The First King of Shannara

“A man whose face you were not shown.”


“But the last vision, that dark image of the Hadeshorn and the boy with the strange eyes...” Mareth began worriedly.

“Must wait until its time.” Bremen cut her short, though not harshly. His gaze settled on her face, searching. “Things reveal themselves as they will, Mareth. We cannot rush them. And we cannot allow ourselves to be constrained by our concern for them.”

“So what are you asking us to do?” Tay pressed.

Bremen faced him. “We must separate, Tay. I want you to return to the Elves and ask Courtann Ballindarroch to mount an expedition to search out the Black Elfstone. In some way the Stone is critical to our efforts to destroy Brona. The visions suggest as much. The winged hunters already search for it. They must not be allowed to find it. The Elf King must be persuaded to support us in this. We have the particulars of the vision to help us. Use what it has shown us and recover the Stone before the Warlock Lord.”

He turned to Risca. “I need you to travel to Raybur and the Dwarves at Culhaven. The armies of the Warlock Lord march east, and I believe they will strike there next. The Dwarves must make themselves ready to defend against an attack and must hold until help can be sent. You must use your special skills to see that they do so. Tay will speak with Ballindarroch to ask the Elves to join forces with the Dwarves. If they do so, they will be a match for the Troll army that Brona relies upon.”

He paused. “But mostly we must gain time to forge the weapon that will destroy Brona. Kinson, Mareth, and I will return to Paranor and discover whether the vision of its fall is true. I will seek to gain possession of the Eilt Druin.”

“If he still lives, Athabasca will not give it up,” Risca declared. “You know that.”

“Perhaps,” Bremen replied mildly. “In any case, I must determine how this sword that I was shown is to be forged, what magic it shall possess, what power it needs to be imbued with. I must discover how to make it indestructible. Then I must find its wielder.”

“You must perform miracles, it seems to me,” Tay Trefenwyd mused ironically.

“All of us must do so,” Bremen answered softly.

They looked at each other in the gloomy light, an unspoken understanding taking shape between them. Beyond their shelter, rainwater dripped in steady cadence from the rocky outcroppings.

It was midmoming, and the light had turned silvery as the sun sought to fight its way through the lingering stormclouds.

“If the Druids at Paranor are dead, then we are all that is left,”

Tay said. “Just the five of us.”

Bremen nodded. “Then five must be enough.” He rose, looking out into the gloom. “We had better get started.”





Chapter Six


That same night, west and north of where Bremen confronted the shade of Galaphile, deep within the stone ring of the Dragon’s Teeth, Caerid Lock made his rounds of the watch at Paranor. It was nearing midnight when he crossed an open court on the parapets facing south and was momentarily distracted by a wicked flash of lightning in the distant skies. He paused, watching and listening to the silence.

Clouds banked from horizon to horizon, shutting out moon and stars, cloaking the world in blackness. Lightning flashed a second time, momentarily splintering the night like shattered glass, then vanishing as if it had never been. Thunder rolled in its wake, a long, deep peal that echoed off the mountain peaks. The storm was staying south of Paranor, but the air smelled of rain and the silence was deep and oppressive.