The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

By the time she met Iridia Eleri, an outcast and a sorceress like herself, she was deep in the throes of dark magic’s lure and hungry for a larger taste. Iridia was already half-mad with her own twisted needs, her own secrets, and they formed a friendship based on mutual cravings. Magic could give them everything they desired, they believed; they needed only to master its complexities.

They decided together to go to Paranor and seek admission into the Druid order. They made the journey in a fever, but when they put forth their applications were careful to hide the inner madnesses that drove them. The Ard Rhys was surprisingly easy to fool. She was distracted by the demands of her undertaking as leader of the order, and her primary concern was to find talented individuals willing to serve the Druid cause. Shadea a’Ru and Iridia Eleri seemed to be what she was seeking. What she failed to perceive was that both women dissembled; they were willing to embrace the Druid cause, but only in so far as it was necessary for them to do so and then only for reasons that were peculiarly their own.

After the first three years of service, it was clear to both sorceresses that although Grianne Ohmsford possessed great power, she no longer commanded the authority of the Ilse Witch. She had allowed herself to become weakened by the constraints she had imposed on herself in casting off her past life. She was unwilling to take the risks or make the sacrifices that the witch would have been quick to understand were necessary. Neither Shadea nor Iridia had such compunctions. The order was foundering, and its chances of gaining control over the Races were diminishing daily. Shadea, in particular, was determined to take control of the order and to lead it in the direction she knew it needed to go. Having decided that there was only one way that could happen, she was quick to put aside her oaths of loyalty to the Ard Rhys and to take up the mantle of active dissident.


For five years, Shadea had searched for a way to fufill her ambitions, to topple Grianne Ohmsford and to make herself Ard Rhys. This night, it was finally going to happen.

Her steps quickened as she followed the musty passageway to its secret exit, two floors farther down in a storeroom in which bedding and pallets were kept. Excitement radiated from her smooth, strong face, a palpable hunger that was fierce and alive. She would not falter, she would not fail. If the potion was good, her goal would be achieved and the waiting would end.

If it failed, she hoped only to escape long enough to return to Sen Dunsidan and cut out his heart.


Grianne Ohmsford put aside her notes and writings, her records of past meetings with the Prime Minister, her summaries of efforts undertaken and mostly failed, and prepared herself for bed. Tagwen appeared long enough to brew her a cup of sleeping tea, which she took regularly these days, and to straighten up her room. He fussed about for a time, waiting for her to say something to him, which she finally did. She asked if he had taken Kermadec something to eat, which he had. Trolls took pride in their independence and resourcefulness, and it was not customary for them ever to ask for anything while traveling. It had to be offered voluntarily. This habit was born out of custom and a history of being at war with almost everyone, and it wasn’t likely to change anytime soon.

Tagwen also reported that the Trolls guarding her room were in place, something he did every night as a reassurance to her, but to which she paid hardly any attention. She did not feel threatened at Paranor, her prickly relationship with some of the more overtly hostile members of the order notwithstanding. Guards and stone walls, warding spells and watchful eyes were not what would save her in any case, should the need for saving arise. Instincts and premonitions were what protected her, her own resources and not those of others. Years spent as the Ilse Witch had sharpened both to a razor’s edge, and she did not think time spent as the Ard Rhys had dulled either.

“Wake me early, Tagwen,” she asked him as he prepared to leave.

“I won’t need to,” he responded. “You will be awake before me. You always are. Good night, mistress.”