The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

Tagwen drew a deep breath and exhaled so vehemently that Pen took a step back. “She’s disappeared!” the Dwarf exclaimed. “Your aunt, three nights ago. Something happened to her, and I don’t think it’s something good. It hasn’t been safe for her at Paranor for some time; I warned her about this over and over. Then she went into the Skull Kingdom with Kermadec to investigate some disturbance there, and when she came back, there was supposed to be a meeting with the Prime Minister—another snake in the grass—but sometime during the night, she just vanished, and now I don’t know what to do!”


Pen stared at him. He didn’t know who Kermadec or the Prime Minister were, but he could follow enough of what the Dwarf said to know that his aunt was in trouble. “How could she disappear from her own room?” he asked. “Doesn’t she have guards? She told me she did. Rock Trolls, she said. Big ones.”

“They’re all big.” Tagwen sighed. “I don’t know how she disappeared; she just did. I thought that maybe your parents could help find her since I’ve done everything I can think to do. Perhaps your father could use his magic to track her, to discover where she’s gone. Or been taken.”

Pen thought about it. His father could do that; he had done it before, though only once when Pen was with him, when their family dog disappeared in the Duln. His father probably could track Grianne, although only if she left a trail and hadn’t just gone up in a puff of smoke or something. Where the Ard Rhys was concerned, anything was possible.

Tagwen rubbed his beard impatiently. “Is there anything you can do to help me or must I go alone to find them?”

“You can’t find them on your own!” Pen exclaimed. “You wouldn’t have one chance in a thousand! You barely managed to sail across Rainbow Lake in that skiff!”

Tagwen drew himself up. “The point is, I have to do something besides sit around hoping the Ard Rhys will show up again. Because I don’t think she will. I’ve pretty much reconciled myself to it.”

“All right, but maybe there’s another way, something else we can do.” Pen shrugged. “We just have to think of what it is.”

“Well, we’d better think of it pretty fast. I told you I don’t have much time. I’m pretty sure I was followed. By Druids, I should point out, who don’t want your aunt back, whether or not they’re responsible for her disappearance in the first place. I expect they have decided I might be more trouble than I’m worth and would be better off ‘disappeared’ somewhere, as well.”

He paused dramatically. “On the other hand, it is possible that they don’t care about me one way or the other, but are coming down here to see about you and your parents. They know about your father’s magic, just as I do. You can decide for yourself what use they might choose to make of it, should they find your parents before I do.”

Pen was taken aback. He didn’t even know those people, Druids with whom his family had not been involved even in the slightest. That was his aunt’s world, not theirs. But it seemed that Tagwen believed the two were not as separate as Pen had believed.

He wondered what he should do. His choices were somewhat limited. He could either tell Tagwen that he was unable to help, confined to this way station by direct order of his parents, who had made it quite clear he was forbidden to go anywhere while they were away and made him promise he would remember that—or he could break his word. It might be in a good cause to chance the latter, but he didn’t care for the odds of his explaining it to his parents if he was successful in helping the Dwarf find them. That’s if nothing else happened on the way to doing so, which was far from certain given the distance he must travel and the dangers he was likely to encounter.

He sighed wearily. “Let me think about this. Come up to the house for a glass of hot cider, and we can talk about it.”

But the Dwarf’s face had gone white. “I appreciate the offer, Pen, but it comes too late. Have a look.”

He pointed out across the lake. An airship was making its way toward them through the drifting curtains of mist—a big, sleek three-master, as black as midnight. Frozen by the vessel’s unexpected appearance and the consequences it heralded, Pen stared. All of a sudden, he wished his parents were there.

“Whose is it?” he asked Tagwen.

“It is a Druid ship.”

Pen shook his head, watching the vessel’s slow, steady approach, feeling knots of doubt begin to twist sharply in his stomach. “Maybe they’re just …”

He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

Tagwen stepped close, a smell of dampness and wood smoke emanating from his clothing. “Tell you what. You can wait here and find out what they want if you wish, but I think I will be moving along. Maybe I won’t go out the way I came in, however. Do you have a horse you can let me borrow? ”

Pen turned to look at him. There was no mistaking the mix of determination and fear he saw in the Dwarf’s eyes. Tagwen wasn’t taking any chances. He had made up his mind about the ship and its inhabitants, and he did not intend for them to find him. Whatever Pen decided to do, the Dwarf was getting out.

The boy looked back across the lake at the airship, and in the wake of the uneasiness that its dark and wicked look generated, his indecision faded.

“We don’t have any horses,” he said, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “How about a small airship and someone to sail her, instead?”





EIGHT