The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

If this is Taupo Rough and if Kermadec is here, Pen thought without saying so.

As he brought the ship slowly around toward the village, he called to memory what little he knew about the inhabitants. Trolls were nomadic by tradition, and frequently resettled themselves when their safety was compromised or their dissatisfaction with local conditions grew sufficiently strong. But because they were tribal, as well, they established territorial boundaries within the regions they traveled, and one tribe would never think of invading another’s domain. Of such trespasses had the worst of the Troll Wars been born, wars that had died out years ago in the wake of the establishment of the First Druid Council. Galaphile and his Druids had made it their first priority to stabilize relations within the Races. They had accomplished that by setting themselves up as arbitrators and peacekeepers, developing a reputation for being fair-minded and nonjudgmental. The Trolls, who were the most fierce and warlike of the Races in those days, had accepted the Druids as mediators with surprising enthusiasm, anxious perhaps to find a way to put an end to the tribal bloodshed that had plagued them for so long. Trolls were creatures of habit, Pen’s father had told him once. They embraced order and obedience within the tribal structure as good and necessary, and self-discipline was the highest quality to which a Troll could aspire.

There was more than one species of Troll living in the Northland, but by far the most numerous of the tribes were Rock Trolls. Physically larger and historically more warlike than the other tribes, they were found principally in the Charnals and the Kensrowe, preferring mountainous terrain with caves and tunnels rather than open encampments as safeholds. The Forest and River Trolls were smaller in size and numbers, and they were not nomadic in the way of Rock Trolls. The differences went on from there, but Pen couldn’t remember them all. What he mostly remembered was that Rock Trolls reputedly made the finest weapons and armor in the Four Lands, and they knew how to use both when provoked.

“Someone’s noticed us now,” Khyber announced, nodding toward a handful of Troll warriors walking out to meet them.

Pen let the airship settle to the earth in an open space at one end of the plateau, well away from the village and its fortifications. Whatever happened, he did not want to give an impression of hostility. He shut down the thrusters, closed off the parse tubes, walked to the railing, tossed out the rope ladder, and climbed down to set the anchors. The others followed, with Tagwen in the lead, looking bluff and officious.

The Trolls came up to them, huge and forbidding giants, their barklike skin looking like armor beneath their clothing, their strange, flat-featured faces devoid of expression, but their eyes sharp and watchful.

One of them spoke to Tagwen in deep, guttural tones, a query of some sort, Pen thought. The Dwarf stared at the speaker blankly, then glanced hurriedly at Pen. The boy shook his head. “You’re the one who says he speaks the language. Say something back to him.”

Tagwen gave it a valiant try, but it came out sounding a little as if his last meal hadn’t quite agreed with him. The Trolls looked at one another in confusion.

“Just use whatever Troll-speak you possess and ask him if Kermadec is here,” snapped Khyber, impatient with the whole business. “Ask if this is Taupo Rough.”

The Dwarf did so, or at least appeared to do so. Pen caught the words Kermadec and Taupo Rough amid all the garble, and the reception committee seemed to do the same. One of them nodded, beckoned for them to follow, and turned back toward the village. The other three fell into place about them like a stockade.

“I hope we haven’t made another mistake,” Khyber muttered to Pen as she glanced about uneasily.

Pen took Cinnaminson’s hand and held it firmly in his own. The Rover girl did not pull away, but moved closer to him. “It doesn’t look it, but this village is heavily defended,” she whispered to him. “We can’t see most of it. Most of it is hidden inside the mountains. I can feel the heat of furnaces and forges. I can feel movement in the earth radiating out from the rock.”

The boy exhaled sharply. “Are these Trolls enemies?” he asked. “Are we in danger?”

She shook her head. “I can’t tell. But they are prepared to do battle with something, and whatever it is, they mean to see it destroyed if it tries to attack them.”

Pen nodded. “If we have to flee, I will stay right beside you.”