The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

“Ah, Grianne of the trees. Sleep well, did you? You don’t look so bad for having spent the night aboveground. See all the tracks?” He gestured. “Now you understand what I was telling you.”


She stared at him without answering, undecided if she was happy about having him back.

His cunning features scrunched with disappointment. “Don’t look at me like that! You should be pleased to see me. How far would you get without me? You don’t know anything about this part of the world, anyone can tell that. You need me to guide you.”

“I thought you were finished with me,” she said.

He shrugged. “I changed my mind. I decided to forgive you. After all, you have a right to know about me, so you did what Strakens do and used your magic to find out. It isn’t any different than what any creature of habit would do. Here, I brought you some clothes.”

He came forward and dumped the bundle at her feet. She bent down and picked through it, finding leather boots, a loose-fitting cotton shirt, pants, a belt and knife, and the great cloak in which he had wrapped them. All were in good condition and close enough in size to fit her comfortably. She had no idea where he had found them and didn’t think she should ask.

“Put them on,” he urged.

“Turn your back,” she replied.

It was silly, given that an Ulk Bog would not be interested about her that way, but she wanted to assert her authority before he got the wrong idea about who was in charge. If he was going to accompany her on the rest of her journey, as it appeared he was determined to do, she had better set him straight on the nature of their relationship immediately.

She removed the nightdress and put on the clothes, watching him fidget as he stared off into the trees. “I want to know why you insist on coming with me,” she told him. “And don’t tell me it’s because you want to help a stranger find her way.”

He threw up his hands. “Can’t anyone do a good turn for you without being questioned about it?”

“In your case, no. You don’t seem the type to do good turns unless there is something in it for you. So let’s be honest about it. What is it that you want from me? Maybe it isn’t anything I’ll mind giving up, if it means you can get me to where I want to go.” She finished buttoning the tunic. “You can turn around now.”

He did so, looking sour-faced and ill-used. “I thought Strakens could tell what normal people are thinking. Why don’t you just use your magic to find out what I want?”

She didn’t bother with an answer, waiting patiently on him. He pouted. “You already know the reason. You just weren’t paying attention when I told you. Too self-absorbed, I suspect.”

“Tell me again.”

He pouted harder. “I got in some trouble with my tribe. I had to flee for my life. They might still be chasing me. Alone, I’m not much good against a lot of the things that are Jarka Ruus. I know how to find my way and mostly how to avoid them, though. So I thought we could help each other.” He folded his arms defiantly. “There, are you satisfied, Grianne of the curious mind and endless questions?”

He was being insolent, but she let it go. “I am. For now. But in the future, you will tell me the truth about your motives and your plans, little rodent, or I will feed you to the bigger things you seek to avoid. I don’t like surprises. I want to know what you are thinking about. No secret plans, or our bargain is off.”

“Then you agree that we should travel together?” he asked. He was positively gleeful. “That you will watch out for me?” He caught himself. “Well, that we will watch out for each other?”

“Let’s just start walking,” she said, and turned away.


They walked all that day, traveling east below the Dragon Line and across the grasslands and foothills of the Pashanon. The weather stayed gray and misty, the sun never more than a faint brightness high above them, the world they journeyed through composed of brume and shadows. The air was damp and chilly, a discomforting presence that made Grianne grateful for the clothes and boots that Weka Dart had brought her. The grasslands and hills were coated with moisture that never quite evaporated, yet the land remained barren and lifeless. The absence of small birds and little animals was unnerving, and even the insects tended to be of the buzzing, biting variety. Grasses grew thick and hardy, sawtooth and razorblade spears that were a washed-out green and mottled gray. Trees were stunted and gnarled below the Dragon Line, and many were little more than skeletons. The waters of the ponds and streams were stagnant and algae-laced. Everywhere they traveled and everywhere she looked, the world seemed to be sick and dying.

Terry Brooks's books