The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

At her side, Weka Dart growled. “What is it, Straken? Who is this creature?”


The boy approached as if there were no hurry, as if he had all the time in the world. He looked haggard and beaten down. He looked to her, she thought suddenly, as she must look to him. His clothing was ragged and his face dirty and careworn. He walked in a way that suggested his journey had been long and hard, and indeed, if he had come from her world, from the world of the Four Lands, it must have been. Though he was clearly young, everything about him was dark and weathered.

Except for the odd staff he carried, which was made of a wood that was polished and smooth and glowed red with bits of fire.

He walked right up to her and stopped. “Hello, Aunt Grianne.”

It was Penderrin. Of all the boys she might have imagined, he was the last. She couldn’t say why, but he was. Maybe it was because he was Bek’s son, and it would never have occurred to her that Pen would come for her rather than Bek. Maybe it was just her certainty that if a boy was indeed coming, he would be extraordinary, and Pen was not. He was just an average boy. He lacked his father’s magic; he lacked his mother’s experience. She had met him only a couple of times, and while he was goodhearted and interested in her, he had never seemed special.

Yet there he was, come to her from a place no one else could have come, there when no one else was.

“Penderrin,” she whispered.

She stepped forward, placed her hands on his shoulders, and looked into his eyes to make sure. Then she hugged him to her, holding on to him with a mix of disbelief and gratitude. He was the one; just the fact of his being there was confirmation of what the shade of the Warlock Lord had foretold. She felt his arms come around her as well, and he hugged her back. In that instant, they were bonded in a way that could only have happened under the circumstances of that improbable meeting. Whatever befell her, she would never feel the same way about him again.

She released him and stepped back. “How did you find me? How did you get here?”

He smiled faintly. “It might take a while to explain that.” He held up the glowing staff. “This is what brought me and what will take us both back, once we return to the place I came in at. The runes carved in its surface glow brighter when it gets nearer to you. I just followed their lead.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “I had no idea it could be you. I was told that a boy would come for me, but I never thought it would be Bek’s son.” She gave him another hug. There were tears in her eyes, and she wiped them away quickly. “I am so grateful to you.”

Weka Dart was standing off to one side, a mix of emotions mirrored in his feral features, suspicion fighting with curiosity and hope. She glanced at him, and then turned Pen about to face him. “This is Weka Dart, Pen. He is an Ulk Bog, a creature of the Forbidding. He calls this the world of the Jarka Ruus—the banished ones. What you should know is that he is my friend. He, alone, of all the creatures I have encountered, has tried to help me. Without him, I would be …”

She trailed off. “I don’t know where I would be,” she finished quietly.

Weka Dart beamed. “I am honored to have served the Straken Queen,” he announced, and bowed deeply. He looked up again quickly. “If you are her savior, then perhaps you will be mine, as well. I wish to continue to protect Grianne of the kind heart and powerful magic. I have pledged myself to do so for as long as she needs me. Can you help me? Are you a Straken, too?”

“No,” Grianne said quickly. “Pen is family. He is not a Straken, Weka Dart. He comes only to take me home again.”

“And take me, too?” the Ulk Bog pressed.

“What do you mean?” Pen asked, and then looked at Grianne. “What is he talking about?”

“Leave it alone for now. I have to know more about what you are doing here. I don’t understand why you’ve come instead of your father. Is he all right? He hasn’t been harmed, has he?”