The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

The huge curved horns of the Galaphile’s bow swung slowly about to point like a compass needle toward the four who stood frozen on the muddy shoreline. There was no mistaking that she had found what she was searching for. Through the fading screen of mist and twilight’s deepening shadows, the vessel settled onto the reed-choked surface of the bay, not fifty yards away, and slowly began to advance. Her sails were furled and her masts and spars as bare and black as charred bones. She had the stark, blasted look of a specter. “What do we do?” Khyber hissed.

“We can run,” Pen answered at once, already poised to do so. “There’s still time to gain the trees, get deep into the woods, split up if we have to …”

He trailed off hopelessly. It was pointless to talk about running away. Ahren had already said that it was too late to hide, so running would not help, either. The Galaphile had already found them once; even if they ran, it would have no trouble doing so again. Terek Molt would track them down like rabbits. They were going to have to make a stand, even without an airship in which to maneuver or weapons with which to fight. Ahren Elessedil’s Druid magic and whatever resources the rest of them could muster were going to have to be enough.

What other choice do we have? Pen thought in despair.

The Galaphile had come to a stop at the edge of the shoreline, advanced as close to the mud bank as her draft would allow. Atop her decks, dark figures moved, taking up positions along the railing. Gnome Hunters. Pen saw the glittering surfaces of their blades. Perhaps the Gnome Hunters simply meant to kill them, having no need to do otherwise.

“Do you see how she shimmers?” Ahren Elessedil asked them suddenly. His voice was eerily calm. “The ship, about her hull and rigging? Do you see?”

Pen looked with the others. At first, he couldn’t make it out, but then slowly his eyes adjusted to the heavy twilight and he saw a sort of glow that pulsed all about the warship, an aura of glistening dampness.

“What is it?” Khyber whispered, brushing back her mop of dark hair, twisting loose strands of it in her fingers.

“Magic,” her uncle answered softly. “Terek Molt is sheathing the Galaphile in magic to protect her from an attack. He is wary of what we did to him last time, of another storm, of the elements I can summon to disrupt his efforts.”

The Druid exhaled slowly. “He has made a mistake. He has given us a chance.”

A rope ladder was lowered over the side of the airship, one end dropping through a railing gap and into the water. A solitary figure began to descend. Even from a distance and through the heavy gloom, there was no doubt about who it was.

Pen glanced up again at the cloaked figures lining the Galaphile’s railing. All their weapons were pointed at himself and his companions.

“Khyber,” Ahren Elessedil called softly.

When she looked over, he passed her something, a quick exchange that was barely noticeable. Pen caught a glimpse of the small pouch as her hand opened just far enough to permit her to see that it was the Elfstones she had been given. Her quick intake of breath was audible.

“Listen carefully,” her uncle said without looking at her, his eyes fixed on Terek Molt, who was almost to the water now. “When I tell you, use the Elfstones against the Galaphile. Do as you have been taught. Open your mind, summon their power, and direct it at the airship.”

Khyber was already shaking her head, her Elven features taut with dismay. “It won’t work, Uncle Ahren! The magic is only good against other magic—magic that threatens the holder of the stones! You taught me that yourself! The Galaphile is an airship, wood and iron only!”

“She is,” the Druid agreed. “But thanks to Terek Molt, the magic that sheathes her is not. It is his magic, Druid magic. Trust me, Khyber. It is our only chance. I am skilled, but Terek Molt was trained as a warrior Druid and is more powerful than I am. Do as I say. Watch for my signal. Do not reveal that you have the Elfstones before then. Do nothing to demonstrate that you are a danger to him. If you do, if you give yourself away too early, even to help me, we are finished.”

Pen glanced at Khyber. The Elven girl’s eyes glittered with fear. “I’ve never even tried to use the Elfstones,” she said. “I don’t know what it takes to summon the magic. What if I can’t do so now?”

Ahren Elessedil smiled. “You can and you will, Khyber. You have the training and the resolve. Do not doubt yourself. Be brave. Trust the magic and your instincts. That will be enough.”