The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

He began to hum softly, connecting with the wishsong, and as he did so the runes of the darkwand danced in response, growing brighter and more active as the music increased. Soon their glow was racing across the length of the staff in ever-changing and increasingly complex patterns. She glanced at the dragon. It was staring at the staff, satisfaction and delight mirrored in its lidded eyes. It was sitting up straight, head bent forward, as still as if it had been carved from stone.

Then the runes began to cast their images into the air, a kaleidoscope of fire bits whirling this way and that. The images spun and wove together, leaving tiny trails of light in the wake of their passing. The dragon’s jaws widened, and its breath came in grunts and snorts. Claws dug into the earth, and its tail coiled and uncoiled rhythmically. The images danced toward it, closing on it like tiny fireflies, then leapt away into the sky, speeding off into the horizon, a long line of them, beckoning with their comet light.

But the dragon didn’t move. It sat watching them intently for a moment, then turned back to Pen and the staff once more.

Pen kept at it a few moments longer then gave up. “It’s not working,” he said, breaking off with a tired gasp. “I don’t understand. Before, it would have flown after the images. Now it’s only watching them.”

Grianne studied the dragon a moment. “It’s learned that flying after the images doesn’t do it any good. The images don’t last. It’s figured out that the source is the staff and that staying close to the staff is the best way to keep the images coming.” She shook her head. “It’s a brute, but it isn’t stupid.”

They stared at the dragon in silence. The dragon stared back. In Pen’s hand, the darkwand continued to glow and its runes to dance and pulse.

“What are we going to do?” Pen asked finally.

Grianne didn’t know. She could use the wishsong’s magic, but she was afraid of the reaction she would trigger. If she didn’t kill the dragon, it would be on them in a heartbeat. Even if she did kill it, using so much magic would draw the Straken Lord to them like a beacon of firelight in darkest night. Either result would be horrendous.

She was beginning to think she wasn’t going to be given a choice in the matter when a strange, barking cough sounded from somewhere in the distance, off toward the Dragon Line. It was rough and made her think of scraping metal and of old saws cutting green wood. She flinched in spite of herself.

But the dragon sat up immediately, head swinging away from the darkwand and its glowing runes, eyes peering out toward the sound. Several minutes passed, and no one moved. Then the sound came again, farther away this time and more to the east. The dragon’s head swung toward it, lifting alertly. It huffed, and steam poured out of its nostrils. When the sound came a third time, the dragon roared with such ferocity that Grianne and Pen dropped to their knees in shock.

Seconds later, the monster was airborne, winging away in the direction of the sound, flying off without a backwards glance.

“What happened?” Pen breathed in confusion.

Grianne shook her head. “I don’t know, but let’s not stand around talking about it.” She glanced over. “Can you do something to quiet those runes? Can you stop them from glowing? If it comes back, I don’t want the staff to help it find us.”

“I’ll try,” he said. He slipped off his cloak and wrapped it carefully about the darkwand so that the glow of the runes was hidden. “There,” he said, satisfied.

They began walking again, heading toward the mountains, changing direction just enough that they were moving more north than west. More than once, Grianne peered off into the distance in the direction the dragon had taken, but there was no sign of it. No more than a mile ahead were hills that would offer them better cover. If they hurried, they would reach the hills before the dragon decided to come looking for them.

She wondered how far it was to where they could try to get back through the Forbidding. She glanced skyward. Night was approaching.

“Pen, why do the runes continue to glow even when you’re not using the wishsong?”

He shrugged. “They just do. They were glowing that first morning when I woke and the dragon was sitting there. They respond to me in a way that doesn’t involve me telling them what to do. I’m not even sure how much control I have over them. Not much, I think.”

Odd, she thought. The magic of the wishsong did not have a history of independent response. It came only when summoned and did only what it was asked to do. Its behavior here must have something to do with Pen’s bonding with the darkwand, with the melding of two magics. In some way, the wishsong had developed the ability to activate itself, to respond to the boy’s needs even when the boy wasn’t aware of exactly what they were.

Her magic, she thought, though far more powerful than his, had never been able to do that.

They had walked until they were almost into the hills when Weka Dart reappeared, arms flailing excitedly as he sprang out from behind a stand of heavy brush.