to let him peer inside. Once had<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

been quite enough.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Morgan stood in the shadows of a storage shed across the way<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

for long moments, thinking through what he would do. Guards<\/p>\n

stood at all the entrances and patroled the roadways and lanes.<\/p>\n

The women in the workhouses were prisoners. They were not<\/p>\n

permitted to leave their buildings for any reason short of sick-<\/p>\n

ness or death or some more benevolent form of release\u2014and the<\/p>\n

latter almost never occurred. They were permitted visitors in-<\/p>\n

frequently and then closely watched. Morgan couldn’t remem-<\/p>\n

ber when it was that visits were permitted. Besides, it didn’t<\/p>\n

matter. It infuriated him to think of Granny Elise and Auntie<\/p>\n

Jilt being kept in such a place. Steff would not have waited to<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

free them, and neither would he.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

But how was he going to get in? And how was he going to<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

get Granny and Auntie out once he did?<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The problem defeated him. There was no way to approach<\/p>\n

the workhouses without being seen and no way to know in which<\/p>\n

of the five workhouses the old ladies were being kept in any<\/p>\n

case. He needed to know a great deal more than he did now<\/p>\n

before he could even think of attempting any rescue. Not for the<\/p>\n

first time since he had left the Dragon’s Teeth, he wished Steff<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

were there to advise him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

At last he gave it up. He walked down into the center of the<\/p>\n

village, took a room at one of the inns that catered to Southland<\/p>\n

traders and businessmen, took a bath to wash off the grime,<\/p>\n

washed his clothes as well, and went off to bed. He lay awake<\/p>\n

thinking about Granny Elise and Auntie Jilt until sleep finally<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

overcame him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

When he awoke the following morning he knew what he<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

needed to do to rescue them.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He dressed, ate breakfast in the inn dining room, and set out.<\/p>\n

What he was planning was risky, but there was no help for it.<\/p>\n

Aftet making a few inquiries, he discovered the names of the<\/p>\n

taverns most frequented by Federation soldiers. There were three<\/p>\n

of them, and all were situated on the same street close to the<\/p>\n

city markets. He walked until he found them, picked the most<\/p>\n

likely\u2014a dimly lit hall called the High Boot\u2014entered, found a<\/p>\n

table close to the serving bar, ordered a glass of ale, and waited.<\/p>\n

Although the day was still young there were soldiers drifting in<\/p>\n

already, men from the night shift not yet ready for bed. They<\/p>\n

were quick to talk about garrison life and not much concerned<\/p>\n

with who might be listening. Morgan listened closely. From<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Druid of Shannara<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

37<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

time to time he looked up long enough to ask a friendly ques-<\/p>\n

tion. Occasionally he commented. Once in a while he bought a<\/p>\n

glass for someone. Mostly he waited.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Much of the talk revolved around a girl who was rumored to<\/p>\n

be the daughter of the King of the Silver River. She had appeared<\/p>\n

rather mysteriously out of the Silver River country south and<\/p>\n

west below the Rainbow Lake and was making her way east.<\/p>\n

Wherever she went, in whatever villages and towns she passed<\/p>\n

through, she performed miracles. There had never been such<\/p>\n

magic, it was said. She was on her way now to Culhaven.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The balance of the tavern’s chatter revolved around com-<\/p>\n

plaints about the way the Federation army was run by its offi-<\/p>\n

cers. Since it was the common soldiers who were doing the<\/p>\n

complaining, the nature of the talk was hardly surprising. This<\/p>\n

was the part that Morgan was interested in hearing. The day<\/p>\n

passed away in lazy fashion, sultry and still within the confines<\/p>\n

of the hall with only the cold glasses of ale and the talk to relieve<\/p>\n

the heat and boredom. Federation soldiers came and went, but<\/p>\n

Morgan remained where he was, an almost invisible presence<\/p>\n

as he sipped and watched. He had thought earlier to circulate<\/p>\n

from one tavern to the next, but it quickly became apparent that<\/p>\n

he would leam everything he needed to know by remaining at<\/p>\n

the first.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

By midaftemoon he had the information he needed. It was<\/p>\n

time to act on it. He roused himself from his seat and walked<\/p>\n

across the roadway to the second of the taverns, the Frog Pond,<\/p>\n

an aptly named establishment if ever there was one. Seating<\/p>\n

himself near the back at a green cloth table that sat amid the<\/p>\n

shadows like a lily pad in a dark pool, he began looking for his<\/p>\n

victim. He found him almost immediately, a man close to his<\/p>\n

own size, a common soldier of no significant rank, drinking<\/p>\n

alone, lost in some private musing that carried his head so far<\/p>\n

downward it was almost touching the serving bar. An hour<\/p>\n

passed, then two. Morgan waited patiently as the soldier fin-<\/p>\n

ished his final glass, straightened, pushed away from the bar,<\/p>\n

lurched out through the entry doors. Then he followed.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The day was mostly gone, the sun already slipping into the<\/p>\n

trees of the surrounding forests, the daylight turning gray with<\/p>\n

the approach of evening. The soldier shumed unsteadily down<\/p>\n

the road through knots of fellow soldiers and visiting tradesmen,<\/p>\n

making his way back to the barracks. Morgan knew where he<\/p>\n

^s going and slipped ahead to cut him off. He intercepted him<\/p>\n

as he came around a comer by a blacksmith’s shop, seeming to<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

38\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The Druid of Shannara<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

bump into him by accident but in fact striking him so hard that<\/p>\n

the man was unconscious before he touched the ground. Morgan<\/p>\n

let him fall, muttered in mock exasperation, then picked the<\/p>\n

fellow up, hoisting him over one shoulder. The blacksmith and<\/p>\n

his workers glanced over together with a few passersby, and<\/p>\n

Morgan announced rather irritably that he supposed he would<\/p>\n

have to carry the fellow back to his quarters. Then off he marched<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

in mock disgust.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He carried the unconscious soldier to a feed barn a few doors<\/p>\n

down and slipped inside. No one saw them enter. There, in near<\/p>\n

darkness, he stripped the man of his uniform, tied and gagged<\/p>\n

him securely, and shoved him back behind a pile of oat sacks.<\/p>\n

He donned the discarded uniform, brushed it out and straight-<\/p>\n

ened its creases, stuffed his own clothes in a sack he had brought,<\/p>\n

strapped on his weapons, and emerged once more into the light.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He moved quickly after that. Timing was everything in his<\/p>\n

plan; he had to reach the administration center of the work-<\/p>\n

houses just after the shift change came on at dusk. His day at<\/p>\n

the taverns had told him everything he needed to know about<\/p>\n

people, places, and procedures; he need only put the informa-<\/p>\n

tion to use. Already the twilight shadows were spreading across<\/p>\n

the forestland, swallowing up the few remaining pools of sun-<\/p>\n

light. The streets were starting to empty as soldier, trader, and<\/p>\n

citizen alike made their way homeward for the evening meal.<\/p>\n

Morgan kept to himself, careful to acknowledge senior officers<\/p>\n

in passing, doing what he could to avoid drawing attention to<\/p>\n

himself. He assumed a deliberate look and stance designed to<\/p>\n

keep others at bay. He became a rather hard-looking Federation<\/p>\n

soldier about his business\u2014no one to approach without a reason,<\/p>\n

certainly no one to anger. It seemed to work; he was left alone.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The workhouses were lighted when he reached them, the day’s<\/p>\n

activities grinding to a close. Dinner in the form of soup and<\/p>\n

bread was being carried in by the guards. The food smells wafted<\/p>\n

through the air, somewhat less than appetizing. Morgan crossed<\/p>\n

the roadway to the storage sheds and pretended to be checking<\/p>\n

on something. The minutes slipped past, and darkness ap-<\/p>\n

proached.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

At precisely sunset the shift change occurred. New guards<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

replaced the old on the streets and at the doors of the work-<\/p>\n

houses. Morgan kept his eyes fixed on the administration center.<\/p>\n

The officer of the day relinquished his duty to his nighttime<\/p>\n

counterpart. An aide took up a position at a reception desk. Two<\/p>\n

men on duty\u2014that was all. Morgan gave everyone a few minutes<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Druid of Shannara<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

39<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

to settle in, then took a deep breath and strode out from the<\/p>\n

shadows.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He went straight to the center, pushed through the doors, and<\/p>\n

confronted the aide at the reception desk. “I’m back,” he an-<\/p>\n

nounced.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The aide looked at him blankly.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“For the old ladies,” Morgan added, allowing a hint of irri-<\/p>\n

tation to creep into his voice. He paused. “Weren’t you told?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The aide shook his head. “I just came on …”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Yes, but there should be a requisition order still on your<\/p>\n

desk from no more than an hour ago,” Morgan snapped. “Isn’t<\/p>\n

it there?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Well, I don’t…” The aide cast about the desktop in con-<\/p>\n

fusion, moving stacks of papers aside.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Signed by Major Assomal.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The aide froze. He knew who Major Assomal was. There<\/p>\n

wasn’t a Federation soldier garrisoned at Culhaven who didn’t.<\/p>\n

Morgan had found out about the major in the tavern. Assomal<\/p>\n

was the most feared and disliked Federation officer in the oc-<\/p>\n

cupying army. No one wanted anything to do with him if they<\/p>\n

could help it.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The aide rose quickly. “Let me get the watch captain,” he<\/p>\n

muttered.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He disappeared into the back office and emerged moments<\/p>\n

later with his superior in tow. The captain was clearly agitated.<\/p>\n

Morgan saluted the senior officer with just the right touch of<\/p>\n

disdain.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

‘ ‘What’s this all about?” the captain demanded, but the ques-<\/p>\n

tion came out sounding more like a plea than a demand.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Morgan clasped his hands behind his back and straightened.<\/p>\n

His heart was pounding. “Major Assomal requires the services<\/p>\n

of two of the Dwarf women presently confined to the work-<\/p>\n

houses. I selected them personally earlier in the day at his re-<\/p>\n

quest. I left so that the paperwork could be completed and now<\/p>\n

I am back. It seems, however, that the paperwork was never<\/p>\n

done.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The watch captain was a sallow-skinned, round-faced man<\/p>\n

who appeared to have seen most of his service behind a desk.<\/p>\n

“I don’t know anything about that,” he snapped peevishly.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Morgan shrugged. “Very well. Shall I take that message back<\/p>\n

to Major Assomal, Captain?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The other man went pale. “No, no, I didn’t mean that. It’s<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

40\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The Druid of Shannara<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

just that I don’t. . .”He exhaled sharply. “This is very annoy-<\/p>\n

ing.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Especially since Major Assomal will be expecting me back<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

momentarily.” Morgan paused. “With the Dwarves.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The watch captain threw up his hands. “All right! What dif-<\/p>\n

ference does it make! I’ll sign them out to you myself! Let’s<\/p>\n

have them brought up and be done with it!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He opened the registry of names and with Morgan looking<\/p>\n

on determined that Granny Elise and Auntie Jilt were housed in<\/p>\n

building four. Hurriedly he scribbled out a release order for the<\/p>\n

workhouse guards. When he tried to dispatch the aide to collect<\/p>\n

the old ladies, Morgan insisted that he go as well.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

‘ ‘Just to make certain there are no further mix-ups. Captain,”<\/p>\n

he explained. “After all, I have to answer to Major Assomal as<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

well.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The watch captain didn’t argue, obviously anxious to be shed<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

of the matter as quickly as possible, and Morgan went out the<\/p>\n

door with the aide. The night was still and pleasantly warm.<\/p>\n

Morgan felt almost jaunty. His plan, risky or not, was going to<\/p>\n

work. They crossed the compound to building four, presented<\/p>\n

the release order to the guards stationed at the front doors, and<\/p>\n

waited while they perused it. Then the guards unfastened the<\/p>\n

locks and beckoned for them to proceed. Morgan and the aide<\/p>\n

pushed through the heavy wooden doors and stepped inside.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The workhouse was crammed with workbenches and bodies<\/p>\n

and smelled of stale air and sweat. Dust lay over everything,<\/p>\n

and the lamplight shone dully against walls that were dingy and<\/p>\n

unwashed. The Dwarf women were huddled on the floor with<\/p>\n

cups of soup and plates of bread in hand, finishing their dinner.<\/p>\n

Heads and eyes turned hurriedly as the two Federation soldiers<\/p>\n

entered, then turned just as quickly away again. Morgan caught<\/p>\n

the unmistakable look of fear and loathing.<\/p>\n

“Call their names,” he ordered the aide.<\/p>\n

The aide did so, his voice echoing in the cavernous room and<\/p>\n

near the back two hunched forms came slowly to their feet.<\/p>\n

“Now wait outside for me,” Morgan said.<\/p>\n

The aide hesitated, then disappeared back through the doors.<\/p>\n

Morgan waited anxiously as Granny Elise and Auntie Jilt<\/p>\n

made their way gingerly through the clutter of bodies, benches,<\/p>\n

and pallets to where he stood. He barely recognized them. Their<\/p>\n

clothes were in tatters. Granny Elise’s fine gray hair was un-<\/p>\n

kempt, as if it were fraying all around the edges; Auntie Jilt’s<\/p>\n

sharp, birdlike face was pinched and harsh. They were bent over<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Druid of Shannara<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

41<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

with more than age, moving so slowly that it appeared it hurt<\/p>\n

them even to walk.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

They came up to him with their eyes downcast and stopped.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Granny,” he said softly. “Auntie Jilt.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

They looked up slowly and their eyes widened. Auntie Jilt<\/p>\n

caught her breath. ‘ ‘Morgan!” Granny Elise whispered in won-<\/p>\n

der. “Child, it’s really you!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He bent down quickly then and took them in his arms, hug-<\/p>\n

ging them close. They collapsed into him; rag dolls lacking<\/p>\n

strength of their own, and he could hear them both begin to cry.<\/p>\n

Behind them, the other Dwarf women were staring in confusion.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Morgan eased the two old ladies gently away. “Listen now,”<\/p>\n

he said softly. “We haven’t much time. I’ve tricked the watch<\/p>\n

captain into releasing you into my custody, but he’s liable to<\/p>\n

catch on if we give him the chance so we have to hurry. Do you<\/p>\n

have somewhere that you can go to hide, someplace you won’t<\/p>\n

be found?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Auntie Jilt nodded, her narrow face a mask of determination.<\/p>\n

“The Resistance will hide us. We still have friends.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Morgan, where’s Steff?” Granny Elise interrupted.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Highlander forced himself to meet her urgent gaze. “I’m<\/p>\n

sorry. Granny. Steff is dead. He was killed fighting against the<\/p>\n

Federation in the Dragon’s Teeth.” He saw the pain that filled<\/p>\n

her eyes. “Teel is dead, too. She was the one who killed Steff.<\/p>\n

She wasn’t what any of us thought, I’m afraid. She was a crea-<\/p>\n

ture called a Shadowen, a thing of dark magic linked to the<\/p>\n

Federation. She betrayed you as well.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Oh, Steff,” Granny Elise whispered absently. She was cry-<\/p>\n

ing again.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“The soldiers came for us right after you left,” Auntie Jilt<\/p>\n

said angrily. “They took the children away and put us in this<\/p>\n

cage. I knew something had gone wrong. I thought you might<\/p>\n

have been taken as well. Drat it, Morgan, that girl was like our<\/p>\n

own!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I know, Auntie,” he answered, remembering how it had<\/p>\n

been. “It has become difficult to know who to trust. What about<\/p>\n

the Dwarves you plan to hide with? Can they be trusted? Are<\/p>\n

you sure you will be safe?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Safe enough,” Auntie replied. “Stop your crying, Elise,”<\/p>\n

she said and patted the other woman’s hand gently. ‘ ‘We have<\/p>\n

to do as Morgan says and get out of here while we have the<\/p>\n

chance.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Granny Elise nodded, brushing away her tears. Morgan stood<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Druid of Shannara<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

42<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

up again. He stroked each gray head in turn. “Remember, you<\/p>\n

don’t know me, you’re just my charges until we get clear of this<\/p>\n

place. And if something goes wrong, if we get separated, go<\/p>\n

where you’ll be safe. I made a promise to Steff that I would see<\/p>\n

to it that you did. So you make certain I don’t break that prom-<\/p>\n

ise, all right?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“All right, Morgan,” Granny Elise said.<\/p>\n

They went out the door then, Morgan leading, th’e two old<\/p>\n

ladies shuffling along behind with their heads bowed. The aide<\/p>\n

was standing rigidly to one side by himself; the guards looked<\/p>\n

bored. With the Dwarf ladies in tow, Morgan and the aide re-<\/p>\n

turned to the administration center. The watch captain was wait-<\/p>\n

ing impatiently, the promised release papers clutched in his<\/p>\n

hand. He passed them across the reception desk to Morgan for<\/p>\n

his signature, then shoved them at the aide and stalked back into<\/p>\n

his office. The aide looked at Morgan uncomfortably.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Inwardly congratulating himself on his success, Morgan said,<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Major Assomal will be waiting.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He turned and was in the process of ushering Granny Elise<\/p>\n

and Auntie Jilt outside when the door opened in front of them<\/p>\n

and a new Federation officer appeared, this one bearing the<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

crossed bars of a divisional commander.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Commander Soldt!” The aide leaped to his feet and saluted<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

smartly.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Morgan froze. Commander Soldt was the officer in charge of<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

supervising the confinement of the Dwarves, the ranking officer<\/p>\n

off the field for the entire garrison. What he was doing at the<\/p>\n

center at this hour was anybody’s guess, but it was certainly not<\/p>\n

going to do anything to help further Morgan’s plans.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Highlander saluted.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“What’s this all about?” Soldt asked, glancing at Granny<\/p>\n

Elise and Auntie Jilt. “What are they doing out of their quar-<\/p>\n

ters?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Just a requisition. Commander,” replied the aide. “From<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Major Assomal.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Assomal?” Soldt frowned. “He’s in the field. What would<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

he want with Dwarves . . .”He glanced again at Morgan. “I<\/p>\n

don’t know you, soldier. Let me see your papers.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Morgan hit him as hard as he could. Soldt fell to the floor and<\/p>\n

lay unmoving. Instantly Morgan went after the aide, who backed<\/p>\n

away shrieking in terror. Morgan caught him and slammed his<\/p>\n

head against the desk. The watch captain emerged just in time<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Druid of Shannara 43<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

to catch several quick blows to the face. He staggered back into<\/p>\n

his office and went down.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Out the door!” Morgan whispered to Granny Elise and<\/p>\n

Auntie Jilt.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

They rushed from the administration center into the night.<\/p>\n

Morgan glanced about hurriedly and breathed out sharply in<\/p>\n

relief. The sentries were still at their posts. No one had heard<\/p>\n

the struggle. He guided the old ladies quickly along the street,<\/p>\n

away from the workhouses. A patrol appeared ahead. Morgan<\/p>\n

slowed, moving ahead of his charges, assuming a posture of<\/p>\n

command. The patrol turned off before it reached them, disap-<\/p>\n

pearing into the dark.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Then someone behind them was shouting, calling for help.<\/p>\n

Morgan pulled the old ladies into an alleyway and hastened them<\/p>\n

toward its far end. The shouts were multiplying now, and there<\/p>\n

was the sound of running feet. Whistles blew and an assembly<\/p>\n

horn blared.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“They’ll be all over us now,” Morgan muttered to himself.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

They reached the next street over and turned onto it. The<\/p>\n

shouts were all around them. He pulled the ladies into a shad-<\/p>\n

owed doorway and waited. Soldiers appeared at both ends of<\/p>\n

the street, searching. Morgan’s rescue plans were collapsing<\/p>\n

about him. His hands tightened into fists. Whatever happened,<\/p>\n

he couldn’t allow the Federation to recapture Granny and Auntie.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He bent to them. “I’ll have to draw them away,” he whis-<\/p>\n

pered urgently. “Stay here until they come after me, then run.<\/p>\n

Once you’re hidden, stay that way\u2014no matter what.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Morgan, what about you?” Granny Elise seized his arm.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Don’t worry about me. Just do as I say. Don’t come looking<\/p>\n

for me. I’ll find you when this whole business is over. Goodbye,<\/p>\n

Granny. Goodbye, Auntie Jilt.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Ignoring their pleas to remain, he kissed and hugged them<\/p>\n

hurriedly, and darted into the street. He ran until he caught sight<\/p>\n

of the first band of searchers and yelled to them, “They’re over<\/p>\n

here!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The soldiers came running as he turned down an alleyway,<\/p>\n

leading them away from Granny Elise and Auntie Jilt. He<\/p>\n

wrenched the broadsword he wore strapped to his back from its<\/p>\n

scabbard. Breaking free of the alleyway, he caught sight of an-<\/p>\n

other band and called them after him as well, gesturing vaguely<\/p>\n

ahead. To them he was just another soldier\u2014for the moment, at<\/p>\n

least. If he could just maneuver them ahead of him, he might be<\/p>\n

able to escape as well.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

44\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The Druid of Shannara<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“That barn, ahead of us,” he shouted as the first bunch caught<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

up with him. “They’re in there!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The soldiers charged past, one knot, then the second. Morgan<\/p>\n

turned and darted off in the opposite direction. As he came<\/p>\n

around the comer of a feed building, he ran right up against a<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

third unit.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“They’ve gone into …”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He stopped short. The watch captain stood before him, howl-<\/p>\n

ing in recognition.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Morgan tried to break free, but the soldiers were on him in<\/p>\n

an instant. He fought back valiantly, but there was no room to<\/p>\n

maneuver. His attackers closed and forced him to the ground.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Blows rained down on him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

This isn ‘t working out the way I expected, he thought bleakly<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

and then everything went black.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

v<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

^iF^ hree days later she who was said to be the daughter of<\/p>\n

(\u00bb\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>the King of the Silver River arrived in Culhaven. The<\/p>\n

^^^^ news of her coming preceded her by half a day and by<\/p>\n

the time she reached the outskirts of the village the roadway<\/p>\n

leading in was lined with people for more than a mile. They<\/p>\n

had come from everywhere\u2014from the village itself, from the<\/p>\n

surrounding communities of both the Southland and the East-<\/p>\n

land, from the farms and cottages of the plains and deep<\/p>\n

forests, even the mountains north. There were Dwarves and<\/p>\n

Men and a handful of Gnomes of both sexes and all ages.<\/p>\n

They were ragged and poor and until now without hope. They<\/p>\n

jammed the roadside expectantly, some come simply out of<\/p>\n

a sense of curiosity, most come out of their need to find<\/p>\n

something to believe in again.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The stories of the girl were wondrous. She had appeared in<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Druid of Shannara\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u00a0<\/span>45<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

the heart of the Silver River country close by the Rainbow Lake,<\/p>\n

a magical being sprung full-blown from the earth. She stopped<\/p>\n

at each village and town, farm and cottage, and performed mir-<\/p>\n

acles. It was said that she healed the land. She turned blackened,<\/p>\n

withered stalks to fresh, green shoots. She brought flowers to<\/p>\n

bloom, fruit to bear, and crops to harvest with the smallest of<\/p>\n

touches. She gave life back to the earth out of death. Even where<\/p>\n

the sickness was most severe, she prevailed. She bore some<\/p>\n

special affinity to the land, a kinship that sprang directly from<\/p>\n

her father’s hands, from the legendary stewardship of the King<\/p>\n

of the Silver River. For years it had been believed that the spirit<\/p>\n

lord had died with the passing of the age of magic. Now it was<\/p>\n

known he had not; as proof he had sent his daughter to them.<\/p>\n

The people of the Silver River country were to be given back<\/p>\n

their old life. So the stories proclaimed.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

No one was more anxious to discover the truth of the matter<\/p>\n

than Pe Ell.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

It was midday, and he had been waiting for the girl within the<\/p>\n

shade of the towering old shagbark hickory on a rise at the very<\/p>\n

edge of town since just after sunrise when word had reached<\/p>\n

him that today was the day she would appear. He was very good<\/p>\n

at waiting, very patient, and so the time had gone quickly for<\/p>\n

him as he stood with the others of the growing crowd and<\/p>\n

watched the sun lift slowly into the summer sky and felt the heat<\/p>\n

of the day settle in. Conversation around him had been plentiful<\/p>\n

and unguarded, and he listened attentively. There were stories<\/p>\n

of what the girl had done and what it was believed she would<\/p>\n

do. There were speculations and judgments. The Dwarves were<\/p>\n

the most vehement in their beliefs\u2014or lack thereof. Some said<\/p>\n

she was the savior of their people; some said she was nothing<\/p>\n

more than a Southland puppet. Voices raised in shouts, quar-<\/p>\n

reled, and died away. Arguments wafted through the still, humid<\/p>\n

air like small explosions of steam out of a fiery earth. Tempers<\/p>\n

flared and cooled. Pe Ell listened and said nothing.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“She comes to drive out the Federation soldiers and restore<\/p>\n

our land to us, land that the King of the Silver River treasures!<\/p>\n

She comes to set us free!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Bah, old woman, you speak nonsense! There is nothing to<\/p>\n

say she is who she claims to be. What do you know of what she<\/p>\n

can or cannot do?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I know what I know. I sense what will be.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Ha! That’s the ache of your joints you feel, nothing more!<\/p>\n

You believe what you want to believe, not what is. The truth is<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

46\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The Druid of Shannara<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

that we have no more sense of who this girl is than we do of<\/p>\n

what tomorrow will bring. It is pointless to get our hopes up!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“It is more pointless to keep them down!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

And so on, back and forth, an endless succession of argu-<\/p>\n

ments and counterarguments that accomplished nothing except<\/p>\n

to help pass the time. Pe Ell had sighed inwardly. He seldom<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

argued. He seldom had cause to.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

When at last she was said to approach, the arguments and<\/p>\n

conversation faded to mutterings and whispers. When she ac-<\/p>\n

tually appeared, even the mutterings and whispers died away. A<\/p>\n

strange hush settled over those who lined the roadway suggest-<\/p>\n

ing that either the girl was not at all what they had expected or,<\/p>\n

perhaps, that she was something more.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

She came up the center of the roadway surrounded by the<\/p>\n

would-be followers who had flocked to her during her journey<\/p>\n

east, a mostly bedraggled lot with tattered clothes and exhila-<\/p>\n

rated faces. Her own garb was rough and poorly sewn, yet she<\/p>\n

evinced a radiance that was palpable. She was small and slight,<\/p>\n

but so exquisitely shaped as to seem not quite real. Her hair was<\/p>\n

long and silver, shining as water would when it shimmered in<\/p>\n

the moonlight. Her features were perfectly formed. She walked<\/p>\n

alone in a rush of bodies that crowded and stumbled about her<\/p>\n

yet could not bear to approach. She seemed to float among them.<\/p>\n

Voices called out anxiously to her, but she seemed unaware that<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

anyone was there.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

And then she passed by Pe Ell and turned deliberately to look<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

at him. Pe Ell shuddered in surprise. The weight of that look\u2014<\/p>\n

or perhaps simply the experience of it\u2014was enough to stagger<\/p>\n

him. Almost immediately her strange black eyes shifted away<\/p>\n

again, and she was moving on, a sliver of brilliant sunlight that<\/p>\n

had momentarily left him blind. Pe Ell stared after her, not<\/p>\n

knowing what she had done to him, what it was that had oc-<\/p>\n

curred in that brief moment when their eyes met. It was as if<\/p>\n

she had looked into his heart and mind and read them quite<\/p>\n

clearly. It was as if with that single glance she had discovered<\/p>\n

everything there was to know about him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He found her to be the most beautiful creature he had ever<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

seen in his life.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

She turned down the roadway into the village proper, the<\/p>\n

crowd trailing after, and Pe Ell followed. He was a tall, lean<\/p>\n

man, so thin that he appeared gaunt. His bones were prominent,<\/p>\n

and the muscles and skin of his body were molded tightly against<\/p>\n

them so as to suggest he might easily break. Nothing could have<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The Druid of Shannara\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>47<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

been further from the truth. He was as hard as iron. He had a<\/p>\n

long, narrow face with a hawk nose and a wide forehead with<\/p>\n

eyebrows set high above hazel eyes that were disarmingly frank<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n

Read the full book by downloading it below.<\/p>\n

DOWNLOAD EPUB<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Book Preview \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 he King of the Silver River stood at the edge of the Gardens that had been his domain since the dawn of ‘ the age of faerie and iooked out over the world of mortal men. What he saw left him sad and discouraged. Every- where the land sickened and … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1841,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[96],"class_list":["post-1842","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-terry-brooks"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1842","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1842"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1842\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1841"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1842"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1842"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1842"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}