The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

What did it intend to do, there in the Four Lands, outside the Forbidding for the first time in thousands of years? That it had escaped would not be enough. It was after something more.

Before she set out again, she used her magic to probe the surrounding countryside. It was a precaution, nothing more. She hadn’t seen anything move all day, not even in the sky. She felt alone in the world, and the thought was immensely depressing because for all intents and purposes, that was exactly what she was. It didn’t make any difference who or what she encountered; the best she could hope for was another Weka Dart. Everything locked within the Forbidding was a potential enemy, and that wasn’t going to change.

She walked on through the remainder of the afternoon without incident, and her spirits lifted marginally. Perhaps she would find a way out of this situation in spite of her doubts. Perhaps someone really was coming to rescue her.

Nightfall was approaching when she heard a strange metallic chirp that reminded her of birdsong. She was so surprised by the sound that she stopped where she was and listened until she heard it again, then started to walk in the direction from which it had come, curious. She reached a grove of shaggy, moss-grown trees when she heard it a third time and saw a flash of something bright red within the shadows. She didn’t care for the sickly color of the gnarled trunks, almost a fire-scorched black and gray, or for the way in which the moss draped the limbs like a badly torn shroud, but the sound and the flash of red were simply too intriguing to ignore.

She moved into the grove warily, and almost at once she caught sight of the bird, a fiery crimson splash in the gloom. What was it doing here? It was tiny, too small to be obviously dangerous, but she knew better than to take anything for granted. She eased closer, probing with her magic for hidden dangers. The bird sang again, a quick, high note that was so pure and true she almost cried at the sound.

She was right underneath it, peering up into the branches, when the ground beneath her feet was yanked out from under her and a net whipped tightly about her flailing arms and legs and hauled her up into the trees in a collapsed, gasping bundle. She fought to break free, tearing at the netting, screaming in rage and frustration. But almost instantly fumes flooded her nostrils and mouth, thick, toxic and mind numbing.

Her last thought before she lapsed into unconsciousness was that she had been a fool.


She woke to a rolling, shaking motion that jerked her back and forth against the chains that secured her arms and legs to wooden walls and iron bars. The chains allowed her to move just enough to turn from side to side, but not completely around. Nor was there enough play in the lengths to allow her to reach her head or body. She rested on a bed of straw inside a wheeled wooden cage being pulled by two huge, broad-back horned animals that looked a little like bulls but were clearly something more. A second cage preceded her own and a third jolted along behind. There might have been more; she couldn’t see.

Her joints ached and her head throbbed. When she tried to clear her mouth of its dryness, she found she was securely gagged.

She closed her eyes, gathering her strength, taking a moment to remember how she had come to this. The birdsong. Then the bird itself. A lure, she realized now, clever and seductive. She had let herself be trapped by one of the oldest tricks in the world. Her magic had failed to detect the snare. That was odd, but not impossible. The snare was sophisticated. Whoever had set it had taken great pains to hide it. That suggested that the trapper was expecting its prey to have the use of magic, which in turn suggested the trapper was looking for someone like her.

She opened her eyes and peered around. The landscape was blighted and gray with shadows, and the air smelled of deadwood and old earth. Through the bars, she could see a handful of lupine forms loping silently through the graying daylight, massive four-legged beasts with shaggy ruffs. Tongues lolled and breath steamed, even though the day was warm. When one of them caught her looking, it lunged at her, snapping at the iron bars and snarling furiously when it failed to reach her.

A tall, rawboned creature wearing leather half-pants and a tunic appeared suddenly at the side of the cage, peering in at her. Coarse black hair formed a topknot on a nearly pointed head, and a beard fringed a face that was as elongated and sharp-featured as a child’s drawing of a Spider Gnome. It chattered at her with high-pitched sounds that reminded her vaguely of Weka Dart. But the language was different. She stared at it mutely, and the creature stared back. Then it was gone.

She glanced around, trying to get her bearings. To her dismay, she saw the Dragon Line fading into the gloom and mist behind her. She was headed south, away from her original destination.

Away from the mysterious boy who was coming to save her.





To the Big Island Book Bunch—

Abby, Amanda, Beth, Brian, Eric, Gerard, Judine, Kathy,

Kevin, Lloyd, Nan, Paul, Russell, Val, and Yvette—