The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

What nonsense, Shadea thought at once. “Where is your proof of that, Grianne?” she snapped angrily. “Do you think us fools to believe such lies?”


“I think you fools not to. You have set free a changeling, Shadea. You have set free a creature that can disguise itself as anything or anyone. It will have already assumed the identity of another and begun seeking ways to destroy the Ellcrys. If we don’t stop it, it will succeed.”

“We? You would enlist us? Even as we are banished?” Shadea straightened to her full height. “Come out of hiding and persuade us better, Grianne.”

But even as she spoke, she was thinking of Iridia. Iridia, who had not seemed herself in that last encounter and who had gone to Sen Dunsidan to be his adviser when Shadea would have bet anything against that happening. Iridia, who had subsequently disappeared completely.

Could it be?

In an impulsive response to a possibility she could not bring herself to face, and disregarding her own safety, Shadea sent a scattering of illumination specks all across the facing of the wall fronting the bedchamber, trying to uncover Grianne’s hiding place. The glittering specks coated everything, leaving a clear outline of what lay concealed within the shadows and smoke.

Grianne Ohmsford was nowhere to be found.

“Show yourself, you coward!” Shadea screamed in fury.

“Turn around.”

Shadea stiffened, and then did so. Grianne Ohmsford stood a few yards away against the wall behind Shadea and to the right. She mirrored the wraith that had appeared in the doorway, cloaked and hooded in black, the Eilt Druin clasp at her throat. Her face and hands were pale and ravaged. She looked beaten and tired; she did not look up to a confrontation. Shadea took her measure and recognized the truth. The demon business and the offer of banishment were all a bluff.

“You don’t look well, Grianne,” she said. “You look as if a strong breeze might topple you. I don’t imagine it was very pleasant inside the Forbidding, was it?”

Her enemy said nothing, but those strange blue eyes never left her own. They were watching her, waiting to see which way she would go. Whatever else Grianne was, she wasn’t a fool.

“I think you have come to Paranor for the last time,” Shadea continued softly. “I think you have just wasted your one chance at escaping with your life.”

“Don’t mistake what you see,” the other whispered. “Take my offer. Go now. Banishment is not the worst of what can happen to you.”

“I’ll burn your eyes out first,” Shadea responded.

“Shadea, wait!” Traunt Rowan stepped forward, hands stretched out in a gesture of supplication. “Enough of this. It’s over. We’ve lost. Don’t you see?”

“Be silent!” she hissed.

“To what end? The time for silence is past. Look at what’s before us. Anyone who can survive the Forbidding and come back alive to the Four Lands and then break free of a triagenel is no one I care to challenge. If she can do all she has done to get back here and confront us like this, she has magic and luck beyond anything we possess.”

He looked at Grianne. “I told you once that you should resign for the good of the order. I have not changed my mind about that. I still think you should. I still think you are too divisive to ever bring the order together in the way that will serve the greater good. I took sides against you because of it. Maybe I was wrong to do so, but I was not wrong about you.”

He shook his head. “You must make your own decision. I have made mine. I accept this offer. I accept banishment. I’ve had enough.”

He gave Shadea a hard, searching look, and she returned it with enough venom to poison a city. But he would not look away, and he did not blink. “Do the right thing, Shadea. Give it up.”

He turned away from her and stalked down the hall, brushing aside a cluster of Gnomes that barred his way.

Shadea stared after him in disbelief, and then screamed in rage. “Traitor!”

She sent an explosion of Druid Fire into his back, white-hot and corrosive. The force of the blow lifted him off his feet and flung him against the far wall, where he slid to the floor, a lifeless, burning wreck.

In the next instant, Pyson Wence attacked Grianne Ohmsford.


Kermadec had climbed almost two flights into the Keep before he realized Atalan was following him. He wheeled back instantly. “What are you doing?” he shouted at his brother in dismay. “Go back and wait with the others!”

Atalan kept coming and shoved past him as if he weren’t there. “Go back yourself, brother.”

Kermadec reached for him angrily and then stopped himself. Getting into a fight with his brother would serve no useful purpose. If Atalan wanted to come, it was because he wanted to help. What was the point in being angry with that?

The point, he knew, was that he was afraid for Atalan. But he also knew that their relationship was well beyond a time and place where he could do anything about that.