The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

Pied arched one eyebrow at his cousin. “I am Captain of the Home Guard, my lord. Where you go, I must go, as well. That isn’t open to debate. Don’t make it seem as if it is.”


The King’s intense, considering gaze locked on him. “No, cousin, I guess it isn’t. Not with someone as dedicated as you. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.” He paused. “I’ll give this matter several hours more thought before acting. I had planned a late afternoon strike in any case, so that we can come at them from out of the twilight, out of the shadows. You may keep watch for your scouts until then. If they return in time, bring me whatever news you think matters. I promise I will listen. But if none comes, I will see you on the plains an hour before dusk.”

Pied turned and started for the door. “One thing more,” the King called after him. Pied turned. “I intend to take Kiris and Wencling with me.” He must have seen the confusion in Pied’s eyes. “Aboard the flagship, cousin. I want them to watch.”

Pied stared. Kellen Elessedil was talking about his sons. About boys who were fifteen and thirteen. About taking them into the heart of an engagement with a dangerous enemy. “No,” he said at once, before he could think better of it.

The King seemed unruffled. “They need to see what a battle is like, to understand what happens. They need to experience it for themselves, not just hear about it. They are future Kings, and this is a part of their training.”

“They are too young for this, my lord. There will be other times, safer times, when the risk is not so great.”

“The risk is always great in war, cousin,” the King said, brushing his arguments aside.

Pied took a deep, steadying breath, picturing Arling’s reaction once she found out what Kellen had done. “With any Elves-in-training, we expose them gradually to the dangers of war. We don’t just throw them out on the battlefield—not unless we are desperate. We bring them along slowly. I think that is what is needed with Kiris and Wencling. Let them come on a few overflights first, ones in which combat is not a given.”

Kellen Elessedil took a long moment to study him, as if seeing something he hadn’t seen before, something he was not altogether pleased about. Then he said, softly, “I will think about it, cousin.”

He motioned for Pied to go out, an odd gesture Pied had not seen before. But this was not the time for speculation. He departed quickly, happy to escape before Kellen could think of some further madness. Because he would, Pied knew. He was in that place where ideas came and went like silverfish, and each looked better than the one before, but never was.

Outside the tent, Drumundoon fell into step beside him, his tall form bent close as he said, “Did he listen to you?”

Pied nodded. “He listened. Then he ignored me. If I don’t give him fresh reasons to call it off, the attack takes place at dusk. Worse, he intends to take his sons along for the ride.”

Drumundoon exhaled sharply. “Has he lost his mind?”

“Arling would think so. I wish she were here to speak with him. She might have better luck than I.”

Drumundoon shook his head. “I doubt it. He doesn’t listen to her, either. Although he might, where those boys are concerned. What matters is that she left them in your charge. Yours, specifically. I was there when she did so. I heard the way she spoke to you. If anything happens to her sons, she will have your head.”

Pied glanced at him. Because I loved her once. Because I think she loved me, as well. You left that part out, Drum.

He stalked off into the midday heat and tried not to think about it.





NINETEEN


By late afternoon, Acrolace and Parn had still not returned. It worried Pied, but he had learned long ago to live with the guilt associated with sending his Home Guard to spy on an enemy. It was obvious in any case that Acrolace and Parn were not going to return in time to be of any help in dissuading Kellen Elessedil from his ill-advised foray. The attack on the Federation fleet was going to happen whether he wanted it to or not, and he was just going to have to make the best of it. That was sometimes a soldier’s lot, even if you were Captain of the Home Guard and cousin to the King.

Dressed in his battle gear, his weapons strapped about him once more, he called Drumundoon to his tent, and with the sun creeping toward the horizon through a screen of thin clouds and the daylight becoming diffuse and weak, they set out for the airship field.

“No word of any sort, Drum?”

The aide shook his head. “Nothing. I hear that the Federation is massing soldiers along its lines, looking to shore up the weaknesses brought about by the departure of the Rovers. That’s the King’s reading of the situation, at least. It reinforces what he already believes, which makes it attractive. It supports the decision he favors. Word is, he sees this war over and done within a week.”