The First King of Shannara

“You have it.”


The Druid came to him. He stood very close and kept his voice low. “By accepting this sword, you make it your own. But you must know its history and its purpose if it is to serve you well. Its history first, then.”

He paused, choosing his words carefully. “The sword was forged by the finest smith in the Southland from a formula come out of the old world. It was tempered by heat and magic. It was constructed of an alloy that renders it both light and strong. It will not shatter in battle, whether struck by iron or magic. It will survive any test to which it is put. It is imbued with Druid magic. It holds within its metal span the power of all the Druids who ever were, those who came together at Paranor over the years and then passed from this world to the next. After it was forged, I carried it to the Hadeshorn and summoned their spirits from the netherworld. All appeared, and one by one they passed before me and touched this blade. When the blade was forged, the Eilt Drum, the medallion of office of the High Druids, the symbol of their power, was set within the pommel. You have seen it for yourself. A hand holding forth a burning torch. It was this that the spirits of the dead came to witness and to imbue with the last of their earthly power, all that they could carry with them beyond this life.

“All of which brings us to the sword’s purpose. It is a finely crafted blade, a weapon of great strength and durability — but that alone is not enough to render it capable of destroying the Warlock Lord. The sword is not meant to be used as other weapons. It can be; most certainly it shall. But it was not forged for the sharpness of its blade or the toughness of its metal, but for the power of the magic which resides within it. That magic, Elven King, is what will give you victory when you face the creature Brona.”

He took a deep breath, as if talking of this exhausted him. His seamed face was weary and pale in the failing light. “The power of this sword, Jerle Shannara, is truth. Truth, plain and simple. Truth, whole and unblemished. Truth, with all deceptions and lies and facades stripped away so that the one against whom the magic of the sword is directed stands fully revealed. It is a powerful weapon, one which Brona cannot stand against, for he is cloaked by these same deceptions and lies and facades, by shadings and concealments, and these are the trappings of his power. He survives by keeping the truth about himself at bay. Force him to confront that truth, and he is doomed.

“I did not understand the secret of the sword’s power when it was made known to me at the Hadeshorn. How can truth be strong enough to destroy a creature as monstrous as the Warlock Lord? Where is the Druid magic in this? But after a time, I began to see. The words ‘Eilt Druin’ mean literally “Through Truth, Power.‘ It was the credo of the Druids at their inception, the goal they set for themselves when they assembled at Paranor, and their purpose among the Races from the time of the First Council forward. To provide Mankind with truth. Truth to give knowledge and understanding. Truth to facilitate progress. Truth to offer hope. By doing so, the Druids could help the Races rebuild.”

The dark eyes blinked, distant and worn. “What they were in life is embodied now in the blade you bear, and you must find a way to make their legacy serve your needs. It will not be easy. It is not as simple as it first appears. You will carry the blade in battle against the Warlock Lord. You will bring him to bay. You will touch him with the sword, and its magic will destroy him. All that is promised. But only if you are stronger in your determination, in your spirit, and in your heart than he is.”

The Elven King was shaking his head. “How can I be all this? Even if I accept what you have told me, and I do not know yet that I can — it is difficult to think so — how can I be stronger than a creature who can destroy even you?”

The old man reached down for the hand that gripped the sword and lifted it so that the blade was poised between them. “By first turning the sword’s power upon yourself!”

Fear came into the Elven King’s eyes and glittered sharply in the light. “Upon myself? The Druid magic?”