The Scions of Shannara

“Very well. If you go, it will be a dangerous journey, and you will need someone to watch your back. And that’s what brothers are supposed to do for each other. That’s second.”


He cleared his throat. “Last, I’ve thought it all out from the point of view of what I would do if I were you, go or not go, measuring what I perceive to be the right and wrong of the matter.” He paused. “If it were up to me, if I were you, I think I’d go.”

He leaned back against the poplar trunk and waited. Par took a deep breath. “To be honest, Coll, I think that’s just about the last thing I ever expected to hear from you.”

Coll smiled. “That’s probably why I said it. I don’t like to be predictable.”

“So you would go, would you? If you were me?” Par studied his brother silently for a moment, letting the possibility play itself out in his mind. “I don’t know if I believe you.”

Coll let the smile broaden. “Of course you do.”

They were still staring at each other as Morgan wandered up and sat down across from them, faintly puzzled as he saw the same look registered on both faces. Steff and Teel came over as well. All three glanced at one another. “What’s going on?” Morgan asked finally.

Par stared at him momentarily without seeing him. He saw instead the land beyond, the hills dotted with sparse groves, running south out of the barren stretches of the Dragon’s Teeth, fading into a heat that made the earth shimmer. Dust blew in small eddies where sudden breezes scooped at the roadway leading down. It was still beneath the tree, and Par was thinking about the past, remembering the times that Coll and he had shared. The memories were an intimacy that comforted him; they were sharp and clear, most of them, and they made him ache in a sweet, welcome way.

“Well?” Morgan persisted.

Par blinked. “Coll tells me he thinks I ought to do what the shade said. He thinks I ought to try to find the Sword of Shannara.” He paused. “What do you think, Morgan?”

Morgan didn’t hesitate. “I think I’m going with you. It gets tiresome spending all of my time tweaking the noses of those Federation dunderheads who try to govern Leah. There’s better uses for a man like me.” He lunged to his feet. “Besides, I have a blade that needs testing against things of dark magic!” He reached back in a mock feint for his sword. “And as all here can bear witness, there’s no better way to do so than to keep company with Par Ohmsford!”

Par shook his head despairingly. “Morgan, you shouldn’t joke . . .”

“Joke! But that’s just the point! All I’ve been doing for months now is playing jokes! And what good has it done?” Morgan’s lean features were hard. “Here is a chance for me to do something that has real purpose, something far more important than causing Leah’s enemies to suffer meaningless irritations and indignities. Come, now! You have to see it as I do, Par. You cannot dispute what I say.” His eyes shifted abruptly. “Steff, how about you? What do you intend? And Teel?”

Steff laughed, his rough features wrinkling. “Well now, Teel and I share pretty much the same point of view on the matter. We have already reached our decision. We came with you in the first place because we were hoping to get our hands on something, magic or whatever, that could help our people break free of the Federation. We haven’t found that something yet, but we might be getting closer. What the shade said about the Shadowen spreading the dark magic, living inside men and women and children to do so, might explain a good part of the madness that consumes the Lands. It might even have something to do with why the Federation seems so bent on breaking the backs of the Dwarves! You’ve seen it for yourself—that’s surely what the Federation is about. There’s dark magic at work there. Dwarves can sense it better than most because the deeper stretches of the Eastland have always provided a hiding place for it. The only difference in this instance is that, instead of hiding, it’s out in the open like a crazed animal, threatening us all. So maybe finding the Sword of Shannara as the shade says will be a step toward penning that animal up again!”

“There, now!” Morgan cried triumphantly. “What better company for you, Par Ohmsford, than that?”

Par shook his head in bewilderment. “None, Morgan, but . . .”

“Then say you’ll do it! Forget Walker and Wren and their excuses! This has meaning! Think of what we might be able to accomplish!” He gave his friend a plaintive look. “Confound it, Par, how can we lose by trying when by trying we have everything to gain?”

Steff reached over and poked him. “Don’t push so hard, Highlander. Give the Valeman room to breathe!”

Par stared at them each in turn, at the bluff-faced Steff, the enigmatic Teel, the fervently eager Morgan Leah, and finally Coll. He remembered suddenly that his brother had never finished revealing his own decision. He had only said that if he were Par, he would go.