The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

He didn’t want to voice what worried him most. One of the reasons a Druid airship would come for them was that something had happened to Pen. Word would reach Grianne, and she would come to tell him herself. But he wouldn’t let himself think like that, not just yet. This probably had something to do with the Ard Rhys or the state of the Four Lands.

They kept watch as the airship sailed toward them through the fading afternoon sunlight, moving unerringly toward their campsite. How it had located them was a mystery, since few knew of their intended destination. A Druid could find them with help, but only Bek’s sister possessed sufficient magic to track them with no help at all. He could see now that it was indeed a Druid airship that approached, so he began to suspect that she was aboard.

The other members of the expedition had seen the ship and come over to stand with their guides. A few asked what she was doing there, but Bek just shrugged and said he had no idea. Then he asked them to move back into the campsite and closer to where Swift Sure was anchored, a precaution he would have taken in any event.

“Are you expecting trouble?” Rue asked him, cocking one eyebrow.

“No. I just want to be ready.”

“We’re always ready,” she said.

“You are, at least.”

She smiled. “That’s why you were attracted to me. Don’t you remember?”

The big airship eased out of the sky to the grassy shelf that fronted the encampment and overlooked the woodland country west. Anchor lines were dropped fore and aft, and a rope ladder was thrown over the side. Bek recognized the Athabasca, one of four ships-of-the-line in the Druid fleet, capable of great speed and power. He was impressed by her look. But not even a Druid ship could match the speed of Swift Sure.

A Druid began to climb down the ladder, dark-robed and hooded, swaying unsteadily as he carefully placed one foot below the other. A big man, Bek saw, powerfully built and strong, but unfamiliar with airships and flying. He stepped off the ladder, pulled back his hood to reveal his face, and started toward them. Bek had never seen him before, but then most of the Druids at Paranor were unfamiliar to him. Except for his sister and Ahren Elessedil, who was no longer at Paranor, he had met only one or two others over the years, and those he barely remembered. The Druid life was his sister’s life, not his, and he had kept himself deliberately apart from it. Sometimes he felt badly that he was not doing more to help her in her work, but it was not work he had ever cared to involve himself in and so he thought it better not to pretend he did.

The man who approached was younger than they were, though not by much, and his careworn face suggested he might be aging in other ways. Their lives filled with secrets, their work clandestine and often unknowable, Druids always troubled Bek. It was a role that fit his sister well, the clothes of her life as the Ilse Witch, where she had perfected the art of subterfuge and dissembling. Such skills were necessary in the world of the Druids, even though intended for good and not for evil. Druids were not well liked in the Four Lands. It was not a prejudice he shared, understanding them as he did, but it was a fact of life. Power fostered fear, and fear mistrust. The Druid order was for many the genesis of all three.

“Aren’t those Gnome Hunters crewing the Athabasca?” Rue asked suddenly. “Where are the Trolls?”

It was too late for speculation. “Bek Ohmsford?” the Druid asked as he came up to them. He held out his hand without waiting for a reply. “My name is Traunt Rowan.”

He shook Bek’s hand, then took Rue’s as well. His grip was firm and reassuring. He spoke in even, measured tones that radiated sincerity and concern.

“I was sent by the Druid Council to bring you back with me to Paranor,” he continued, looking at them in turn. “The Ard Rhys has disappeared. We don’t know what happened to her, but she’s gone, and we haven’t been able to find out why.”

Bek nodded. His sister had disappeared before, many times. She was known for going off without warning on undertakings she wished to keep secret. “You must have reason to be worried about her beyond what you’ve told me. She has gone her own way without advising others many times in her life. Why is this time any different?”

“Her personal assistant, Tagwen, always knows where she is. Or at least he knows when she is leaving. This time, he didn’t know anything about what happened. Nor did the Troll guard. No one did. This is where matters become a bit more complicated. Tagwen was concerned enough that he sought out Ahren Elessedil to help search for her. Together, they traveled to Patch Run to find you. But they found you gone and spoke with your son instead. When they left, they took him with them. Now we can’t find any of them.”