The First King of Shannara

The chill of the rain worked through him, causing his bones to ache. The fire, the sole source of heat for the large gathering room, was dying in the hearth behind him, and he walked over to add a few more logs. He stared down into the rising flames when he had done so, wondering at the vagaries of circumstance and fate. So much had been lost these past few weeks. What purpose had these losses served? Where would it all culminate? In what cause? Jerle shook his head and brushed back his blond hair. Philosophical questions only confused him. He was a warrior, and what he understood best was what he could strike out against. Where was the hard substance of this matter to be found? Where was its flesh and blood? He felt ruined, battered without and empty within. The rain and the gray suited him. He was come back to nothing, to no purpose, to no recognizable future, to great loss and pain.

On the day of his return, he had gone to Tay’s parents and Kira to tell them of his death. He would have it no other way. Tay’s parents, old and easily confused, had accepted the news stoically and with few tears, seeing with the approach of the end of their own lives the inevitability and capriciousness of death. But Kira had been devastated. She had hung on Jerle as she cried, clutching him in desperation, seeking strength he did not have to give. He held her thinking she was as lost to him as her brother. She clung to him, a crumpled bit of flesh and bone and cloth, as light as air and as insubstantial, sobbing and shaking, and he thought in that moment that their grief for Tay was all they would ever share again.

He turned from the fire and stared out the window once more. Gray and damp, the day wore on, and nothing of its passing gave hope.

The front door opened and closed, a cloak was removed and hung, and Preia Starle walked into the room. Dampness glistened on her face and hands, on the smooth, brown skin still marred by the cuts and bruises of their journey to the Breakline. She brushed at the water that beaded on her curly, cinnamon hair, flicking it away. Honey-brown eyes studied him, as if surprised by what they saw.

“They want to make you king,” she declared quietly.

He stared at her. “Who?”

“All of them. The High Council, the king’s advisors, the people on the streets, the Home Guard, the army, everyone.” She smiled wanly. “You are their only hope, they say. Alyten is too unreliable, too reckless for the job. He has no experience. He has no skills. It doesn’t matter that he is already king, they want him gone.”

“But two grandchildren survive after him! What of them?”

“Babies, barely grown old enough to walk. Besides, the Elven people don’t want children sitting on the Ballindarroch throne. They want you.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “They haven’t the right to make that decision. No one has.”

“You do,” she said.

She crossed to the fire, her slim, supple body catlike in the near gloom, all grace and efficiency. Jerle marveled at the ease with which she moved. He marveled at her composure. He was awed by the depth of her strength, even now, in the face of all that had happened. She stood before the fire, rubbing her hands to warm them. After a moment she stopped and just stared.

“I heard his voice today,” she said. “On the streets. Tay’s voice. He was calling after me, speaking my name. I heard it clearly. I turned, so eager to find him I collided with a man following me. I pushed past him, ignoring what he said, looking for Tay.“ She shook her head slowly. ”But he wasn’t there. I only imagined it.‘

Her voice died away in a whisper. She did not turn.

“I still can’t believe he’s gone,” Jerle said after a moment. “I keep thinking that it’s a mistake, that he’s out there and any moment he will walk through the door.”

He looked off into the shadows of the front entry. “I don’t want to be king. I want Tay to be alive again. want everything back the way it was.”

She nodded wordlessly and watched the fire some more. They could hear the patter of the rain on the roof and against the window glass. They could hear the whisper of the wind.

Then Preia turned and walked over to him. She stood before him, motionless. He could not read the look she gave him. It was filled with so many emotions that it lacked definition. “Do you love me?” she asked directly, staring into his eyes.

He was so surprised by the question, so caught off guard that he could not manage an answer. He just stared at her, openmouthed.

She smiled, laying claim to something that had eluded him. Her eyes filled with tears. “Did you know that Tay was in love with me?”

He shook his head slowly, stunned. “No.”

“For as long as I can remember.” She paused. “Just as you’ve always been in love with Kira.” She reached up quickly and put a finger to his lips. “No, let me finish. This needs to be said. Tay was in love with me, but he would never have done anything about it He wouldn’t even speak of it. His sense of loyalty to you was so strong that he couldn’t make himself. He knew I was pledged to you, and even though he was uncertain of your own feelings, he did nothing to interfere. He believed that you loved me and would marry me, and he would not jeopardize his relationship with either of us to change that. He knew of Kira, but he knew as well that she was not right for you — even when you did not.”