The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

“Strakens and warlocks keep our histories, but they do not agree on what it is,” the Ulk Bog responded. He rubbed his sharp chin and sneered. “They like to change it to suit their own purposes. Liars and cheats, all! But those like myself who are not burdened with magic know the truth. The history is the history! It is not just what anyone says! Jarka Ruus have been here a thousand, thousand years, since they chose to be rid of the Elves and their kind, to come here and be free!”


A reasonable interpretation, she thought, for creatures that did not want to see themselves as exiled, but as self-determinative. The irony was that they still referred to themselves as Jarka Ruus—the banished people. Perhaps it was in the nature of all people that they should reinvent themselves to keep their pride and dignity intact. Monsters and demonkind had the same need for self-respect as humans.

She stopped herself in midthought, aware that she had missed something. “Are there others here like me?” she asked, thinking that since she had been sent here out of her own world, perhaps others had, as well.

“Strakens? Of course!”

“No, not Strakens. Humans.”

He stared at her. “What are humans?”

“People who look like me. Smooth-skinned.” She tried to figure out what else she could say. “Anyone who looks like me.”

He looked uneasy. “Like you? Some, not many. Strakens and warlocks and witches can look like anything with their magic.” He rubbed his hands together nervously and looked about. “Can we go? That Dracha probably has friends. It might have gone to fetch them. Drachas are smart, and even a Straken as powerful as you can’t stand against a pack of them.”

She stared him down. He knew something that he wasn’t telling her, something important. She could see it in the shift of his eyes and hear it in his voice. But she decided to let it go for the moment. He was right about not lingering. It was too dangerous to stay anywhere for long inside a place like the Forbidding. Everything here was hunter or prey in its turn, and she could not afford to be seen as the latter.

She cast about again, trying to decide on a direction. She would have to choose one, whether it would take her anywhere useful or not. She had to get moving, away from this haven for dragons. Geographically, this world was the same as her own. She could use that, if she could just think how. Something about the similarity between the two should suggest a solution, a place to go, a way to survive.

She would have liked to use her magic, but she couldn’t think of a way in which that would be helpful. The wishsong could do many things, but it didn’t allow for opening doors between worlds. Besides, she was pretty sure that if she used it for that purpose, the amount of magic required would almost certainly attract unwanted attention.

Then, abruptly, she had her answer. She should have seen it at once. If the Forbidding was a mirror of her own world, it would have an equivalent to the Hadeshorn and perhaps a gateway to the Druids. If she could raise their shades here, as she would have been able to do there, she might be able to discover what she should do. As a working idea, it had promise. Besides, since it was the only idea she had, it was worth a try.

She looked at Weka Dart. “I’m going east, below the Dragon’s … below the mountains.”

The Ulk Bog furrowed his brow and said something unintelligible, clearly unhappy.

“You don’t have to come with me. I can go alone.”

She hoped he would agree with her, thinking that he would be of little help in any case. But Weka Dart, still not looking at her, still frowning, shook his head. “You may need me to help you find your way, being a stranger. The land is unsafe for strangers. It doesn’t get any better where you want to go. Safer west, but I suppose you have your reasons for not going there right away. Maybe later.”

He looked up suddenly, eyes narrowed. “But you don’t want to go east. You want to go south through the mountains. I know you call them something else, but here they are called the Dragon Line. We should go below them before we go east. Too dangerous to try to go back the way I have come.”

He was so eager to have her do what he wanted that she was immediately suspicious.

“We can take one of the passes,” he continued quickly. “That will put us in Pashanon. There are cities and villages. Fortresses, too. Do you know someone there? Another Straken, perhaps?”

Clearly he was hiding something, but she had already made up her mind to go the way he was suggesting, and she decided to let it drop for now.

“Listen to me, Weka Dart,” she said quietly, kneeling so that she could look him the eye. She held him frozen in place with the force of her gaze, a prisoner to her eyes. “You are not to call me a Straken again. Is that understood?”

He nodded hurriedly, mouth twisting, gimlet eyes bright and eager. “You are in disguise?” he guessed.

She nodded. “I want my identity kept secret. If you travel with me, you must agree. You must call me Grianne.”

He laughed, a rather scary sound, all rough edges and rasps. “I will do exactly as you wish, so long as you do not knock me out of any more trees!”

She straightened. Maybe this would work out, after all. Maybe she would find a way out of here. “Let’s be off,” she said.

Without waiting for his response, she started away.