The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

“I don’t care who your family is or what sort of magic they can call on to use against poor men like myself,” he continued, ignoring Pen. “I’ll come looking for you, and you can be sure I will find you.”


Pen didn’t care for the threat, but he supposed it was the Rover Captain’s way of venting his disappointment at what was happening. Besides, he didn’t think there would ever be cause for the big man to act on it.

“I understand,” he replied.

“Best that you do. I won’t say I’m the least bit happy about this. I’m not. I won’t say I think it will work out for you. I don’t. But I will give you your chance with her, Penderrin, and hold you to your word. I just hope I won’t ever have cause to regret doing so.”

“You won’t.”

“Go on, then.” The big man gestured toward Ahren and Khyber, who stood talking at the port railing. “Go back to your friends. We have a full day of sailing tomorrow, and you want to be rested for it.”

Pen left the pilot box in a state of some confusion. He had not expected Gar Hatch to be so accommodating, and it bothered him. He hadn’t lodged more than a mild protest, hadn’t tried to talk Pen out of it, hadn’t even gone to Ahren Elessedil to voice his disapproval. Perhaps Cinnaminson had persuaded him not to do any of those things, but that didn’t seem likely to Pen. Maybe, he thought suddenly, Hatch was waiting for the Druid to put an end to their plans. Maybe he knew how unreceptive Pen’s companions would be and was waiting for them to put a stop to things.

But that didn’t feel right, either. Gar Hatch wasn’t the sort to count on someone else to solve his problems. That kind of behavior wasn’t a part of the Rover ethic, and certainly not in keeping with the big man’s personality.

Pen looked around for Cinnaminson, but didn’t see her. She would be up on deck later, perhaps, but since they were not flying that night, she might be asleep. Pen glanced at Ahren and Khyber. He should tell the Druid now what was happening, give him some time to think about it before he responded. But just as he started over, Tagwen appeared from belowdecks to join them, grumbling about sleeping in tight, airless spaces that rocked and swayed. The boy took a moment longer to consider what he should do and decided to wait. First thing in the morning, he would speak with Ahren Elessedil. That would be soon enough. He would be persuasive, he told himself. The Druid would agree.

Feeling a little tired and oddly out of sorts, he took Gar Hatch’s advice and went down to his cabin to sleep.


He awoke to shouting, to what was obviously an alarm. Bounding up instantly, still half-asleep, he tried to orient himself. Across the way, Tagwen was looking similarly disoriented, staring blankly into space from his hammock, eyes bleary and unfocused. The shouting died into harsh whispers that were audible nevertheless, even from belowdecks. Boots thudded across the planking from one railing to the other, then stopped. Silence descended, deep and unexpected. Pen could not decide what was happening and worried that by the time he did, it would be too late to matter. With a hushed plea to Tagwen to follow as quickly as he could, he pulled on his boots and went out the cabin door.

The corridor was empty as he hurried down its short length to the ladder leading up and climbed swiftly toward the light, straining to hear something more. When he pushed open the hatch, he found the dawn had arrived with a deep, heavy fog that crawled through the trees and over the decks of the Skatelow. At first he didn’t see anyone, then found Gar Hatch, the two Rover crewmen, Ahren Elessedil and Khyber standing at the bow, peering everywhere at once, and he hurried over to join them.

“One of the crewmen caught a glimpse of the Galaphile just moments ago, right overhead, flying north,” the Druid whispered. “He called out a warning, which might have given us away. We’re waiting to see if she comes back around.”

They stood in a knot, scanning the misty gray, watching for movement. Long minutes passed, and nothing appeared.

“There’s a channel just ahead that tunnels through these trees,” Gar Hatch said quietly. “It goes on for several miles through heavy foliage. Once we get in there, we can’t be seen from the sky. It’s our best chance to lose them.”