The First King of Shannara

His aged brow wrinkled thoughtfully. “I resented it for many years, but eventually I came to understand. That’s how it is with parents and children. Each disappoints the other in ways that neither recognizes nor intends, and it takes time to overcome that disappointment. It was so with my parents and their decision to leave me.”


“But you have a right to expect your parents to stay with you through your childhood,” Mareth declared.

Bremen smiled. “I used to believe that. But a child doesn’t always understand the complexities of adult choices. A child’s best hope in life is that its parents will try to do what is best for it, but deciding what is best is a difficult process. My parents knew I would not grow well traveling with them, for they were not able to give me the attention I needed. They could barely give it to each other. So they left me with my grandfather, who loved me and watched over me as they could not. It was the right choice.”

She mulled it over for a moment. “But it marked you.”

He nodded. “For a time, but not in any lasting way. Perhaps it even helped toughen me. I don’t pretend to know. We grow as best we can under the circumstances given us. What good does it do to second-guess ourselves years after the fact? Better that we simply try to understand why we are as we are and then better ourselves by learning from that.”

There was a long silence as they faced each other, the expressions on their faces lit well enough by the light of stars and moon to be clearly discernible.

“You are talking about me, aren’t you?” Mareth said finally. “My parents, my family.”

Bremen did not let his expression change. “You do not disappoint me, Mareth,” he said softly. “Your insight serves you well.”

Her small features hardened. “I do resent my parents. They left me to grow up with strangers. It wasn’t my mother’s fault; she died giving birth to me. I don’t know about my father. Perhaps it wasn’t his fault either.” She shook her head. “But that doesn’t change how I feel about them. It doesn’t make me feel any better about being left.”

Bremen eased forward, needing to shift his body to avoid cramping of muscles and joints. The aches and pains were more frequent and less easily dispelled these days. The very opposite of his hunger, he thought with irony. Welcome to old age. Even the Druid Sleep was losing its power to sustain him.

His eyes sought hers. “I would guess that you have reason to be angry with your parents beyond what you have told me. I would guess that your anger is a weight about your heart, a great stone you cannot dislodge. Long ago, it defined the boundaries of your life. It set you on your journey to Paranor. It brought you to me.”

He waited, letting the impact of his words sink in, letting her see what was in his eyes. He wanted her to decide that he was not the enemy she sought, for seek her enemy she did. He wanted her to accept that he might be her friend if she would let him. He wanted her to confide in him, to reveal at last the truth she kept so carefully hidden.

“You know,” she replied softly.

He shook his head. “No. I only guess, nothing more.” He smiled wearily. “But I would like to know. I would like to offer some comfort to you if I could.”

“Comfort.” She said the word in a dull, hopeless way.

“You came to me to discover the truth about yourself, Mareth,” he continued gently. “You may not have thought of it that way, but that is what you did. You came to seek help with your magic, with a power you can neither rid yourself of nor live without. It is an awesome, terrible burden, but no worse than the burden of the truth you hide. I can feel its weight from here, child. You wear it like chains wrapped about your body.”

“You do know,” she whispered insistently. Her dark eyes were huge and staring.

“Listen to me. Your burdens are inextricably bound together, the truth you hide and the magic you fear. I have learned that much in traveling with you, in watching you, in hearing of your concerns. If you would rid yourself of the magic’s hold, you must first address the truth you have hidden in your heart. Of your parents.

Of your birth. Of who and what you are. Tell me, Mareth.”

She shook her head dully, her gaze falling away from his, her arms coming about her small body as if to ward it from a chill.

“Tell me,“ he pressed.

She swallowed back the advent of her tears, fought down her sudden shaking, and lifted her face to the starlight.

Then slowly, tremulously, she began to speak.





Chapter Twenty-Two


“I’m not afraid of you” was the first thing she said to him. The words came in a rush, as if by speaking them she might tap it a hidden reservoir of strength. “You might think so after hearing what I have to say, but you would be wrong. I am not afraid of anyone.”

Bremen was surprised by her declaration, but he did not let it show. “I make no assumptions about you, Mareth,” he said.

“I might even be stronger than you,” she added defiantly. “My magic might be more powerful than yours, so there is no reason for me to be afraid. If you were to test me, you might regret it.”

He shook his head. “I have no reason to test you.”