The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

Better I die than that I concede anything to her. Or to that boy.

She imagined momentarily what she would do to Penderrin Ohmsford if she somehow managed to get her hands on him. The image that came to mind made her shiver.


When Traunt Rowan and Pyson Wence reappeared with the Elven girl, Shadea was surprised to see how small and vulnerable looking she was; she had imagined the girl larger and more imposing. The Gnome Hunter clothing she wore, obviously stolen to provide her with a disguise, was ill fitting, loose, and made her look smaller still. But when she saw Shadea, she displayed a look of such obvious defiance that it instantly infuriated the sorceress.

Little fool!

She walked up to the girl without a word, snatched her by her clothing so that she was off balance, and struck her hard across the face. The blow was delivered open-handed, so as not to break anything, but the sound of it caused Traunt Rowan to flinch. The force of the slap sent the girl sprawling. Without waiting for her to recover, Shadea stalked over to where she lay, grabbed another handful of clothing, and hauled her back to her feet.

Then she placed her face inches from the girl’s. “That was to give you some small idea of how I feel about what you have done. It should also indicate what sort of trouble you are in.”

The defiance was gone from the girl’s face, replaced by a sullen acceptance of her fate. Shadea gave her a moment to recover, to let the words sink in, then struck her again, knocking her to the floor once more.

This time when she stood the girl up again, there were tears in her eyes. “It hurt more this time, didn’t it?” Shadea asked softly. “But I haven’t begun to hurt you yet. What is your name?”

When the girl didn’t answer fast enough, Shadea struck her again, twice, the open-handed blows delivered first to one side of her face and then to the other. The girl’s head snapped back and forth with the blows, and she gasped audibly with each one. Shadea gripped her clothing with her free hand so that she couldn’t fall, kept her standing upright, sagging slightly from the attack.

“Your name, girl,” she repeated. “You are an Elessedil or you are a thief because only one or the other would possess the Elfstones.

Which is it?”

“Khyber Elessedil,” the girl whispered. Her face was already beginning to redden and swell.

Shadea glanced at her companions, both of whom shook their heads. Neither recognized anything beyond the Elessedil part of the name.

“What are you to Kellen Elessedil?” Shadea snapped. “He is my brother.”

“Was,” Shadea corrected. “He’s dead. Killed on the Prekkendorran almost a week ago.”

She watched the girl’s gaze lift to meet hers and saw more tears fill her eyes. Good. She was already beginning to come apart. This wouldn’t be so hard.

“You are all alone, Khyber Elessedil,” she whispered, her voice flat and emotionless. “No one even knows you are here, save those you left stranded in the ruins of Stridegate and the boy you helped escape. I wouldn’t expect any help from them, if I were you. Nor from any other source. You no longer possess the Elfstones; I have them safely tucked away. You have no real Druid magic to help you escape; you are a neophyte. Your fate is sealed. If you want to live, you will tell me exactly what I want to know. Are you listening to me?”

The girl nodded, but there was a hint of defiance still in her dark eyes. Shadea smiled. Foolish bravado.

She reached inside the girl’s clothing, found a place where the flesh was soft and vulnerable, fastened her fingers like a vise, and twisted. The girl screamed with pain, her body jerking in an effort to get free. Shadea held her fast and twisted harder.

“Are you listening carefully?” she hissed.

The girl nodded, her eyes shut against the pain. “Then be quick to answer when I ask you a question.” She withdrew her hand. “I can cause you a great deal more pain than a few slaps across the face and a little twisting of your tender parts. I can hurt you in places you haven’t even begun to think about. I can make you beg for me to kill you. I learned how while I served with the Federation army on the Prekkendorran. I learned that and a good deal more that you don’t want to know anything about!”

She paused. “Let’s try it again. I ask a question, you give me an answer. Where did Penderrin Ohmsford go?”

The girl exhaled sharply, her head sagging. “Into the Forbidding. After the Ard Rhys.”

Shadea glanced disdainfully at Traunt Rowan and Pyson Wence. Hear that? Her eyes challenged them to say otherwise. “How did he get into the Forbidding? No one can go there without magic. Was it the staff he carried out of Stridegate that let him do so?”

The girl nodded again and swallowed thickly.