The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

She said nothing in reply, but squeezed his hand tightly.

They moved through the heavy stone walls that formed the outer fortifications into the village itself. Trolls turned to look at them, Trolls of all sizes and shapes, but their gazes were brief and didn’t linger. A few young Trolls, barely five feet tall yet—though big when compared to Tagwen, who was not much more than that himself—fell into step beside them, casting interested glances at the outlanders. No one tried to speak to them, and no one did anything threatening. Pen studied the buildings as he walked, comparing them with those of Southland villages. The biggest difference was in the construction, which was almost entirely of rock and suggested that every building provided its own defense. Each unit had heavy ironbound wooden doors and shutters, and weapons ports had been cut into the walls for use by the defenders. It had taken a lot of work to build the homes, and it seemed in direct contradiction to the nomadic tradition of the people who occupied them.

“We didn’t do anything to protect the airship,” Khyber whispered to him suddenly, a frown crossing her dark features.

Pen nodded. “I know. But what could we have done?”

“Sent Tagwen on ahead alone until we knew what to expect,” she replied. “We aren’t being very smart about this.”

Pen didn’t respond. “I don’t sense any hostility,” Cinnaminson said quietly. “We aren’t threatened.”

Khyber rolled her eyes as if to suggest that a blind Rover girl might not be the best judge but didn’t pursue the matter.

They had just rounded the corner of a massive building that looked to be a storehouse rather than a home when a huge Rock Troll appeared in front of them, arms outstretched and voice booming out in familiar Dwarfish.

“Bristle Beard, you’ve found your way!” the Troll shouted, reaching down to pick up Tagwen and hold him out at arm’s length as if he were no more than a toy. “It’s good to see you safe and sound, little man!”

Tagwen was incensed. “Put me down at once, Kermadec. What are you thinking? A little decorum would be appreciated!”

The big Troll set him down at once, drawing back. “Oh, well then, sorry to have distressed you. I was only expressing my great joy at finding you in good health. It hasn’t been a good time at Paranor, Tagwen.”

“This does not come as news to me!” the Dwarf snapped. He cleared his throat officiously. “Here, let me introduce the others.”

He did so, giving a quick explanation of who his companions were without yet getting into why they had all come together. Kermadec nodded to each at the mention of their names, his flat features somehow reflecting the pleasure he took in meeting them. There was an exuberance and expansiveness to the big man that transcended what Pen had heard of the Troll character, and he found himself liking their host right away.

“Penderrin,” Kermadec said, taking the boy’s hand in his own. It was like shaking hands with a rough piece of wood. “Your aunt and I are great friends, friends from as far back as the coming together of the Druid order, and I regret what has happened deeply. Your presence indicates that you intend to join me in doing something about it. You are most welcome.”

He turned to Tagwen. “Now you must tell me all about what has happened since our parting at Paranor, and I will do the same. Come with me to my home, and we will have something to eat and drink while we talk. Is that an airship you flew in on, Bristle Beard? I thought you hated airships!”

Dismissing the Trolls who had guided them in from the Skatelow, Kermadec led them on through the village until they were almost to the cliff face against which it was backed. At that distance, Pen could see clearly the sophisticated network of walkways and ladders connecting the village to the caves and tunnels that riddled the cliff. He could also hear, for the first time, the sounds of hammers striking anvils and smell the fires of the furnaces that serviced them.

What was odd was that he couldn’t see any smoke or ash.

He asked Kermadec about that, and the Troll pointed skyward. “The residue of the furnace fires goes into a vent system that carries it out the other side of the near peaks. It helps keep the air we breathe out here in the village clean. It also helps disguise what we do. You can’t be sure where we keep the furnaces until you get this close. The furnaces are our lifeblood. Without the furnaces, we can’t make the weapons and metal tools we trade to the other Races for the goods we need. Without the furnaces, we would revert to what we once were—raiders and worse. If anything happens to them, we are left without a way to make a living.”