The High Druid's Blade (The Defenders of Shannara, #1)(92)

“She would, wouldn’t she? She was a witch, and she would have been careful to protect herself.” She paused. “If it were me, I would use magic to conceal everything.”

He nodded slowly. “Of course. It’s here, but we just can’t see it.”

Leofur nodded. “A Druid could show us. We should have brought one along.”

Paxon thought instantly of Starks, who would have come without hesitating. He compressed his lips and shrugged. “There’s someone else who likely knows.”

She nodded slowly. “I knew we’d get to that. You won’t let go of it, will you?”

“Not when it’s the only way.”

“We don’t even know where he is.”

“Dark House.”

She nodded reluctantly. “Probably. But why would Arcannen help you?”

“He wouldn’t. Not willingly.”

Her face tightened and despair reflected in her eyes. “Don’t do this, Paxon. Wait for some help.”

“If I wait for help, he’ll get away. He’ll be gone, and I might not find him again. I might not have any chance of finding whatever Mischa’s got hidden in here.”

“You’re thinking of Starks. This is about avenging his death.”

He stepped close. “I promise you it isn’t. I’m doing this for Chrys. That’s the truth. Believe me, please.”

She shook her head. “I suppose I do believe you. Although I don’t know why.” She sighed heavily, and then took hold of his arms and turned him toward the doorway. “I want to believe you, so I will. Don’t disappoint me. Let’s go find him.”


At Paranor, Aphenglow Elessedil had come awake. She ached from head to foot from Chrysallin’s attack, but her thinking was clear and sharp. She lay in her bed for long minutes, gathering her thoughts. In a chair nearby, one of the Druid Healers dozed, head lowered, hands clasped in his lap. The curtains were drawn and the room was dark, so she could not tell what time it was, although she could see slivers of light through tiny gaps in the fabric.

She was thinking of what had happened to her when she had come face-to-face with Chrysallin, but mostly she was thinking about what she now knew of the theft of the artifacts from the Druid vault. She was carrying this burden alone for the moment, unwilling to speak with anyone else about it. She had known who the thief was for a short while now, but had let the matter be because she wasn’t certain how to handle it. Unusual for her—but then the truth about who had committed the thefts was unusual, as well.

Worse, it exposed a failing in her with which she had not managed to come to terms. It made her realize how very long she had been Ard Rhys. She found herself thinking of Arling, now gone for more than a century and a half—the sister she loved so much and had tried so hard to protect. In the end, she had failed her sister because Arling had sacrificed herself to save the Four Lands, and Aphen had let her. With Arling gone, her mother and her beloved uncle Ellich long since dead, and even steady, dependable Seersha passed away, she had been left alone. She had other family, but they were not close. She had separated herself from Arborlon and made her home at Paranor. The Druids were her family now, and she had given her entire life to caring for them.

Perhaps that was why it hurt so much to know that one of them had betrayed her.

She sat up finally, unwilling to remain abed any longer, and when she did so the Druid dozing in the chair woke up. “Mistress!” he exclaimed in horror, and he leapt up to prevent her from rising.

“No, no,” she insisted, warding him off with arms extended. “I’m well enough to get up and walk around. Please let me do so.”

He did, but only after he had helped steady her and made certain she wouldn’t fall. “I should examine you, Mistress.”

“Why don’t you wait on that and go find Sebec for me, instead,” she said gently. “Ask him to come here. When we are finished, you can conduct whatever examination is needed.”

He left reluctantly, and she took the opportunity to wash her face in the basin by her bedside and run a comb through her long gray hair. She watched herself in the mirror as she did this, thinking she really had lived too long. The Druid Sleep was a gift but it didn’t make her happy. It didn’t bring back the time she had lost. It didn’t bring back the people who were gone. It didn’t even provide a sense of contentment.

There was a knock on the door and Sebec entered on her invitation. The young Druid looked haggard, his face drawn, his eyes mirroring his concern, but he smiled at once when he saw her back on her feet. “Mistress! Thank goodness!”

He came over to her and knelt at her feet, taking her hands in his own and kissing them. “I’m so sorry for what happened. It was my fault. I didn’t know the doctors hadn’t sedated her yet. They said they were going to. I almost killed you!”

She grasped his hands and brought him to his feet. “Hardly. I was just a bit stunned from the blow. She has real magic in her voice—a dangerous power for one so young—but I don’t think she knows anything about it. Is she sleeping now?”

“The Healers gave her a strong potion. They want her to rest for several days before they begin treating her again. The shock was significant, they say.”

“I imagine so. Where is Paxon?”

Sebec hesitated. “He flew the boy and the young woman back to Wayford.”