The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

“Are you worried that you acted in haste? Or that you might have been tricked in some way because it all sounds so incredible?” The Elf nodded. “I remember feeling that way more than once during my time on the Jerle Shannara. I don’t think you can avoid such feelings. Maybe second-guessing what you choose to do in difficult situations is necessary if you are to find peace of mind. Blind acceptance of what you believe to be the dictates of fate and circumstance is dangerous.”


“Do you think it really was the King of the Silver River?” Pen asked impulsively.

The Druid pursed his lips. “Your father met him years ago, on his way to Arborlon. He told me of the meeting later; he described it. Not so much how the King of the Silver River looked—that wouldn’t matter anyway because he can change his appearance. He described how it happened and how it made him feel. Your experience sounds as if it was the same. Yes, Pen, I think it was him.”

He glanced at Khyber, who was staring at Pen with rapt attention. “Khyber believes it was, don’t you, Khyber?”

She nodded at once. “I believe it all. But what are we going to do about it, Uncle Ahren? Sorry, what are you going to do about it?” she corrected herself.

“I told the boy to come here,” Tagwen confessed, straightening. “It’s my fault we have involved you in this. But I know how you feel about the Ard Rhys, and I couldn’t think of anyone else to turn to. I don’t think we can do this on our own. We managed to get this far on grit and luck.” He grimaced. “I can’t imagine how we will get all the way into the Charnals alone.”

“But we can if we have to,” Pen added quickly.

Tagwen shot him a withering glance. “You have more confidence in what we can accomplish than I do, Penderrin.”

Ahren Elessedil smiled ruefully. “Confidence isn’t to be discouraged, Tagwen. Nor overrated, Penderrin. Remember—we seek a balance in all things.”

“But you will help them, won’t you?” Khyber pressed eagerly.

“Of course, I will help. The Ard Rhys has been both mentor and friend to me; I would never abandon her or those who feel about her as I do.” He paused, looking again at Tagwen. “But much of what you have told me is troublesome. I think there is still a great deal about this business that we don’t know. Shadea a’Ru, Terek Molt, and those others are dangerous, but they lack sufficient power to imprison the Ard Rhys within the Forbidding. It took the magic of an entire Elven nation to create the Forbidding in the first place. Nothing passes through the barrier except when the Ellcrys fails. She doesn’t do so now, so far as I know.”

He glanced at Khyber for confirmation. “She was well when I departed Arborlon a week ago,” she said.

“She wouldn’t have declined so precipitously without our hearing about it,” Ahren continued. “No, some other force is at work here—something hidden from us. We may not find out what it is until we reach the Ard Rhys, but we must be wary of it.”

He paused. “A more immediate problem is that those who have worked against the Ard Rhys will be searching for Pen. They will not stop simply because he has escaped them once. Perhaps they realize that he has the potential to help her. Perhaps they are simply looking to tie up loose ends. The King of the Silver River helped you escape once, Pen, but he will not be able to help you a second time. You are beyond his reach now.”

“They were searching for my father when they came to Patch Run,” Pen pointed out. “Maybe they will forget about me and go after him.”

The Druid shook his head. “They will keep looking. Eventually, they will find you. So we must act quickly. Do you have any idea at all where in the Charnals the tanequil can be found?”

Pen shook his head. “Only what the King of the Silver River told us—that it grows on an island beyond the ruins of a city called Stridegate and that Urdas and Trolls might help us find the way. Nothing more than that.”

“I can use earth magic to try to seek it out through lines of power and air currents,” the Druid mused, looking off into the woods, as if he might find the answer in the trees. “But that approach is uncertain. We need something more definite.”

“What you need,” Khyber declared suddenly, “are the Elfstones, the seeking stones.”

Pen knew the stories of the Elfstones, which had been given by the Druid Allanon to Shea Ohmsford to aid him in his search for the Sword of Shannara and then had been held for many years by other members of the Ohmsford family. They had been returned to the Elven people during the reign of Wren Elessedil, an Ohmsford cousin, and remained there until they disappeared with Kael Elessedil fifty years earlier. Ahren Elessedil had recovered them on the voyage of the Jerle Shannara and given them to his brother in exchange for help in forming the Third Druid Council.

Ahren frowned. “What do you know of the Elfstones, Khyber?”

“Enough, from listening to my father and brother. They spoke of them often, before my father’s death, usually when they thought I couldn’t hear. They believed the Stones could be used as a weapon against the Federation.”