The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

He had explained it all in a whisper as they lay together in the deep gloom of early dawn, still wary of who might be listening, determined to make no mistake that would reveal their true intentions.

They left the sleeping chamber behind Traunt Rowan, who led them back down the hall and up the stairs to the cold chamber and the scrye waters. Bek held Rue’s hand in his own, a reassurance that transcended physical presence and touched on emotional support. He could read her feelings in her touch, in the strength of her grip. He took his cue from those. He spoke with the Druid conversationally, asking if there was any news, if the airships searching for his sister and son had returned, if the day seemed a good one. He told Traunt Rowan that their sleeping arrangements were more than adequate, better than they had been used to over the past few weeks. He praised the food. He talked to put the other at ease. He talked to calm himself.

“Shadea is ready,” Traunt Rowan advised him as they reached their destination, and Bek understood it to be a warning that he should be ready, as well.

The cold chamber felt frigid in the wake of the night’s recent departure, the chill of the darkness still present. Bek shivered involuntarily as he entered the room, hunching his shoulders against the sudden change in temperature. Shadea a’Ru stood to one side, looking out the window at the sunrise, her broad shoulders wrapped in a scarlet cloak that fell all the way to the floor. When she turned, he saw that the clasp that fastened it bore the crest of the Druid order, the instantly recognizable emblem of the Eilt Druin. It flashed brightly as the light caught it momentarily, and Bek thought he caught a reflection of that hard brightness in Shadea’s eyes as well.

“We are anxious to begin, Bek,” she said perfunctorily, nodding to Rue, but not speaking to her. “Are you sufficiently rested now?”

“I am,” Bek assured her. “Let’s begin.”

She beckoned him to stand with her at the basin. Bek moved over to peer down into the swirl of deep green waters, seeing fluctuations on their surface that seemed to have no discernible origin. He studied them for a moment, then glanced at Shadea expectantly. As he did so, he caught sight of Gerand Cera, who was standing back and to one side of him in the shadows. He wondered how many more were in hiding somewhere in that room. He wondered if he was going to be able to fool them all.

“You already understand what it is the scrye waters do,” Shadea said. “If you can use your magic to connect with their impulses, you should be able to reach beyond what is visible for a more comprehensive reading. I am hopeful that your reach will extend to the magic that resides in your sister or perhaps your son. Any little trace, any clue revealed by doing so may prove helpful.”

Helpful to whom? he thought. But he said nothing, only nodding in response.

“Would you move back from me a little?” he asked.

All of them, Rue included, stepped away from the basin to give him the space he needed. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes in concentration. He calmed himself, centered himself, and then lost himself in the deep silence that settled over the room. He would have only one chance, and if he wasn’t convincing enough, he would be in the worst trouble of his life. These were Druids, he reminded himself for what must have been the hundredth time. Druids weren’t easily fooled when it came to the use of magic.

On the other hand, none of them possessed or truly understood the magic of the wishsong. That was his edge, if he had any.

He waited until he could hear himself breathing in the stillness, then summoned the magic. He began with a low humming, a sound that mirrored a wind’s whisper as it passed through the branches of the trees, soft and silky. He brought it out of its resting place and let it fill him with warmth. The cold of the room lessened and then disappeared. His concentration was so complete that the people around him disappeared as well. He was alone, lost in himself and in his magic.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw only the basin in front of him. He reached out with his hands and let them hover just above the deep green waters, so close he could almost feel the strange ripples that disturbed the otherwise placid surface. He moved his hands slowly, taking his time, not rushing the flow of the magic from his body. He watched the waters respond as he let the first tendrils stroke their surface. He felt them shudder at the intrusion.

He worked more swiftly then, enveloping the scrye waters in a broad swath intended to detect any obvious sign of Grianne or Pen. The former’s presence would reveal itself immediately, so strong was the connection between them. Shadea had been right about that; their shared use of magic was a powerful link. But nothing showed itself; no sign of his sister surfaced. He kept searching, sending the wishsong’s magic deep into the scrye waters, into the gridwork of the lines of power that crisscrossed the Four Lands, sifting and probing. He moved his hands in a slow, circular motion that took him in all directions, toward all of the possible places she might have gone.