The High Druid's Blade (The Defenders of Shannara, #1)(7)

And he would need one thing more.

He would need a weapon.

Arcannen had told him so, and even if it was simply an embellishment to the dare he had thrown up, it was good advice. After what had happened today, Paxon certainly didn’t intend to face the man again without protection.

He thought about taking someone with him, but that meant calling on friends for a favor they didn’t owe and shouldn’t be asked to give, considering the danger. Better he go alone than risk somebody else’s life as well as his own. A large armed party would attract more attention, anyway. One man, keeping to the shadows, would have a better chance.

Sure he would.

He grimaced at his own facile analysis of the situation. But it was best to stay positive. Pushing aside his doubts, he walked back into the house, dumped the bloodied cloths and cold packs, and changed his clothes. He was in the midst of packing a bag with a few essentials when Jayet appeared in the doorway, calling out to him.

He walked out to face her.

“You look like you got the worst of whatever happened,” she said quietly. “You didn’t get her back, did you?”

“No,” he admitted, “but the matter isn’t finished. I know who he is now and where I can find him. I’m going after him.”

She nodded. “I thought you would. Have you anyone to help you?”

“I think it’s better if I do this alone. Other people might get underfoot. I would have to worry about protecting them as well as myself. If something happened to them, I’d be responsible.”

“There are those who would come with you if you asked,” she said. “You might need someone to watch your back.”

He smiled. “Perhaps you could come,” he joked.

She cocked her head, squaring up to him. “Funny you should say that. I’m exactly who I had in mind.”

He stared at her, then quickly shook his head. “Oh, no. Out of the question, Jayet. You don’t know what this man is like! Arcannen, he calls himself. He’s very dangerous. Ruthless. I’m not letting you risk yourself for me.”

“I wouldn’t be risking myself for you. I’d be risking myself for Chrys. I should have stopped her the moment I saw her getting into that game, begging for a chair, making wild promises and talking like she was something special. I saw all the signs, and I didn’t do a thing to stop it from happening. I just went about my business.”

She ran a hand through her mop of white-blond hair. “Besides, I don’t have anything else to do. I’m out of a job.”

“Raffe let you go?”

“I quit. I’ve had enough of working for Raffe and putting up with his constant badgering and groping and talking about how great he is. Believe me, Paxon, I’ve given this some thought. Anyway, that has nothing to do with why I’m here. You were seen coming back through the city and up the road past the Two Roosters. I knew then you hadn’t gotten Chrys back. And I knew you wouldn’t give up on her. So I thought maybe I could find a way to help.”

“Jayet …”

“Please don’t say that if you needed help, you would ask a man. If you did that, I would have to hurt you. Just listen a moment. For one thing, I can get into places where a man can’t. For another, I can fly an airship. You might need me to do that if you get hurt. You might need another pair of hands to back you up. I can provide all that. I’m tough enough; you know that. Let me help.”

He thought about it a moment. There were enough reasons against agreeing to her suggestion to fill a good-size shed. But there were reasons in favor of it, too.

Her blunt features tightened. She was waiting for him to say no. “All right,” he said, less certain about it than he wished. “But you have to promise to do what I say, no matter what.”

Her nod of agreement was brisk, sharp. “Whatever you say.”

Not entirely to his surprise, she had already packed a bag. It was sitting on the front porch where she had left it, and she shouldered it as they went out the door together. He had written a note to his mother just in case she came back early, telling her that Chrys had gone with him on a transfer—a short run over to the east end of the Rainbow Lake—and he would be back in a couple of days. She was supposed to be gone for a week, and for once he hoped she would not hurry back.

He was on his way out the door when he caught sight of the sword hanging over the fireplace and stopped. He needed a weapon, and he didn’t have anything better. The sword was a relic from the past, but he released it from its fastenings and took it down. He studied it for a moment, taking note of the emblem stamped on its leather sheath—a seal he assumed once identified the royal house of the Leahs. He pulled the blade free and balanced it in his hand. He ran his finger carefully along its edge. It was still razor-sharp, and unblemished.

The Sword of Leah.

He sheathed the blade anew and strapped it across his back. It was better than nothing. Maybe it would finally provide him with a little magic of his own.

With Jayet in tow, he walked back down to the north end of the airfield where he kept his vessels moored. He had several—or, he amended quickly, the family had several. The transport—a big, looming carrier with four masts and multiple light sheaths that required a crew of four, the balance of which he usually found from a pool of airship fliers who worked as independent contractors—an elderly skiff that wasn’t good for much, and his Sprint. He would take the Sprint, of course; it was small, fast, maneuverable, and very dependable.