The Scions of Shannara

Coll spoke first. “It seems to me that we have more questions to answer now than we did when we went in.”


“But we know some things, too, Coll,” Par argued. He bent forward, eager to speak. “We know that there is some sort of connection between the Federation and the Shadowen. The Federation has to know what it has down there; it can’t be ignorant of the truth. Maybe it even helped create those monsters. For all we know they might be Federation prisoners thrown into the Pit like Ciba Blue and changed into what we found. And why are they still down there if the Federation isn’t keeping them so? Wouldn’t they have escaped long ago if they could?”

“As I said, there are more questions than answers,” Coll declared. He shifted his heavy frame to a more comfortable position.

Damson shook her head. “Something seems wrong here. Why would the Federation have any dealings with the Shadowen? The Shadowen represent everything the Federation is against—magic, the old ways, the subversion of the Southland and its people. How would the Federation even go about making such an arrangement? It has no defense against the Shadowen magic. How would it protect itself?”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to,” Coll said suddenly. They looked at him. “Maybe the Federation has given the Shadowen someone else to feed on besides itself, someone the Federation has no use for in any case. Perhaps that’s what became of the Elves.” He paused. “Perhaps that’s what’s happening now to the Dwarves.”

They were silent as they considered the possibility. Par hadn’t thought about the Dwarves for a time, the horrors of Culhaven and its people shoved to the back of his mind these past few weeks. He remembered what he had seen there—the poverty, the misery, the oppression. The Dwarves were being exterminated for reasons that had never been clear. Could Coll be right? Could the Federation be feeding the Dwarves to the Shadowen as a part of some unspeakable bargain between them?

His face tightened in dismay. “But what would the Federation get in return?”

“Power,” Damson Rhee said immediately. Her face was still and white.

“Power over the Races, over the Four Lands,” Coll agreed, nodding. “It makes sense, Par.”

Par shook his head slowly. “But what happens when there is no one left but the Federation? Surely someone must have thought of that. What keeps the Shadowen from feeding on them as well?”

No one answered. “We’re still missing something,” Par said softly. “Something important.”

He rose, walked to the other side of the room, stood looking into space for a long moment, shook his head finally, turned, and came back. His lean face was stubborn with determination as he reseated himself.

“Let’s get back to the matter of the Shadowen in the Pit,” he declared quietly, “since that, at least, is a mystery that we might be able to solve.” He folded his legs in front of him and eased forward. He looked at each of them in turn, then said, “I think that the reason they are down there is to keep anyone from getting to the Sword of Shannara.”

“Par!” Coll tried to object, but his brother cut him off with a quick shake of his head.

“Think about it a moment, Coll. Padishar was right. Why would the Federation go to all the trouble of remaking the People’s Park and the Bridge of Sendic? Why would they hide what remains of the old park and bridge in that ravine? Why, if not to conceal the Sword? And we’ve seen the vault, Coll! We’ve seen it!”

“The vault, yes—but not the Sword,” Damson pointed out quietly, her green eyes intense as they met those of the Valemen.

“But if the Sword isn’t down in the Pit as well, why are the Shadowen there?” Par asked at once. “Surely not to protect an empty vault! No, the Sword is still there, just as it has been for three hundred years. That’s why Allanon sent me after it—he knew it was there, waiting to be found.”

“He could have saved us a lot of time and trouble by telling us as much,” said Coll pointedly.

Par shook his head. “No, Coll. That isn’t the way he would do it. Think about the history of the Sword. Bremen gave it to Jerle Shannara some thousand years ago to destroy the Warlock Lord and the Elf King couldn’t master it because he wasn’t prepared to accept what it demanded of him. When Allanon chose Shea Ohmsford to finish the job five hundred years later, he decided that the Valeman must first prove himself. If he was not strong enough to wield it, if he did not want it badly enough, if he were not willing to give enough of himself to the task that finding it entailed, then the power of the Sword would prove too much for him as well. And he knew if that happened, the Warlock Lord would escape again.”

“And he believes it will be the same now with you,” Damson finished. She was looking at Par as if she were seeing him for the first time. “If you are not strong enough, if you are not willing to give enough, the Sword of Shannara will be useless to you. The Shadowen will prevail.”