The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

“Elves?” Another remnant of those he had presumed helpless and in flight. He shook his head. “Any movement on the Free-born lines?”


The other man shook his head. “Not as yet.”

“There will be. Strengthen the siege lines and be ready for an attack. Without the Dechtera to keep them at bay, the Free-born will try to break out. I don’t want that to happen. Do you understand me, Commander?”

“Yes, Prime Minister.”

“In case you don’t, pay close attention to this. I want the watch Captain who was on duty tonight relieved of his command. I want him sent to the very front of our lines. When the Free-born attack, I want to be certain that he is the first soldier they see.” He paused, his hard gaze fixed on the other. “Make sure everyone knows the reason.”

His commander swallowed hard. “Yes, Prime Minister.”

“Get out of my sight.”

When he was alone, save for his guards, he walked down through the airfield to examine the damage firsthand. White-haired, magisterial, a commanding presence, he drew attention from all quarters. He let himself be seen, because it was necessary for the army to know he had matters under control. But he did not attempt to interact with the soldiers; he could never be reached by such as them. His guards formed a protective phalanx about him, keeping everyone at bay, and those who looked at him did not try to do more.

He stopped to study the wreck of the Dechtera, catching sight of what remained of his precious weapon, a twisted hunk of blackened metal. It was all he could do to keep from screaming his rage aloud, but he was practiced at dispassion.

He was contemplating what he would do to those responsible for what had happened here tonight when Etan Orek appeared at his elbow. “My lord?” he ventured.

Sen Dunsidan glanced at him. “You see for yourself what has happened, Engineer Orek. You see how determined our enemies are.” He shook his head. “Their job is made easier by the fact that I am surrounded by incompetents. You and I, we must carry so much of the load ourselves.”

The little man nodded eagerly, happy to be included as one of the chosen. “My lord, you can always depend on me.”

Sen Dunsidan glanced at the Dechtera. “There is no salvaging the weapon now. We must start again. How long will it take?”

Etan Orek grinned conspiratorially. “You told me to build other weapons, my lord. I have been doing so. Another is almost complete.” He leaned close. “I have actually tested it. The crystals align as they should to generate the fire rope. It needs only to have the casing made.”

Sen Dunsidan felt a flush of satisfaction. He put a hand on the other’s shoulder. “You have done well, Engineer Orek. Once again, you have not disappointed me. If I had a dozen of you, this war would be over in a week.”

The little man flushed with pride. “Thank you, my lord.”

“How many days, then?”

“Oh, end of the week, my lord. The weapon awaits my attention in Arishaig. It needs only a few final touches and a new airship to bear it aloft.”

“Then we must spirit you back to Arishaig without further delay. I will have you returned at once. Pack up your things and make ready. I will follow in a day or two with the airship that will bear the weapon.” He gave the other a smile. “There will be a reward in this for you, Engineer. Your service to the Federation will not be forgotten.”

Flanked by two of Sen Dunsidan’s personal guards who were charged with keeping close watch over the little man until he was safely away, Etan Orek scurried off. Nothing must happen to him. Not now, not when he was so close to finishing a second weapon. Wouldn’t that be a nice surprise for the Free-born, once it was finished? They believed the danger over and done with, having destroyed the Dechtera. They believed him to be in possession of only a single weapon, since only the one had been used against them. They would find out soon enough how badly mistaken they were.

He took a final look around, decided there was nothing more he could do that night, and went back to his carriage. He might even be able to sleep again, he thought. At least until morning, when the Free-born attack came. He was still certain it would. Vaden Wick would take advantage of the opportunity. He would rally his forces in an attempt to break through the siege lines, to reclaim the heights lost by the Elves, and to return the Prekkendorran to a no-man’s-land.

He might even succeed. But it wouldn’t matter. Not anymore. Not once Sen Dunsidan brought up the new weapon and burned them all to cinders.

He reached the carriage and climbed inside. He was comfortably settled in place before he noticed the shadowy figure seated across from him.

“Prime Minister,” Iridia Eleri greeted in her soft, insidious voice.

He started violently, but managed to keep the gasp that rose in his throat from escaping. She was cloaked in black and so deep in the shadows of the carriage interior that she was all but invisible.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”