The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

He waited for the boat to come closer and tried to decide if it was headed for Patch Run. It soon became apparent it was. It skipped and slewed on the roughening waters, a cork adrift, propelled by a single sail and a captain who clearly did not know a whole lot about sailing in good weather, let alone bad. Pen shook his head in a mix of wonder and admiration. Whoever was in that boat wasn’t lacking in courage, although good sense might be in short supply.

The little boat—it was a skiff, Pen determined—whipped off the lake and into the cove, its single occupant hunched at the tiller. He was a Dwarf, gray-bearded and sturdy in build, cloaked against the wind and cold, working the lines of the sail as if trying to figure out what to do to get his craft ashore. Pen walked down to the edge of the water by the docks, waited until his visitor was close enough, then threw him a line. The Dwarf grasped it as a drowning man might, and Pen pulled him into the pilings and tied him off.

“Many thanks!” the Dwarf gasped, breathing heavily as he took Pen’s hand and hauled himself out of the skiff and onto the dock. “I’m all worn out!”

“I expect so,” Pen replied, looking him over critically. “Crossing the lake in this weather couldn’t have been easy.”

“It didn’t start out like this. It was sunny and bright when I set off this morning.” The Dwarf straightened his rumpled, drenched clothing and rubbed his hands briskly. “I didn’t realize this storm was coming up.”

The boy smiled. “If you don’t mind my saying so, only a crazy man would sail a ratty old skiff like this one in any weather.”

“Or a desperate one. Is this Patch Run? Are you an Ohmsford?”

Pen nodded. “I’m Pen. My parents are Bek and Rue. Are you looking for them?”

The Dwarf nodded and stuck out his hand. “Tagwen, personal assistant to your aunt, the Ard Rhys. We’ve never met, but I know something about you from her. She says you’re a smart boy and a first-rate sailor. I could have used you in coming here.”

Pen shook the Dwarf’s hand. “My aunt sent you?”

“Not exactly. I’ve come on my own.” He glanced past Pen toward the house and outbuildings. “Not to be rude, but I need to talk to your parents right away. I don’t have much time to waste. I think I was followed. Can you take me up to them?”

“They’re not here,” Pen said. “They’re off on an expedition in the Wolfsktaag and won’t be back for weeks. Is there something I can do to help? How about some hot cider?”

“They’re not here?” Tagwen repeated. He seemed dismayed. “Could you find them, if you had to? Could you fly me to where they are? I didn’t expect this, I really didn’t. I should have thought it through better, but all I knew was to get here as quickly as I could.”

He glanced over his shoulder, whether at the lake and the approaching storm Pen couldn’t tell. “I don’t think I can find my parents while they’re in the Wolfsktaag,” the boy said. “I’ve never even been there. Anyway, I can’t leave home.”

“I’ve never been there, either,” Tagwen allowed, “and I’m a Dwarf. I was born and raised in Culhaven, and other than coming to Paranor to serve the Ard Rhys, I’ve never really been much of anywhere.”

Pen grinned in spite of himself. He liked the strange little man. “How on earth did you find your way here, then? How did you manage to sail that skiff all this way from the north shore? If you get out in the middle of Rainbow Lake on days like this, you can’t see anything but mist in all directions.”

Tagwen reached into his pocket, fished around, and pulled out a small metal cylinder. “Compass,” he advised. “I learned to read it at Paranor while exploring the forest that surrounds the Keep. It was all I had to rely on, coming down through the Dragon’s Teeth and the Borderlands. I don’t like flying, so I decided to come on horseback. When I got to the lake, I had to find a boat. I bought this one, but I don’t think I chose very well. Listen, Pen, I’m sorry to be so insistent about this, but are you sure you can’t find your parents?”

He looked so distressed that Pen wanted to say he could, but he knew his parents used the wishsong to hide their presence in dangerous places like the Wolfsktaag, the better to keep themselves and their passengers safe. Even if he knew where to begin to look, he doubted that he could locate them while they were using magic.

“What is this all about, anyway?” he asked, still unsure what the Dwarf wanted. “Why is all this so urgent?”