The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

Ahren nodded. “But now they will come sooner. By nightfall, in all probability. We will no longer have time to think about what we are going to do. The decision will have been made. We will have to leave Emberen—Penderrin, Tagwen, and myself in search of the tanequil, and you back to Arborlon.”


Khyber Elessedil shook her head at once. “I’m going with you. I have no other choice. Uncle Ahren, please, let me finish before you say anything! You are going to take the Elfstones with you because you know you will need them again. Since I can’t return home without them, I will have to go, as well. But there is another reason, an even better one. If something happens to you, neither Pen nor Tagwen can use the Stones because they aren’t Elves. That leaves me, if you teach me how. I know it isn’t what you want. I know you don’t like the idea. But you know it’s necessary. Finding and rescuing the Ard Rhys is what matters.”

She paused. “I want this, Uncle Ahren. I want to help. I want to do something besides sit around in Arborlon and wait for my family to marry me off. I want my life to matter. Please. Let me come.”

He studied her for a moment, then turned to Tagwen. “Is there any other Druid at Paranor that we can trust to come with us?” Tagwen frowned and pulled absently at his beard. “If you’re asking me if there is anyone I can be sure of, the answer is no. I trust some more than others, but at this point I don’t know how deep the conspiracy goes. You know how things are as well as I do.” He squared his shoulders. “I think we ought to take her with us. She’s older than this boy and she’s able. We might need her. I don’t like to think about it, but something could happen to any of us. The rest have to be able to carry on.”

Ahren Elessedil shook his head in dismay. “I regret agreeing to let you listen to this conversation in the first place, Khyber. This isn’t something you should be involved in.”

“It isn’t something any of us should be involved in,” she replied. “But we all are, aren’t we? Let me come.”

He took a long time making up his mind, and Pen was certain that he was going to say no. Pen’s parents would have said no to him, had they been in a position to do so. Parents didn’t want their children taking the sort of risks involved here. Parents wanted their children safe at home. He didn’t think it was any different with uncles and nieces.

“All right,” Ahren said finally, surprising them all. “You can come with us—mostly because I can’t think of what else to do with you. Sending you home will just get you in worse trouble, and whatever trouble comes of this ought to be mine. But you must agree to do as I say, Khyber. Whatever I tell you to do on this journey, you do it. No arguments, no excuses. I know you; I know how you think. Give me your word.”

She nodded eagerly. “You have it.”

Ahren sighed, tightened his fingers about the Elfstones, rose from the table, and stretched out his arm. His eyes closed in concentration, but his face remained calm. “Stand back from me,” he said softly. “Watch carefully what the magic shows. Remember it well.”

Not certain what to expect, they backed away from him, eyes riveted on his outstretched hand. Slowly his fingers opened to the light. His concentration deepened. The seconds crawled past.

Then abruptly, light exploded from the crystals in a deep cerulean starburst, brightened until the sun itself disappeared behind the enveloping blue, then shot away into the distance in a blinding flare. It arced away through the trees and beyond, through mountains and hills and the curve of the earth itself. Some of what they saw was recognizable—the Dragon’s Teeth and the Charnals, the Mermidon and the Chard Rush, even the sweep of the Streleheim and the dismal emptiness of the Malg. Forests came and went, one a shelter for gardens that eclipsed in beauty and complexity anything they had ever seen, a profusion of flowers and silvery waterfalls painted against a shimmering backdrop of green.

When the light finally came to rest, somewhere so far away that the distance could barely be calculated, it was illuminating a strange tree. The tree was huge, larger than the black oaks of Callahorn, broad-limbed and wide-leafed. Its bark was smooth, a mottled black and gray. Its leaves were deepest green with an orange border. The tree was bathed in dappled sunlight and surrounded by a dense forest of more familiar trees—oaks, elms, hickories, maples, and the like. Beyond the trees, nothing was visible. The tree seemed incredibly old, even in the wash of the Elfstones’ light, and Pen felt certain as he looked upon it that it was as old as Faerie. He could feel its intelligence, even in what was no more than a vision. He could sense its life force, slow and rhythmic as a quiet heartbeat.

The blue light held steady for a moment, then flared once and was gone, leaving the watchers staring at nothing, half-blind and stunned by the suddenness and intensity of the experience. They blinked at each other in the ensuing silence, the image of the tree and it surroundings still vivid in their minds.

Ahren Elessedil closed his fingers about the Elfstones. “Now we know,” he said.