The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

“We’re preparing a welcome for our uninvited guests,” he said, turning back to them, changing once more to the Dwarf language. “We won’t attack them until we hear what they have to say. We’ll let them talk first.”


“Perhaps they’re friends,” Khyber suggested hopefully, cringing at the loud snort Tagwen gave in response.

“Too many ships for that,” Kermadec advised. “If they were friends, they would come in one ship, not in a dozen. They would send a representative ahead to announce their intentions. No, this is an assault force, come for a specific purpose.” He glanced around. “Where are young Penderrin and the girl?”

Khyber stared at Tagwen. The Dwarf shook his head. Neither one had a clue.

Kermadec glanced skyward. “Too late to search for them now. Come with me! Hurry!”


At the sound of the battle horns and drums, Pen dropped off the Skatelow’s decks to the ground and began to run. He needed no time to consider what he was doing or where he was going. He had left Cinnaminson inside the Gathering Place. She might still be there, alone and unprotected. She would not know what was happening. She would not know where to run.

He went through the south gates just as they were closing, bursting through the knot of Troll warriors bunched at the opening, huge armored shoulders and wide backs straining against the ironbound barriers and massive locks. Trolls were running everywhere, and the passageways of the village were all but completely blocked by Trolls hurrying toward the walls. Pen dodged past them, heading for the amphitheater and Cinnaminson. Shouts and cries rose all around him, their intensity and tone confirming what he already instinctively knew—the village was under attack. He would have liked to find Khyber and Tagwen to know more, but he would have to track them down later. First he had to reach Cinnaminson.

He gained a side street that was mostly deserted and led straight to his destination. He was running hard now, flushed with the heat of his efforts, a frantic warning sounding in his mind. Don’t lose her! Don’t let anything happen to her!

Ahead, the walls of the amphitheater loomed darkly through the ring of trees that surrounded the interior bowl. There was no movement at the entrance, no sign of life. Perhaps she had already gotten out. Perhaps one of the others had come to find her.

He glanced over his shoulder at the village walls, where Trolls were taking up positions all along the ramparts and at the gates. The central point of defense seemed to be the gates he had just passed through, the ones facing south down the broad corridor between the Razor Mountains west and the Charnals east. The reason for this became immediately apparent when he glanced skyward. A dozen black warships filled the horizon, flying down the gap directly toward Taupo Rough.

Shades!

He breathed the word in a whisper of fear as he burst into the tunnel leading into the amphitheater and nearly collided with Cinnaminson, who was trying to make her way out from the other end. She was careening from wall to wall, her hands clutching her ears to block out the sounds of the horns and drums.

“Cinnaminson!” he shouted as he reached her, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her against him.

“Pen!” she gasped in reply, burying her head in his shoulder. Her weaving materials and loom were gone, and he could feel her heart pounding. “I couldn’t find my way out. The sounds disrupt my mind-sight. It was too much for me.”

“It’s all right,” he said, stroking her hair. Her breath was coming in quick, frantic bursts. “I’ll get you back to the others. They must have gone into the mountains to hide. The sky is full of Druid warships, right outside the walls. We have to go. Can you walk?”

She nodded into his shoulder, then lifted her face to his. “I knew you would come for me.”

He kissed her impulsively. “I’ll always come for you. Always. Come on. Run!”

They hurried back through the tunnel to the streets outside. But as they reached the far end, Pen drew up short and pulled her back against the passageway wall, keeping hidden in the shadows.

One of the Druid airships was hovering just outside the village wall and across from their hiding place. Any attempt at escape would require them to cross open ground, where they would quickly be seen.

Pen bit his lip in frustration. They were trapped.