The High Druid's Blade (The Defenders of Shannara, #1)(19)
“But you have something else of value, don’t you?” She gestured to his sword. “You have the blade that is your family’s legacy from centuries ago, the blade Allanon dipped into the black waters of the Hadeshorn and infused with his own magic. The blade he then returned to Rone Leah, naming him protector of Brin Ohmsford when she went in search of the Ildatch in order to destroy it.”
So she knew about his sword. Paxon nodded but did not reply. He feared the worst now, could almost feel it happening. She had brought him here to claim the sword for the Druid order, and she would take it away in spite of his protests. He would want to do something to prevent her, but in the end common sense would prevail. Her magic was too powerful for him to resist. And he would never even think to try to use the sword against her. It would be pointless.
“Do you have to take it from me?” he asked finally.
“I don’t have to,” she answered, “but I should. Magic is not allowed in the hands of those who are not trained to use it, even if they have come by it in a legitimate way. It is a matter of public safety that such magic should be collected and held by the Druids.”
“The Druid Edict,” he said. “I know.”
“Still, that is not why I brought you to Paranor.” She looked off into the gardens, as if measuring something with her gaze. “You discovered the magic quite by accident. But you used it to good purpose—to save your sister. And you exercised reasonable judgment in doing so. What do you intend to do with it if you keep it?”
He thought a moment, and then shook his head helplessly. “I don’t really know.”
“Who else knows of the sword’s power besides you? Your sister? Does your mother know?”
He shook his head no. “Just Arcannen, as you might have already guessed if you know how I rescued my sister.”
“Tell me what happened, Paxon. Don’t leave anything out. I may be able to tell you more than you know about this business by the time you’ve finished.”
So Paxon, curious now as to what she meant, told her everything, from when Jayet came running up to get him at the cottage to when he returned home safely from Wayford with Chrys in tow. Aphenglow listened without interrupting, attentive to his every word.
When he finished, she gave a deep sigh. “The Druid order knows of Arcannen. This is not the first time he has been involved in something that works counter to our purposes. He will have to be dealt with eventually. He is a skilled sorcerer, but he is also venal and treacherous. You are right to be worried about him. He will come after you sooner or later. He will still want your sword, and he will not give up on trying to get it until he has it.”
“I thought as much.”
“You don’t know the half of it yet. Let me tell you what I suspect is the rest. Ostensibly, your sister got involved with throwing dice at a tavern with a stranger, who later turned out to be Arcannen. She bet more than she had, lost, and couldn’t pay. So he took her out of the tavern and back to Wayford where she could work off her debt at his pleasure house. You tried to stop it from happening, failed at the airfield, but picked yourself up and went after them. While you were attempting a rescue at Dark House, you drew out your sword and discovered it contained magic that responded to you. The magic saved your life. You fought your way free and rescued your sister. All well and good.”
She paused. “But ask yourself this. Isn’t it odd that he made a point of goading you into coming after him to save your sister and while doing so pointedly suggested you bring a weapon? So you did; you brought the Sword of Leah. But what if that was what he wanted you to do, what he expected of you all along? You’ve said you believe he recognized the power of the sword when he saw it—that you could tell as much when he tried to prevent you from drawing it out of its sheath. What if I told you he knew about the power of the sword all along? That he lured you to Dark House by kidnapping your sister so you would bring him the sword?”
Paxon frowned, considering. Arcannen had seemed suspiciously interested in the sword. “But if he wanted it so badly, why wouldn’t he just steal it from the cottage in the first place? It was hanging in plain sight over the fireplace. If he knew of it beforehand, wouldn’t it have been easier to get possession of it that way?”
“What if he wasn’t interested only in the Sword of Leah, Paxon, but in you, as well? What if the sword was of no use to him without someone who could wield it—someone who was a member of the Leah family, a descendant of all those Leahs who actually used the sword in times now past?”
“How would he know that?”
“Let’s assume for the moment that he did.”
“All right. Then how could he make me use it the way he wanted?”
“Perhaps in the same way he used his own magic to make your sister play a game of dice she could not possibly win.”
So Chrys hadn’t really been careless; she had been tricked. Paxon thought back on what had happened at the airfield when he had faced Arcannen and again when the sorcerer had been waiting for him at Dark House. What the Ard Rhys was telling him seemed to fit.
“So he knew of the sword and wanted it, but needed me to release its power, and that is why he kidnapped Chrysallin?”
“Except his plan fell apart when you drew out the sword and decided to stand up to him. The magic responds to attacks faster than you can think to ask it to. That has always been the hallmark of Faerie magic. What Allanon did to the Sword of Leah all those years ago at the Hadeshorn was to infuse your blade with that same kind of magic. So it acted to protect you and defeat Arcannen. But that’s not going to be the end of this, is it?”