The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

–Ask me something more–


His restlessness had returned, and she was in danger of losing him. But she didn’t know where to go next. “Where will I find this boy? ”

–At the doorway through which you entered. You waste my time. Ask me something that matters. Is it possible that you are as stupid as you are pathetic–

She stiffened. He was taunting her and it was working. “Tell me why I am still alive. What reason was there for imprisoning rather than killing me?”

She was certain that he laughed, the sound so raw it made her cringe with embarrassment and rage. The lake’s waters spit in response to the sound, and the greenish light that radiated from beneath pulsed with energy.

–To serve the needs of the one who brought you here–

“What needs are those?”

–You ask the wrong question. Ask the right one–

Her mind worked furiously, thinking it through. “Why am I inside the Forbidding?” she asked finally.

Again, the laughter, but cool and soft this time, barely a whisper on the wind.

–That is better, little Straken. You are inside the Forbidding so that the one who brought you here could get out–

She caught her breath. Get out? Someone had gotten out? An exchange, she thought. Of course. The power that had imprisoned her belonged to the thing that sought to escape, not to someone from her own world. Something powerful had wanted out, something clever enough to manipulate those it needed in the Four Lands, and it had found a way through her.

The shade’s voice cut through her thoughts, commanding her attention.

–Heed me. You understand some, but not all. Here is the truth you must embrace, if you are to survive long enough to learn the rest. You cannot cast off your true self. You gain power through acceptance of your destiny. Bury your emotions with your foolish ambitions for the Druid Council. Become who you were meant to be, Ilse Witch. Your magic can make you powerful, even here. Your skills can give you domination. Use both. Wield them as weapons and destroy any that challenge you. If not, you will be destroyed, in turn–

“I am not the Ilse Witch,” she replied.

–Nor am I, then, the Warlock Lord. I have watched you grow. You were powerful once. You disdained that power for foolish reasons. Had you stayed strong, you would not have been sent here like this. But you have grown weak. Death’s cold hand is on you. Your time grows short–

The shade threw out one hand, and a wind howled across the lake, whipping at its robes and sending Grianne to her knees. The lesser shades scattered once more, disappearing into the darkness, lost. The lake boiled anew, spitting and rumbling, a cauldron of discontent, and the Warlock Lord began to retreat back toward its center, burning eyes still fixed on her. She tried to stand again, but the wind beat her down, and it was all she could do to meet that terrible gaze from her kneeling position. So much hatred in those featureless orbs—not for her alone, but for everything that lived. Even in death and from the netherworld, it sought release.

“I am Ard Rhys!” she screamed at it in frustration.

The shade did not respond. It reached the center of the lake and sank from sight, its black form vanishing with the quickness of a shadow exposed to light, gone in an instant, leaving only the lake and the sound of the wailing. Waterspouts exploded into the night, and Grianne backed away on her knees, buffeted by the relentless force of the wind. As she backed away, she fell, tearing her clothing and scraping her knees on the rocks. Shadows fell across her, cast by things she couldn’t see. She lowered her head, closed her eyes, and pulled her hood tight against her ears. I am

Ard Rhys!

Then abruptly, everything went still. The wind died, the wailing faded, and the lake quieted once more. She kept her head lowered a moment, then lifted it cautiously. The valley was empty of movement and sound, of anything but a flicker of greenish light that emanated from the depths of the lake and reflected off the crushed stone.

Overhead, the sky was still black and empty of stars. All about the valley’s rim, the wall of mist pressed close.

She rose, battered of body and emotions, drained of strength and spirit, and walked away.





TWENTY-TWO