The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

Strands of loose hair fell across her face as she leaned toward him, and he reached out to brush them away. “I did miss you, Cinnaminson,” he said. “I don’t like it when you’re gone.”


She smiled. “I missed you, too.” Her face brightened. “Now tell me about the tanequil. Did you speak with it?”

“I spoke with it,” he said. “It took me a while, but I found a way.”

He told her everything that had happened, how it had taken him all night just to make contact, how it had then withdrawn until he had realized that his connection was premised upon its sensing of his need to help his aunt. He couldn’t explain that, didn’t understand it at all. But it was clear that the tree knew why he had come and what he had come for, and if he wanted to see the quest through, he was going to have to keep the needs of his aunt and his concerns for her safety foremost in his thoughts.

“But it was what it said last that bothers me most,” he finished. “It said that if I wanted to take a part of it—a limb from which to fashion the darkwand—then I must give it a part of myself in return. When I asked what part it wanted, it quit talking to me.”

Cinnaminson thought about it. “Perhaps it was just testing you. Or perhaps it was speaking about something else. Maybe it wants a part of you that’s emotional or spiritual.” She paused. “It can’t be talking about an arm or leg.”

Pen wasn’t so sure. The entire business was strange enough that he wasn’t willing to rule out anything.

He looked off in the direction of the tree. “I should go back and try to find out. This is taking longer than I thought it would.”

“It is taking as long as it must,” she corrected him gently. “Don’t be impatient. Don’t let yourself become frustrated.”

He nodded, shifting his gaze to study her. “What will you do? Will you go back to the aeriads?”

“For now. I already know I can’t be with you. You have to be alone to speak with the tanequil. I will come looking for you tonight.”

She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek, then on the mouth. He kissed her back, not wanting to sever the connection, not wanting her to go.

But when she rose and waved good-bye, her face still flushed with excitement and expectation, he didn’t try to stop her.


He returned to the tanequil in the warm hush of midday, the sun spilling in faint, thin streamers through the thick canopy of the old growth. Clouds scudded overhead in billowing white clusters, throwing shadows to the earth, and the skies were so blue they hurt his eyes. A breeze blew through the trees, and the air was scented by leaves and grasses sweet with summer warmth. It was the sort of day when you felt that anything was possible.

He sat down in the space he had occupied the night before, where the tree had first spoken to him, studied it for a time, then lay down beneath it and closed his eyes. He gave himself time to relax, then turned his thoughts to his aunt, to the Ard Rhys and her imprisonment inside the Forbidding, embracing the fear such thoughts automatically generated.

And waited.

–Penderrin–

–Tanequil–

–You must have what you came for. You must take what you need–

–What of giving you a part of myself? What of that?–

–You must do so–

He couldn’t help himself.

–Will I be crippled?–

–You will be enhanced–

–A part of me will be missing?–

–A part of you will be found–

There was no way to make sense of what he was being told. Pen could not decide if he was about to make a good or a bad decision. He could not read the consequences clearly.

–Are you afraid?–

–Yes–

–Fear for yourself has no place in what you would do. Your fear must be for your aunt if you are to save her. A darkwand is born of fear for another’s safety. A darkwand responds to selfless need. Do you wish to save your aunt?–

He swallowed hard.

–I do–

–Then no sacrifice is too great, even that of your own life–

–Is that what is required?–

–What is required should not matter. Do you wish to proceed?–

He took a deep, steadying breath. Did he? How great a risk was he taking? Things weren’t working out the way he had expected. The King of the Silver River had told him he must persuade the tanequil to his cause. But the tanequil didn’t seem interested in being persuaded to anything. It seemed to have already made its decision, and what mattered now was how far Pen was willing to go to allow that decision to be implemented.

It was like being trapped in a cave with no light and having to find his way in darkness. There might be pits into which he could fall, and he had no way of knowing where they were.

–Do you wish me to give you what you came for, Penderrin?–

He closed his eyes.

–I do–

–Then rise and come to me. Walk to me and place your hands on my body–

He opened his eyes and saw that the tiny roots had withdrawn once more, then rose and moved over to stand before the tree. Gingerly, he pressed his palms against its massive, rough trunk.