The First King of Shannara

On the fourth day of his return, Jerle Shannara came to him in the late-aftemoon hours accompanied by Preia Starle. Tay hadn’t seen Preia yet, although he had wondered about her more than once. She was easily the most astonishing woman he had ever known, and if she hadn’t been in love with Jerle for as far back as anyone could remember but had been in love with Tay instead, he might have changed his life for her. She was beautiful, with small, perfect features, cinnamon hair and eyes to match, a dusky tone to her skin that glowed like the surface of water caught in a sunrise, and a body that curved and flowed with the grace and supple ease of a cat’s. That was Preia at first glance, but it didn’t begin to tell you about her. Preia was as much a warrior as Jerle, trained as a Tracker, skilled at her chosen craft beyond anyone Tay had ever known, tough and steady and as certain as sunrise. She could track a ferret in a swamp. She could tell you the size and number and sex of a herd of goats crossing rocks. She could live out in the wilderness for weeks on literally nothing but what she scavenged.

She disdained to follow the life most Elven women chose, forsaking the comforts of a home and the companionship of a husband and children. Preia was distanced from all that. She was happy enough with the life she was leading, she had told Tay once.

Those other things would come to her when Jerle was ready for them. Until then, she would wait.

Jerle, for his part, was content to let her. He was ambivalent, Tay thought, about what he felt for her. He loved her in his way, but it was Kira that he had loved first and best and was unable to forget, even after all these years. Preia must have known that — she was too smart to miss it — but she never said anything. Tay had expected their relationship to have changed since his last visit, but it did not appear that it had. There had been no mention of Preia in his conversations with Jerle. Preia was still standing outside the gates of the fortress of self-sufficiency and independence that Jerle Shannara had erected around himself, waiting to be let in.

She came to Tay with a smile as he looked up from the Westland maps he was studying at a small table in his parents’ garden.

He rose to meet her, his throat tightening at the sight of her, and he bent to receive her welcoming embrace and kiss.

“You look well, Tay,” she greeted, stepping back to view him more closely, hands resting lightly on his arms.

“Better, now that I’m seeing you,” he replied, surprising himself with the boldness of his response.

Preia and Jerle took him from the house to the Carolan, where they could talk privately. They sat at the edge of the Gardens of Life, looking out across the bluff to the tips of the tall trees beyond the Rill Song. Jerle had chosen a circular bench that allowed them to face each other and close out the distractions of passersby. He had said almost nothing since he had come for Tay, his look distant and preoccupied, and he faced Tay squarely now for the first time.

“Bremen was right,” he said. “Paranor has fallen. All the Druids within are dead. If any escaped besides those who went with you, they are in hiding.”

Tay stared at him, letting the weight of the announcement settle in, then glanced at Preia. There was no surprise in her face. She already knew.

“You sent Preia to Paranor?” he asked quickly, suddenly realizing why she was there.

“Who better?” Jerle asked matter-of-factly. And he was right.

Tay had asked him to send someone dependable, and there was no one more dependable than Preia. But it was a dangerous task, filled with personal risk, and Tay would have chosen someone else. It pointed up the difference in their feelings for Preia, he realized. But it did not make his the more noble.

“Tell him what you saw,“ Jerle urged her quietly.

She faced Tay, her coppery eyes soft and reassuring. “I crossed the Streleheim without incident. There were Trolls, but no sign of the Gnomes and Skull Bearer you saw. I entered the Dragon’s Teeth at dawn on the second day and went directly to the Keep. The gates were open and there was no life within. I entered without challenge. All the guards lay slaughtered, some by weapons, some by claws and teeth, as if animals had gotten them. The Druids lay within, all of them dead. Some had been killed in battle. Some had been dragged from the Assembly and taken to the cellars and walled away. I was able to read their passage and find their tombs.”

She paused, seeing the look of horror and sadness that crept into his eyes as he remembered those he had left behind. One slender hand closed on his own. “There were signs of a second battle as well, one fought on the stairs leading up from the main entry. This one happened more recently, several days after the other. Several creatures were destroyed, things I could not identify. Magic was used. The entire stairwell was seared black by it, as if a fire had burned it clean, leaving only the ashes of the dead.”

“Bremen?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t know. Perhaps.” Her hand tightened over his. “Tay, I’m sorry.”

He nodded. “Even knowing it these few days past, even preparing myself to accept it, it is still difficult hearing you speak the words. All dead. All those I worked and lived with for so many years. Maybe even Bremen. It makes me feel hollow inside.”

“Well, it’s over and done, and there’s no help for it.” Jerle was ready to move on. He rose. “We must speak with the Council now. I will go to Ballindarroch and set a meeting. He may fuss a bit, but I will find a way to make him listen. Meanwhile, Preia can tell you anything else you need to know. Be strong, Tay. We will have our own back from them in the end.”

He strode off without looking back, finding purpose in action as always. Tay watched him go, then looked at Preia. “How have you been?”

“Good.” She regarded him quizzically. “You were surprised I went to Paranor, weren’t you?”