The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

How odd, she thought.

On the floor in front of her, the last strands of the ruined triagenel were slowly dissolving as their magic leached away. She stared for a moment, then caught sight of herself in the mirror and saw what Bek and the others had seen: a ghost, a tattered imitation of herself.

She walked to the closet on the other side of the room, opened it, and took out one of the robes hanging there, clean and sleekly black. She draped it around her shoulders and fastened it in place with the clasp she had fashioned in the shape of the Eilt Druin, the Druid chain of office, the symbol of their order.

Her enemies would see her this last time, she told herself, as she meant for them to see her. As leader. As Ard Rhys.

She fingered the clasp, tracing the raised image of a hand holding forth a burning torch. The meaning of the Elfish words came back to her. THROUGH KNOWLEDGE, POWER.

Perhaps. This day, she would see.

Then she crossed the room and swept the air in front of the chamber door with one hand to remove the magic that sealed it. Tightening her resolve, she flung open the door.


Shadea a’Ru stood on the battlements of Paranor’s north wall with Traunt Rowan and looked down at the army of Rock Trolls amassed before the gates. On hearing of this new threat, she had come at once, determined that she would deal with it herself, that she would not leave it up to her less-than-reliable allies. But having seen for herself how many Trolls were gathered—in excess of a thousand—she was unsure of what to do.

“Have they made any sort of demand?” she asked Traunt Rowan.

He shook his head. “Not a word out of any of them. They simply walked out of the trees and formed up in ranks and haven’t moved or said anything since.”

“This must have something to do with Kermadec,” she said quietly. “Those Trolls bear the banner of Taupo Rough. They wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him. Are you sure you left him safely behind at Stridegate? After all, that girl managed to find a way onto one of the ships.”

“He was on the ground with the others when we lifted off. He was trapped by thousands of Urdas. Even if he got past them, he would have had to walk out. It would have taken days.” Traunt Rowan shook his head, and then gestured toward the Troll army. “Maybe they’ve come looking for him. Maybe they think he’s here.”

She considered the possibility. “Maybe.”

But that suggestion didn’t feel right. A few might come, but not an entire army. It was something else, something much more dangerous. She glanced at the lower walls, where the Gnome Hunters were hiding behind the battlements. They could hold against an attack if the Trolls did not get past the walls. But there were too few of them to withstand an assault if the attackers broke through.

She had already ordered that the gates be reinforced. There was nothing more she could think of to do at that point. She would let the Trolls stand out there all day if that was what they wanted to do. If they were still standing there the next day, she might consider using her magic to disperse them. But that would require an enormous drain on her reserves, a last resort when all else failed. She would need a good reason to commit herself to such an action.

She was considering the possibility of sending word to the Eastland Gnomes that they needed reinforcements when Pyson Wence came flying down the stairs from the north tower, his black robes billowing wildly, his sharp features stricken.

“The triagenel has collapsed!” he shouted to them.

She’s back, Shadea thought instantly.

“You’re sure about this?” she snapped, exchanging a quick glance with Traunt Rowan.

Pyson Wence sneered, trying to hide the fear in his eyes. “Do you think me a fool? The magic’s gone dark. What else could it mean?”

She ignored the taunt, brushing past him as she moved quickly toward the tower stairs, her strong features hard and set. “Let’s finish this,” she said softly.

They went up the stairs in a rush. Already, Shadea felt the magic building inside her in anticipation of the battle ahead. She smiled fiercely. This time there would be no mistakes.

They had gained the head of the stairs and were turning down the hallway leading to the sleeping chamber when its north wall blew apart.


Deep in the hidden passageways in the walls of the Keep, the Ohmsfords, Khyber Elessedil, and a grumbling Tagwen descended toward the furnace room. In a somber mood, the group moved ahead in silence.

“I don’t like it that we left her back there alone,” the Dwarf repeated over and over again.

“You know we couldn’t stay, Tagwen,” Rue Meridian said finally. “You know she wouldn’t let us.”

“There are too many of them for her to have a chance.”