The Scions of Shannara

Par nodded slowly. “That makes better sense. I told him I was going; maybe he thinks that one of us going is enough.”


Coll stretched his big frame full length on the ground and stared up into the trees. “But you don’t believe that either, do you?”

His brother smiled faintly. “No.”

“You still think that it’s something else.”

“Yes.”

They didn’t speak for a time, staring off into the woods, thinking their separate thoughts. Slender streams of sunlight played along their bodies through chinks in the limbs canopied overhead, and the songs of birds filtered through the stillness. “I like it here,” Par said finally.

Coll had his eyes closed. “Where do you think he’s hiding?”

“Walker? I don’t know. Under a rock, I suppose.”

“You’re too quick to judge him, Par. You don’t have the right to do that.”

Par bit off what he was going to say next and contented himself with watching a ray of sunlight work its way across Coll’s face until it was in his eyes, causing him to blink and shift his body. Coll sat up, his squarish face a mask of contentment. Not much of anything ruffled him; he always managed to keep his sense of balance. Par admired him for that. Coll always understood the relative importance of events in the greater scheme of things.

Par was aware suddenly of how much he loved his brother.

“Are you coming with me, Coll?” he asked then. “To the Hadeshorn?”

Coll looked at him and blinked. “Isn’t it odd,” he replied, “that you and Walker and even Wren have the dreams and I don’t, that all of you are mentioned in them, but never me, and that all of you are called, but not me?” There was no rancor in his voice, only puzzlement. “Why do you think that is? We’ve never talked about it, you and I, have we? Not once. I think we have both been very careful to avoid talking about it.”

Par stared at him and didn’t know what to say. Coll saw his discomfort and smiled. “Awkward, isn’t it? Don’t look so miserable, Par. It isn’t as if the matter is any fault of yours.” He leaned close. “Maybe it has something to do with the magic—something none of us knows yet. Maybe that’s it.”

Par shook his head and sighed. “I’d be lying if I said that the whole business of me having dreams and you not having them doesn’t make me very uncomfortable. I don’t know what to say. I keep expecting you to involve yourself in something that doesn’t really concern you. I shouldn’t even ask—but I guess I can’t help it. You’re my brother, and I want you with me.”

Coll reached out and put a hand on Par’s shoulder. His smile was warm. “Now and then, Par, you do manage to say the right thing.” He tightened his grip. “I go where you go. That’s the way it is with us. I’m not saying I always agree with the way you reason things out, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you. So if you believe you must go to the Hadeshorn to resolve this matter of the dreams, then I am going with you.”

Par put his arms around his brother and hugged him, thinking of all the times Coll had stood by him when he was asked, warmed by the feeling it gave him to know that Coll would be with him again now. “I knew I could depend on you,” was all he said.



It was late afternoon by the time they started back. They had intended to return earlier, but had become preoccupied with talking about the dreams and Allanon and had wandered all the way to the east wall of the valley before realizing how late it had become. Now, with the sun already inching toward the rim of the western horizon, they began to retrace their steps.

“It looks as if we might get our feet wet,” Coll announced as they worked their way back through the trees.

Par glanced skyward. A mass of heavy rain clouds had appeared at the northern edge of the valley, darkening the whole of the skyline. The sun was already beginning to disappear, enveloped in the growing darkness. The air was warm and sticky, and the forest was hushed.

They made their way more quickly now, anxious to avoid a drenching. A stiff breeze sprang up, heralding the approach of the storm, whipping the leafy branches of the trees about them in frantic dances. The temperature began to drop, and the forest grew dark and shadowed.

Par muttered to himself as he felt a flurry of scattered raindrops strike his face. It was bad enough that they were out there looking for someone who wasn’t about to be found in the first place. Now they were going to get soaked for their efforts.

Then he saw something move in the trees.

He blinked and looked again. This time he didn’t see anything. He slowed without realizing it, and Coll, who was trailing a step or so behind, asked what was wrong. Par shook his head and picked up the pace again.

The wind whipped into his face, forcing him to lower his head against its sting. He glanced right, then left. There were flashes of movement to either side.