The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

Under the supervision of the sorceress, the Troll watch conducted a search for the Ard Rhys. It took less than an hour and revealed exactly what Shadea had been hoping for: No trace of Grianne Ohmsford was to be found anywhere. At its conclusion, she demanded to know what Tagwen was going to do.

“You were the last one to see her, Tagwen, and she is your responsibility in any case. That is why you were selected to be her personal assistant.”

Tagwen looked crushed. “I don’t know what could have happened to her. She wouldn’t leave Paranor without telling me. She was preparing for this morning’s meeting with the Prime Minister just last night, when I brought her tea and said good night. I don’t understand it!”

He was clearly holding himself responsible, even though there was no reason for him to do so save out of loyalty to his mistress. That was what Shadea was counting on. “Well, Tagwen, let’s not panic,” she soothed. “It isn’t time yet for the meeting. She may have slipped away to do some thinking on it. She comes and goes like that now and then, doesn’t she? Using her magic so no one can tell what she’s about?”

Tagwen nodded doubtfully. “Sometimes.”

“Perhaps she has done so here. You wait for her in her chambers and I will look for her myself. I will use my own magic in an effort to trace her movements. Perhaps I can read something of them in the air.” She patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, she’ll turn up.”

With that false reassurance to placate him, she departed the bedchamber and went to the rooms of her confederates. One by one, she advised them that the plan was working. As expected, there was some grumbling from each over her decision to act alone, but their discontent was more than offset by their euphoria. The Ard Rhys was dispatched. Now they must begin to gain control of the Druids and the Keep. Once it became known that the Ard Rhys had disappeared, confusion and indecision would quickly settle over Paranor. A vacuum would open with the loss of Grianne Ohmsford’s leadership, and no one would want to be too quick to step into it. Shadea’s name must be the first mentioned as the logical choice, in part premised on her early involvement and willingness to take action. It must appear that of all those who might be called upon to take charge, she was the one in the best position to do so.

For that to happen, she must not only have verbal support from her allies, but also have demonstrated her ability to serve. The best way to accomplish that was to offer up a scapegoat to bear responsibility for what had happened to the Ard Rhys. Someone must be made to bear the blame, and she had already decided who that would be. Her confederates were to spread the rumor that the Ard Rhys had been murdered and that the Rock Trolls who guarded her were in some way responsible. There was no proof nor could there be, of course, but in the heat of the moment, many would find reason to believe it was true. A word here and there was all that was required. With enough talk, momentum would build in favor of that explanation, and it would take on the appearance of logic.

A fierce rush of elation surged through Shadea as she left her allies and made her way back through the corridors of the Keep to the bedchamber of the Ard Rhys. It was happening just as Sen Dunsidan had promised, as she had hoped, as fate had whispered to her time and again. She was meant to lead the order. She was meant to wield its power.

“Shadea a’Ru, Ard Rhys!” she whispered to the walls and shadows marking her passage.

She found herself wondering if Grianne Ohmsford had awakened yet and discovered where she was. Perhaps the hapless Ard Rhys would not get a chance to come awake, but while she still slept would be set upon by the denizens of the place to which she had been dispatched. Perhaps she was already dead.

Shadea wished she could be there to see it for herself.